Original subtitles

You know why you don't have a daddy?

'Cause Daddy couldn't love you.

He couldn't love an ungrateful little maggot like you.

I only have you here

to collect some money every now and again.

You're disgusting.

You're filthy

and disgusting.

But you're Mommy's little boy.

♪ He comes at night behind the clouds ♪

♪ You better watch when the sun goes down ♪

♪ Or you'll be dead ♪

♪ Before you see ♪

♪ The Highway Hunter of 213 ♪

♪ He'll cut you up and swallow you down ♪

♪ They'll find your bones deep in the ground ♪

- ♪ He comes at night... ♪ - What's wrong, what's wrong?

♪ The Highway Hunter of 213 ♪

♪ He comes at night behind the clouds ♪

♪ You better watch when the sun goes down ♪

♪ Or you'll be dead before you see ♪

♪ The Highway Hunter of 213. ♪

CYRUS: MIND OF A SERIAL KILLER

If you could ask anything to the person who took your mother,

Mr. Adams, what would it be?

Maybe... why?

Why indeed.

And that is exactly the question we will try to answer

on this episode of "Last Steps."

Wow, that's powerful.

I should have thought of it myself. It's good. It's gold.

It's like Emmy gold. If we cut into it with the nursery rhyme thing,

and then we bookend it with a little speculation

and some conjecture-- oooh!

God, goodbye cable. Hello prime time.

- Yeah. - All right, let's get this thing.

Oh wait. Light's not right. We should wait till the sun moves.

We can't. We've got a live one.

Some guy called and said we have to meet him at his house at 10:00.

- A townie? - Yep. Let's go.

All right.

I'm standing in front of the Featherbone Bar.

This is the last known place

that Vicky Alvarez, Tina Holt and Chloe Esveign

were last seen on that fateful spring night over five years ago.

Their disappearance and that of over 200 other Easter State students

still remains one of the most perplexing mysteries of our time.

Some say they fell victim to the fabled Highway Hunter,

others that they simply vanished into thin air,

into what some locals call the tri-county triangle

due to their unexplained disappearance.

Police investigations have just led to more unanswered questions.

Join us as we try to uncover

what happened to these three girls and so many others

on "Last Steps."

And we're good.

So who do we got?

Um, I... some local--

claims he knows what really happened, doesn't want us disparaging the town--

didn't want me to run the story, actually.

- A nutcase? - Probably. At least he's talking,

which is more than some of the other locals are willing to do.

Before we can discuss what a serial killer does,

we need to discuss what a serial killer is.

Some people would try to categorize them in the same group

as mass murderers, but this would be incorrect.

While both serial killers and mass murderers

may kill a large number of people...

The reason they kill and the period of time over which they kill

is completely different.

Where are these killers typically found?

Anywhere that there is a large enough population

to support prostitutes, the kind of people that won't be

noticed if they go missing.

However serial killers can and have also operated

very successfully in rural areas.

Make sure you get everything, okay?

- What about the release? - We'll get it afterwards.

Work with me, Tom, okay?

No one home.

He said 10:00.

Yeah, come in.

Hi, it's Maria Sanchez with "Last Steps."

I know who you are.

I have my cameraman with me.

I'm in here.

- Turn it on. - Okay, hold on.

Now hold the damn door.

Sorry sorry.

You're early.

Um, sorry, sir.

So you want to know about Cyrus.

- Cyrus? - Cyrus Danser.

The Highway Hunter,

the County Line Cannibal-- whatever you want to call it.

He was a good man.

Did his best with what God gave him.

Just liked his privacy. Guess that's why people talk.

And?

And that's it. I've said my piece.

Let the dead lie.

All those people are gone, Cyrus is gone.

So your story's just gonna open wounds

that have been long healed and best left unopened...

hurting people that don't need hurting no more.

- Mr.-- - Emmett.

Emmett, I'm sorry, I don't mean to seem rude,

but the state police and the local police and the FBI

have all been trying to figure out what happened to "those people"

and you just blurt out that some guy named Cyrus Danser killed them?

All?

I'm sorry, I find that a little incredible.

I guess that's your right, ain't it?

I've seen your show. I find that a lot incredible.

- Mmm. - Huh.

But that don't change what I said. That don't change the truth.

Does it?

So I'd appreciate it if you'd turn that camera off right now. Right now.

Okay. Why us?

Why not go to the authorities?

No need. He's gone. All those people are gone.

Nothing gained. But you-- you run that show,

we're gonna have people coming from all over into this town

like maggots on meat. This is a small town.

And small-town people like to keep to themselves.

- Mmm. - So I reckon there's no need

for you to keep digging and bothering people-- or even run that show.

"Is there? Is there? Is there?"

We don't run the show to bother people. We run the show to inform the public

and to give the victims' families a little bit of closure.

- Oh, closure? - Yes, closure.

One of the victims, Vicky--

- Alvarez. - Thank you, Vicky Alvarez?

She was a pretty girl. Had sparkling green eyes.

It is terrible what he did to her.

- I remember. - Remember?

Yeah, I remember them all.

Vicky Alvarez, Santa Fe, New Mexico.

You know Jan Bletcher?

Shreveport, Louisiana.

And Tiffany Beano? Davenport, lowa.

- How? - Pictures.

Driver's license, school IDs-- I kept 'em.

Yeah, I look at each one every Sunday after church.

Just not right that people forget you were here.

You want closure, there's closure.

If they're in that box, they're gone.

Oh my God, there's like--

there's like 100 IDs in here.

You take those and you talk to their families. Let 'em know.

- But no story. - I won't mention the town's name,

- but I'm sorry, I can't kill the story. - I am not bargaining with you, miss.

Now I'd appreciate it if you'd leave.

I would really-- I would really like to finish that interview.

Look, Emmett, the story's gonna get done with or without your help.

Okay, if you want to spare your town, I can help you with that.

If you want to tell Cyrus's side of the story,

I can also help you with that.

But if you don't want to talk then I'm gonna let the entire world know

that some sick fuck named Cyrus Danser, world's largest serial killer,

lived right here in Arkham Heights, USA,

and the whole town knew about it and didn't say anything

because they didn't want company.

You sure are a fast talker, ain't you? You don't know shit about Cyrus

or what he went through or this town.

Look, if my side of the story is inaccurate, it's because

nobody in this town will talk to me. If there's a side of Cyrus's story

that I'm missing, you being one of his friends,

I think that he would want you to talk to me about it.

Don't you think Cyrus would want that?

I think I know what Cyrus would want.

I'll tell you the truth-- the whole truth.

But no camera.

It's television. I need footage.

I don't want you using any of it.

I don't want it going out into the world.

It's none of their damn business.

- And no mention of the town. - Absolutely.

Agreed. But just let him, you know, record it for audio,

just for reference so I don't get anything wrong.

- I think you owe that to Cyrus. - I reckon I know what I owe Cyrus.

- What's your name? - I'm Tom.

Why don't we take a breath of air?

Okay. I'll just be outside.

Are you nuts negotiating with that guy? We should call the cops.

- After the interview. - What if there is no interview?

What if he just walks out that door with a shotgun and shoots us?

He's not going to, okay? He's not a killer.

Oh yeah, he's just best friends with a guy

that makes John Gacy look like a sweetheart.

You didn't turn the camera off in there, did you?

- No. - Thank God.

Why did you say we wouldn't use any footage?

Because it worked. And once it's in the can--

Oh yes, in the can. And if he sues?

Oh my God-- Jethro? What's he gonna give the lawyer as a retainer?

A can of motor oil? Hurry up, get this.

This is Maria Sanchez. It's been five years

since the mysterious disappearances on highway 213 in Arkham Heights

have stopped. It's also been five years since Cyrus Danser,

the man thought responsible for those disappearances,

himself disappeared.

A coincidence? No.

We at "Last Steps" are about to bring you an exclusive interview

with a man who could not only answer those questions,

but can prove that his answers are true.

Stay tuned for our exclusive interview with the best friend

of the County Line Cannibal.

I thought you said he was the Highway Hunter.

I did, but I liked his answer better.

- Cut it. - You all ready?

Yeah yeah. Grab it.

Are you sure you want to know all of this?

I mean, it's not a very pleasant story, miss.

And in the end, I don't think you're gonna like it.

Why don't you just let me worry about that, okay?

All I need from you is the truth.

- That I got plenty of. - Good.

But you're not gonna use any of the footage.

No. No, I swear.

- On what? - On my life.

Come on.

Fair enough.

The worst part

is just not knowing.

I mean, how do they know without a body?

Sometimes when I hear the phone ring I rush to it.

I hope

and pray that it might be her.

It never is.

Folks around here can't remember

exactly when the Dansers moved into that old house.

But the older folks speculate,

it was back before the interstate ran past our little town.

But who can remember back that far?

And why would they want to?

All right.

We're here, aren't we, baby?

- Just take a step. - Okay.

Here we go, ready? It's okay.

We're almost there. Just a few more steps.

That's all right. Watch your step, all right?

- You ready? - Ready.

A farm? You bought a farm?

Not a farm, our farm.

It's our home-- 100+ acres.

100 acres?! How'd you pay for this?

My veterans' benefit package from when I was a POW.

- Your benefits? - They paid me for all the time

- I spent in that camp. - Baby, that was supposed to be

our starting-out money to move to the city!

You spent it on this?

This! On this?!

- Sugar, this is our future. - Our future?

Do you even know how hard it is to run a place like this?

- I can learn. - Learn?

The closest you've come to making a living on a farm

is having supper at my daddy's.

Do you even know how to plow a field?

Sugar, you grew up on a farm, you can show me.

The only thing I'm gonna show you is the couch, Cyrus Danser.

I didn't marry you so I could move from my daddy's farm

to another one. All those nights

I spent worried about you in that prison camp,

not eating 'cause I was worried half to death,

all the nights sitting at home

crying and for what?

So you could spend all our money on a farm?

That was my money too, Cyrus.

I earned it waiting for you.

Go on, unpack!

She did many things wrong, but she was definitely right about that farm.

I'm going into town. Do you want anything from the store?

No.

Good. 'Cause we can't afford it.

People felt sorry for old Cyrus.

See, he didn't have any skills to speak of.

Couldn't tend his crops, fix an engine

or even milk a cow.

But one thing he could do which earned him the respect

and, dare I say it,

the fear of every man in town

was hunt.

And that there fear worked for Cyrus.

See, his wife wasn't exactly what you'd call a modest type.

You should be ashamed of yourself.

I'm a married woman.

What makes you think I want to have a drink with you?

I just thought you might be thirsty.

Well, I have a cola.

That's not exactly the type of drink I had in mind.

Simon?

Hey, Cyrus, we were just talking.

- Talking? - Just talking.

You done-- talking?

- Yes sir. - Then you should go.

Yes sir.

We all kind of felt sorry for Cyrus.

So we got real happy when he bought

that small plot of land down the road from him.

Off of 213A.

Everyone got real happy.

I figure I could put a gas pump out back for cars off the interstate;

Sell fresh game. I'm pretty fair with a gun.

Most of those folks they never tasted fresh game before.

You might want to throw a grill in there too, give them cooked food.

People on the go like that sort of thing.

It seemed to make sense for all the people in the town

and they all wanted to lend a helping hand.

I thought things might start looking up for Cyrus

until the day the stand was supposed to open.

Oh boy.

It was a horrible thing.

See, his missus, she was a fine-looking thing

in her early 20s with a glint of city living in her eyes.

They say his name was Tom or Bob

or one of them really short names.

He had that glint of big-city living in his eyes too.

Folks think he was tall and blond and blue-eyed,

but they don't really care. Why should they?

She didn't fit in. Oh, she tried hard enough at first,

but it just never really took.

Some people are made for a simple country life and some aren't.

She wasn't.

So it didn't take anyone by surprise when she up and left with the child.

No, stop!

Hungry, ain't you?

No one left

to feed you anymore.

But Daddy won't let you go hungry.

No.

I won't let you know that pain.

I won't let you know the pain this world's got.

I won't.

Are you telling me that he killed his wife, her lover and his child?

You don't listen very good, do you, miss?

I didn't say anything about killing no wife or child or lover.

All I'm saying is a salesman came off that long stretch of freeway right there

with a shiny new gas grill

and left with a wife and a boy.

At least that's what they say around here and that's all they say.

People didn't think it was strange that his wife just left?

No one was shocked. All the ladies knew she would leave him,

maybe even before she did. They would just stare at her

and say, "Look at the way she dresses.

Look at the way she acts.

Just look at her," they would say.

I guess people have a way of putting two and two together.

Maybelle who owns a little dress shop down on Main Street,

she was the first to notice.

Roadkill?

Cyrus, no one is gonna eat nothing called roadkill.

Try it.

I will not eat anything you scraped up off a highway.

It's just blended scraps leftover from the butcher.

It's a sin to waste meat.

Not some skunk you hit on the way over?

Nothing I didn't kill with my own two hands.

Mmm, mmm.

Oh my, this is the best hamburger I ever had.

Mmm.

Mmm, oh.

Just a small little bone.

- Let me try. - No, you get your own.

Mr. Danser gave this one to me.

Order me one more.

And despite her protest

she had to admit he was right. Everyone did.

The whole town must have passed through that stand that day.

Everyone asked the same question, heard the same answer

and had the same reaction:

it was the best damn burger ever.

And so no one ever asked about it again.

Why would they?

Sometimes towards sundown just before Cyrus was closing up shop

and Maybelle was finishing up her third roadkill burger,

she asked another question.

Can you believe she hasn't been here all day?

Did you see what she wore to church the other day?

- Shameful! - And the way she flirts.

- I know. - And the way she treats poor Cyrus.

- Shameful. - White trash, pure and simple.

It is late.

I would have expected you and the missus could have come up

with a better name for your patty burger, Cyrus.

But then again I would have expected

your wife to be here to help you on your opening day.

- Shameful. - The missus is gone.

- Gone with that salesman. - But--

Gone!

The young'un too.

They left a note.

That was all he said.

Tanny looked at Maybelle, they both looked at Cyrus,

and they saw in his eyes a hurt and a shame and a loss

and a man who just didn't want to talk about it.

And so they didn't. And no one ever asked about it again.

Why would they?

Well, the typical serial killer

is white, male,

late 20s to 30s.

He kills his victims by use of extreme and personal violence--

beating, stabbing, strangulation.

Would probably deny any responsibility for his crimes.

However psychosis or mental illness is very rarely present.

These people are usually very intelligent.

Doctors believe that serial killers lack the voice of conscience

which keeps most of us from doing things we should not.

And he uses this to escape detection and hide his identity.

In background, in personality, in appearance,

he can be extremely, extraordinarily

ordinary.

And that is probably the key

to his extraordinary talent for murder.

After all, who would suspect him?

Whatever happened that day between that man and his wife

took a terrible toll on him.

I knew it. I saw it.

Over the next 20 years or so, I saw that man change

in ways God never intended a man to change.

See, time didn't do nothing to heal old Cyrus's wounds.

I guess it didn't want to. So Cyrus, he took to healing his own

the best way he knew how-- hunting and tracking.

He could take a buck at 150 yards downwind with a single shot.

He'd sit crouched in a field for 10 hours-- more sometimes--

with that gun perched on his shoulder looking down that scope,

silent as a needle falling through water.

And tracking-- there wasn't a creature God made

that knew the land better than old Cyrus.

He could sneak up on a deer

and touch him on the nose.

The deer wouldn't know what hit him.

But no matter what that man did, there was no healing the pain.

You could see it in his eyes.

They just went silent like a bad garage-sale painting;

flat-- they didn't say a thing.

They didn't want to. And Cyrus?

Well, he was about as quiet as his eyes.

Oh, he would talk to take an order or tell you a price,

but mostly he'd just grunt at people.

If he liked you or you were from the town, he'd add in a nod.

That was pretty much it.

Those college kids when they'd come down there,

he wouldn't talk to them at the stand.

They'd drive 92 miles just to say they had roadkill for dinner.

City folks, they're strange.

Um, speaking of college kids,

you said to me earlier on that Vicky Alvarez,

that what he did to her was terrible.

Um, what do you mean by terrible?

It seems Tina and Vicky had taken the other one out drinking

to help her get through catching her boyfriend cheating on her.

That was a bad idea.

♪ Hey, baby, won't you stay awhile? ♪

♪ Whoa, you and I should reconcile ♪

♪ Oh why, baby, don't you see ♪

♪ You and I were meant to be? ♪

♪ Oh baby, I'll let you know ♪

♪ If you leave... ♪

Whoa, gotcha!

Yes, you do.

You taste like tequila.

Who knew she had it in her?

I guess she isn't taking this whole Luke thing very well.

Yeah, I know.

Ooh!

- Okay, time to get her out of here now! - Why?

Because she's starting to act like you.

- And what is that supposed to mean? - Uh, she's acting like a tramp.

- Thanks! - Well, let's face it.

I'm the smart one, she's the sweet one and you're--

Yes?

The reason we get free drinks.

No thank you, I'm driving.

Eh.

- Did he call? - About 20 times.

Good. I don't feel well.

It's okay, hon. We'll get the check.

- Did he call? - Yes!

Good.

- Oh, I don't feel good. - It's okay. We're leaving.

Here.

- Hey, where are you girls going? - Back to school.

No, we're gonna get roadkill. Come on.

Maybe we could join you?

- Uh, no. - Your friend hit on me.

She's drunk and stupid. Now do you mind?

We just want to play.

Oh, you want to play, lover?

- Yeah. - Yeah? You like it rough?

Yeah sure.

Good.

God damn it.

The liquor didn't help at all.

Just made her bounce back and forth between mad, bad and sad.

Like a bass flipping around on a hook

before you net it.

No, I don't want to hear it.

Okay, just-- study partner my ass!

No, I will not come over.

No, we're-- we're at the roadkill and if you want to talk

you can drive your cheating ass out here.

He's coming.

Great.

What the fuck?!

Hey, mister, is this place closed?

Hey, mister, I'm talking to you.

What, are you deaf and dumb? I asked if this place was closed.

Okay, bad idea. We should go.

Sorry about that.

It's just that we drove all the way here from the college

and I just wish you could open it up for just three little burgers.

Fine, you old redneck.

Who wants to be stuck out here in the middle of nowhere anyhow?

Go ahead, get in your piece of junk and get the hell out of here.

And you'd better leave before I kick your ass.

You're kidding me, right?

No, he's on his way.

Oh great. That's just great.

So what are we supposed to do until he shows up?

Ah! All right.

- Lay off it. - I could totally use a drink right now.

- Tina? - Ha. No.

- I'm driving. - Oh, that's all right.

It means more for us.

- You want to play, bitch? Let's play. - Oh my God.

Oh my God, get us out of here.

Hurry up.

Go, hurry up!

- Okay okay okay. - Go!

- Do you see them? - No.

- Should we go back? - Hell no!

There's gotta be an on-ramp up here somewhere.

Whoo!

- Get 'em, boy! - You like it rough, bitch?

- Stop. - Hit 'em again.

You have to drive faster.

Deer!

♪ You better watch when the sun goes down... ♪

Oh God.

Oh shit.

Fucking pick up, Luke.

The mass murderer, while he does kill many people

in one attack, when that attack is over

his mission is complete.

Serial killers represent a different and,

in my opinion, a much more dangerous threat to society.

While they may not kill as large a number of people in one attack,

they will kill for a number of years

as long as they remain undetected.

The next day was pretty much a normal one for old Cyrus:

wake up, open the stand, sell food.

Pretty much normal.

Except the holiday weekend coming up put a big dent in his supplies.

He needed to do a bit of hunting to keep up.

People from all over the tri-county

wanted roadkill for their family barbecue.

It tasted good,

kept you young and he sold it at a right fair price.

So all in all it was turning out to be a pretty good day

for Cyrus and the stand.

That is until that boy showed up with the sheriff.

Can you spare a moment, Cyrus?

It looks like you've had a busy day.

That reminds me-- I promised the wife

I'd pick up a few pounds of sausage for the holiday.

Anyhow, this boy's lady-friend went missing last night

with her roommates. Caught him plowing someone else's field.

I wouldn't bother you except she was supposed to meet him here last night

and never showed up.

Recognize them?

- No. - Well then,

we'll be getting out of your hair.

- That's it? - Son,

I got two squads to cover

the third largest county in the state,

which doesn't give me the luxury to drop everything I'm doing

to look for your girlfriend who ran off

because you got caught with your pants down.

So you're not even gonna look for her?

We did look.

She's probably back at school with them friends. If I was you, I'd look there.

But she called from somewhere near here.

Then maybe you should start looking somewhere near here.

But I ain't got time.

Well, thanks a lot, Sheriff. Redneck.

I don't believe I heard you.

Thank you, sir.

Git.

Can I get that sausage from you, Cyrus?

Now Luke had put Cyrus in a terrible mood

and that was a bad thing for anybody to do.

See, infidelity just didn't sit right with Cyrus...

- No, not a thing. - ...given his history.

No, I'm gonna stay here and look for her.

Tina?

Tina?

Tina, wake up.

Tina, please wake up.

So when he got home that night

he was in a particularly bad mood.

And those two boys from the bar were going to catch hell 'cause of it.

See, there just wasn't enough space.

Two cars crashing at the same time, well, it just never happened before.

He just hadn't planned for it.

So he put those boys out in the barn and the girls in the basement.

It just didn't seem right, them sharing a room in his house,

none of them being married and all.

Oh! What the fuck?

Don't cuss.

Oh yeah? Well, who the fuck are you

and why the fuck am I chained?

Jesus Christ!

Oh, sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean that.

But, God, you killed him.

What were you boys doing with those girls?

Nothing. Chasing them.

We were just playing-- for fun.

That was a real bad thing to say.

See, you can say what you want about old Cyrus,

but chasing girls for fun,

- that was just plain rude. - It was all his idea, please.

- Please don't kill me. - Shh.

And Cyrus hated rude.

- I can go? - To those trees.

- And then? - And then I'm coming after you.

The town's five miles north from there. You make it there, you're free to go.

And if I don't?

- I kill you. - Why?

For fun.

- What? - Git.

Now normally Cyrus would have killed him right then and there

and that would have been that.

But that there chasing-for-fun thing...

now that was the worst thing he could have said.

Please, mister, I don't want to die.

Run.

There were only two things that were for certain that night:

that boy was gonna die

and he was gonna die a wiser and politer man.

So when he thought he had made his point, he ended it--

quick.

He wasn't trying to be mean about it,

but he felt he owed it to the boy and those three girls.

And that was that.

The use of fantasy is very common among serial killers.

Often this fantasy has occurred well in advance of any crime.

However for the serial killer, fantasy becomes a compulsion.

And the subsequent behavior

keeps true to the original flavor of the fantasy.

The fantasy becomes the motive

and establishes the offender's signature.

It's been rehearsed in the killer's mind

and the roles have been cast.

He's only waiting for a victim to fill that final role.

Sometimes the victim will even be called

by a name that is important to the killer.

Well now, the bad part for Vicky, though no fault of her own,

was, well, she kinda reminded Cyrus of the missus.

- And that... - 'Bout time you woke up.

...that just never played out no matter how many times he tried it.

I had to fix my own dinner.

What the fuck? Where am I?

Don't you cuss.

Whores cuss. My mama cussed.

I told you that before.

Who the hell are you?

Why am I handcuffed to this fucking chair?

Three years married and you forget?

- Just like you. - Mister, we aren't married.

Get these goddamn handcuffs off of me!

It's Cyrus! And you take the Lord's name in vain again,

I will slit your throat.

You already broke enough of His commandments.

Take these handcuffs off me, Cyrus?

Why? You go see your boyfriend, the salesman?

- What salesman? - I see the way you look at him.

- You think I'm stupid! - No.

Well, I'm not!

No, baby.

So I can eat.

Damn.

Are you gonna stay put?

- Yeah. - Huh?

Mmm.

Baby.

- I need a knife. - Why?

So I can cut my steak.

I had a pretty good run at the store today.

Just about sold out of meat.

I told you, baby girl, we'd make things work here.

Just like I p-promised your daddy.

Just like I promised you.

Damn.

Keys!

Keys?

Oh.

Going to see him, ain't you? You don't like it around here?

Ain't good enough here for you? Huh? Is that what it is?

You think he does it better than I do? Well, I'll show you.

I'll fucking show you. I'll show you.

No.

Huh?

No!

What?

You all sad because you can't go see your boyfriend?

Please.

Please just let me go home.

This is your home. Come on.

- Come on. - No! No.

Now you've done it.

You went and woke up the baby.

What? I don't know--

Are you just gonna stand there and let him cry?

What? No!

He's hungry.

- Feed him. - Who?

Feed him!

Oh! Okay, don't hurt me, please.

I'll feed him. Where's the bottle?

The boy don't need no bottle. It ain't healthy.

What do you mean?

Get up.

No. No.

Climb them stairs, woman!

There you go. Come on.

Mommy's coming. Go ahead.

- But I-- I don't-- I don't hear-- - I can't stand that crying.

- Now make it stop! - Okay, no. Please.

Mommy's coming.

Oh God, it's dead.

Liar! Don't lie to me.

Please, no.

- No. - No son of mine...

...is gonna go hungry.

Now you feed him or there'll be hell to pay.

Go on.

Oh.

Well, he ain't gonna feed himself.

If you rock him, he'll go out like a light.

He likes that Rock-a-Bye song.

Sing.

♪ Rock-a-bye baby ♪

♪ In the treetop ♪

♪ When the wind blows ♪

♪ The cradle will rock ♪

♪ When the bow breaks ♪

♪ The cradle will fall ♪

♪ And down will come baby ♪

♪ Cradle and... ♪

♪ When the baby sleeps, he hears what she sings ♪

♪ From the rooftops ♪

♪ Down to the sea ♪

♪ No one's as dear as baby to me... ♪

Who told you to bring that thing in here?

Huh?

You think that's what I need?

Another mouth to feed?

Like you're not enough?

Huh? Do you see what I do to put food in your mouth?

And now you want me to feed another little bastard, huh?

He don't eat much.

He don't eat much.

Let me see that thing.

Oh, he is kinda cute, huh?

You know what kind of doggies don't eat much?

Dead ones.

Cyrus?

Cyrus, are you awake?

I told you--

- hell to pay. - Please don't hurt me.

I'll do anything. I'll stay.

- I promise I'll stay. - Oh no, baby girl.

We're way past promises.

You're trying to embarrass me in front of the whole town.

Gonna let the whole world know

that I married a whore!

No, please.

I promise I'll stay.

You want to let everybody know?

- No. - Huh?

Well, let's let 'em know!

No more. No more, please.

- Please. - All right.

No more lies, woman.

- You told them, didn't you? - No.

Please.

You did. Oh, you did.

After you promised you wouldn't tell anybody.

No!

I told you not to move.

You know, when you strangle someone,

they go through these phases

with their eyes.

How do you feel about his upcoming execution?

I just think it's wrong that he's--

that he's gonna get a shot and go to sleep.

First it's fear and anger.

I think he should be in prison. I think he should suffer.

I've been in prison for 12 years. My life is not normal.

I can't go out. There's nothing I can do.

And I think he should suffer.

I think he should know what it feels like in a real prison.

Second, total panic.

I am not afraid of him!

He may haunt me.

He may have half my brain, half my body, but--

I may have to fight him off, but I'm not afraid of him.

Third, complete surrender.

I just--

I just think about the other parents of the other girls

and I'm just sorry for them--

that I lived

and their children died.

And last they get this...

1,000-yard stare.

And then nothing.

But does his execution help me?

No.

If you're still

raping a bitch as she's dying,

when her body goes into those final spasms,

her pussy

grabs your dick and pulls on it as if it's milking it.

I like that part a lot.

- Look out! - Shh shh, be quiet, Tina.

What? Where are we?

A deer jumped out and you hit it. You remember?

Yeah, I remember, but what the hell?

I don't know.

I can't see-- my glasses.

- Chloe, where's Vicky? - I don't know.

Oh my God.

- Tina, what is it? Just tell me. - Vicky!

Vicky, Vicky.

Oh my God.

- Tina, what is it? Just tell me. - Vicky!

Vicky, please!

What is it?

- Vicky, Vicky. - Oh my God, is she all right?

Tina. Tina, what is it already? Tell me, please?

I can't see!

Vicky.

Vicky.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

Vicky.

No-ooo.

No.

God no.

He spent a good minute or two examining her face,

turning her head from side to side

to take in every bit of Vicky's pain.

He liked it.

He liked it because he knew it.

Kinda got a dumb look to her now, don't she?

Leave her alone, you bastard!

She was next and she knew it.

She should have been quiet, but she was rude.

And rude is bad.

What made the statement particularly rude was that it was true.

True rude is much worse than rude for rude's sake.

Fucking whore.

When I'm done with you I'm gonna do your little fucking kid.

No one really asked about who his father was.

Or where he went to.

About how his mother put bread on the table before she left one day.

Or about what state workers do to little orphan boys at night.

It wasn't anyone's business.

Old Cyrus knew.

Vicky knew too. Cyrus told her.

He liked sharing with his guests.

I told her not to move.

He was polite. It made him feel closer to them, I guess.

Sometimes a person just needs someone to talk to.

And he wanted them to know

that other people suffer in this world too.

They weren't alone really.

♪ Black crow flying ♪

♪ High over Whiskey Bay... ♪

Oh my God.

No, this is not happening.

♪ Black crow flying... ♪

Tina, I can't see.

What is he doing?

No, stop!

- Please stop! - What is he doing?

Tina, what's he doing?

No no.

What's he doing?

What's he doing to her?

Shh.

Tina, Tina, it's okay. It's okay.

Because Luke's gonna find the car. He'll come. It'll be okay.

Oh God, no. Oh God, no. This is not happening.

You're next.

♪ Don't look for me ♪

♪ I'll be gone both night and day ♪

♪ Don't go looking for me ♪

♪ I'll be gone both night and day... ♪

♪ You know I never wanted ♪

♪ I never wanted to be here anyway. ♪

He butchered them alive and then fed them to other people?

He killed most of them first,

but that "bastard" comment-- that really bothered him.

He didn't particularly like butchering them. He said that.

But the moments leading up to it-- that he liked.

He said that fear was a pure emotion.

That look of fear in their eyes always made him feel clean,

so he always butchered one in front of the others.

So that he could see that look in their eyes.

Jesus.

Jesus had nothing to do with it. It was need.

Don't you cry, ma'am.

She's in a better place.

Uh...

I got something planned real special for you tonight.

Real special.

If he killed all of them,

how did that lead to the beginning of the end?

The cheating boyfriend.

It seems he had relatives in the state capital.

Cyrus?

I'm sorry to bother you, but I figured closing time'd be best.

This here's Trooper Davis, state police detective.

It seems that boy from the other day, well,

his daddy's got some pull at the capital.

- Anyhow-- - Anyhow...

it seems the missing ladies contacted

Mr. Pendergrass at 6:58 PM.

You close at 7:00, right?

It seems they can track those cell phones

with triangulation and GPS.

Global positioning system.

You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?

You do know what time your stand closes, right?

7:00.

7:00.

There was one other thing.

There was another call 45 minutes later.

- Do you know where that call was from? - No.

Not 100 yards from your front door. So...

you should have seen them.

I don't recall.

You don't recall three

fine young things like them?

No.

Let me tell you how this works:

some spoiled prick calls my boss and tells him

his girlfriend's missing.

And the local police, well, they just ain't doing anything.

So they drag my ass down here

to find 'em. Now if I don't find 'em,

my boss is gonna throw a whole world of shit on me.

And I don't like shit on me,

so I'm gonna ask you one more time.

I want you to think real carefully before you answer.

Did you see those ladies?

I don't recall.

Then maybe you'd better start thinking real hard

or maybe I'm gonna come back here

and ask a couple of questions tomorrow

with the local state health boys

and maybe we can do a couple of inspections while you're thinking.

Maybe.

Well?

If you suddenly happen to recollect

you call me.

- Sorry about this, Cyrus. - Yeah.

Real sorry.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Now I can't tell you what went on in Cyrus's mind that night

'cause I didn't really understand it.

But the next morning, I figure old Cyrus saw the writing on the wall

plain as the writing on that trooper's card.

And that writing said it was the end.

I guess the only choice Cyrus had left was how the end was going to happen.

If I'd known what he was going to do, I might've tried to talk him out of it.

It wouldn't have worked, but I'd have tried.

See, trying to talk old Cyrus out of anything

was like trying to talk water out of being wet.

It just don't happen.

And I don't know what he said to that old boy on the phone,

but it got his attention and he'd be there soon enough.

I guess the truth screams, no matter how long it takes.

And I can't tell you how long he just looked at her, because I don't know.

I'm guessing it was awhile.

And he would have kept looking except for the siren we fixed up.

That's what woke her.

Shh.

Shh.

Yeah.

Shh.

I got something real special for you.

Don't you move.

Vicky...

she told me.

About Luke.

I know what it's like, miss,

to be left...

to be cheated on.

It's a powerful pain.

Unless you get rid of it...

you can't find any peace at all.

Just...

I want you to have peace before you go.

Please.

Oh my.

The way I see it

this old boy owes you an apology.

I don't want it.

And we ain't gonna stop...

until we get one.

Isn't that right?

No!

Watch this.

I reckon it was about then that first siren went off.

And what Cyrus did next

made Chloe have what you might call

one of those moments of epiphany.

It always did with every one of them.

He placed the bat on the ground right in front of her,

turned his back toward her and stared at Luke in the eye.

He could have said anything,

but Cyrus always said the same thing.

Now make it stop.

And Chloe, she was happy to oblige.

They always were. She turned around

and ran up those stairs right past that siren.

- The door was locked. - God! Please, somebody help me!

- It always was. - Please!

So she must have headed back down those stairs

and that's when she noticed the tunnel.

Been there the whole time. You couldn't see it from the cages.

That was sorta the plan.

She may not have known where that tunnel led, but she had to be thinking

whatever was ahead of her

is better than what was behind her.

And what was ahead of her was a locked trapdoor.

But it'd be opening soon enough.

Just as soon as that car tripped the second siren.

Please!

Chloe probably had about two seconds

before she'd realize the door'd open onto the old road near Cyrus's house.

She probably had about another second before she realized

the car coming down that road was about to kill her.

That's still more time than that trooper had

before his swerve to avoid what he probably thought was a deer

that had jumped out on the road. See, Cyrus had that door rigged

to open just as that car would get to it.

Well, I guess that's the end of the story.

I warned you it ain't no fairy tale.

It's getting late. I guess you all want to leave.

Um, just one more thing.

The door trap...

how did he time that out?

You know, I never really figured it out and he tried to explain it to me,

but I never got it.

You know, you can go over there with me.

Maybe you could figure it out.

- You mean it's still there? - Sure, the house-- everything.

You'll take us there?

I had a feeling you were gonna ask me for that.

No problem at all.

That would be-- that would be great, right, Tom?

Yeah, great.

I don't think we should be doing this.

Yes, we should absolutely be doing this. Yes yes yes.

- Don't-- don't. - We just agreed to go see

a place where people have been slaughtered.

- Yes yes! - Like he just happens

to have a bunch of IDs? Like, what? Are you high?

- They are not his. - Of course they're not his!

They're of his victims. He killed a bunch of fucking people!

- No, he didn't. - Oh yeah, he just what, collects them?

Please please pull it together, okay? For me can you pull it together?

Watch your step.

- Oh yeah. - Oh, I want to get all this.

- All of it. - This is where it all happened.

Right here, right here, right here. Life and death.

The whole universe in this one little room.

Oh, is, uh-- is that the signal?

Oh shit!

Hey, don't cuss in this house. That's not right. People died here.

I'm sorry.

- I guess it still works. - Yeah, goddamn right.

That means a car is passing along the road.

It'll end up here in a couple of minutes.

Yeah.

Hey, get footage of these cages

and get the rest of the room, okay?

Huh, at least that's how we tried to time it.

I don't know why I say "we," because it was all Cyrus.

It seems in the war he used to

have these booby traps and a soldier would step on it

and knock him into another soldier and that soldier would

get knocked into another one and on and on and on.

We didn't have any mines.

We had two little tripwires.

That's better.

The car would run over that wire and set that off

and let Cyrus know he had about one minute,

which was enough time to let them run like rats out that hole.

But he would leave the bat for them to hit him right there.

The timing was the tricky part,

so we added another wire and rigged it so the trapdoor would open just in time

for the last one to run out onto the road

before the car got 'em.

And then we'd have a lot more to work with.

- Tom! - I'm getting a few shots of this door.

Jesus, these people tried to claw their way out of here.

See, that's the look I was talking about.

There is no Cyrus. It's you.

Now that ain't true at all.

I spoke to him today while you and your cameraman were setting up.

Yeah. Oh, I'm sure you did.

What, with that state boy dying,

we figured it'd be best for Cyrus to pull up stakes and move.

He only moved about six hours away from here.

About the same amount of time I've been talking to you.

Well, if you're not him, then how do you know about everything?

Well, he told me. He'd call me and he'd say,

"Come pick up these cars I got."

See, I run a scrapyard

about 18 miles down the road from here,

mostly crushing washers and dryers, farm equipment and cars--

things that people don't need anymore.

You know, we would sit and have breakfast.

Cyrus would mostly talk about how his week went.

I'd nod. You see, what I figure is a man needs

someone to talk to once in a while.

Yeah, just clear his conscience.

Like I did with you.

Don't! Don't you fucking move.

Tom, get the goddamn door. Tom!

Hey, Cyrus.

It's you.

I feel it's a real kind of compliment

that Cyrus confides in me and lets me keep my tongue.

He knows that I wouldn't let the cat out of the bag or spill the beans.

Why would I? We've been working together

since the first day that stand opened.

I feel kinda guilty

because I'm the one that suggested that whole grill idea.

People on the go like that sort if thing.

I just might.

I'll be goddamned.

I guess I'll leave you two.

- I've really got to pick up your van. - Please please.

You know, you remind him of his missus.

I don't see it, but I guess he does.

I guess he does.

Let's get this thing.

Oh wait. Light's not right. We should wait till the sun moves.

We can't. We've got a live one.

Some guy called and said we have to meet him at his house at 10:00.

- A townie? - Yep. Let's go.

All right.

- Are we done? - No, we need to flip for your single.

Is this about the Highway Hunter?

The who?

They say he killed over 200 people and just disappeared.

Really?

Would you frame up? Thanks.

I'm sorry, you were saying?

It happened about five hours from here-- Arkham Heights.

You ask around. People will know something.

Mr. Adders, we need you to sit down.

Sorry.

Some really pretty eyes.

Thanks.

- Tom? - Yeah?

Beautiful.

You kinda remind me of someone.

♪ Sunshine will brighten up my day ♪

♪ When I feel so blue ♪

♪ I can start anew ♪

♪ 'Cause it's all clear ♪

♪ I'll promise you, my dear ♪

♪ You'll never have to cry ♪

♪ 'Cause I'll make everything ♪

♪ All right. ♪

Subrip & Sync: easytobeaman

I should have never had you, you little fucking maggot.

Do you know what I have to do to feed your fat little face?

How many men have to come in here?

What I have to do to feed your little unworthy, ungrateful little--

But the fantasy is never totally fulfilled

and the anger and the resentment are never resolved,

so tragically the cycle of fantasy and murder repeats itself.

There's always that desire to reenact the sequence

in the quest for ultimate fulfillment.

The fantasies and thought processes must come from somewhere.

And we can only assume that the origins

lie in the person's personal history.

FBI analysts believe that at any one time

there may be from 30 to 50

serial killers active in the US.

♪ Oh no no no-no-no, oh no no no-no-no ♪

♪ Oh no no no-no-no, oh no no no-no! ♪

♪ There were some promises made yet he lies in your bed ♪

♪ Tell me who you lied to, was it me or just you? ♪

♪ So you chose him instead and left me lying for dead ♪

♪ Is this how you planned it? Just to leave me stranded ♪

♪ Oh no no no-no-no, oh no no no-no-no ♪

♪ Oh no no no-no-no, oh no no no-no! ♪

♪ You low-down dirty shame ♪

♪ No tact, just foolish games ♪

♪ Yet you keep on running ♪

♪ But in your eyes there's something ♪

♪ You low-down dirty shame ♪

♪ No tact, just foolish games ♪

♪ Yet you keep on running ♪

♪ But in your eyes there's something ♪

♪ Nah nah da da da nah, nah nah na na na ♪

♪ Nah nah na na na, nah nah, O Lord! ♪

♪ And now you're chasing your tail so fast you left a dust trail ♪

♪ Tell me did you plan this? ♪

♪ 'Cause, baby, I can't stand this ♪

♪ With eyes half closed you're tricking ♪

♪ Left right, up down, you're missing ♪

♪ Tell me who you've strapped on ♪

♪ So I'll let go and move on ♪

♪ No no no-no-no, no no no-no-no ♪

♪ No no no-no-no, no no no-no! ♪

♪ You low-down dirty shame ♪

♪ No tact, just foolish games ♪

♪ Yet you keep on running ♪

♪ But in your eyes there's something ♪

♪ You low-down dirty shame ♪

♪ No tact, just foolish games ♪

♪ Yet you keep on running ♪

♪ But in your eyes there's something ♪

♪ D-d-d-dd-- don't you lie ♪

♪ D-d-d-dd-- don't you lie ♪

♪ D-d-d-dd-- don't you lie ♪

♪ D-d-d-dd-- don't you lie ♪

♪ You low-down dirty shame ♪

♪ No tact, just foolish games ♪

♪ Yet you keep on running ♪

♪ But in your eyes there's something ♪

♪ You low-down dirty shame ♪

♪ No tact, just foolish games ♪

♪ Yet you keep on running ♪

♪ But in your eyes there's something ♪

♪ You low-down dirty shame ♪

♪ No tact, just foolish games ♪

♪ Yet you keep on running ♪

♪ But in your eyes there's something ♪

♪ You low-down dirty shame ♪

♪ No tact, just foolish games ♪

♪ Yet you keep on running ♪

♪ But in your eyes there's something. ♪

We've got five of them incarcerated in this facility.

All of them are on death row.

There are those like myself who question

the death penalty, say it's only legalized murder,

- that minorities are-- - Look, I know all the arguments.

That death sentences are unfairly dealt out to minorities.

That an innocent man might be executed in error.

Those arguments don't stand up with serial killers.

First, most serial killers are white.

Second, the question of executing an innocent man

isn't really an issue.

The question isn't if, but how many.

Look, I'm all for talking to these serial killers

to find out why they did it

and to capture and prevent others from doing it.

But once that is done, justice should be swift.

The death sentence may not necessarily be a deterrent.

But it is a good means of administering justice.

I only have a few more questions.

No no no, let me ask you a couple of questions first.

How many lives does a man have to take

before we deem his life unworthy?

How god-awful does a man have to be

before we pronounce him beyond salvation?

How many death sentences need to be handed down

before the first one is carried out?

I want you to answer those questions for me first.

Oh, by the way, the guy you interviewed earlier--

the Satanist who gouges his victims eyes out--

sits around watching television, piling his pentagrams up

and paying attention to the needs of his fan club.

His state-paid-for psychiatrist

said he apparently is very happy with his life.

He's healthy, robust and doesn't need any medications to sleep.