The screams of the victim|deaden his pain.
The act of killing|makes him feel intensely alive.
What he feels next is not guilt...
but disappointment.
It was not as wonderful|as he'd hoped.
Maybe next time, it will be perfect.
And as his determination builds|to take another life...
he plans, in obsessive detail...
what props he'll bring...
what knots he'll tie.
Let me ask you something.
What turns you on?
What really does it for you?|Is it a great body?
Is it a nice smile?|Is it beautiful legs?
What turns on a serial killer is the|suffering and death of a human being.
Now, I'd like to ask you|guys a favor.
If you could all stand up,|all the men in the room.
Please indulge me.
Come on, it's only fair,|after all the time you've ogled us.
Now, would everybody under 20|and over 35 have a seat.
If you are of Asian or African-American|descent, you may sit down.
Kenny, turn that light on, please...
so we can get a good look|at these guys.
Ladies, what do you see?
Some pretty cute guys,|don't you think?
If one of these fellas asked you out|for a drink, you'd go.
Let me tell you something.
Nine out of ten serial killers|are white males...
aged 20 to 35...
just like these.
Albert DeSalvo, Bianchi and Buono...
Berkowitz, Dahmer, Ted Bundy.
They were quiet, unassuming...
even nice.
They had jobs.|They made decent neighbors.
Their victims trusted them.
The FBI estimates...
there could be as many as|35 serial killers...
cruising for victims|even as I speak.
Guys, sit down.|You're scaring me.
Serial killers...
are not a 20th-century|invention...
but we are spawning them|in greater numbers.
The state of Florida|spent almost $8 million...
to electrocute Ted...
You're dead.
Sorry.
The state of Florida spent $8 million|to electrocute Ted Bundy.
Wouldn't that money have been|better spent keeping him in jail...
subject to intense|scientific scrutiny?
Isn't our best hope to try to identify|the Ted Bundys of the future...
before they kill?
Thank you.
Don't park next to vans.
Thanks for coming.
I'm hitting the ladies' room.
Since she's using the ladies' room,|I'll use the men's room.
- Thanks for your help, Tom.|- Anytime.
Hello?
Sorry, ma'am.
Doc, it's all yours.
Dr. Hudson?
Hello?
Come out with your hands up.
I'm not going to ask you...
What are you doing with my gun?
How'd you get my gun?
What are you doing in the ladies' room?|Are you spying on little girls?
I'll tell you something right now.
Don't she look pretty up there,|Officer?
You know what I want to know?
Help me out on this,|since you're the expert.
How would a fartknocker like me...
take out a dumb guy like this?
Would you stick him...
or would you shoot him?
Stick him or shoot him?
I can't decide, but I think|I'll just go ahead and do both.
You bloodied up my knife,|you dog.
I hate cops.
Hey, Dr. Hudson.
What do you say me and you|have a little fun?
John Adams...
Adams...
Jefferson...
James Monroe, James Madison...
John Quincy Adams.
Andy?
Andy?
John Quincy Adams.
Andrew Jackson.
Martin Van Buren.
Wait a minute.|This is so stupid.
Calvin Coolidge.
I got you beat.
Bye, Kate.
Police! Freeze!
The good news is,|you're still alive.
You see a downside to that?
This is pretty remedial stuff.
Let's review the scenario.
Didn't anyone at the Academy|teach you to shoot conservatively?
You shredded him.
I'm an intuitive cop.
With poor impulse control.
Let's assume you didn't mow down|a 75-year-old man...
who couldn't hear your warning|because he's deaf.
Let's say you greased the guy|while he was trying to surrender.
Now, you're on leave|pending an inquiry.
Friends wonder if you're a psychopath.|On top of that...
the guy's junkie-wife's lawyer slams|a wrongful-death action up your tail.
All right, smart-ass,|let's see how you do.
The shoulder of|his gun hand's exposed.
You hit the brachial nerve,|he drops the gun. You read him his rights.
Plus, you haven't taken a human life|so your karma's still okay.
You hungry? I'm starving.
- Aren't you going to answer that?|- No, it's probably not important.
She thinks it is.
How about Moroccan?|You like couscous?
Don't you want to know|which one it is?
Hello?
You must have mental telepathy.|I was just about to call you.
The usual.|Long days making sure justice prevails.
10390 Mariposa.
Scaffolding on the north and west sides|of the building.
Great.|The Mouth is here.
You can end her career.
Pop her in the brachial nerve,|she'll drop the microphone.
It's a thought.
- How are you?|- Fine, thanks.
Can you confirm that this latest murder|fits the same pattern as the other two?
We just got here.|I'm not prepared to...
Is there a serial killer stalking|the streets of San Francisco?
Excuse me.|I'm a member of the press.
Hey, MJ, all done.
Hey, Jim. Can you grab some overalls|from the crowd, some nice, clear faces?
I'll make them say "cheese".
The landlady found her.
The front door was open.|She tried the bell.
The tenant didn't answer,|so she went inside and found the body.
She used the telephone to dial 911,|otherwise she touched nothing.
- You're thinking robbery?|- It doesn't look like it.
It's all yours, kids.|I'll take care of the Mouth.
Good morning, sir.
- With this scaffolding, we should call...|- I'll call the contractor.
Take this.
Good morning.
Were you first on the scene?
Is that the landlady?
Thanks.
- "Johnson". What's the first part?|- Mike.
Did you touch anything, Mike?
I don't want to get excited about|latents and find out they're yours.
- No, I didn't.|- You didn't?
She usually goes jogging in the morning,|to the Delores Park.
This one.
Pretty wild.
How're you doing?
Got an estimate for me?
About eight hours.
I'm seeing ligature marks, petechiae.
Strangled, huh?
Same as the others.
You'll bag all the stuff|on the bedside table?
Thanks, Bill. Excellent.|That's the only one I need.
Were you the first one here?
Did you touch anything?
No, ma'am.
What's wrong?
Nothing.
If you're holding out on me,|I'll get it out of you. You know I will.
There was a stocking around|her neck when I found her.
I don't know|what happened to it.
Who else was in there before|the CSI came?
Lieutenant Quinn.
That's all right, then.
Thanks, Mike.
Celebrating 25 years of the spirit|of the 60s in San Francisco...
the Festival of Love got underway|today in Golden Gate Park.
Why did you remove evidence|from the...
I want to hear this.
In Potrero Hill...
homicide detectives discovered|yet another grisly murder today.
Police would not comment, but informed|sources inside the Department...
tell us this latest death...
could be the work of the same killer|responsible for the deaths of two women.
Susan Schiffer, Potrero Hill.
You messed with the scene.
Someone around here can't keep|his yap shut, and I'll find out who.
What did you do with the stocking?
I tagged it.
I don't want some blabbermouth|leaking the MO to her...
so she can tell everyone,|leaving us nothing to play.
Am I in charge of this or not?
Why are you so prickly?
I ought to be the one deciding|what evidence to sequester.
All right, Inspector.
Which evidence on this case|would you like to sequester?
- The stocking around the neck.|- The stocking around the neck.
You're one pushy broad, MJ.
I'll take that|as a compliment, sir.
I didn't say serial killer,|you didn't say serial killer.
For Christ's sake.
Again.
George Washington.
John Adams.
Thomas Jefferson.
James Madison.
James Monroe.
Oh, come on.
John Quincy Adams.
Martin Van Buren.
Idiots!
You followed the girl home.|Then what?
I killed her.
Where did you do that?
It was in the bathtub.
Why did you do that?
She was dirty.
She was a very dirty girl.|Very dirty.
Do you remember...
how many times you stabbed her?
Eighty-seven.
Harvey...
Get the fuck out of here.
I got work to do.
Come on, let's go.|What?
Innocent blood is on these hands.
I understand. That's a terrible thing.|But let me tell you...
if you come back, I'll make you|stand in the corner again.
- But innocent blood is on these hands.|- I understand. It's terrible.
You don't care about the truth.
We pay for city government, just like this,|and you never care about the truth.
I killed her!
- I know.|- I killed her in the bathtub.
Good-bye, Harvey.
Was it something|I did in another life?
Probably something|you did in this one.
Stuff came in from Mercer.|Medical, dental receipts...
Nothing in common with the others.
What's that around your neck?
I'd get one like yours,|but I don't live near K Mart.
How about friends, acquaintances?
The only thing these girls had in common|is they all owned vibrators.
The tool of survival.
How can he come|to work wearing that?
Lay off him.
A cop should look like a cop.
What's the world coming to?
Let me let you talk to|the lead inspector on the case.
Hold on.
MJ, we got Deep Throat again.
How many calls is that?
That makes three today.|Fourteen, total.
Phone company|set up on our Centrex?
Yes, this morning.
- Have Gigi put a tracer on her ass.|- I'll see if it'll work.
Inspector Monahan speaking.|Homicide.
Ask her about the moon bike.
I'm interested in your ideas.
The moon bike...
What is that?
Moon bike?
I said a "lunar cycle. "|I think he might be on a lunar cycle.
Because the first two murders|were 28 days apart.
Still want to crackjokes?
No, this is no joke. Neither is tying up|police lines with crank calls.
Are you calling me a crank?
Do you have any evidence to report?|Did you know the victims?
This is Number 3.
That is an opinion, not evidence.
May I ask who I'm speaking with?
Who's Helen Hudson?
What did you think of his claim,|that he tied these women to a tree...
and burned them alive because|Joan of Arc told him to?
He was lying.
How do you know?
People suffering from aural hallucinations|hear voices in both ears.
In stereo.
Daryll Lee told me...
Joan of Arc always appeared|on his left side...
and spoke softly in his left ear.
Those are the lab results,|hot off the press. No sperm.
We've got a serial.
You didn't say that.
You interviewed Cullum three times.
Who's that?|The woman that got the cop killed?
She might be useful.
That woman is a wrong number.|Work the clues, for Christ's sake.
What clues?|We don't have any clues.
Nobody here has ever worked|a serial case before.
I have.
The Zodiac, right?
Did anyone ever catch the Zodiac,|or did he die of old age?
Commissioner's on 2,|about the Chinatown thing.
Work the clues.
But what else?
Mr. Cullum satisfies|the rules for sanity...
in being fully aware|at the time of the murders...
that his actions were wrong|and unlawful.
Thank you, Dr. Hudson.|No more questions.
San Francisco Homicide.
I'm Inspector Goetz.|This is Inspector Monahan.
Is Helen Hudson here?
I'm her assistant.|Can I help?
Could we have a few minutes?
Come in.
This way, please.
Dr. Hudson, these are|Inspectors Goetz and Monahan.
He's escaped again, right?
I'm sorry?
Well?
Is he out or isn't he?
I'm not following, ma'am.
Let's talk about your phone calls.
Phone calls?
I didn't make any phone calls.
Isn't this nice?
Would everyone like to sit down?|Shall I make coffee?
Get me my stuff.
Joyfully.
I talked to you this morning,|Dr. Hudson.
Do you remember?
Of course I remember.
There's nothing wrong with my memory.|You called me a crank.
I suppose I am.
I got a couple crank calls myself.
That's why I thought|Daryll Lee Cullum was out of prison.
If Daryll Lee had gotten out,|you'd be the first to know.
Good.
I'm relieved.
I hate to sound like a broken record,|but you called us.
I did. I'm sorry,|it won't happen again.
Why?
There's a serial killer out there who's|strangled three women. He'll do it again.
If there's evidence connecting these|murders, nothing's been made public.
How do you connect them?
I don't know.
Twenty years of clinical|experience with serial killers.
Would you work with us on this?
You're kidding?
I thought you knew|that I don't do this anymore.
I'm retired.
Is that why you called us 14 times?|'Cause you're retired?
Help me out.|I really admire your work.
Does she do this...
wide-eyed-little-girl|routine often?
Yeah.
Does it work?
- Usually.|- Sometimes.
You can spare me the bullshit.
You don't admire me or like me.|None of your people do.
But I don't give a fuck!|That's the upside of a nervous breakdown.
If you don't mind,|I have a very busy day.
It's a hell of an apartment|you got here.
I guess...
the books you wrote|about these scumbags paid well.
We can't afford to pay you...
your usual fee...
but if you'd be so kind|as to look...
I don't want these here.
- Would you be comfortable downtown?|- I don't want to see them here.
I'll drive you, if you prefer.
It's all right. It's okay.|Just breathe. I'm here.
- Should we call the paramedics?|- No.
It's just a good,|old-fashioned panic attack.
She hyperventilates till she faints, then her|breathing gets normal and she's fine.
- What did we do?|- She's agoraphobic.
She's afraid of spiders, too?
She hasn't left home|in over a year.
She's okay?
She's fine. In half an hour,|she'll be singing.
Tell her...
we're sorry we bothered her.
Did you want her|to look at those?
If you do, leave them.
I'll make sure they're safe.
Tell her to call me...
if she feels like it.
That one is a strange ranger.
Quinn said she was a crackpot.
He forgot to mention pill-popping|juicehead...
hyperventilating,|agoraphobic asshole.
I thought she was sweet.
Honest to God!
Are they gone?
All gone.
I must've looked like|such an asshole.
You look good with a bag|on your head.
Oh, God.
I want to die.
I wouldn't.
He'll be back.
Who'll be back?
Don't be coy.
You thought he was cute, too.
No, I didn't.|I did not.
You like those cute, brutal types|with the eyebrows and the handcuffs.
Admit it.
Oh, God.
What? What'd I say?
Nothing.
I miss men.
What am I?
You know what I mean.
I miss sex.
He was pretty cute.
Yes, he was very cute.
No young cops for you.
Up you come. Sit over here.|Look at these pictures.
Why are these here?
I'll get you some coffee.
I can't.
Why don't you just die, then?
They'll find you years from now amongst|unopened mail and unread newspapers.
Yeah, the old hermit lady.|She lived on cat food and Camembert.
She used to be|a really good shrink.
Make up your mind.|Here's your coffee.
Live or die.
You scared me.
Burning the midnight oil?
This stuff never gets any easier.
That's why they pay us|the small bucks.
Do you...
What would you think if...
when you're finished here|we go to Joe's and we...
have a steak and...
I don't think so.
Thanks anyway.
You got other plans?|Not that it's any of my business...
You got that right.
Bean curd, smoked-eel sushi.
We got prawn tempura, seaweed salad.|You want to join us?
You kiss your mother|after eating that?
No. I can kiss you,|if you like.
Go fuck yourself.
Who put the bug up his ass?
Where's my cheeseburger?
I made an executive decision.
Japanese.
It's better for your heart.
You didn't even get French fries.|You're pissing me off.
Here, here.
Any word from...
Helen "Paper Bag" Hudson?
Not yet, but there will be.
No way.
Five bucks|she's going to call tonight.
Deal.
Wait a minute.
What's this Quarter Pounder|with cheese doing here?
Inspector Monahan, please.
These three are the work|of the same man.
This one is different.
Are you testing me?
Not exactly.|We had reason to believe...
I have to take tests now?
Ongoing case?
Six months.
The scene is disorganized.
The killer lives nearby.|He would've been too disoriented to drive.
You have two possibilities: One is|a mental patient, the other is a boyfriend.
Someone who was denied sex|on this occasion...
who knew and cared about her.
He beat the shit out of her.
But he felt remorse.
He covered her up afterward,|because he felt conflicted.
Not like this man.
These are the work of someone|who is not conflicted at all.
He's doing exactly|what he wants to do.
Highly organized.
I'll bet there were no prints,|no stains, no blood.
Right.
No sign of forced entry.|He probably conned his way in.
They may or may not|be about sex...
but they're about power.
See the multiple thumbprints|along the throat?
Was the hyoid bone broken?
Yes, it was.
He strangles them face to face,|so they can see his power...
and he can watch their terror.|That gets him off.
Then he revives|them and does it again.
Look for an intelligent white male,|20 to 30 years old, socially functional...
with a major interest|in golden oldies.
Did I pass?
You passed.|What do you mean by golden oldies?
Where's the stocking|that was tied around this one's neck?
How'd you know that?
I mean, I assume it was a stocking|and not pantyhose...
tied in a big loopy bow...
like this one.
Right.
For goodness sakes,|it's the Boston Strangler.
He's imitating Albert DeSalvo's|crime scene down to the kinky details.
This guy's copycatting a serial killer|who's been dead for...
Twenty years.
Why DeSalvo? Why not somebody|in the news recently?
Gacy or Ramirez?
I don't know.
These guys are like viruses.
There's always some new mutation.
The commissioner is up my ass,|saying we could use help here.
We could use help.|We need their VICAP, we need their...
database thingies.
The FBI will bury you|with fucking help.
During Patty Hearst...
some kid with a crew cut|took over my office for a month.
So, you're saying...?
I'm saying, if you need help...
Nikko is almost through|with the Chinatown thing.
That really won't be necessary, sir.
Join us. We need you.
Anyone with a similar profile|to the Strangler.
Or with a German wife.|Can you do that?
Anyone who wears green pants...
The files in from Boston, yet?
Should be here tomorrow.
What are you up to?
Going to Chinatown.
Sit in on this for a minute.
What do you got?
Winning?
I'm pulverizing him.
All right, I'm off.
- See you.|- Have a good time.
I won't wait up.
Got you.
She's next.
How do you know?
'Cause I watched her face|change to that.
Did you try to play it back?
How did he send this to you?
He hacked into|her Internet address.
Can we trace it?
- Only if he's online right now.|- He ain't.
Can we rewind or...?
Yeah, we should be able|to play it back.
- How long is the program?|- Thirty seconds.
- Can we get a copy of that face?|- No, it's too big a file.
Back up to tape.
She's got a tape backup.|We can make a copy and take it with us.
How do you know all this?
Misspent youth in video arcades,|I guess.
A lot of quarters.
Why would he send this to you?
Why do you think?
No one mentioned your involvement.
There is no involvement.|I'm not involved!
This is a game they play.|They hang around watching the cops...
feeling superior to them.
Instead of catching him,|you led him to me.
He didn't write to me,|he wrote to you. Why?
Because I'm their|damn pinup girl.
They all know me. They have libraries.|They collect clippings.
I'm the muse of serial killers.
Try the C drive.
Any other suggestions?
It's gone.|The file is not here.
It's not on C drive,|and it's not in List.
You think he put a virus in there?
- Yeah.|- What exactly is...?
He wrote a virus into the program.|If you try to copy it, it's erased.
He booby-trapped it!
I must hand it to the guy.
- He's a smart motherfucker.|- Do you remember what she looked like?
Yes.
She looked like a girl.
She looked like a million|other girls.
I barely saw her.
I'm going to the office to get|a systems guy on this. Maybe Marty.
What're you doing?
Unplugging this.
It's an open window.|He can crawl in any time he likes.
He comes in, we grab him.|It's the only lead we've got.
And what am I?
The lamb tied to the stake?
This is the only space|that I have in the world.
- You're not getting it.|- I'll get a guard here.
I don't want a guard here!
All right.
- We're all working together.|- I'm not.
I'm not working with anybody.
Turn the monitor back on and I'll stay|until we figure out what's happening.
- Go on.|- Catch you later.
All right?
Heil, Hitler.
I don't think he's going to send us|anything tonight. He's too busy.
You want a drink?
No, thank you.
On duty?
Always.
So...
What about you|and the wee inspector?
What about us?
Are you?
We're partners.
Partners?
In every way?
Not yet.
Self-confident.
Actually, I'm...
shy...
selective.
The trouble is I'm...
I'm finding myself...
You're in the witness category,|you see.
In better times, maybe.
Peter!
I've been calling and calling.|Didn't you hear me?
You completely forgot about me.
Very thirsty, weren't you,|my little sweetie?
Come on.
Are you teasing me?
Naughty little boy.
What are you doing?|Want to watch Letterman with me?
Well, I could, but...
I don't watch talk shows|on my own.
I know.
Oh, go on.
Go back to your|silly little computers.
Thanks.
Haven't you forgotten something?
I love you.
Yeah, me, too.
Look's like you're in a bit|of trouble.
I'm going to place my hand...
right here.
I'm going to put my elbow|right here.
Just...
cut...
there.
There, now.
Didn't I say|I'd take care of you?
Goodness! You're so hot!
This is going to hurt a little,|I'm afraid.
They claim they didn't see anything.
You received a call from dispatch|at 6:35 a. m.?
Correct. 6:35. The first unit arrived|about 15 minutes later.
Great.
Did you isolate the kids|who found her?
Yes, they're over|on the side of the hill.
How many of you knew her?
We just danced with her.
Really?
You just met her tonight?
Excuse me.
Good afternoon.
Did you stand too far|from your razor today?
I was up all night|with a sick friend.
I want to talk to you.
Have you got a thing going|with MJ now?
I don't believe you.
Good God, man, you stink.
Heavy date last night?|Are you screwing around on her already?
What's wrong with you?
Me? I'll tell you,|you just treat her right.
Don't go screwing around on her.|She doesn't deserve that.
Remind me again why she dumped you.
Why is he here?
What do you see?|Tell me what you see.
There are stains.|So, she's been sexually assaulted.
No defense wounds. No ligature marks|or bruising, like the others.
Very cyanotic.
Asphyxiation, huh?
- Doesn't look like our guy.|- You don't think so?
Look at her heels.
There's abrasions, but no bleeding.
- She's been dragged up here postmortem.|- Maybe.
On this stuff we're not going to get|any prints or tracks.
Long night?
- Don't you start.|- What about her arms?
There's needle marks.
No tracks. Not a regular user.
Probably so stoned,|she never knew what got her.
Hope so.
A lot of little hippie girls.
They all want to make love.|They all want to be beautiful.
That's your type, right?
What're you doing?
Want to be on the 6:00 news?
Go down and|finish taking statements.
Let's get out of here.
I know.|They found another one.
What?|Ruben told you already?
I heard it on my scanner.
- Can I use your phone?|- Sure.
They want you to call the office?|Your phone is busted.
You're some piece of work.
I turned that damn scanner off,|and then I turned it on again.
I can't listen to it, but I can't|not listen to it. So I make Andy do it.
Are you on medication?|I need your whole brain on duty.
I'm not on duty.
Neither is my brain.
Everything is different.|Different guy.
She was asphyxiated, not strangled...
dumped outdoors,|sexually assaulted.
So, nothing like DeSalvo.
Completely different.
Monahan. Messages, please.
Why do you need me?
I think I'm wrong...
because something|was artificial about it.
Like posed.|She was on display.
Why drag a body|all the way up a huge hill...
where it will be found|by tourists?
You think he's changed|his routine?
That doesn't happen.
These men are robotic.
The murder's a ritual.|The method is part of the pleasure.
Why is that computer off?
Because I turned it off.
You can't do that.
I believe I can.
- But would you like me to turn it back on?|- Yeah.
Hello, Ruben.
Please thank Inspector Goetz|for taking care of me last night.
Dr. Hudson wants me to thank you|for taking care of her last night.
Lab results on the new one.
Two kinds of sperm.
I guess that's...
a gang thing.
Thanks for the use of your phone.
There were two kinds of sperm?
They said one was a secretor,|the other was not.
How'd you know about that?
There were needle marks?
On her right arm?
So far, nothing they test for|comes out positive.
Was the body found|near a "No Dumping" sign?
Like this?
I could've taken that picture.
Shit. He switched.
From DeSalvo to Bianchi and Buono.|The Hillside Strangler.
Two men. Two kinds of sperm.|Very witty, our guy.
You said that they're like robots...
Yeah, but "consistency|is the hobgoblin of small minds. "
Tell them to test for chemicals found|in window cleaner: ammonia, ethanol...
It's what they injected into victims.
Why these guys?|Why in such detail?
He wants to dazzle us.
Anyone can strangle|someone in a tub.
He's saying, "Look out.
"I'm just getting started. "
In San Francisco...
the mutilated body of an unidentified|young woman was discovered.
Police have yet to comment|on the slaying...
which is the fourth such body|found in the last six weeks.
Reporting live is Susan Schiffer.
In response to growing alarm,|a special task force is being set up...
inside the Police Department.
Aiding the police is noted|criminal psychologist, Dr. Helen Hudson.
It was her expert testimony that|sent Daryll Lee Cullum to Death Row...
for the murders of two young women.
Cullum later escaped and attacked|Dr. Hudson, killing a police officer.
Meanwhile, schoolyards are empty,|college campuses are deserted...
and a terrified city locks its doors.
Oh, hi. Sorry.
I'm a little lost.|Can you help me out?
Yeah, sure.
Thanks.
We have a white female, early 20s,|found deceased in vehicle.
Gunshot trauma to head.|Request CSU forensics and coroner.
Backup is requested.
Got you.
It's a beauty.
Great.
I'll look at it soon.
You thought you heard a backfire?|Where were you?
I was just waiting to cross the street,|going east.
Excuse me.
Hi, it's me, Helen.
Look, this isn't a good time.
It's a woman shot in a car, right?
No, it looks like a drive-by.
She's in a parked car, shot in the head,|no sexual assault.
Which side is she on?
- Look, I really got to...|- Was it the passenger's side?
Yeah.
Was the tape player on?
I don't know. Was the tape player on|when you got here?
Yeah, it was. It was driving me crazy,|so I shut it off.
Okay.|Switch it on, would you?
It's still warm.
Don't laugh, but I think it might be|the Partridge Family.
Put the tape player on.
Helen thinks it might be|the Partridge Family.
Don't hang up.
Is a gas station nearby?
With a phone booth?
Go look for a note.
Here.|I got to go check the pay phone.
It's Berkowitz, isn't it?
He's doing Son of Sam.
She was sitting in a parked car|when she was shot.
Look in the crowd.
Berkowitz liked to watch cops work.
Helen, we found a note.
It says, "Police, let me haunt you|with these words: I'll be back. "
It's to Helen.
I'm going over there.
I know it's kind of late, but Ruben's|going to drop by with a few questions.
Look, I've got to go,|so I'll see you later.
Inspector Monahan, Homicide.
I need a 10-25 to Pier One, Fort Mason.
Approach Code 2.|Wait for instructions.
Alert the officer|on security duty there.
Just steal the car and go.
Burt?
I'll deal with you later,|asshole.
You must think|I'm a complete moron!
Until we know better,|I say the guy's just a junkie.
A junkie?
In a full-on SWAT suit?|Ruben, you're such a lousy liar.
Are you sure nothing's missing?
Yes, there is! The cop|who was supposed to be at my door!
Where was he?
He screwed up.|That's not the point.
It is! You dragged me into this,|you're supposed to protect me.
What're you doing?
I'm checking the bed!
That man is in and out|when he feels like it!
We got here as quickly|as we could, okay?
Fortunately...
Why is that? Why did you come|to my rescue so fortuitously, huh?
There was a note, wasn't there?|At the gas station.
I was right.|What'd it say?
You think the guy's been|in here before? You said that.
I don't know.
Someone came and messed|with my clothes.
And they put this red suit of mine|on the bed.
Anything special about it?
It was the one I was wearing...
at the lecture hall.
Why didn't you report it?
I didn't know.
I thought it was me, you know...
I had taken a lot of pills|and I had been drinking.
I just didn't know.|I wasn't sure then, but I am now!
So stop pretending to me|that it's a burglar!
Stop treating me like I'm some|fucking idiot! Tell me the truth!
I think the man who has killed|five women in this city...
was just in your apartment.
I don't know why.
But I do know he has a plan,|and you seem to be a part of it.
The truth is he's very smart,|and he's way ahead of us.
And I take it your moving is|out of the question?
So, all I know to do...
is run the usual checks,|change your locks, tighten security...
and pray.
Feel better?
No.
But I appreciate your candor.
When do I get to see this note?
Once that you've decided|on a killing
First you make a stone|of your heart
And if you find|that your hands are still willing
Then you can turn a murder into art
There really isn't any|need for bloodshed
Just do it with a little more finesse
If you can slip that tablet|into someone's coffee
Then it avoids an awful lot of mess
Because it's murder by numbers
One, two, three
It's as easy to learn
As your A-B-Cs
It's murder by numbers
Good morning, Commissioner.
Good morning.
Murder By Numbers, by The Police.
Obviously, the killer wants us to hear|this song for reasons other than...
music appreciation.
Familiarize yourselves|with the lyrics.
We need to figure out|what he's trying to tell us.
I think that about covers it.|Anything else?
Yes, Inspector?
We're set up on Helen's phone line|so we can monitor calls...
and anything coming to her modem.
Questions?
He is not a happy camper.
- The Hudson broad.|- What about her?
The commissioner thinks, and I agree,|that she's leaking like a rusty bucket.
Maybe she's trying to hype her new book.|I don't know.
She's just not reliable.|Especially after lunch.
She has been really useful to us|on this case.
I don't want you discussing|this case with her...
in any shape, way or form.
Do I make myself clear?
Crystal, sir.
Did that help any?
You don't feel fear, do you?
One of those people who thinks|everything happens for a reason.
And we're all "God's chillun".
How nice.
I put my ass on the line|to bring you that letter.
Are you gonna help me or not?
"Helen, don't lose your head. "
So, we're on a first-name basis.
Is it a threat?|Does he want to cut off my head?
Dahmer cut off heads.
Kemper.
I think Rifkin did.
I'm sorry. It's difficult.
It's okay. Take your time.
"First you make a stone|of your heart. "
That's the first step:|dissociation.
He's saying he's suffered.|Now it's our turn.
What made a stone of his heart?
Usually it's rejection or humiliation|by a parent.
Gacy's father beat him for fun.
Kemper's mother locked him|in a cellar when he reached puberty.
Something happened to this one.
Are these his first killings?
I think they are.
He's thought about them.
This guy's copycatting.
He wants what those killers got.
Fame, the power to terrify us...
To take whoever, whatever he wants|without saying, "Please. "
"And if you find that your hands|are still willing, you can turn murder...
"into art. "
He wants us to think|what he's doing is art.
We're looking for someone|desperate for acceptance.
Probably has a fair academic record.
And I think has a technical job.
Something that demands|a certain precision.
"Flushed with your|very first success...
"you must try a twosome|or a threesome...
"and you'll find your conscience|bothers you much less. "
A gruesome twosome.
Kemper did two in one day.
Bundy did three.
Boston Strangler, Hillside Strangler...|Does the order mean anything?
It's not chronological.|Son of Sam was before Hillside.
He's sending you letters|like he's daring us to nail him.
If he wants to be famous,|he must be caught.
So you can write a book|about him.
Good grief.
Thanks. Stick around.
It's lousy, but it's hot.
Thanks.
Are you all right?
He burnt the print off|the finger.
What a surprise.
He used it as a bookmark.
The chapter where Daryll attacks|the doctor.
We know that Mr. Cullum was safe|in San Quentin last night, so...
why did this book|show up under the mattress?
I'll call you one better.
It's autographed.
"Hey Doc, hope you like the book.
"Love and sloppy kisses,|Daryll Lee Cullum. "
What a cuddly!
I know what you'll say.
I'll do the talking.
How you doing?
I want you to look|into this little camera here...
Now I want you to speak|into this microphone.
She'll see me through that?
- How she gonna hear me?|- Speak into the microphone.
Hello.
Hey, Doc.
I'm Inspector Monahan.|I'll be speaking for Dr. Hudson.
I'm hanging up.
I ain't talking to a cop.
Dr. Hudson just got your book.|Do you know anything about it?
I surely do, but...
that's all I'll say till that|foxy lady gets on the horn.
Put her on.
Hello, Mr. Cullum.
Doc!
I've been expecting your call.
From one author to another,|how'd you like my book?
What do you know|about the man who delivered it?
Peter Kurten?
What about him?
Peter Kurten?
Peter Kurten is the name of a|serial killer from the 30s in Germany.
Damn, he took that man's name.
Is he bothering you?
He broke into my apartment|to leave your book.
Kind of a hand-delivery?
Did you put him up to it?
This guy,|he's written me all these letters.
I figured he owed me|a couple of favors.
So I sent a book with him to your house.|I didn't think he'd break in.
Steer clear of him.|He's a freak.
He told me he's going to send me|$500 for some of my... spirit.
He said that he can make me immortal|if he had some of my spirit.
You know what I'm saying?
This is embarrassing.
I don't want to say it right out|in front of a lady.
I think I know what you're referring to.|What did you do about it?
I took some liquid soap,|put it in a sandwich baggie...
with a message from Jesus|to mend his ways.
How will you contact Kurten?
Buddy of mine got paroled.|I'll send the baggie with him.
Kurten will hook up with him.
Do you know when and where?
All depends.
Depends on what?
It gets awful lonesome in here, Doc.
I think about you all the time.
A personal token would be nice.
Let's see...
something...
feminine...
something lacy, something frilly,|something pretty.
I got it.
Send me some of your squirrel covers.
I beg your pardon?
"I beg your pardon?"
Your panties.
You wear them, don't you?|That's what I want.
I want them autographed|to me personally:
Daryll Lee Cullum.|Deal?
That's a promise.
My buddy's meeting Peter tonight at 10:00|at the Danver Meat Packing Company.
How's life?
How'd you like to get off|the Chinatown detail?
We have a lead.|I think we can get this guy.
Yeah, I'll be right down.
You've got to come talk to me,|because Jesus kept you alive for a reason.
He knew Satan was in my heart,|raising my hand to kill you.
And Satan knew I had a good six,|seven years of appeals...
before they'd drop the|cyanide tablets.
And I'm just like Jesus.
I got disciples, too.
They're dying to do whatever I ask them,|as long as I just say the word, Doc.
I'm death and life to you, Doc.
Death and life.
- I speak Mandarin. They're Cantonese.|- How can I get a statement?
I wish I could help.
I'll do anything you want.
You speak English?
You speak any English?
Let's go. Get up.
Fuck you.
Get your hands off me!
We're out of here, babe.|Say good night to Hal.
Good night.
You're going out in public|like that?
Festival of Love.|Power to the people.
- Hang loose.|- Heavy. Far out.
Like, psychedelic.
Doughnut?
Behave.
I'll send you to your room.
There's only glazed.|You can't have the chocolate.
Everybody take it easy.
Hold the gun down|so it doesn't go off.
Put up your weapons!
Weapons up.
Easy, easy.|Put the gun down.
Tell him to put the gun down.
I don't know how to say that.
Take it easy.
Nobody out that door!
Freeze!
- I'm a juvenile!|- Don't move!
It's weird, you know...
You think you're going to|crash your car...
or go out in a blaze of glory|with some big bad guy.
And what happens?
Some jerk...
forgets to lock his stupid drawer.
I can't tell you how many times|I saw the two of you together...
I'd see you with your heads together.|He'd be making some kind of dumb joke.
I wished...
I wished him dead.
Every time.
You know what?
The strange thing is,|I'd really give my life right now...
to bring him back.
You're in terrible trouble, Nikko.
Terrible trouble.
Who gives a fuck?
I give a fuck.
You know that in all the years|I've known you...
I've never seen you cry.
He's on paid leave. I managed|to talk the commissioner out of no pay.
You take his, you take mine.
Now I'm supposed to lose|three good cops in one day?
Sir...
I tried to control the situation.
I tried to control it.|I made a choice.
It didn't work out.
An officer got killed.
You made a decision,|and it was the right decision.
You just got the wrong result.|That's all.
You go out and you get drunk.
I am.
We missed him.
Jesus Christ!|How'd that happen?
It was my fault.
I was so stupid.
We had a problem with...
Ruben's dead.
- Come in.|- No, really. I'm okay.
I thought you should hear it|from somebody...
instead of seeing it on the news,|because...
I know that you and he had...
a thing.
No, we didn't.
He was a...
sweet man.
I thought of him as a boy.
- Come in.|- No, I'm okay.
Come in for just a sec.
Answer the phone.
Let me tell you something.
Nine out of ten serial killers|are white males...
aged 20 to 35,|just like these.
The FBI estimates that there could be|as many as 35 serial killers...
cruising for victims|even as I speak.
Peter Kurten?
Bitch!
Get the tap on Hudson's phone|and see if it traced a call two minutes ago.
There's a tap on my phone?
Yeah, just this second.
Don't argue. Just do it.
Is it possible this guy was a student|of mine?
Where'd you give this lecture?
All over the country. Dozens of times.|It was my stock lecture.
When was the last time|you gave it here?
Would have been last year,|just before...
I'm getting it.
That's it.|That's the order I gave it.
"DeSalvo, Bianchi and Buono,|Berkowitz, Dahmer. " Dahmer's next.
Which means he'll kill a man|and after that...
He'll do Ted Bundy.
The Sound Factory?|Perfect.
I know where it is. I'm going now.|Give me some backup.
Just maybe...
Maybe.
He's going to do Ted Bundy next.
That was the last name on the list.
He'll pick the|most extravagant murder.
The song talked about a threesome.
Bundy killed three girls in one night|at that sorority house...
Chi Omega.
He faked injuries.
He wore a cast on one arm,|and he used crutches...
and he asked the girls for help.
He drove...
a very distinctive car.|It was a...
Gold VW Bug.
We need to get on the DMV.
We want records on all gold|or tan-colored VW Bugs, any year.
I want an in-person check|on every registered owner.
Anyone who's registered a gold, yellow,|tan or any light-colored VW Bug.
Contact campus security|at every college within 50 miles.
They need to warn all female students,|especially those with long hair...
to avoid any contact|with males they don't know.
Report any man with an injury|or a handicap.
DMV printouts of all Bug owners.
Beautiful.
That's him.
He gave him the drink,|they went onto the dance floor and...
You're absolutely sure?
Yeah, that's him.
Peter Foley, Daly City.
Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.
We've got him.
Call the SWAT team.|I'm not taking any chances with this fuck.
Kind of defeats the purpose|of my Miracle Bra but...
who's looking?
You're onto him.
Good work.
Just horseshit luck.
I don't think so.
You take care out there.|Okay?
Don't I always?
I love you.
You know?
I know.
You're looking good, Team leader.
This is a status "David".
Go, Team leader.
Peter Foley, this is the police.
Come to the front door.
Come out with your hands|above your head.
Team leader, we have a fire|in the basement window.
This is status "George".|This is go.
Lieutenant, can you tell us|what happened here tonight?
San Francisco Police developed evidence|that identified the killer...
known in the media|as "The Copycat Killer"...
as one Peter Foley,|who lived at this address.
When Mr. Foley was asked|to step outside to be interviewed...
it's believed that he set fire|to the residence.
Don't tell me you both want|to use the men's room.
Hiya, Helen.
I got your invitation...
and I accept.
Helen, it's MJ.
I'm sure you heard on your scanner|it was a mess.
I know it's late,|but I'm coming over.
That's perfect.
That is perfect, Helen.
Sounds like we have company coming.
I'm not going to lie to you.
This is gonna hurt.
This is Inspector Monahan,|Homicide.
I'm at Pier One, Fort Mason. I've got|an officer down. I need assistance.
Copy, Monahan.
Up we go.
Oh, hi there.
We join our program|already in progress.
Inspector Monahan...
don't you ever get tired...
being a day late and $1 short?
You probably think I'm going|to slit her throat right now.
Cut my losses, so to speak.
Wrong-o!
Do you really think I'd get her|all dressed up, so pretty...
with no place to go?
If you're a smart cop...
you'll know where to find us.
And if you're a really smart cop...
you'll come alone.
Otherwise...
it's "bye-bye Helen. "
See you.
No, this is wrong.
Here we go, Helen.
There we go.
Much better.
What about him?
Did I get the pose right?
Did the best I could from the photos.|Come on, help me out.
Which way was his head?|This way, or this way?
This way.
Good. Excellent.
Everything has to be just so.
God, Helen, I remember...
watching you on the big screen.
In your red dress.
God, you looked huge.
Look at you now.
So sad.
But, look on the bright side.
I'm going to make you|the world's most famous victim.
Guess what that makes me?
Did you know that more books have|been written about Jack the Ripper...
than Abraham Lincoln?
It's a sick world...
isn't it, Helen?
You are not to go in there alone.
You wait for proper backup.
And you acknowledge my order!
You stay out of that building|until backup arrives! You copy?
Absolutely, sir.
Careful, Helen.
See?
Now you've cut yourself,|haven't you?
See, I've been practicing.
Want to know the trick?
Small...
incisions...
with a fine...
instrument.
That way...
I can make it last...
for hours.
You will not believe|how long a minute can feel.
Fuck you.
What?
You heard me, you little twerp.
You think I'm afraid of you?
I know you are.
I know all about you.
You're just a sad...
second-rate...
boring, impotent little copycat.
Watch it, bitch!
Or I will slice that smile off|your face, do you hear me?
- Daryll Lee couldn't get it up, either.|- Do you hear me?
I see, Helen. Nice try.
Want to know a secret?
I'm onto your trick.
I won't kill you fast.
No matter how much...
you're gonna want me to.
Excellent.
Here's where Daryll Lee|got sloppy.
He wasn't expecting a second cop.
- But I am.|- I'm in here!
Helen, relax.
The other cop's collecting his pension.|So will she.
But if you warn her, I'll kill her.
This is Inspector Monahan.|I have a message for Quinn.
Go ahead.
Tell him...
I'm sorry, I blew it.
Now, that's my gun, isn't it?
What in the world are you doing...
with my gun?
Get your ass over here.
Come on, Doc,|help me out in this situation.
What do I do?|Do I stick her or shoot her?
Shoot her or stick her, huh?
Come on, help me.
You watch this, Helen.|You watching?
Perfect symmetry here.
Get up here. You watching?
You watching this?
Helen, what are you doing?|No!
Feet on here!
Damn it!
Good try, Helen.|But you don't get off that easy.
Come on, get up. Let's go.
Get up, bitch.
Shit!
Help us! Somebody!
Somebody!
Help us!
Looks like I cured the agoraphobia.
Help us! Help!
Forget it!
Too late!
Too late for you, Helen!
Put up your dukes!
What the fuck are you|laughing at, bitch?
What are you laughing at?
What're you waiting for?
Go ahead.
Dear Conrad:
Thank you for your letter.
Praise the Lord.
I know you must be so happy|that He chose to spare Dr. Hudson.
The Big Guy moves in mysterious ways,|don't He?
It just so happens|I'm awaiting the arrival...
of a pair of genuine|Helen Hudson undies...
signed personal to me.
A real collector's item,|I'm sure you'll know.
They're yours.
But don't forget,|a disciple must be strong...
if he is to succeed|where others fail.
Peter strayed from the path|and the Lord smote him good.
So keep it simple.
Then glory is yours...
and "vengeance is mine"...
as the Good Book says.
I know you'll get my meaning.
Happy hunting, partner.
Daryll Lee Cullum.