our society creates these socially and psychically disenfranchised men, and their revenge on society is terrible. they are hard to catch. they are "the nice guy next door," their employers -- if they work at all -- find them quiet and uncomplaining. early abuse and rejection have taught them passivity. only in their violent fantasies do they feel alive. what they seek in their frenzied assaults on their victims is relief from passivity. for these men, ten minutes relief is worth far more than the life of another human being. torture, the pain they inflict, the screams of the victim, are all part of the ritual that gives them a brief respite from their own psychic pain. and then the depression, the forgetting, the feeling of sadness and despair begins the cycle all over again. like addicts seeking their drug, albert desalvo, bianchi and buono, berkowitz, dahmer, bundy -- they seek out their next victim.
the cycle is endless until they are caught. and they are caught by chance -- they run a red light, and a body is in the trunk. a leaking pipe brings a plumber to a basement where they is the smell of death.
at any time, right now, as you listen, the fbi estimates there are 30 to 35 serial killers stalking their victims. the serial killer is a plaque that must be addressed not only by the law, but by science. florida spent eight million dollars to execute ted bundy. it would have been better spent building a forensic penal facility devoted to research.
confined for life, without parole, and subjected to scientific study, these men's lives might finally, in some small measure, educate and thereby protect society. thank you.
andy! andy!
it is october twelfth, 1994 in the city of san francisco, california, u.s.a., the strongest, richest, most stable and happiest country in the world. that is the sole place of life in the universe. under god.
good god. what happened to you?
'i'm a terrible date. i'd mess up your life.'
'maybe it's better to just dream on; avoid the disappointments of life. come on, move.'
yes? you son-of-a-bitch! son of a bitch.
you filthy.  son of a bitch!
as she stretches out her foot toward the paper, can't reach it.
damn fools!
who is this?
what is wrong with you people? the first two, i thought he might be on a lunar cycle because they were 28 days apart, but obviously not. this new one is only two weeks.
you're calling me a crank?
i think this is number three.
where were you? don't tell me. it's just under seventy, right? the sun is strong but the air is dry and fresh.
i got it myself.  i couldn't wait.
i've told you: i can't afford to garage it.
i had the dream again. and i got another call. this time he spoke. he said "you and me, you and me."
he whispered, but it was him! i know it was him!
andy? when a three-year-old says there's a monster under the bed, you don't say 'forget it'. you look under the bad. i'm three years old. call the prison.
oh god. i'm really crazy.
monsieur andy, disapproves of my coiffure?
andy?
you parked right behind him. the one i noticed earlier. i didn't say anything, i thought he'd leave. just take a look.
but earlier, he was staring up here. please, andy.
i'm calling the police!
is he out?
if he's not out, why are they here?
what calls? i haven't made any calls.
you were the one that talked about moonbikes and called me a crank? oh god, i am! make them some coffee. halloran, is it? investigator goetz? i had a crank call myself-- he said.  i thought it might be daryll lee cullum. i thought he might be out of prison.
you don't admire me. no police admire me. i got one of you killed. why don't you say right out what you're here for?
yes, i did. poor impulse control. the accounts of the firs two murders made it so clear they were the work of the same man, but you kept announcing they were unrelated. you'll never catch him that way.
well, let's thank god you and inspector goetz are on the case, then.
oh, my god, no! i'm a clinical hysteric, with panic syndrome, and anxiety neurosis, agoraphobic, i'm afraid of everything, real and imaginary. i never leave this apartment now. nobody ever comes here. i just wanted to get your attention. i write and i used to lecture on these crimes, but.  i'm not competent.
inspector halloran, that is so much bullshit, you don't like or admire me, but the beautiful part is i don't give a fuck. that's the upside of having a breakdown.
will you go. andy, make them go.
i don't want this. what are they?
yes. without question.
the test criteria are only part of what we look at in evaluating subjects.
he was lying.
i thought he was lying.
because people who are suffering from aural hallucinations hear voices in both ears. daryll lee told me that joan of arc always appeared beside him on his left side and spoke softly in his left ear.
he took pains to hide his actions because he knew they were morally wrong. he was not acting on mad impulse. he was sane and acting out a pattern he carefully followed every time.
the same as the first time.
the first two murders.
he told me he had done two others just like it.
when he was seventeen.
yes. i believed him.
oh, god. i must have looked horrible.
i want to die.
reminded me that i used to be attractive. that men used to want me.
about what?
i can't, andy.
the way he's posed the bodies.  he's flaunting his power to do whatever he wants to her. this man.  he probably seems perfectly normal. these murders are organized and planned.
except for this one. you put that one in to test me.
is it an ongoing case?
it was a lover or a husband. someone close. somebody who knew her and cared about her.
he felt remorse. he covered her.
the bodies have been carefully arranged.  different positions, but somehow the same. the positions are brutal.  yet quite.  artful. it's like.  a signature. he's proud of his accomplishments. there are early picassos and late picassos, but you always recognize the hand. he wants us to recognize his hand. i've seen this hand before.  what are you hiding?
where are the stockings he strangled them with?
i sent andy out on murder missions. for god's sake -- it's the boston strangler, alber desalvo. he used their own stockings to strangle them. tied in a bow-knot.
somebody is imitating his m.o. look for a plumber or carpenter or handyman; that's how desalvo got in the door and caught them off guard.
in the sixties. he's dead -- stabbed to death in prison.
if you knew why, you might know where to look for him. i don't envy you this; he's not done -- he's going to do them faster and faster to keep the adrenaline rush. now, i've done what you asked me.
none of you know anything about it. now go. and andy, if you persist in playing doctor, leave, with them.
get out! all of you!
andy! please. don't you go!
that's the face of the next one he'll kill.
look at the bottom of the screen. you see the icon with the arrow pointing left? click on that.  twice.
that computer's wired into
he can get into my computer any time he likes! this is exactly the kind of thing i didn't want to have happen.
it's too big a file to copy to a disk.
it's a game they like to play. berkowitz -- "son of sam" -- hung around the crime scene, talking to the cops. this one's probably watching you, laughing at you.
one officer already got killed trying to protect me. please, just take it all away. leave me alone.
it's gone. the file's not here. what did you do?
he's brilliant. this one is brilliant.
show what? it's gone. he wrote a self destruct virus into the code, so it would only play until we try to copy it. then it erased itself. gone.  do you remember what you saw?
i am not going to look at any more pictures. they're like a disease. they get into my head. i can't get them out.
maybe that's why you can't catch him. i know what she looks like -- the red-headed woman in my computer.
she probably let him in the door without a thought. where are their mothers?! where are the mothers that are supposed to teach them to be wary and to tough and not afraid to fight?
it's anybody connected to author- ity. they write, they even knock on your door. they're fans. it thrills them to flirt with getting caught.
because i'm his damned pin-up girl! his, all of them! they know me. they're in prisons with libraries, they collect clippings, i'm their worthy opponent. you keep my name out of this.
oh, god, i forget. yes. yes. you go. poor thing, you ought to get out.
i know 'halloran.' what's the rest of it?
maryjane. you think that logic and police procedure, order and science and method will hold back the horrors of a world gone mad and the sickness of the night. i did once. but you know how he'll get caught? he'll have an accident, or some cop will get lucky. you can't catch him by being intelligent and working hard. or the worst: there are dozens of women slaughtered in the most horrible way, month after month. the news stories grow more grotesque and bizarre and in the city people lock their doors and windows, and hurry home before dark. and then, one day, there are no more. what happened? did he just stop? get tired and disgusted and decide not to kill any more? did he kill himself? did he die in an auto accident? or a fight. or get sick and die? it's like the murderer walked off the edge of the earth. and you never know. but you keep asking yourself -- when you read about a new murder -- is he back?
he's going home. he slept over because i was a little anxious.
that would be much appreciated. thanks.
you and maryjane aren't lovers.
are you always so bold?
well. another time, then. i'll be all right. he's not going to attack me; what i' m rally afraid of is all in my own head, ruben.
oh, god! help me!
i'm falling! i'm going to fall!
falling.  falling!
don't let go.  i can't breathe.  i'll die!
the lock.
will you stay? please? i'm afraid to sleep.  i don't want. him. in my head.
i'm not seeing anybody.
you're fired.
that's no surprise.
then what do you need me for?
you're saying it's the same man, but he's changed his style? that doesn't happen. these men are robotic; the murder is like a ritual. the method itself is part of the pleasure.
i turned it off. it's like an open window he can climb right in.
have you got a warrant? get the hell out o here! this is the only space i have left in the world! why can't you leave me out of it?
that little winona ryder manner.  you're more convincing as clint eastwood.
hello?.  oh.  . yes, she's right here.
ruben.
please thank inspector goetz for taking care of me last night.
she was near a sign that said "no dumping?" two kinds of sperm -- the lab said one was a secretor and the other was not?
there were needle marks. but no drugs in her blood.
is that it?
he's switched from desalvo to the hillside strangler. the strangler was two men, that's why there are two kinds of sperm. his idea of a joke, very witty our boy.
consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds. tell them to test for the chemicals found in windex. that's a product for cleaning with.
it's what bianchi and buono injected into one of their victims.
ah, if you knew that, you'd be half way to nailing him. serial killing is irrational and rigid and compulsive. this guy has a plan all thought out, flexible and complex. he's playing a game with us. who will he imitate next? maybe he's doing all the serial killers in history, the great innovators, the murderers' hall of fame. just to prove he's better than all of them. they got caught; he didn't.
who's going to catch him? you? and if you do, there'll be another one. and one after that.
this one, yes. i was always curious about these twisted little souls, but this is the first one i've felt personally terrified of. he's something new and unheard of. i don't know what he wants.
you betrayed me! now every psychopath in the city knows i'm back in business.  you lied to me!
why should i trust you?
how could you.
it's a woman shot in a car?
she on the passenger side?
what's that music. it's abba. i can hear it. it's abba.
don't hang up!
listen to me. is there a gas station nearby?
is there a phone booth there?
go and look for a note.
she was listening to abba in her parked car when she was shot with a bulldog .44.
one of those goddamned car alarms. what's going.
look in the crowd. he liked to hang around and watch the cops at work.
why don't you shoot off the lock?
he was in my apartment!
you think you're my daddy?
they taught me at the fbi. i was very good at it. it scared me.  i liked it.
what else?
"i'll be back"
they put merry saks on it?!
what i can't believe is that in an earlier life i slept with him! christ! any god that loved his people would give women a rewind on their life and an erase button. just give me a minute here. the letter is addressed to me.  you don't feel fear, do you? you're young. you feel like you'll live forever. how wonderful.
they weren't going to show it to me?! the arrogance! it's my life!
it's not chronological: son of sam was before hillside.
he attacks what he feels he can't have. what he feels excluded from.
'first you make a stone of your heart.'.  oh yes! he doesn't suffer. that's past. now it's our turn.
kemper said in order to have the experience he wanted with them, he needed to evict them from their bodies. by making the body a completely passive object, he releases himself from passivity.
but the relief he feels is only temporary. '. before your conscience bothers you much less' but the tension always comes back. 'you can join the ranks of the illustrious' he wants to be like them. the best. to become the best. but, he has his own desires, his own compulsions apart from theirs.' his own horrors.
some horrors that are all his own.
he needs to prove they don't control him, that he's the one in control. but the feeling of power never lasts. he can control his victims, but he can't control anything else.  his place in the world. he want s to be recognized. he puts messages in my computer; he sends me a letter.
of course he wants to do a threesome! only bundy did three in one day. is bundy next? but bundy should be last.  the grand finale. what about kemper and ramirez? gacy, dahmer, williams? rivkind? who else is on his list? in what order?
'. great dark hall of fame.  all our greatest killers' his greatest heroes? he wants to be famous. when they're caught and people like me write about them, we give them a kind of immortality. they get thousands of letters. ramirez kills eight women and gets a hundred marriage proposals a month. they're like film stars.
would you fax those pages to me?
if we keep going and work till midnight.
you've got a date right here, andy. this has got to.
stop acting like a silly little fag!
you bastard!
the dirty bastard! more games!
it's not a real name: it's the name of a mass murderer in germany in the 1930s. they called him the monster of dusseldorf.
let's speed up the game plan.  call all the living serials to ask if they've had contact with a peter kurten. we could use some help on the phones.
you do that one, i don't want it.
not a damn bit.
hello, daryll lee.
what book?
i'll look for it, daryll lee.
i will. i'll call you, daryll, and talk to you about it after i've read it. right now i have a question.  peter kurten.
ah ha. what did he want?
i don't know. i'd like to know where he is.
i think whatever is best for you, daryll. and maybe you're right, that's the place.
where did you send the message to peter kurten?
how was conrad supposed to find kurten?
in jail.
 their compulsion is less about sex than it is about control. power. action. release from passivity. albert desalvo, bianchi and buono, berkowitz, dahmer.  dahmer killed his first victim because the boy just wanted to go home. bundy said he wanted to master life. and death.
peter kurten!
you were right! he knew me! he went to my lectures. he recorded them! listen to this.
what happened to you?!
he felt sorry for me. it was so nice to flirt. he was a darling man.
you're exhausted. let me get you a brandy.
who's the married man?
the university computer is down for maintenance, but i've been going through my own notes.
yes. dahmer! and after that.
maybe you should.
out. where does he go? nowhere. what does he do? nothing.
i am not going to talk about it. how do you know it was andy if the head was gone? where is the head? are you looking for it? oh, god, why him? because of me. i can't talk about it. i write about things like this, stuff it all in books and bury it in libraries. this is the first person close to me who's ever died. and it's because of me. this monster killed him because i loved him.
w-we had a fight. i called him.  called him a name.
right. well. he's going to do bundy. bundy faked injuries, wore a plaster cast, or walked on crutches, and asked college girls for help -- carrying his books, pushing his car.
any student name registered in crime-psych 137 matched to titles of term papers with any mention of 'peter kurten.'
peter foley. good god. you poor sad little bore. i failed you, is this what?
where have you been? what happened to your wallet?
i don't believe it.
they never kill themselves. how do you know it was him. you never met him. you never even saw a photograph.
he hasn't done bundy. he's done every one of the others, hasn't he? if there are three dead chi omega college girls tomorrow, how will you feel? go there. see if there could be any way for him to escape.
if there's a one percent possibil- ity, can you live with yourself when he kills again?
where are you?
who was the man in the basement?
where are you, peter?
it's daryll lee cullum, isn't it?
you know i can't do that.
for god's sake peter, leave her out of it. you don't want her, you want me.
you've been perfect. don't spoil the symmetry -- you have to have a male cop.
yes. i do. i want it to end now. let her go. i'll come -- just let her go. she's not important.
where it began -- mccluskey auditorium.
it's all over, fred. they got the guy. you go home to your own bed now.
call in. use my phone. they'll tell you -- it's all over.
merry, how.  oh, christ, of course, you had my phone tapped.
he's got sergeant halloran in there. he'll kill her the minute he sees or hears your people.
he wants me, he doesn't care about her. let me.
kill me, peter, do it, now.
do it. if that's what all this carnage is about, then do it. have enough guts to do it.
i have no life anymore. i ruined your life, make me pay for it.
that's not who i admire -- i admire people who are good at what they do, great artists, writers, thinkers.
if you let me, i can make you more famous than any of them.
do anything you want to me. i give myself to you. only put the knife down. isn't this what you always wanted? i know it's what we all want, to love and to loved. i could love you. you could work together in some safe place, learn to really understand you, help you, give you some peace of mind, some happiness.
do it. for god's sake, now.
the only one who could tell you what you really need to know is dead.
why can't i drive home? i will. you. look at you. you need a ride home. and you don't even know it.
if she has to ask, she's never gonna know.