In the criminal justice system,
sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous.
In New York City,
the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies
are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit.
These are their stories.
I think I'm having a heart attack.
It's just a cramp. Run through it, Bernie.
You gotta let me rest. Please...
Rest is a four-letter word. Let's think positive.
No, stop.
Bernie!
There's a baby in here.
With a note taped to it.
Someone abandoned him?
Not according to this.
Mom was abducted.
Yeah. No ID in the jogger stroller.
Drag marks end here.
Well, the perp or perps must've had a car waiting.
Forces her inside, peels out.
Find any footprints?
Over here in a patch of dirt.
It's small. Figure it's hers,
which leads into here.
This is a perfect place for a rape.
It's isolated, there's no view from any direction.
Yeah, but why abduct her, if he's already raped her?
These are not just ripped.
They're shredded.
Ultra-sharp blade, thin, maybe a box-cutter.
Hard to say no to.
Especially if he's threatening the baby.
Is he okay?
A little hungry, but no sign of trauma.
I'm taking him to the E.R. For a full exam.
Note was stuck to the kid with duct tape.
Which he could have used to bind and gag Mom.
This guy came prepared.
Yeah, I'll say. The note was pre-printed.
From a computer. You show 'em?
Signed it Rupert Daniel Kilmore.
Not sure if that's his real name or the author of this poem.
Poem?
"The mean, mean man has A monster in his head
"Find him by tomorrow Or my mommy will be dead"
This guy have a vendetta against all mothers, or this one in particular?
Who knows? We don't even have a bead on our victim yet.
Well, he's given us a day to figure it out.
Well, does that mean same time tomorrow, or midnight tonight?
Let's assume worst-case scenario. That gives us 13 hours.
Figure the prints on the baby's stroller are Mom's. No hits in the system.
Nothing from Missing Persons.
And if there is a husband, he might not know till he gets back from work.
All right, that leaves us with the stroller and the baby.
Well, we're checking the gift registries.
This jogger stroller is a huge seller.
But the baby's one of a kind. Let's get his picture out on the news.
Just say a baby was found. Withhold all details.
Not many to give.
Only prints on the note are from the jogger who found it.
Well, what about the name?
There's no listing in Manhattan for a Rupert Kilmore.
The closest one is Staten Island.
Get going.
You got a sec?
Sixty every minute.
Unfortunately, this little guy only has 52.
Hairspring's gummed up.
You're really into time, Rupert.
Fourth-generation horologist.
What are you in the market for?
Missing woman.
Who?
Well, we're hoping that you can tell us.
Seeing as your name is written on a note threatening to kill her.
You've got the wrong Rupert Kilmore.
You're the only one in this time zone.
So tell us, Rupert, why would a rapist use your full name?
Rapist?
I have no idea.
Kilmore Time.
Yes, they're standing right here.
Hello? Hello? Who was that?
He didn't say. Just asked if the cops were here
and to give them the facts.
I swear, I don't know anything.
Not facts, fax.
The son of a bitch is watching us.
It's another poem.
"Once there were some cops so dumb
"Took them hours to get to clue number one
"Mommy's running out of time so the answer is written above the rhyme"
The header. "Jiffy's Copy Center. "
That's right down the street.
There it is.
Police. We'd appreciate your cooperation.
Nobody leaves until we say so.
This was faxed from here a few minutes ago. Who sent it?
Was there a cover sheet?
No.
Black guy. Thin. Really antsy.
Where did he go?
He just paid and left. Didn't even wait for me to send it.
Could be on any paper in here.
What was he wearing?
Ratty long overcoat. He looked like a homeless guy.
Okay, a homeless guy just left here. Has anyone seen him?
Could've been the man I passed coming in.
He was heading toward the alley.
What is this, another game?
Yeah, hide-and-seek.
Gotcha, dirtbag! Up! Up!
Hands up, hands up!
They're so heavy.
Shut up. Where is she? Who?
The woman. Where is she?
Oh.
You must be the cops I'm supposed to wait for.
What are you talking about? The man I sent the fax for.
Right, right, who was that? Who?
Who? Who?
The man! Who is it?
He stuck a knife in my back.
Gave me the fax and 20 bucks.
Hey, hey! Hey! Why were you supposed to wait here for us?
Give you the message.
Message? Where's the message?
In here.
Oh, that's just great.
What is it? What's what?
The clue! The... He needs sugar.
Okay, I want you to think now, okay?
He told you to memorize it, right?
Right! Right. Was it a poem?
Oh, no. It didn't rhyme. Okay, was it a riddle?
No. Just words.
Yo! Half a bar of chocolate.
Eat. Open your mouth, open our mouth.
Eat, eat.
"Hog, pat, mend, top, yarn. " It makes no sense.
Well, we've been grilling him for eight hours and he swears that that's it.
Hophead! You don't sleep until you get it right.
Hog, pat, mend, top, yarn!
"Mend, yarn. "
Maybe the clue has something to do with a tailor or a seamstress.
You mend with yarn?
No, with thread. You knit with yarn.
Look, so far every clue has paid off.
Come on, think! What'd you leave out?
Okay, "mend" and "yarn" have a clothes theme.
Maybe "top" is a blouse.
How do "hog" and "pat" fit in?
Some kind of petting zoo!
Shut up.
Someone outside to see you.
Delivery for you, Captain.
I'm Detective Stabler.
Eric Liebert.
They told me you had some information about my wife and baby?
Yeah. Do you have a picture?
I got a call.
Somebody saw Timmy's picture on the news.
Yeah, okay, your son is fine. He's with Protective Services.
What about Julie? We're looking for her.
Do you have a picture of her? That would really help us out.
What happened to her?
She's been abducted.
What?
Let's talk in the squad room, okay?
Do you know anyone who would want to harm her?
No, of course not.
Call CSU over here now.
Just give me one second.
Who's that? It's the husband. Eric Liebert.
Sir, would you come with me, please?
No. What is that?
Mr. Liebert... What are you hiding?
That's my wife's earring. I gave it to her.
Oh, my God! Is that her ear?
Oh, what did he do to her?
She didn't hurt anybody. You gotta find her!
Take him to my office.
How in the hell did RDK get this in here?
It was dropped off at the front desk, addressed to the Captain.
Look at the return address.
"Hog, pat, mend, top, yarn. " Son of a bitch, the crackhead got it right.
Yes, he did.
But RDK ran out of patience.
New poem came with the ear.
"Julie was so sad to hear you were late
"Keep us waiting again She'll meet a much worse fate"
It still doesn't tell us where to go.
The clue has got to be in the return address.
Crackhead repeated the same damn words.
It's an anagram.
I'm rearranging letters and coming up with two street names.
Mott and Grand.
Okay. But we still have what?
Eight letters left.
It's got "P," "A," "P," "A," "Y"...
Phone. The last letters spell "phone. "
Payphone at Mott and Grand.
There it is.
Plenty of windows looking down on us, huh?
Way too many to check.
Dial tone, it's working.
All right, we're here already. Let's drop a dime!
Nothing. Got some petrified gum.
Hey, hold on, I got something.
Nothing on the outside.
"You're running out of time. MMCXXXll. "
Roman numerals.
2,132. So, what is that? A date? Time? Address?
Time. The clue's gotta be time. "You're running out of time. "
How about military time?
2132 hours.
Make it 9:32. That's over an hour ago.
Maybe we missed the call.
He made the calls from somewhere. Have TARU trace it.
Yeah, this is Detective Benson.
I need a rush dump on the number that I'm calling from.
Incoming, 9:32 p. m.
Midnight is our deadline. We got 90 minutes.
Police!
"Congratulations. "
Guys, over here.
There's a note.
"Sorry, you are too late.
"Consolation prize inside.
"Unwrap and enjoy. "
It's not her fault.
We were late.
Forty-five minutes late.
He wrote his initials on her.
"RDK." Rupert Daniel Kilmore. We're back to this again now?
We've had someone on the clockmaker all day.
He hasn't budged.
"RDK is... "
Maybe the arrow points to the answer.
Well, there's nothing on her back.
Back. That's the riddle. "RDK is back. "
Who the hell is RDK?
Is Julie missing any fingers?
No, why?
I just found three on the pillow in the bedroom.
And this card.
"Fun fun fun, let's play again!
"For the next feather in my cap
"Check in the policeman's helmet"
RDK was a serial killer
who terrorized Manhattan in the late '70s, early '80s.
I had just made detective.
All but one of his six victims
were raped, dismembered and killed,
earning him the moniker "RDK."
What happened to number six?
Jeannette Henley.
She fought back and managed to escape.
She get a look at him?
No, he was wearing a ski mask.
Says here that she was the last one he attacked.
Serial killers don't just stop.
They either die or get popped for another crime.
Pull records for men who were arrested
after Jeannette was attacked and paroled in the last six months.
How do we know it's not a copycat?
RDK taunted police.
Letters, poems and riddles.
He left a distinct mark that was never released to the public.
This is a copy of his first letter, dated June 9th, 1979.
This is today's.
Same symbol.
First victim in '79 lost an ear and was hanged.
Just like Julie Liebert.
I'm assuming the owner of the loft where Julie was found is our newest victim?
Gloria Durham. Age 35, single mother.
Luckily her ex had custody of their son this week.
She's a freelance photographer.
Had a session yesterday at 6:00, never showed.
Any appointments earlier?
Eddie Willis at 5:00. No contact info.
He was down in her book a week ago for consultation.
Could be our guy. Let's track him down.
How was the first number two killed?
Bled to death.
Stabbed more than 100 times over four days.
By now he's already torturing Gloria.
And the only thing we've got to go on is "policeman's helmet. "
NYPD's got 40,000 cops on the job.
Police don't wear helmets, they wear hats.
ESU wear helmets.
It's not about us.
It's a flower.
What are you babbling about?
Impatiens glandulifera.
It's the Latin name for an English garden flower known as
"policeman's helmet. "
Think it's another anagram?
I think he wants us to find the flower.
Well, all florists get their stock from the Flower Mart.
They'd know anybody in town that carries them.
It's 4:00 a. m. They should be opening now.
Excuse me, sir? You sell any policeman's helmets today?
I can't talk. I have a wedding at 3:00 and I'm way behind. Go.
Raul, where the hell's my baby's breath?
Stop! Listen to me. Did you get an order in today?
Of what? Policeman's helmets.
This morning. The phone was ringing when I came in.
And how was it paid for? Credit card.
Good, pull it. Pull it now.
Raul, please don't crush my peonies.
We need his name and address. Let's go.
I heard you.
Hers.
Gloria Durham.
Son of a bitch.
He used the victim's own credit card.
Where was it delivered?
Hasn't been. I told you. We're insanely behind.
My truck's loading up now.
We'll save you the trouble.
There is no 2923.
He gave us a vacant lot.
He gave us a community garden.
And a broken lock.
He's pulled up every last flower.
Lot of upturned dirt. Maybe he buried her.
Not one of his MOs.
Check out the shed.
I think we found our missing flowers.
And our missing girl.
It's Gloria.
We were supposed to have four days, you prick.
There's multiple stab wounds.
This is right by the book.
And another clue.
Where?
Soles of her feet. Looks like doodling.
Some kind of animal and
a stick man with a striped shirt.
What's that supposed to be?
A road map to another dead body.
Hold on.
There's something else here.
Today's newspaper.
"B-3? How many women do I have to screw
"to make A-1 above the fold?"
He didn't screw either one of them.
All of his victims were raped. "RDK. Rape, dismember, kill. "
That was 25 years ago.
A guy can develop a lot of sexual dysfunctions in a quarter of a century.
Were there semen on the original murders?
Every one.
Unfortunately, we didn't have the technology back then to do anything with it.
Original second victim exsanguinated from 132 stab wounds.
That detail was never released.
Gloria was stabbed the same number of times but that's not what killed her.
Her throat was slit.
These stab wounds were all inflicted postmortem.
Changing up his MO to screw with us?
What can you tell us about the weapon?
Thin, sharp, very short blade.
CSU thought that he used a box-cutter to shred the panties in the park.
Skin is a little more telling.
I'd say something even smaller, like a scalpel.
He leave anything on her? Hair, fibers?
Just the ink on her feet.
Well, I am through playing his games.
I say we pull the old case file and re-interview the surviving victim.
He stuck a knife to my throat, and dragged me in an alley.
He kept the knife at my throat
the entire time he was raping me.
He started whispering in my ear
how I was going to die when he was done.
I can still smell the gasoline.
It was in a soda bottle.
He started to pour it on me.
I grabbed the bottle,
and splashed some in his eyes.
I took off running, trying to scream but I couldn't.
He'd cut my throat.
When did you find out it was RDK?
When I got the poem.
It came in the mail three days later with my compact.
When I got home from the hospital, it was waiting for me.
The police told me what the symbol meant.
"Ode to the one who got away. "
RDK's mark...
So, so he got your purse during the attack?
Everything was in it, my driver's license, the house key.
I moved out that day,
but I'm still terrified that he'll find me.
You need to know that he's resurfaced.
Oh, God.
What do I do?
You found me.
The reporter found me.
What reporter?
The one who did the article last month about the 25th anniversary of the murders.
I didn't see that story.
Neither did I.
I still think I have his card.
He was very polite.
He told me I reminded him of his mother.
Blane Lawson. The New York Examiner.
Miss Henley, is there someplace else that you can stay?
I have a sister in Queens.
Why don't you give her a call?
The reporter, did you show him that poem?
Yes. Okay.
Lawson saw that mark.
Three weeks before RDK's big comeback.
Yeah, we got a Blane Lawson on staff. Works metro.
What can you tell us about him? Real scrapper.
Always brings home the story.
This is crap. Rewrite it.
We understand he was working a piece on RDK.
Serial killer from the late '70s?
He never mentioned it.
Lawson! Yeah?
That's Blane? Yeah.
Never mind.
The reporter we're looking for is a white guy. Mid-40s, short, pasty...
That describes most of my reporters.
Well, the victim that he interviewed said that he had thick, black-rimmed glasses.
That sounds like one of our researchers.
Humphrey Becker.
Works in the morgue.
Look at this.
It's what they use to cut out articles.
Exacto knife.
Looks like a scalpel.
Matches the weapon used to slice up the park victim's panties.
And victim number two.
May I help you?
Yeah, hi. We're looking for Humphrey.
He's on vacation this week.
Yeah, what's he like to work with?
A real inspiration.
He's a constant reminder not to get stuck down here for 20 years like him.
You ever get a bad vibe off him?
He's a miserable human being.
Never says a word, just stares. Creeps me out.
You have any idea what he's doing on vacation this week?
Probably sitting alone in his apartment,
finishing off one of those puzzle books he's always working on.
Our perp has a penchant for puzzles.
Puzzles give him a smug sense of victory,
possibly to bolster a low self-esteem.
Maybe from failing art class.
These are the symbols he drew on the victim's feet.
It's a rebus. These pictures should string together to spell out our clue.
He's made murder into a game.
By giving us clues, he's absolving himself of responsibility.
If they die, it's not his fault, it's ours.
Exactly. I got something.
These lines from the skunk could be scent.
"Scent, oar. " Center.
Next clue's at the center of something.
Or some kind of center.
These waves could be ocean or sea, next to a cross.
No, that's not a cross, that's a small "T." "Seat. "
Seat.
This little stick figure in stripes, this is a con.
We figure he's done time. Maybe that's him.
Interconnected circles, could that be a chain?
But the arrow points to an individual link.
"Link-con?"
Lincoln Center! Lincoln Center.
Our next clue is under one of the seats at Lincoln Center.
There are more than a dozen concert halls at Lincoln Center.
You're talking thousands of seats.
Take all available manpower.
Got it, Captain.
Where's Benson and Stabler?
They're executing a search warrant on the puzzle master.
Go, go, go!
Police!
Clear.
He's got quite a book collection.
They're all mysteries.
And he takes care of them. Humidifiers.
Steals from libraries.
And collects nightlights.
Serial killing kleptomaniac who's afraid of the dark.
Interesting choice of wallpaper.
They're all from publishers.
"As we explained in our previous letter,
"we do not accept unsolicited manuscripts. "
This is weird.
He's taken the doors off all the closets.
These are all rejection letters.
Why would he put them up on his walls?
He's insane?
Check this out.
This is dated two months ago,
regarding a book proposal on serial killer RDK.
Nice timing.
Wasn't then. Turned him down flat.
"At this time, we are only in the market for recent high-profile cases. "
Like the return of RDK.
So this Humphrey is just some crackpot pretending to be RDK?
It's looking that way.
He never made it home. I think he made us.
Or he's out stalking his next victim.
Guy never sleeps. I know we haven't in two days.
Gotta suck down some coffee. Do some pushups.
Our only hope is to get ahead of him.
Captain?
What did you find at Lincoln Center?
18,900 seats.
Not counting the toilets.
Which is where he hid the next clue in his demented little scavenger hunt.
And where'd that take you?
Funhouse at Coney Island, which was anything but.
Which took us to an obscure book on the Dead Sea Scrolls at the city library.
We found a note inside the dust jacket.
"If you found this, you deserve a reward.
"I won't grab another girl till Thursday.
"So relax, and take in a show. "
Which means he hasn't taken victim number three yet.
It's 8:40. Thursday is here in less than four hours.
That one is easy.
The clue is, "Take in a show. "
The original third victim was a chorus girl.
Do you know how many musicals are on Broadway right now?
Well, the curtains went up 40 minutes ago.
This may be a long shot, but unlike the original RDK,
all of Humphrey's victims are mothers.
Of little boys.
To know that, he would have to screen 'em.
Hit the Theater District. Talk to dancers with sons.
John?
The original story on RDK was broken by a reporter at The Examiner.
That's Humphrey's paper.
Could explain how he got to Jeannette Henley.
Track down this reporter, this Morty Graf.
So how'd you get all those RDK scoops back then?
By working long, hard hours.
Drinking with the detectives.
They ever release the number of stab wounds on the second victim?
No. That I charmed out of a little cutie in the M.E.'s office.
You mind lighting me up, sweetheart?
Oh, not at all.
You ever print that detail?
Tried. Damn editor came down with a case of ethics.
So, your notebooks at the paper,
you left them there when you retired?
Hell, no. Those get buried with me.
Yeah, but your research assistant,
Humphrey Becker, he would have had access to them, right?
No, but funny you should bring him up.
Unfortunately, the guy's a member here.
I thought you only let in published authors.
He lied through his ass.
Claimed to be a member of the Mystery Writers of America.
Plus, they were desperate.
They just lost a bunch of long-time members.
Cancer?
Hey, the only thing killing off members here is being pestered by Humphrey.
He's always pumping me for old cases.
Like RDK?
Don't get me started. Damn thing's stale.
I got a fresh stash in my locker.
Locker?
Does Humphrey have one?
Yeah. Everybody's got one.
I just set a new world record getting these warrants,
not to mention risking my life interrupting
Judge Terhune's poker game, again.
Open it. Poor baby, I've been up 40 hours.
What do we got here?
Cigars, more cheap cigars.
Bingo!
We got journals.
This one's a proposal for a Ripper book.
This one's just full of story ideas. Bad ones.
This one's a how-to book on taking over RDK's identity.
That's a diagram of the Central Park running map.
Yeah, complete with descriptions of women with babies, all boys.
This one sounds like Julie Liebert.
This guy does his research.
Skip to the third victim.
Got a long list of musicals here.
Here's one starred. Prairie Days.
This is it!
Leggy redhead. Two-year-old named Jake. Stage name "Red Watts. "
She's number three.
Red? Yeah?
Boy, are we glad to see you. You need to come with us.
What are you, crazy? I'm in the finale.
Is this your son Jake?
How'd you know his name?
We'll swing by, pick him up, but we need to get you someplace safe, now.
What are you talking about?
Have you ever see this man before?
Yeah. Last week.
He was waiting outside the stage door for an autograph.
Did he ask you about your son?
Oh, my God, he did. Benson.
Did he hurt Jake?
No, no, no, Jake's not the one in danger.
You just get changed. We'll explain everything in the car.
I'll take that one.
Where you going?
Jeannette Henley never made it to her sister's.
Possible abduction at 38 West 84th Street.
Request backup. Apartment 9-G.
Jeannette?
Congratulations. You caught me.
What are you doing here?
I needed a place to sleep.
You people were all over my apartment.
I figured this spot was as good as any,
now that it's vacant.
Where is Jeannette?
Sorry, she's a little buried at the moment.
We need you in there now. What's he said?
He buried her alive.
Doesn't make sense, RDK never did that.
He'll only talk to the lead detective. What about Liv?
Wants it man to man.
This popped on his credit card.
He bought an oxygen tank yesterday.
He's letting her breathe?
Not for long. 15-hour capacity.
She's probably gone through half of it.
Found his car outside of Jeannette's. Anything in it?
No, but maybe we can tell where he took her from the tires.
Can't wait for lab results.
Victims four and five are safe.
Wait, we need a game plan.
No time.
Where is she?
Huh?
Oh.
Sorry, I must have dozed off.
Tell me,
Is it true only the guilty sleep?
Yeah, it is.
Well, then I guess you got me.
But in my own defense, I must say, I am just pooped.
Oh, my, oh, my, look at the time.
You must be, too.
Well, I haven't slept in two days.
I know. But wasn't it fun?
No. No, actually, it wasn't.
And in case you haven't heard, you lost.
And yet, and yet, and yet...
Where in the world is Jeannette?
I guarantee you're gonna tell me.
Oh.
I get it.
"Bad cop. "
Okay, fine.
But remember the rules.
You don't get a "good cop" to play off of.
No help from the peanut gallery.
Well, I don't need any help.
Who are you kidding?
I'm a big fish.
I'm sure the entire department's right behind that mirror.
Hello!
If I'm stuck in here, so is he.
Anyone walks in or out that door, game's over.
I'll play. Good.
I'm the final clue.
Okay.
Think you're smart enough to get it out of me?
One way or another.
I must warn you, I am going to be quite the challenge.
I know every trick in the book.
I've written 27 of them.
I know, I saw your rejection letters.
Maybe I'll take another nap now.
Yeah, baby, I'm kinda working right here. What's up?
Belittling him is only gonna shut him down.
He obviously wanted to get caught. He craves attention.
Recognition. Play to his vanity.
He's been a loser all his life.
Give him his 15 minutes.
Well, I'll try, but I'm a little pressed for time.
Okay. Love you, too. Bye-bye.
Who was that?
My wife. I'm sorry.
No, I'm sorry that you find me so boring.
Boring? No. I don't find you boring at all.
Then turn off the damn phone.
Sorry.
You know, I think you misunderstood what I said back there.
About what? Your books.
You wrote 27 of them. That takes a lot of time and effort.
I'd be flattered, if you'd actually read one.
I'd like to.
I mean, this whole plot that you cooked up here, very clever.
Clever?
It was brilliant.
Okay, brilliant. It's a shame about the Son of Sam law, though.
What do you mean?
The book is obviously going to be a bestseller.
But, unfortunately, you can't profit off your own crimes.
It's not about the money.
What's it about?
Proving them all wrong.
Becoming famous.
You're on your way there. You think?
I do. Serial killers are very popular.
Yeah.
I'm going to be a legend.
That'll show her.
Her?
Them. Those small-minded publishers.
You said "her. "
Well, I'm done talking now...
Come on, Humphrey! Come on, don't do that. Let's talk about Jeannette.
No, I guess you're just gonna have to buy my book.
Okay, just tell me this.
Your next victim was supposed to be the chorus girl.
Why skip to Jeannette?
Because you figured out who I was.
I was forced to jump ahead to my pièce de résistance.
RDK's original sixth victim.
Yes.
The one that got away.
She eluded him, but not me.
Well, she's 65 years old.
Not looking good for 66.
Why, Detective, is that your phone vibrating,
or do you just find me terribly exciting?
911 from the wife.
I talked to Novak.
He gives us her location, she'll take the death penalty off the table.
Oh, I don't know.
You know how I hate letting the kids get away with that kind of thing.
Okay, bye-bye.
Oh, no "I love you" this time?
It rings one more time and we're done!
As is Jeannette!
Okay, look, you win. You win everything.
And what exactly do I win, Detective?
How about your life?
Tell us where Jeannette is and we take the death penalty off the table.
You don't have the authority to do that.
I'll give it to you in writing.
Okay, well, just to clarify,
what if I do tell you where she is,
but she's sucked up all the oxygen and died on us?
How much air is left in the tank?
Technically,
four hours, 28 minutes and 30...
28,
27, 26 seconds,
assuming she's breathing normally.
Of course, people do tend to breathe harder when they're panicked.
There's no reason to do this to her.
She must be so frightened in that small, cramped space.
I wonder if her eyes have adjusted to the dark?
If so, she can see the needle on the tank approaching empty.
You want to talk to me man to man? You're no man.
You just attack helpless women.
Now, you're gonna tell me where Jeannette is,
or I'm gonna choke the life out of you.
Do it.
Yeah, you want me to do it? Do you? Come here.
How's that feel? No air in your lungs? How's that feel now?
You're gonna tell me where Jeannette is, you freak.
Elliot, stop it. Come on, stop it.
Five minutes more.
Let's go!
Just when we were starting to have fun. Game's over, Detective.
You lose, you broke the rules.
No. You brought in help.
He didn't. I'm a doctor. I'm here to help you.
Can you breathe all right?
Yeah, I'm fine.
What about Jeannette?
She was dead when you buried her, wasn't she?
Quite the contrary.
She was alive and kicking.
I believe you.
What is that, huh?
Poor man's lie detector test?
Taking my pulse while you interrogate me, Detective?
I'm not a detective.
And I'm not stupid.
I really am a doctor.
And I'm also with the FBI.
They brought you in here to profile me?
We've got a whole team on you.
Really?
And what are they saying about me?
That you're impotent.
I told them that they were wrong.
Now, why would they say that?
Because you mimicked RDK in every detail.
Except that RDK's victims were all raped, and yours weren't.
They have no idea what I did to those women.
Well, you didn't rape them. And I know why.
Do tell.
Because it would have been like having sex with your mother.
What are you talking about?
You targeted women with children.
You told Jeannette she reminded you of your mother.
You let those little boys go unharmed because they were innocents, like you.
Do we know if the mother is still alive?
I'll find out.
How disappointing. And you looked so smart.
You have a deep-seated rage against women and yet
you identify with their sons.
What did your mother do to you?
Please. With you people, it's always the mother.
There must be some mistake. This isn't my Humphrey.
Captain, this is Mrs. Becker.
Ida. Everyone calls me Ida.
Even Humphrey, since he was five.
Thank you for coming, ma'am. Sorry to drag you out in the rain.
It stopped on the way over.
Right this way, ma'am.
It doesn't make sense. You know, he was destined for such great things.
I named him after a legend.
Bogart?
Wasn't he wonderful?
Actually, Mrs. Becker was just telling me
that she hasn't seen her son in over 25 years.
You had a falling out?
Over the scandal.
I worked two jobs to put him through journalism school.
He was gonna be a reporter,
just like Bogie in his final film, The Harder They Fall.
You mentioned a scandal?
He plagiarized his honors thesis.
All my hard work, out the window.
He was thrown out.
Okay, Mrs. Becker.
You know? Just disgraced!
I know. We really, really need to get you in there. Come on.
Oh, yeah, sure. Anything I can do to help.
Humphrey?
What's happened to you?
Ida?
You two must have a lot of catching up to do.
Here, have a seat, Mrs. Becker.
Your hair.
What'd you do to it?
You haven't changed a bit.
You should have seen him when he was little.
Head full of curls.
They're not interested in my childhood.
Oh, but we are.
Nice play. You mind giving us a few minutes alone?
Sorry. Against my rules.
Humphrey, tell them where you put the lady.
Stay out of this, Ida.
Why, when she's such a big part of it?
Okay. You wanna know where she is, Ida?
She's In A Lonely Place.
Ready for The Big Sleep.
Those are Bogie films.
You're a disgrace to his name.
You like that? You're gonna love this.
One of the aliases I used was Eddie Willis.
Bogie's last role.
I knew you'd be pleased.
Why don't you tell your mother what you've been up to lately?
Why don't you shut your damn pie-hole?
Language!
You know how I feel about curse words.
Even when Bogie played a bad guy, he never worked blue.
Sorry, Ida.
Didn't mean to disappoint you. Yet again.
I should be used to it.
I had such high hopes for him.
Well, it was nice visiting.
He was supposed to grow up to be somebody...
I'm sitting right here.
In a police station!
Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me?
I did this for you, Ida.
I'm finally going to be famous,
just like you always wanted.
Happy now?
You were never anything but trouble.
He was a difficult child?
You can't imagine.
Shut up, Ida.
I couldn't take him anywhere, not even my movies!
Shut up.
Soon as the lights went down he'd throw a tantrum!
Stop it! He was afraid of the dark?
He was a crybaby.
Stop it!
He'd cry like a baby till they'd ask us to leave.
Oh, you sure in hell figured out a way to see 'em!
How did you manage that, Ida?
Never mind!
I'd like to know. What else could I do?
I mean, I had to leave him at home. Alone?
I made sure that he couldn't get in trouble.
Shut up, Ida!
That's why you took the doors off. She locked you in the closet.
Well, you know, he might have hurt himself running around the house.
That's enough!
And it was only for two hours.
But he'd get so worked up, he'd soil himself.
Shut up! Please! Shut up!
Don't you ever shut up?
I'll kill you, you bitch!
You bitch!
You see how he treats his mother?
You're claustrophobic?
Wait! No, let me go!
Where are you taking me?
My game room.
No! No! No! Please, don't!
Need another clue? Wouldn't want to leave you in the dark.
Please! Please, you can't do this!
Relax, Humphrey, it's just a game!
No! Let me out!
Tell us where Jeannette is!
Let me out and I'll tell you!
You tell me, I'll let you out!
Thought you could use this.
Please, I can't breathe.
Where is she?
In a dump in Staten Island.
In a refrigerator with a chain around it.
Now, please, let me out!
Jeannette first.
I'll call ESU.
Open it!
She alive?
Barely breathing.
Needle's on the red. She's almost out.
He found me. I told you he'd find me.
You're safe now.
He'll get out. I just know it.
He'll never stop till he gets me.
Believe me, he'll never get out. Never.