All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries.S15E131

*MURDOCH MYSTERIES*
Season 15 Episode 13

Episode Title: "Murdoch on the Couch"
Aired on: January 10, 2022.

William,
we have to hurry.

The lecture isn't
until one o'clock.

Yes, but Dr. Jones told me that
they're leaving for New York.

Almost immediately after.

I want you
to meet him.

- Dr. Jones?
- No! Dr. Freud.

- Yes!
- I studied with him in Vienna.

Man with
strange theories.

Yes. I'm very curious
to see what you think.

Mr. Davidson?
How can I help you?

I wish to report
a murder.

- Of whom?
- My wife, Lizzie.

I believe someone
has killed her.

You believe?

I saw it in a dream
two nights ago.

And I haven't
seen her since.

Why don't you
have a seat?

No, please, you are not
listening. Please just listen.

We have a conference.
We cannot...

You stopped.
I walked into you.

I know this woman.

- Dr. Freud!
- Dr. Ogden.

We were just coming
to see your lecture.

This is my husband,
detective William Murdoch.

Ah, yes!

What brings you to
our station house?

Uh, my colleagues and I are not
here out of desire, or intent.

I detained them, sir.

They were all participants in
a brawl at chez Pierre.

It was hardly a brawl.

Their tables were overturned,
and people were screaming.

Apparently, there was
some sort of death threat.

Death threat?

Ah, this was delivered
to me at my table.

I'm afraid I don't
speak German.

It reads, “use this to kill
yourself before I do.”

It's most disturbing.
Why did it lead to a brawl?

Because the only
people who knew

I would be at the restaurant
were seated at my table.

One of these men
wishes to kill me.

My dreams? You think
this is about my dreams?

What else am I
to think?

You could start by not
making assumptions.

Uh, find out how this letter
got to the restaurant.

Sir.

Dr. Freud does not need
you to speak for him.

I will speak for Dr. Freud...

What's all this about?

This is about
the subconscious expression.

Of displaced
oedipal rage.

Are you referring to
my father now, or just to you?

You assume this is about you?

How am I to assume
anything otherwise?

Enough!

Sit down and shut up!

Or you can all carry on
as much as you like in my cells.

Can we not just spank
this lot and send 'em home?

Well, sir.
What's this gibberish?

It's German. It says, “use this
to kill yourself before I do.”

Apparently, one of
these men sent it to Freud.

Right. Interview them
one at a time.

But keep them
away from me.

Sir.

William...

Yes, Julia, given your
experience in the field

I should like you to help me
with the interviews.

If you like.

Yes! Uh, but...

Well, when I was in
Vienna, with Dr. Freud,

I participated
in his talking cure.

And, well, much of the
talking.

Was about you.

Oh. How nice.

Yes.

Dr. Ogden, what a pleasure
it is to see you again,

Even if you did
challenge my theories.

I'm flattered you remember.

Ah, remembering is easy when
the experience is pleasant.

Detective, as I recall,

You lost your mother
at an early age.

I did, yes.

And you believed your father
to have killed her.

Perhaps we should proceed
with the interview?

- Yes.
- Of course.

Please continue.

Is there something?

Oh, no. You are
merely conforming.

To my expectations
of you, detective.

Oh! Ah, I see.

And what expectations
would those be?

You are a typical retentive.

I'm retentive?

Dr. Freud believes that
infantile development

is defined by pleasure-seeking
at distinct stages.

If one cannot derive sufficient
satisfaction at any one stage,

One becomes fixated.

And what stage
would I be fixated at?

The anal.

It's a complex theory, William.

Retentives are rigid.
Socially inhibited.

They resist new ideas.

You have an expression
in English, huh?

Uh... A stick
in the... Ground, is it?

- Mud.
- Mud.

Ah.

I'm a stick
in the mud?

Well, it is,
of course, complicated

by an oedipus conflict
resulting in repression.

And unconscious feelings
of inferiority.

Oedipus? You're referring to
the king who killed his father.

In order to
marry his mother?

Perhaps we should get back
to the matter at hand.

Ah, yes, yes. You wish to know
who sent the death threat.

It was Dr. Jung.
I'm certain of it.

Dr. Freud is convinced I harbour
a death wish towards him.

Every dream,
every conversation.

Is subject to this
interpretation

Why is that?

He believes I have a displaced
oedipus conflict.

Yes, what is this
oedipus conflict?

A boy's sexual desire
for his mother.

Leads to conflict
with his father

who he fears wishes
to castrate him.

So, he therefore wants to
kill his father

and claim his
mother for himself.

You think this
pertains to me?

It pertains to all males.

Ah, though Dr. Freud places too
much emphasis

on the sexual
dynamic.

So, Dr. Freud
feels this conflict

pertains to his
relationship with you?

The parallels are obvious.

I am the son, the heir apparent.
He is the father, the authority.

It's a displaced conflict,
of course,

but... it presupposes a death wish
arising in the unconscious mind.

This was clearly
a product of the ego.

Dr. Freud's ego,
to be specific.

How so?

I believe he sent
this to himself.

When I realized what he
had done, I felt rage.

Not at
the implicit accusation,

but the rage of the son when
he discovers his father is weak.

I am afraid I was cruel.

In what way?

I quipped
the only death wish

he correctly
diagnosed was Edie's.

Who is Edie?

A patient of his
who committed suicide.

Oh.

I suppose I should have
expected a violent reaction.

From Dr. Freud?

No. No, his defender
and imitator,

Victor severn.

I defended Sigmund.
Someone had to.

What did you do?

I slapped Jung's
silly Swiss face,

sent his
eyeglasses flying.

He looked so shocked,
I almost felt sorry for him.

So, you believe Dr. Jung
sent the death threats?

Oh! Heavens, no.
That was Dr. Ferenczi.

Dr. Ferenczi?

He was well aware
of Sigmund's preoccupation.

With Dr. Jung's death
wish towards Dr. Freud?

Ferenczi knew Sigmund
would believe it to be Jung.

Why would
Dr. Ferenczi

- want...
- Because he wants to be the favoured son.

His craven adoration
is an embarrassment.

Victor severn said this?

He is the one who is adoring!

He dresses like Dr. Freud,
he wears the same beard,

Uh,
smokes the same cigars.

He parrots whatever he says
in the same accent.

And he's
American!

Do you think it's possible that
Victor severn sent the threat?

He wouldn't have
the imagination.

There is only one person
who could have who sent it.

The man who knew where we
were to be lunching.

The man who arranged our
whole trip to Toronto.

Dr. Jones.

I arranged it all,
that is true.

The tickets, the
restaurant.

At this moment, a group
of my distinguished peers

are awaiting a lecture that
I organized, boasted about,

But will never take place.

Perhaps you might
inquire of Dr. Ferenczi

what analysis he can offer
as to my motivation

in bringing all this on myself.

Well, if you didn't
send it, then who did?

If I knew I would tell you.
As it is...

These are the most brilliant
men of their generation.

Attempting to outwit them
is a fool's errand.

Well, I am not
a stick in the mud.

Of course you're not!

I'm open to new ideas.

You're a veritable
fount of them.

And I'm certainly
not rigid.

Sir?

What have you, Henry?

Well, the death
threat was sent

from the union station
telegraph office.

Were you able to get
a description of the sender?

They can't even remember
if it was a man or a woman.

Very well.

Oh! Uh, I'm writing to
George in newfoundland.

Is there anything
you'd like me to say?

Oh, yes! Tell him to say
howdy to his aunts.

Howdy?

And be sure to wish he
and effie a wonderful time.

Certainly. What I mean to say
is can I share your news?

- Yes, Henry. Please do.
- Oh! Yes. Yes.

Right.

Howdy.

Ah, all right.
Tell me again.

I was in front of a building
with double doors.

Do you know this building?

All I know is
it was number 19.

Uh-huh.

I went inside and there was
a foyer with a large staircase.

Top of which was a hallway with
two doors at either end.

I knocked on
the one to the left

and was told I had
the wrong door.

So, you tried the other.

There was no answer, so I went inside
and saw Lizzie

Lying on a red blanket

and a strange
man behind her.

Who you didn't know.

And I went to Lizzie
and found the red blanket

was in fact
soaked in blood.

And you saw the man
had a knife?

- I think it was a scalpel.
- Oh! Hmm. Yes.

And you believe this man
murdered your wife?

Detective Watts.

Yes.

You're certain?

No, no, no.
That's fine.

Mr. Davidson, what is your
wife's full name?

Elizabeth Mary Davidson.

Elizabeth Mary Davidson...
And she lives with you

at, uh,
189 water street?

Of course.

Wha-what's going on?

My constable was just
at that address.

He spoke to your
neighbours.

None recall a woman
living with you.

Oh! Stay right there.

As far as I can see
they're just a bunch of eggheads

who'll talk
themselves to death

Before anyone
can kill them.

I don't disagree, sir.

What time's their train?

2:25, I believe.

Perfect.

Release them on condition
that no one kills anyone

until they've crossed
the border.

Pin this on me?

You asked for my opinion,
I give you my opinion!

Come, come. He was only
diverting blame from himself!

Let go of me now!

Let us not be children.
Or perhaps it was you.

Stop. This is enough!

Yes. Enough.

Right! The next one to speak,
or move,

gets a taste
of my knuckles.

Is that understood?

What?

I don't feel well.

It is likely hysteria.

Are you experiencing
chest pain?

It could be angina.

William, look at this.
It's blood.

- What has happened?
- Dr. Severn!

What has happened?

He's dead.

Turn them out.
Let's see. Turn them right out.

The entrance wound suggests
something round and thin.

A needle?
He was injected?

It's wider than a needle.

I believe it may
have pierced his heart.

He was standing, talking.

Depending on the extent
of the injury,

He could have lived
for more than a minute.

You're saying the man didn't
even know he'd been stabbed?

Adrenaline can keep someone
from feeling the effects

of even a mortal wound
for a brief time.

Murdoch!

None of them did it.
None of them saw anything.

None of them
had anything on them.

Henry, did you see who
Dr. Severn was fighting with?

I couldn't tell who was who.

Bloody hell, Higgins.
You're a copper.

Well, they look
just like each other!

I even separated them,
and I still couldn't tell.

It had to have been Dr. Freud.

He and Dr. Severn look very
much alike.

Henry, escort Dr. Freud
to the interview room, please.

If you can do that.

Dr. Jung?

I could not help
but overhear.

I believe I can be
of some assistance

determining
the truth.

How?
Through psychic analysis?

Ah, no.
Through word association.

I have used the technique
to help police solve crimes.

The idea is to allow
the unconscious mind

to speak the truth before
the conscious mind can suppress it.

It is a new idea. I understand
if you are resistant.

Mr. Davidson,

When was the last time
you saw your wife?

I, uh...

I don't remember.

Was it yesterday?

Last week?

Last year?

She's dead, isn't she?

She died four years ago.

How could I have...

How was she killed?

According to
the police report,

she committed
suicide.

No, no. It was him.
He killed her. I know it!

You have to
believe me.

Both speaking foreign language...

Yes. I shouldn't have
said that. I apologize.

Whatever for?
Her death was not my doing.

Shall we proceed?

Yes, of course.

Both speaking foreign language...

Uh, is that young
as in age,

or Jung as in you?

That will require analysis.

Dr. Freud has conflated
these homonyms before.

He believes me
to be the killer.

No doubt based on
his prior interpretations

of latent displacement.

You dreamt of skulls,

Ancient skulls,
in your basement.

Not yours.

Then whose?

If you must know,
it was your wife.

And her sister.

Why would you think Dr. Jung
would kill Dr. Severn?

Dr. Freud believes
I desired to kill him.

When I said murder,
he said mich - me.

Not ich - I.
Object, not subject.

Dr. Severn imitated
me in every way.

So, you think Dr. Jung may
have mistaken him for you?

It was not a mistake.

His unconscious mind
was at war with itself.

One part wished my death,
the other could not allow it

and redirected his hand
to my doppelganger.

Ah! A brilliant analysis.

Albeit completely wrong.

Is that my letter to George?

Your lover's name
is George?

George? No. No, George.
George is my friend.

You like to say
his name, yeah?

Freud believes Jung killed him?

- Apparently.
- Why?

Well, sir, it's a...

sir, this just in.
Oh, no... This.

Es war... It was...

It says: “it was meant
for you, Dr. Freud.”

Detective Watts translated it.

Do you think one
of this lot sent it?

Certainly possible.

They would merely have had
to pick up the telephone

and call
the telegraph office.

Higgins, get one of the lads
to go down to the telegraph office.

See if he can
find out who sent this.

Sirs.

Well, Dr. Freud was right.
He is the intended target.

Mrs. Hart and I have
determined the implement

that pierced
Dr. Severn's chest.

It's a narrow spike
at least four inches long.

It passed through
his heart.

- A knitting needle?
- Possibly.

But it would have
taken some force

to penetrate so deeply
and through cloth.

I wonder where it is now?

Sirs!

It certainly looks
like the murder weapon.

There's definitely
a fingermark on it.

Henry, obtain fingermark
samples from all of them.

- Find out which one is a match.
- Sir.

Ah, Dr. Ogden!

Oh! Yes, detective?

This man came in suffering from
what I believe to be

severe dissociation
related to his wife's death

And it appears you
performed the postmortem.

Ah, Elizabeth Davidson.
Yes, I recall.

Suicide,
if I remember correctly.

Is that finding
definitive?

Well...

She was found in a bath
with a longitudinal wound

on her left wrist.

The algor mortis
and the temperature of the water

were consistent with her having
laid in a warm bath

and cut her wrists.

Could she have
been murdered?

Well, it's possible.

She...

she did have high levels
of opium in her system.

Do you have reason
to suspect murder?

Detective.

Dr. Freud.

Are you familiar with
the term parapraxis?

A slip of the tongue.

An unintentional error

that betrays the workings
of the subconscious.

Recite the
telegram, please.

Es war für dich, dr Freud.

Ah! The sender used "dich."
not "sie."

I'm afraid I don't understand.

Well, both words mean “you”"

But dich is informal.

Ah, one uses it with
family, close friends,

Those whom we call
by their first names,

Yet he refers to me
by my title: Dr. Freud.

Seems like a simple
enough mistake.

No German would ever
make such a mistake.

You're saying, then, that
the sender was not German?

I am saying the sender is
suffering

from emotional
dissonance,

A man who wishes
to be both a son

and a peer.

It grieves me to say
only one person

matches such
a description.

Dr. Jung.

Sir, we have a match
for the fingermark.

Who is it?

It's Dr. Jung, sir.

Dich, not sie.

Dr. Freud claims
he is both

a formal mentor figure
and, as per your slip,

A member of your family.

His analysis is sound.

I have cared very deeply
for Dr. Freud.

We once shared a deep
bond of friendship.

You once did?

Our philosophies
are diverging.

How so?

He is focused on
his own theories

to the exclusion
of all others.

Unfortunately, doctor, we have
proof of your involvement.

The murder weapon
has been identified.

A paper spike,
like this one,

Was taken from
constable Higgins' desk.

And?

And your fingermarks are on it.

I see. And you believe
this confirms my guilt.

Anything else?

Dr. Jung claims to have picked
up the paper spike

in order to
replace it on the desk.

I suppose it could have
fallen off in the scuffle.

I didn't see him
pick it up, though.

Based on the orientation of the
fingermarks,

All we can ascertain
is that he did, in fact,

Pick it up.

But, holding it thusly would
not have allowed the killer

to strike Dr. Severn with
enough force to kill him.

Unless, of course,
he picked it up

and then stabbed
Dr. Severn in the chest.

How do we prove it?

Henry...

There are marks under
the bottom of the base

of the murder weapon.

I believe these
to be palm marks.

Ah, palm marks?

Yes. Look at your hand.

On your palm
there are ridges,

Similar to those
of your fingertips.

Oh, yes.

It shouldn't be too difficult
to get a palm print

from our circle
of suspects.

We had best
get started, Henry.

Ugh.
You'll have to do it again.

Doctor, I wonder
if I might be able

to have a moment
of your time?

Uh, of course.

Dr. Ogden tells me that you're
the world's leading expert

On the workings
of the mind.

Uh, this is correct.

Then I wonder if you
could offer me some guidance?

The missus, my wife Margaret,

Has been having some
troubles of late.

- Come in, come in.
- Oh, thank you.

Uh, what type of troubles?

She's been harping on
about everything.

I'm working too much,
I'm eating too much,

I'm drinking too much.

Are you drinking too much?

Well, I don't think so.
Same as ever.

Uh, but here's where
you come in, doctor.

I don't think it's me
that she's worried about.

Ah! You think her true
concern is displaced.

Ah.

Our son, Bobby, has had
a spot of bother with the law.

He killed a man.
Well, two men.

I see.

And now he's on the run.

If he comes back,
they could hang him.

All sons are in conflict with
their fathers.

I was with my father,
my sons are with me.

But Bobby and I have
never had any trouble.

Ah, you are the police.

Any crime your son commits
is an attack on you,

a manifest expression of
his subconscious hatred of you.

Why would he hate me?

Well, a child is born and
falls in love with his mother.

When he becomes aware
of his father's intimate role,

he wishes to
usurp him.

You're saying
my son wants to...

well, yeah...

With his own mother?

I was going to ask you
for an autograph!

Get out!

Not another bloody word!

- Well, inspector, I...
- Not another word!

What have you, Henry?

Ah! Well, I'm only
on the second one, sir.

It's harder
than it seems.

What did you find out
with the first one?

Well, I've only just got the print.
I haven't checked it yet.

- This is Dr. Jung's?
- Yes.

Well, then, check
this one first.

If it's a match,
there's no need to proceed.

Huh! Yes, sir.

Um, uh, what do I do now?

What's wrong with me?

Traumatic events can cause
the mind to fracture,

And painful memories
can be repressed.

Do you still believe
that she was murdered?

Yes.

And you're convinced
it was the man from your dream.

Excuse us.

What do you think?

Repressed memories can
certainly emerge in dreams,

But they have to
be decoded.

They can't be taken
at face value.

And we have the world's
leading dream decoder

in our
station house.

Oedipus.

Sir! It is not Dr. Jung.

You're quite sure?

I divided the palm print
into these six quadrants.

Sextants.

What?

Quadrants would be if
there were... Never mind.

So, no portion of his
palm print matches

the one found on
the murder weapon?

No, sir.

Uh, you are certain?

Dr. Jung's palm print
did not match

that of
the murder weapon.

Well, I am, uh, vastly
relieved, of course.

Assuming your original
theory holds.

Ah, displaced
oedipal aggression.

Could the same apply

to another one
of your acolytes?

Well, I...

I've never seen any
of them as a son.

But, huh!

That does not mean they do not
see me as a father.

In fact, Dr. Ferenczi
sent me a letter

in which he confessed to
wanting to kill me.

What? When?

Uh, some months ago.

And you didn't
think to tell me?

I'd always assumed
it was a cloying attempt

to gain favour
by affirming my theories.

He was so eager
to please you

He told you he
wished to kill you?

Yeah, that's right.

Perhaps it's time to
take Dr. Ferenczi at his word.

This is ridiculous.

You deny writing
the letter?

The letter was
an academic exploration

of my psychic
tendencies.

Did you harbour such
feelings, or did you not?

One harbours
all manner of thoughts.

Well, then, I'm afraid if
you've thought it,

you have motive.

I understand your logic,
detective.

But this
is impossible.

You can rest
assured of this

Because during
the altercation

I was nowhere
near Dr. Severn.

The closest I came was when I
was face to face with Dr. Jones.

Dr. Severn
was behind Dr. Jones.

Jones was next to
Dr. Severn?

Yes.

I was face to face
with Ferenczi, yes.

But I have no clue
who was behind me.

Dr. Ferenczi was
pulled off of you.

What did you do then?

I sat down.

You sat down?
In the middle of a fight?

My back ails me.

Grappling with ferenczi
didn't help, so I sat.

Where?

In a chair.

After that,
the constables interceded,

and I stood back up
and moved away.

But I was never
near severn.

This is Mr. Davidson.

You would like me to
interpret this man's dreams?

One dream, in particular.
A nightmare of sorts.

Murdoch, McNabb just got back
from the telegraph office.

The threat
wasn't called in.

Well, it can't have been
any of our suspects.

None of them have
left the building.

It was sent from
our telegraph machine.

What?

One of them has snuck
into our telegraph room

and sent it
directly?

It seems that way.

So, I go to the other door,
and I open it.

And I can see Lizzie
lying on a couch

on top of
a red blanket.

And there is a man
behind her.

Is she clothed or naked?

Naked. How did you?

Continue please.

So, I go to Lizzie,

but when I reach her,
I realize the blanket is red

Because it is
soaked in her blood.

Then I look up
and I see that the man's hands

are covered in blood
and he's holding a scalpel.

And he says, “I have
completed my dissection.”

This man, standing
behind your wife...

sitting, actually.

Can you see his face?

Yes.

But I can't make it out.

Is he young, or old?

Old.

Could it represent her father?

Her father molested her
when she was a child.

In any case, it is
your dream, not hers.

Which way does he
part his hair?

To the right.

The opposite of yours.

Yes.

Uh, doctor...

What are you thinking?

All dreams are derived
from wish fulfillment,

But, uh, what
is the wish?

To save his wife, I assume.

Or is it to reveal
her killer?

So, you think she was killed?

I have no doubt.

As the manifest content
makes clear, he saw the killer.

Normally, a naked
person represents desire,

But in this case,
I think it is a repressed memory

of her death.

She's naked because he found
her that way in the bath?

Precisely.

There is a mirror
in your bathroom?

Yes.

That is why the hair part is
reversed.

The man you see is
your own reflection.

You're lying.
You're a liar!

The diameter is
definitely cigar ash.

There's only two cigar
smokers in this lot

and one of them's
dead.

And the one who sent
the telegram must be the other.

Why would Freud send
a death threat to himself?

To convince us that he was
the target and not the killer?

Higgins.

Where are you at
with those palm marks?

I'm finished with everyone
but Dr. Freud, sir.

He's been detained
by detective Watts.

So, the palm Mark on the murder
weapon isn't a match

for any of
the others?

No, sir.
I checked them all twice.

By logic of deduction...

The killer
is Sigmund Freud.

Sirs.

I was in your
telegraph room, yes.

Why?

To send a telegram.

A death threat.
Against yourself.

No.

The threat was sent from
that telegraph machine.

You claim you sent a different
telegram from the same machine?

That is correct.

What was this message that
you sent? And to whom?

I decline to discuss
this matter.

Dr. Freud, you are
being interviewed

under suspicion of
murder.

Suspicion without evidence.

Of a murder for which
I have no motive.

You confronted the man,
physically, during the melee.

We were in the same place
at the same time.

It was
a coincidence.

You had him by
the bloody lapels.

Our constable saw you.

I do not remember this.

Perhaps your subconscious
suppressed the memory?

Dr. Severn annoyed me.

His admiration was uncritical.
He imitated me.

Or your subconscious
identified him as you.

As me?

Your death wish toward him was,
in fact, a personal death wish

spurred on by your own
self-hatred.

Well, uh, yah. Interesting.

But inaccurate.

I'm afraid I have no more
to say on this matter.

You can say no more in
our cells. Constable!

Wait. All right.

If you must know, the telegram
I sent was to minna,

my wife's
sister.

This is the sister
from Dr. Jung's dream?

Dr. Jung dreamed
of two skulls

he found buried together
deep beneath his house.

I had assumed it was
another manifestation

of his death wish
towards me,

But I see now that
the skulls represented

a secret he had buried.

You
understand?

No. Not really.

He believes minna
and I had an affair.

Did you?

I don't see how
this is relevant.

Ah, sirs... there's a problem.

What is it, Henry?

I only left them for a moment,
I swear, but...

someone has taken the paper
spike and the fingermarks.

Er, palm marks.

What? All of them?

I was about to compare
them to Dr. Freud's.

He was in the interview room
the whole time.

Who else was
near that area?

All of them, at one point
or another, sir.

- Well, search them.
- I have, sir.

Nothing. One of them must have
stashed them somewhere,

but the lads are already
searching the station house.

It had to have been one of them,
trying to protect Dr. Freud.

Although I am skeptical that
he is, in fact, the killer.

But none of
the other prints match.

It has to be him.

Don't turn around, Henry.

What if it was someone else?

During the melee, Ernest Jones
stated that he took a seat

because his back was in pain.

Meaning that Mr. Davidson was
not at his customary seat

over by Watts' desk.

Instead he was in a position
to pick up the paper spike

and to strike the man
he believed

was Dr. Freud.

Why the bloody hell
would he do that?

He was in the station house
before that lot even arrived.

He doesn't know
these people.

Is it painful?

Detective Watts?

Hmm, yes?

What was the name
of Mr. Davidson's wife?

Elizabeth Davidson.

I quipped the only death wish
he correctly diagnosed

Was Edie's.

Edie. E.D.

Could they be
one and the same?

Dr. Freud. Your patient
who committed suicide, Edie?

This was a pseudonym,
I take it?

Yes. I would not publish
details of a patient's case

under her real name.

Doctor, we need to know
your patient's name.

It could have bearing
on this investigation.

Her name was
Elizabeth Davidson.

That's her. Charlie's wife
was Freud's patient.

That's right, doctor.

I'm the one who's
going to kill you.

Mr. Davidson,
don't do anything rash.

Rash?
'Ve been planning this for years.

Dreaming of it every
night since I found her.

Your wife suffered from
hysteria

brought about
by an unresolved wish

To possess
her father.

It was her father
who possessed her.

Night after night he came
into her room

while her mother
pretended not to notice.

It was my belief these
memories represented

the psychic repression
of latent desire.

You made her doubt
what she knew to be true!

She came back
thinking she had lost her mind.

Nothing I said, or did, made
any difference.

Your dream?
It was an allusion to Freud.

I wanted him to know
who was killing him and why.

Easy, Davidson.

But he was too
arrogant to see it.

And now he's going to get
what he deserves.

Why don't I just
give him a sock?

What is sock?

Watts!

No! No!

I heard Freud was
travelling to Niagara Falls.

I was going to
go there to find him.

But then I got word
he was coming to Toronto.

You waited for him
at the train station.

I overheard where
they were dining

and sent
the letter ahead.

With a razor in it.

What use is revenge if the
subject doesn't see it coming?

Were you there to
see him find it?

No. By the time I arrived, your
constables were arresting them.

So, I decided to get here first.
Wasn't what I'd planned.

But I knew just the story to
make up, so you'd keep me here.

Well, it worked.

Yes. Got to watch him squirm.

You killed a man, Mr. Davidson.

Yes. That was regrettable.

I suppose I'll hang for it.

But it was Freud
I wished to kill.

Yet he lives on.

I only hope his ideas die out
before they take hold.

Well, goodbye, doctor.

I'm sorry we didn't get
to see your lecture.

Oh!

Perhaps on your
next visit.

Oh, I can assure you,

This will be my last
trip to the Americas.

Yes. Attempted murder does
leave a certain taste.

Oh, it's not that. It's the
food, the culture, the...

intrusive informality.
I simply do not care for it.

Auf wiederschauen.

Well, what do you think?

Will psychic analysis
be the way of the future?

I doubt it. Dr. Freud was
wrong about nearly everything.

He was right
about one thing.

Oh, that hardly
seems fair.

You told him
everything about me.

All I did was describe a stick
in the mud that I wouldn't...

I wouldn't change
for anything.

Now, William, you can take your hands
out of your pockets now.

Eggheads!
They're all bloody crackers.

Any attempt to know the minds
of men seems like folly to me.

Maybe so. But even I could do
a better job than Dr. Freud.

I'll say. Dr. Freud said
I'm in love with George.

Even a broken clock's
correct twice a day.

Corrections done by srjanapala