All language subtitles for M.1931.BluRay.1080p.DTS-HD.x264.eng

Fritz lang's m was approved
by the Berlin film censorship office

in a 117-minute version
on April 27, 1931,

and received its premiere
on may 11, 1931.

The film was rereleased in a shortened
98-minute version in march of 1960

under the title
m, de/n mdrder siehz' d/ch an.

The original negative is preserved
at the federal film archive

in a 96-minute version.

Whenever possible,
missing scenes were filled in

using prints from the same period
from the cinématheque suisse

and the Netherlands film museum.

In its present form,
the film runs 110 minutes.

The film was restored in 2000
by the Netherlands film museum

in collaboration
with the federal film archive,

the cinématheque suisse,
kirchmedia and zdf/arte,

with funding
from the mondriaan foundation.

Laboratory:
L'immagine ritrovata, Bologna

sound restoration:
Kirchmedia, Munich,

and Martin Sawyer
sound services, London

Just you wait, it won't be long

the man in black will soon be here

with his cleaver's blade so true

he'll make mincemeat out of you!

You're out.

I told you to stop singing
that awful song!

Didn't you hear me?

That same cursed song over and over!

Dear me, that's heavy.

What's the matter?

I told those kids to stop
singing that awful song,

but they sing it all day long.

As if we haven't heard enough
of that murderer already.

Leave them alone.

As long as we can hear them singing,

at least we know
they're still there.

Yes, I guess you're right.

Public school

70, 000 marks reward -
who is the murderer?

Little k UN' k/a witzky and his sister
klara have been missing since June 77th.

Evidence leads us to believe
the children were victims of a crime

similar to that committed
last fall against the doering siblings.

What a pretty ball you have there.

What's your name?

Elsie beckmann.

Didn't Elsie come with you?

No. —she didn't come with us.

Pretty!

Thank you.

A thrilling new chapter, mrs beckmann.
Passionate and moving.

Just a moment, mr gehrke.

Tell me, mr gehrke.

Have you seen little Elsie?

No. Didn't shejust
come up the stairs?

No, she's not home yet.

She won't be long now. Goodbye.

Goodbye, mr gehrke.

Extra! Extra!

Extra! Extra!

No, I can't give change! Extra!

Makes you afraid
to send your kids to school!

Who is the murderer?

Because the police
did not publish my first letter,

I am writing new
directly to the press!

Proceed with your investigations.

All will soon be confirmed

but I'm not done yet!

70, 000 marks reward

Christ, here we go again!
—this is horrible!

The print's too small.
We can't read it.

You in front, read it out loud!

Let him read! —hey! Quiet!

"The terror in our town
has found a new victim."

Louded we can't hear a word!

"Certain evidence leads us to believe

that this is the same murderer

who has already claimed eight victims
from among our city's children.

We must emphasise once again

that it is, now more than ever,
every mother and father's sacred duty

to alert their children
to this ever present danger

and to the friendly guise
it is likely to assume.

A little candy, a toy, or an apple

can suffice to lure a child
to his or her doom."

Very true!

Keep reading.

"Anxiety among the general public
is heightened

by the police's failure
to apprehend a suspect.

But the police are faced
with the almost impossible task

of catching a criminal who left
not the slightest clue behind.

Who is the murderer?

What does he look like?

Where is he hiding?

No one knows him,
yet he is among us.

Anybody sitting next to you
could be the murderer."

Yes, that's very true.

Why look at me when you say that?
—you know very well.

What do I know very well?

Think about it.
It'll come to you.

What are you saying?

I saw you follow that little girl
from the fourth floor up the stairs.

You're crazy, you dirty swine!

Who's the swine?
Me, or a man who chases little girls?

You bastard! You swine!

Murderer!

Gentlemen!

I'll see you in court!

I'll have you looked up!

Slanderer!
Trying to ruin my reputation!

Damn slanderer!
Besmirching a man's good name!

And the police fall for it!

A search warrant!

How awful! What a disgrace!

Searching a man's house
based on an anonymous letter!

Mr jager, please calm down.
We're only doing ourjob.

As if it weren't enough
that we're in constant fear for our kids!

You see? That's why the police
must follow up every lead.

Any man on the street
could be the murderer.

Can you please tell me
what time it is?

Yes, my child.

Now you must hurry home.
Where do you live?

What's it to you
where the kid lives?

Excuse me?

What do you want with that kid?

Absolutely nothing!

What do you want with me?

I'll show you what I want!

Let me go! This is an outrage!

What's going on?
—this is an outrage!

What does four-eyes want?
—don't get so excited.

First chatting up children...
—punch him in the face!

Then acting like a big shot!

Will you let me go!
I didn't even speak to the child!

Get her alone, eh?
—and kill her like the others, right?

He's the murderer! —hold him!

Call the police!

Never around when you need 'em!
—officer!

Make way, gentlemen.
Let us through.

Sure, you can catch pickpockets!
Why don't you catch the murderer instead!

What? Is he the murderer?

Break it up!
Come on, move along!

The murderer! —the monster!

Get him!

Tackle him!

Murderer wr/tes to the press

because the police
did not publish my first letter,

I am writing now
directly to the press!

Proceed with your investigations.

All wfi/ soon be confirmed

but I'm not done yet!

This is a terrible scandal!

Imagine the effect such a note
will have on the public, commissioner!

This is simply irresponsible!

Mr secretary,
we cannot stop the murderer

from writing to whomever he wishes!

This severely pathological man
probably takes great pleasure

in seeing his crimes
covered in the press.

We immediately got in touch
with the newspaper

and had them send us
the original letter.

The lab's working on it right now.

Of course, you can't get good
fingerprints from a postcard

that's passed
through so many hands.

Nevertheless,
we will leave no stone unturned.

We'll painstakingly compare
the results against our archives

in hopes of finding something
that can be used to solve this case.

Then we'll send the letter
to our graphologist.

"The aforementioned diamond-shaped
and swelling sweeps,

clearly seen in the word 'soon',
third line from the bottom..."

You got that? —yes.

"Attest to the strongly pathological
sexuality of this sex offender."

Full stop.

The partially disrupted and uneven style
of his other letters

is, in its interpretation,

a form of acting

which may manifest externally
as indolence or even lethargy.

The writing as a whole displays

elusive yet unmistakable signs

of madness.

Yes, of course, commissioner.

I have no doubt you're doing your job,
and your men as well.

But we need results!

Results!

Mr secretary, my men haven't gotten
12 hours' sleep in an entire week!

My riot squads
don't get a moment's peace.

They report for duty almost more fatigued
than when they were dismissed.

Because the painstaking nature
of their work wears on the nerves,

and 80%, if not 90%,
of our leads are false.

The homicide squad doesn't even
get time to change clothes.

They're constantly on call,
always tense and alert.

Ever ready to spring into action,

to follow even the slightest lead,

as it just might be
the one that solves the case.

Mr secretary, just consider
the search of the crime scene.

To give you an example,

in the bushes
just behind a picket fence,

a small, white, crumpled
paper wrapping was found.

It apparently once contained
inexpensive sweets.

In the outermost corner

were found traces of fruit drops

and particles of powdered sugar.

We've tried to trace the origin
of this wrapper

in every candy shop and grocery store
within a radius of a mile and a half,

but all to no avail.

With each passing day
we expand the area searched.

But, of course,
after such a long time,

no one remembers anything
that could serve as a lead.

Despite all these setbacks,

we're forced to press on
in our investigation,

always in uncertainty

and with little chance of success

in bringing the case
even one step closer to its conclusion.

Our men are doing everything...

What good is all this?

Commissioner,
I'm aware you're not dawdling,

but that doesn't change the fact
that an unknown killer

is terrorising
four and a half million people!

And the police are getting nowhere!

Mr secretary, you don't seem
to have a clear picture

of the enormous obstacles
confronting our forces.

Do you realise, for example,

regarding the route
the child took home,

that there are fifteen conflicting
eyewitness accounts alone?

Let me give you a random example:

"Testimony 1,478
in the beckmann murder case..."

You've got no clue.
—more than you, mister!

Gentlemen!

You must at least know the colour
of the cap the little girl wore

whom you say you saw
with the stranger!

Of course, inspector.
It was red!

It was green! —red!

Stop! This is pointless!

Thank you, gentlemen.
—you're welcome!

Next witness.

If you rely
on a colour-blind man for clues,

don't be surprised
if you get nowhere!

In their hunt
for this unknown killer,

the police have tracked down
more than 1,500 detailed leads.

The files in this case
fill 60 thick volumes.

We've dispatched all our forces

to systematically comb
the area adjoining the city.

Every piece of undergrowth is scoured,
every thicket searched.

Every bush examined,

since any bush or hollow
could harbour some object

that could finally set us
on the right track.

We called in police dogs.

We set the best trackers
on the faintest of traces,

but they lost the scent

and failed to pick it up again
despite all efforts.

Since the first murders,

the police have searched
homeless shelters night after night,

subjecting everyone in them
to thorough scrutiny.

This does not, of course,
make the police very popular,

nor does it reduce
the general public's anxiety.

Railway stations are kept
under surveillance around the clock.

Still, the investigation has not yet
yielded the slightest results.

Nor have nightly raids
in the criminal districts.

The cops!

Get back!

Back! —this is the police!

Let me go, you dirty bastard!

Let me go, you son of a bitch!

Goddamn bastard!

Put me down!

Let me go!

Let her go, you filthy pig!

Quiet!

Move back!

The top fuzz!

Quiet!

Police orders:

Nobody is to leave this establishment.
Get your papers ready.

Please!

Come now, children,
stop this foolishness.

Well, if it isn't tubby lohmann!

Quiet!

That'll get you nowhere.

Go after the murderer instead!
—right!

Quiet!

Be reasonable now! Step back!

You hear me? Step back!

Let's go!
Come on, let's see those papers!

I haven't got any.
—let's see your papers.

Please let me go, inspector!

The two guys who tried to escape
were caught on the krangasse.

Leave those chairs alone!
—shut up!

Have your papers ready!

Haven't we met before?
—yeah. So?

Off to the precinct again!

Haven't even made a buck tonight!

Anyone without papers
goes down to the precinct!

Itell you, I'm innocent, really!

Stop talking nonsense!

Let's get moving! —kiss my arse!

Show your papers!
—where's the paddy wagon?

Don't push.

Everyone will get their turn.

Silence! —cool it, kids!

Have your papers ready!

Your papers.

Inspector, I can't carry my birth
certificate around with me everywhere!

Quit your bellyaching, child.
—I really can't, inspector!

The precinct for you!

You make me puke!

Shoddy work, my friend.

You've been had.

Precinct.
—see you, Willy. Ta-ta!

Lay off!

Stuck-up snob.

What's wrong?

Papa lohmann... —...Nabbed him!

Unsol ved burglary
a t f urr/er 's

we'd better take you
down to the precinct too.

What do you mean?
My papers are in order.

Move on.

Move on!

Tough luck!

Papers. —don't got none.

To the precinct.

Just my luck.

Next, come on.

You're ruining my business, sarge.

These raids every night.

No one can get a moment's peace!
They're human beings too.

We stay up all night
just for the hell of it?

But you're drivin' away my clientele,

and you won't find the guy
you're lookin' for here anyway.

If you knew how steamed they are

at the guy who's causing these raids.

Especially the girls.

Sure, they solicit.
Business is business.

But believe me,

in every one of them
beats a mother's heart!

I know a lot of toughs

who get all teary-eyed
just seein' the little ones at play.

If they ever get their hands
on that monster,

they'll make toothpicks out of him!

Ready to leave, sergeant.

So long.

They hit the crocodile club today.

Two paddy wagons.

What's keeping safecracker?

Is it 3:00 yet?

The exact time, please, miss.

2:58. Thank you.

2:58.

The cops are crawling
the streets like ants again.

Green coats wherever you spit.

They're on your back
even if you're with a broad.

They've gone nuts,
got this murderer on the brain.

My old lady has a little six-year-old girl,
and every night I have to check

under the bed to see
if the murderer's hiding there.

You can't do business anymore
for tripping over cops everywhere.

There's no privacy anymore.
I'm fed up with it.

What else is new?

Where the heck is safecracker?
—think they might have nabbed him?

That guy? Come on.

Scotland yard laid a trap for him once
on a bankjob he pulled in London.

There he was, hands up,
back to the wall

cops all around him.

Seconds later there were
three men dead on the ground,

but he wasn't one of them!

No one better
from Berlin to San Francisco.

They've been after him six years
and they've yet to get him.

Not yet. But put enough dogs
on the fox's tail...

Can it!

Damn it!

I can't take this!

He was always right on time before.

Thank god! —finally.

Morning!

Are you nuts?
Close those blinds!

Gentlemen,
I hereby open this meeting.

I declare all division leaders
of this organisation present.

I assume you're authorised
to make binding decisions

for your divisions.

Good. We'll dispense
with the preliminaries,

as we all know why we're here.

An outsider is ruining
our business and our reputation.

Measures taken by the police

and the daily raids
to catch this child murderer

are hampering our activities
to an almost unbearable degree.

We can no longer tolerate the fact

that we're not safe now in any hotel,
bar, café or even private home

from the clutches of the police.

Very true.

This state of affairs must end.

Things must return to normal
or we'll go under.

Our coffers will soon be depleted.

If we can't get funds to support
the wives of those members

who currently enjoy room
and board at state expense,

I don't know where we'll find
the money to carry out our plans.

Our reputation is suffering as well.

The police seek
the murderer in our fold.

Gentlemen, when I run head-on
into an officer from the squad,

he knows the potential risks,
and so do I.

If either dies in the line of duty, fine.
Occupational hazard.

But we must draw a firm line
between ourselves

and this man they're looking for!

We conduct our business
in order to survive,

but this monster
has no right to survive!

He must be killed,
eliminated, exterminated!

Without mercy or compassion!

Gentlemen,

our members must be able
to go about their business again

without frantic cops
in their way at every turn.

I invite...

Your views, gentlemen.

Step up ID checks,
comb the entire city,

and raids,
relentless, ever tougher raids!

We need informers!

We must know the police's plans
almost before they do themselves!

The girls gotta work the cops more!

How often has one of us been nabbed
because his girl ratted on him to the cops?

Now they can rat on the cops!

Every resident, every landlord,

every property owner

must be forced to consent
to meticulous searches of his property

for the slightest of clues.

What if we...
We have our connections.

What if we put
an article in the papers

that our syndicates,
I mean, our organisation,

doesn't wish to be lumped in
together with this pig,

and that the cops should look
for this guy somewhere else.

He's not even a real crook!

This man may well be,

when not engaged
in the actual act of killing,

a harmless, upstanding citizen
who wouldn't hurt a fly.

In his right mind, perhaps he plays
marbles with his landlady's kids

or plays cards with friends.

Theinnocuousness
of these murderers' private lives,

it's inconceivable that someone
like grossmann or haarmann

could have lived right next door
to their neighbours for years

without arousing
the faintest trace of suspicion!

This is where we must focus
the public's attention.

The public must cooperate.

I'll tell you about public cooperation!

Just thinking of it makes me puke.

I beg your pardon, commissioner.

But ain't it the truth?

What the devil has public cooperation
gotten us so far?

Piles of letters
full of the most outrageous slander!

Very true.

They alert homicide
whenever a chimney sweep walks by.

That's right.

But when you really want
reliable information from them,

then they suddenly haven't got a clue.

Why, they just can't seem
to remember a thing.

There's your public cooperation
for you!

I believe you're exaggerating a bit,
lohmann.

It can't really be that bad, can it?

But it is, commissioner!

Most of the public
still takes the position,

"how does this concern me?".

The idea that
each individual is responsible

for what happens to the poorest,
most anonymous child on the street

hasn't even dawned
on the public at large!

I've got another idea.

There was this magician.

Te... tele...
I can't remember what you call it.

Anyway, he could conjure up
hidden pennies out of handkerchiefs.

The reward is still
far too little money.

The man who leads us
to the murderer should get a fortune.

None of this is anything new.

This is all leading nowhere.

So we just wait for the police
to catch the guy instead?

The difficulties
in solving crimes of this nature

are, in my experience,
often insurmountable,

since perpetrator and victim

are often brought together
by mere chance.

The instincts of the moment
drive the murderer's actions.

The victim is found and identified,

his or her last known whereabouts
are determined,

and then...

Then comes the big question Mark.

These children vanish
without a trace.

And when they're found...

Well, we all know the state
in which we've found them.

And the perpetrator...

It's a fact well-known to all of us

that murderers like this
rarely leave a clue behind.

That's what makes our work so hard,
our successes so few.

The police have been after
this murderer for eight months now.

They'll only get him by accident now.
—we can't wait for that.

No, we'll go broke by then.

What, then?

We have to catch him...

Ourselves.

Yes, that's what we must do.

There is perhaps one other way.

I'm quite certain that information
on the individual in question

must already exist somewhere.

Being the severely pathological case
that he is,

he has no doubt already had some kind
of contact with the authorities.

That's why all health care facilities,

prisons, clinics and insane asylums

must be encouraged
to cooperate with us unequivocally.

We specifically need information

on those released after being deemed
harmless to society

but who, due to their inclinations,

could be the murderer.

We must cover the city
with a net of informers.

Every square mile must be
under constant surveillance.

No child in this city must take
a single step without us knowing it.

Fine, but how? —and who?

It must be people who can go
anywhere without causing a stir,

follow anyone
without attracting attention,

follow any child to any house
without arousing suspicion.

In short, people whom the killer
would never suspect.

But who?
—there are no such people!

Who could do that? —who?

The beggars.

The organisation of beggars!

Mr credit/s dead and burled -
the management

Blood pudding's on the upswing.

God, this cheese stinks so good.

Take that, you sons of bitches!

Hey, stop snoring.
You'll wake up the lice.

Two, four, six...

No beggars or peddlers

sandi/I/iches

Bread-and-butter sandwich,
lukewarm response.

Black Friday for roast beef.

All right.
Now come the courtyards.

Yes, from number 1 to 88.

You're responsible for the courtyards
on hauptstrasse from 1 to 88.

Got it.

What's next?

Hauptstrasse,
from number 89... to 196.

Hauptstrasse,

number 89 to 196.

Member number?
—3795. Emil dustermann.

Well, Emil, maybe
you'll win the 15,000.

I've got my fingers crossed.

Knock on wood.

My heartfelt thanks,
ladies and gentlemen.

Thank you.

In searching homes,
be on the lookout for any clue

which could establish the origin
of the murderer's letter to the cou rier.

Be on the lookout as well

for an old wooden table...

Or red pencil...

Come in.

Or writing paper
of the type used by the killer.

Inspector, here are reports on mental
patients who've been released as cured

or deemed harmless
over the last five years.

Reports from every
private and public institute,

as well as from
municipal hospitals and asylums.

And here's a list
of their present addresses.

Good day.
Does a mr beckert live here?

Pardon me?
—does a mr beckert live here?

I'm afraid I don't understand.
I'm a bit hard of hearing.

You don't say.
Does a mr beckert live here?

Mr beckert, yes, he does.
But he just stepped out.

I had hoped to speak with him.

I'm from the tax office.

The tax office. Oh, my lord!

Perhaps you'd like to wait for him...

Yes, thank you.

Please have a seat. —thank you.

Perhaps you'd like something to read.
—thank you. Most kind.

The general gazette

tell me, mrs winkler,

does mr beckert
subscribe to any newspapers?

Mr beckert?
No, he always borrows mine.

I see. Thank you.

Mummy!
I wanted to meet you halfway!

Child, you mustn't do that.

You know why.

Good day. What would you like?

Coffee.

No, a vermouth. No, a cognac.

Here you are.

Two cognacs...
That's 1.65, please.

Thank you very much.

"Number 24: Beckert.
Doesn't take the courier.

Table: Polished mahogany,
with tablecloth.

No traces of red pencil.
In fact, no writing materials of any kind.

Printed matter found in waste basket:
Cigar ad and a postcard

with flowers
and 'regards, Paul' on it,

but no address of sender.

An empty cigarette pack, ariston brand,
a bag of candy..."

Just a moment.

Ariston?

What was that?

I'd like the file
on the marga perl murder case.

Thank you very much.

That's odd.

I've heard that before.

It was...

It was...

Hey, Heinrich!

What's wrong?
—listen. Someone's whistling.

Can't you hear it?

Now he's stopped.

Did you see
the guy who was whistling?

Yes, I can still see him.

Heinrich, he's talking to a little girl
and walking her down the street.

After him, quick, and don't lose him!
—why?

The day little Elsie beckmann
was killed,

a man bought a balloon from me.

He was with a little girl...

And he whistled just like that!

Damn it, man!

Are you crazy,
throwing orange peels on the ground?

A man could slip and break his neck!
Unbelievable!

I should report you to the police!

Outrageous behaviour!

Hey, mister.

Here it is.

"In a 150-foot radius
of the crime scene,

three cigarette butts of the ariston brand
were found." There you have it.

Yes, it may be
the same brand of cigarettes,

but there was no old wooden table.

Of course, he could have written
that letter somewhere else.

Good god!

The window ledge!

You're right.

Just a minute.

Red pencil.

My god, finally!

We're finally on his trail.

They're on his trail?

Did they find him?
—the beggars found him.

His whistling gave him away.
—they put a Mark on him.

Shut up!

What did you say?

They're following the Mark.
He isn't out of sight for a second.

His every move is being watched.

Mister. —what is it?

You got some white stuff on your coat.
—where?

On your shoulder.

Here, I'll wipe it off.

What's the matter?
—come on. We're leaving.

He didn't come out this way.
We would've seen him.

Out of the question!

Well, he didn't turn back.
—he has to be somewhere, damn it!

Maybe he's hiding
inside the building.

Closing time!

We can't let him get away in the crowd!
If he slips through now...

They're starting to come out!

Out in the street,
and keep your eyes peeled!

Excuse me, may I ask you a question?

My trip is tomorrow.
I start in konigsberg...

No, in my condition
I can't eat anything like that...

The boss came to my office today...

Turn off the light.

He'll get suspicious
if he comes home and sees it on.

What time is it, anyway?

Almost 6:30.

He's gotta still be inside!

He definitely didn't come out
with the office crowd.

No, just a moment.

The beggars have called for backup
and surrounded the whole building.

They figure the guy's hiding
in the building.

What sort of building is it?

What sort of building is it?

Nothing but offices.

I don't know what's in the basement.

There's a branch of the local
savings bank on the ground floor,

and the second to sixth floors
are nothing but offices.

Above that is the attic space.

This is unbelievable.

Anyone still in there?

Anyone still in here?

Anybody still in here?

Damn carelessness!

All that trouble for one door.

Seems the guy's cornered now.

I think we should tip
the cops off right away.

I agree. —let's not waste time!

Stay by the phone
and call back in a few minutes.

Are you crazy or something?
The police?

No! We're gonna get
this guy ourselves!

Listen, the time now is...

8:00.

All right. 9:00, 10:00...

At 11:00!

Evening. Did you know
your gate isn't closed?

What? That's impossible!

Why I just... wait, it is!

Open up, quick! And not a sound!

Come on! Move it!

Let's go!

Come on, move it!

How many other watchmen
are in the building?

Don't want to answer?

Very well.

There are still two watchmen
on their rounds.

Goddamn it!

Damn piece of crap!

Goddamned lock!

Damn it to hell!

Shit!

Careful where you shine those lights!

And don't stomp around
like elephants!

He's not in the basement.

We went through it all
and found nothing.

Two men are still going
through the boiler room.

Hold it!

This is the last one.

Go up and join Emil.
He needs help.

Safecracker sent me.

All right.

Listen carefully.

This is a new type of time clock.

Here's a general diagram.

If they're not set
at exactly the right minute,

an alarm automatically goes off
at the nearest police station. Get it?

You got it?

I'm not an idiot! —well...

He's not in the boiler room
or the coal room.

We turned over every piece of coal.

Hey! Are you nuts?

What if the doors are wired?
You want the police here in five minutes?

We gotta get in if we're gonna
search the whole place!

But not through the door, you idiot!

Go through the ceiling
of the office above!

Nothing.

All right. Down we go.

Hey, what's up?

Hey! What is it?

Wait a minute!
Answer me, damn it!

What's going on?
—I heard some banging!

Where are you off to?
—why are you running?

Wait, damn it!

I've gotta see safecracker!

He's in the attic, I tell you!
I heard him knocking!

Quiet!

Go on! He has to be in there!

Here's the light switch.

Force the locks.

Come on. Hurry up!

Got him! I found the guy!
He's in the attic!

I heard someone banging,
and I told safecracker.

He's up there with eight men.
They'll get him any moment now.

Just came down to fill you in.

If I hadn't been alert,
we could've looked for him for hours!

The watchman!

Three... one... four.

314.

Everybody out! —what?

The cops will be here in five minutes.
—damn it! Who called them?

The watchman rang the alarm.
—let's scram!

Hold it!

Quiet down!

Five more minutes,
six more storage sheds.

Move it! Get going!

Not like that! Out of the way!

He's not in here. —next door!

Come on! Faster!

He's not here either.
—move on! Next door!

Quickly! We've only got
three minutes left!

No padlock on this one...
He must be here!

Open it!

Something's jammed inside.
—let me do it!

Hurry! Only one minute left!

There he is, the dog!

Come on! Move it!

Everybody out!

Get out while you can, damn it!

Move it!

For Christ's sake, get going!

What's keeping the others?
—they're coming!

If not, they might as well stay here,
with or without the guy!

What in the hell is keeping them?

Finally! Thank god!

Quick now! Go! Make it snappy!

He's not down here.

Hey! Who pulled up the rope?

Hey, who pulled up the rope?

Bunch of morons!

Hello there.

Hands up!

How can I put my hands up
when I'm holding on to the rope?

Come out of there!

I'm really innocent this time...

Like a newborn babe.

This may surprise you, Franz...

But I believe you.

Then everything's in order,
and I can go now, right?

Just a moment.

Cigarette?

I'll take your word for it, Franz,

provided you can tell me

who the man was
that you were looking for

and that you found in that building.

I don't understand, inspector.

A man, you say?

I know nothing about that.
There must be some mistake.

I know nothing.

Nothing at all.

Of course.

There's just one thing I don't get:

Why you're covering up for the gang
who left you in the lurch.

Fine friends, running off
when things heat up,

leaving you right in the fire.

Phooey!

That ploy won't work with me,
inspector.

Listen...

What can happen to me anyway?

Maybe a little property damage,
so what?

Nothing was pinched!

But something was pinched,
my friend!

In fact, a good deal.

What? Something got pinched?

How much?

Tell me what you know
and I'll do the same.

I already told you.
I know nothing.

Very well.

Give it some thought, Franz.

Leave a man alone
for a couple hours

and a lot comes back to him
that he couldn't remember before.

Take him away.

Send the night watchman in.

Mr damowatz.

Please sit down.

Now then, you said
in your statement...

Listen carefully, in case
you have to testify under oath later.

You clearly heard one of the burglars
say to the guy guarding you,

"we got him. I found the guy.
He's in the attic."

Is that correct?
—yes, inspector.

Yes, I'll swear to that anytime.

Go home now
and recover from your ordeal.

But please remain available
for further questioning.

Of course, inspector.

Good morning, inspector.

Morning.

Tell me, is inspector lohmann
in the building?

He's talking to someone?
No, it doesn't matter.

I'll come over myself.

Hasn't come home yet, eh?

Did you keep an eye
on the old winkler woman too?

Come in.

Come in!

Am I disturbing you?
—no, come in.

Listen, the whole block
is surrounded.

If he decides to go home,
he has to run into us.

So just keep on waiting.

If anything happens,
I'll be here at the precinct.

Damn it!

What do you want?

I wanted...

To ask a favour of you.

Dishwater again!

I wanted to ask you...

Read this first.

A statement? —yeah.

An office building was broken into.

Ben nostrasse?

That's a respectable part of town.

Perhaps not that respectable after all.

Hell, this is getting serious!

What the...
Did they mean to empty the brothel?

What could they have been
looking for in the coal?

Incredible! Unbelievable!

I'll be damned!

This is madness!

So they were after
the savings bank!

Good god! What could this mean?

I don't understand at all.

They didn't even touch it?

Must've been a bunch of real idiots!

I'll be damned!

Isn't that something?

Nothing stolen,
but a man was carried off.

God knows where they took him.

That's just great.

And Franz isn't talking.

He's afraid, of course.

I know him well. Guys like him would
rather jump out the fifth-floor window

than be mixed up in a murder rap.

What if we could
get at him from that angle?

Lohmann, if you'd be willing
to help me out...

Very clever.

I see the wheels turning.

Let's send for this Franz.

You're wanted for questioning.

What? They sent four guys for me?

What's this about? —move it!

"Homicide squad.

Inspector Karl lohmann."

What do you want with me?

What have I got to do
with the homicide squad?

Yes, young man,

your case has been turned over to me.

But why?

Why?

You boys did your work
a little too well.

One of the watchmen...

Accessory to murder.

Nasty business.

Inspector, I've had enough!

I want no part of this!

I'll tell you everything I know!

Very sensible,
but, unfortunately, too late.

It can't be too late!

It can't be!

I'll tell you everything!

Even what we were looking for
in that damn building.

Well...

The child murderer!

The child murderer, inspector.

Just a moment.

This had to happen to me!

Me, of all people.

Come sit down, my boy.

We're gonna level
with each other, got it?

Certainly, inspector.

And god help you
if you pull something.

Now then,

what have you boys got to do
with the murderer

and where was the guy taken?

Well, inspector...

You know the old
kuntz & ley distillery?

The one that went belly-up
in the depression?

That's the one.

Since then, the building's stood empty,
and no one gives a damn about it.

Get out here! Move it!

Let me go!

What have I done to you?

You swine!

Let go of me!

Bastards!

Swine! What do you want from me?

What do you want...

Help!

Help! Let me out of here!

I want out!

Let me out of here!

You'll never get out of here.

Gentlemen, I beg of you!

I don't even know
what you want with me.

I beg you, let me go.

This whole thing must be a mistake!

A mis...

No mistake. Out of the question.

This is no mistake.

No mistake.

You recognise this?

You bought a balloon just like this
for little Elsie beckmann.

Just like this one.

Where did you Bury
little marga perl, you bastard?

But I never...

I never even met her!

You never even met her!

I suppose you never
met her either?

Or her?

You never met her either?

Stop him! —grab him!

Stop him! —don't let him escape!

Let me out!
—punch him in the face!

Let go of me!

You have no right to treat me this way!
—we'll show you we do!

You have no right to hold me here!

Right? There's only one thing
right for a man like you — death!

Right! Kill him!
—kill the rabid dog!

Ice him! —let him have it!

Quiet!

You spoke of rightjust now.

We will be your right.

Everyone sitting here
is an expert in the rule of law!

From six weeks in tegel prison
to 15 years in brandenburg.

They'll make sure
you get your rights.

You'll even have defence counsel.

Everything according
to the letter of the law.

Defence counsel?

I need no defence counsel!
Who's gonna prosecute me?

You, perhaps?

Hey, you.

If I were you,
I wouldn't make big speeches.

Your head's at stake here,
in case you hadn't noticed.

And just who are you?

I have the dubious pleasure
of serving as your defence.

Though I'm afraid
it won't do you much good.

Do you all want to kill me?
You want to just wipe me out?

We simply want to put you
out of commission.

And we'll only be sure
of that when you're dead.

But you can't murder me
just like that!

I demand to be handed over
to the police!

I demand to be brought
before a real court of law!

That's a good one!

You'd like that, wouldn't you?
—look who's talking!

So you can plead insanity

and spend the rest of your life
being cared for by the state.

And then you break out of the asylum
or receive a pardon,

and you're happy as can be,
free to kill with impunity,

protected by law
on grounds of insanity

and you're back to chasing little children!
No, no more of that!

You must be taken out of action!
You must go!

But I can't help it!

I really can't... help it!

We know that one!

Before the judge,
we all "can't help it".

What would you know?

What are you talking about?

Who are you anyway?

Who are you?

All of you.

Criminals.

Probably proud of it, too.

Proud you can crack a safe

or sneak into houses
or cheat at cards.

All of which it seems to me
you could just as easily give up

if you had learned something useful,

or if you had jobs
or if you weren't such lazy pigs.

But me?

Can I do anything about it?

Don't I have
this cursed thing inside me?

This fire, this voice, this agony?

So you mean to say
you have to kill?

I have to roam the streets endlessly,

always sensing
that someone's following me.

It's me!

I'm shadowing myself!

Silently... but I still hear it!

Yes, sometimes I feel

like I'm tracking myself down.

I want to run,
run away from myself!

But I can't!
I can't escape from myself!

I must take the path
that it's driving me down

and run and run
down endless streets!

I want off!

And with me run the ghosts

of the mothers and children.

They never go away.
They're always there!

Always!

Always!

Except when I'm doing it.

Then I don't remember a thing.

Then I'm standing before a poster,

reading what I've done.

I read and read...

I don't remember a thing!

But who will believe me?

Who knows what it's like inside me?

How it screams and cries out
inside me when I have to do it!

Don't want to! Must!

Don't want to! Must!

And then a voice cries out,
and I can't listen anymore!

Help! I can't!

The accused has stated
that he can't help himself.

In other words,
he must commit murder.

With that he has pronounced
his own death sentence.

Right!

A man who claims

that he's compelled
to destroy the lives of others,

such a man must be
extinguished like a bonfire!

Such a man must be obliterated!

Wiped out!

May I address the court?

Counsel for the defence
has the floor.

My learned colleague
who just spoke,

who is, if I'm not mistaken,

wanted by the police
on three counts of manslaughter...

That's irrelevant here.

Has claimed that the fact that my client
was acting compulsively

warrants the death sentence.

That's right!

He is mistaken,

because the very nature of compulsion
warrants an acquittal!

Get outta here, will you?

Are you nuts, or plastered?

It is precisely
the nature of compulsion

that relieves him
of responsibility for his actions!

And a man cannot be punished for that
for which he is not responsible!

Ridiculous!
—you mean this monster should go free?

I'm saying that this man is sick,

and you turn a sick man
over to a doctor, not an executioner.

Will you guarantee his cure?
—what does the state build asylums for?

What if he breaks out?
—or he's declared cured and released?

And one fine day
the killing starts all over?

Another month-long manhunt!

Once again the insanity clause,
once again the asylum!

Another breakout or possible release!
And again "must kill"!

Is this supposed
to go on indefinitely?

No one has the right to kill a man

who cannot be held
responsible for his crimes!

Not even the state,
and all of you least of all!

The state must ensure
that this man is rendered harmless

so that he ceases to be
a danger to society!

You never had kids, did you?

Then you never lost any either.

But if you wanna know what it's like
when a little child is taken from you,

just ask the parents
whose kids he took away!

Ask them about the days and nights
not knowing what had happened,

and later,
when they finally found out...

Why don't you ask the mothers?

You should ask the mothers!

Think you'd get mercy
from any of them

for murdering their kids?

The woman's right! —absolutely!

No mercy for the killer!

Let him have it!
—slaughter the bastard!

Kill the monster! —kill him!

Put the animal to death!
—rub him out!

Kill him! —waste him!

Get rid of him!
—annihilate the monster!

I will not let you shout me down!

I will not allow a murder
to be committed in my presence.

I demand that this human being...

That's not a human being!

That this human being be afforded
the same protection under the law

rendered the common criminal!

Not a chance!

I demand that he
be handed over to the police!

The police! Of all the dumb...

In the name of the law...

In the name of the people...

This will not bring
our children back.

One has to keep closer watch

over the children!

All of you!