All language subtitles for CSI - 14x20 - Consumed.HDTV.LOL+DIMENSION.en

(man panting, grunting)

(heavy door creaks open)

(man panting)

(grunting)

Stop! No!

(panting)

(grunting wildly)

(screaming)

You're delicious.

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.

Hang on a second.

Now you're saying
your attacker looked like me?

But ten minutes ago,
you said,

«I couldn't see him
'cause I was blindfolded.»

That is technically right,
but by the sound of his voice,

I could... I could
totally picture him.

All right. Okay.

SANDERS: So this
«shadowy figure», who looks

just like my colleague here,

grabs you off the street...
Blindfolds you.

...blindfolds you,

drives you to a dark room,

reeking of brimstone,

cuts off a hunk of your leg,
and then...

And he eats it!

Right in front of me!

Only...

What?

Now that I think about it...

he sounded more like you.

(distorted):
Absolutely delectable.

Okay, Owen.

Thanks for sharing your story.

I'm telling you,
this city is writhing

with flesh-hungry
psychopaths.

Hardly go to the grocery store
anymore without some

Dahmer-looking bag boy
salivating over me.

(cell phone chimes)
Well, it's a good thing

that you escaped this
particular psychopath.

You know what?
Owen, it's been fun,

but that's the morgue calling.

We got to go.

We'll start a file
and we'll keep an eye out.

Make sure you go see a doctor.

Yeah, have him
check your head.

Uh, excuse me?

Make sure
you get in bed.

Right. Okay.
Yeah...

Hey, man, sorry.
I heard you were looking for me.

I had some lunatic at PD
talking about a people-eater.

I heard about it,
and that's why I asked for you.

That story might not
be so loony.

A worker just
called this in.

Found it at
the garbage dump.

These, uh, rectangular
wounds exhibit a serration

of a steak knife.

What are those particles
around the wound?

Seasoning of
salt and sage.

Per Hodges's microscope,
not my taste buds.

I get it.

This is a prank, right?

This is real.

A-A crude
dismemberment like this

leaves me little doubt
that this meat is murder.

World-class restaurants,
endless buffets–

all those tasty
choices,

and we've got a cannibal
in Las Vegas.

♪ CSI 14x20 ♪
Consumed
Original Air Date on April 9, 2014

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

♪ Who... are you?

♪ Who, who, who, who?

♪ Who... are you?

♪ Who, who, who, who?

♪ I really wanna know

♪ Who... are you?

♪ Oh-oh-oh
♪ Who... ♪

♪ Come on, tell me who are you,
you, you ♪

♪ Are you!

Nick pulled prints
from the hand,

then he went up to the lab
to run them.

Looky there.

Second instar maggots...

...on our cannibal's leftovers.

What do you think?

Two, three days into decomp?

About that.

Two marks on the bone
indicate a serrated knife

cut through muscle and tendons,
allowing disarticulation.

No medical expertise necessary.

Well, it's really
no different than

pulling a drumstick
off a raw chicken.

A little different, Doc.

Nick gave me some photos
of the other guy.

Owen Linder, right?

The dinner who got away.

Look at this–
the wound on Mr. Linder's leg

exhibits the same distinct
blade flaw as these wounds.

So, same knife,
same assailant maybe.

But I heard
Owen's story won't help much.

He didn't see his attacker.

He claims that he was
abducted off the street,

blindfolded,
then driven to some room.

(grunting, yelling)

The pain of his leg
being filleted

made him break free
and run blindly into the night.

So, no idea where he ran from?

Mm-mm. By the time
the cops showed up,

he was completely turned around.

Okay, boys.

The, uh, print
on the hand says

the arm belongs to a local:
Dennis Hagel.

Former endoscopic surgery tech.

Got fired for stealing meds.
Hmm.

So, patrol's out there right now
looking for the rest of him.

I hope they find him alive
and otherwise intact.

You are a deeply
bizarre man.

Oh, yeah? Well, you're no
walk in the park, you know.

Not you.

I was talking about Owen Linder.

I've been doing some
digging on this guy.

There's more to his story?

A twisted prologue.

Owen has been spending
some serious time

in a very dark corner
of the Internet.

«Vore».

SANDERS:
Short for vorarephilia–

an erotic, compulsive fixation

that involves eating

or being eaten by
other living things.

Cannibalism.

Well, that's just one room
in the Vore fetish madhouse.

Others involve man-eating plants
and giant hungry cats

and a whole pornucopia of things

you don't even want
to know about.

You're right there.

But Owen here

is into plain old cannibalism.

At least the idea of it.

I mean, he is all
over these sites.

Doing what?

Doing what other
Vore enthusiasts do:

talking about his desire
to be devoured.

Sharing his fantasies

of having his flesh
chewed up and swallowed.

Yeah, but his fantasy became
a... a bloody reality.

So, what do you think,
that he asked for what happened?

That he offered himself up
to a... a real-life cannibal?

I think that Owen and I
need to chew the fat.

Did I forget to mention
this part of the story?

I could tell you guys barely
believed me about the attack,

much less if it looked
like I asked for it.

So you didn't ask for it?

For a guy to help himself
to a hunk of my leg?

Are you nuts?!

It was supposed to be
role-playing.

I thought I made that
very clear to him.

Clear to who?

Your attacker?

Yeah.

Who was he?
I don't know.

Guy responded privately
to one of my Web posts.

Said he was a «pred»
looking for «prey».

Went by the name «Eater».

Wanted to meet up.

So you made a... date?

Yeah. «Eater» told me, uh, to
wait in front of my house,

and he sneaks up.

(snaps fingers)
Blindfold.

Puts me in the car,
takes me to his place.

You went willingly?

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, but I figured,
you know, we'd...

we'd get out the condiments,
you know, slather up and...

All right. All right.

All right. That's enough.

Right.

So, after he cut you up...

Yeah.

...everything else
you told us...

My daring escape
and flee to freedom–

all true.

I swear.
All right.

We're gonna need to see

all your online correspondence
with this «Eater».

All right, sure,

but it won't help you track him.

«Eater» was strictly anonymous.

No way he's leaving
any digital breadcrumbs behind.

Oh, yeah?
Yeah.

Well, he did leave us this.

Part of a meal.

Named... Dennis Hagel.
You know him?

Maybe he frequented
the same Vore sites.

Maybe he shared
the same interests.

Vegas local.

He worked in endoscopic surgery.

Oh.

Like when they stick a camera
down your throat?

Into your belly?

Yeah.

What is it, Owen?

There's something
you need to see.

SIDLE: Greg just
sent over this video.

Owen Linder claims
it's a snuff film that's been

making its way around
the online Vore community–

a snuff film like
no one's ever seen before.

According to Owen,

this lady's name
is «Miss Feed».

Hi, out there.

It's another...
sunny day in Vegas.

Want to have some fun?

Webcam stripper.

No, not really.

She offers a unique service
to vore-heads like Owen

that dream of being gobbled up.

You look so yummy.

Mmm. And I'm just so hungry.

I can't wait...

...to devour you.

(gagging)

This is new.

Endoscopic camera.

Possibly manned by

our disarmed victim,
Dennis Hagel.

Can't be too many people
with that skill-set

involved with
this kind of stuff.

Yeah.

And we've reached her stomach.

Lovely.

(squishing)

Whoa. What was that?

Oh, my God.
It's a knife.

She's getting stabbed.

Let it play.

(sloshing)

All that blood–
an artery was hit.

She's dying.

Uh, wh-what does
the video's metadata say?

Originated
three days ago,

but it bounced through proxies,
obscuring any other information.

So, we have a murder victim
with no name

and no idea where
the crime scene is.

Video's all we got to work with.

Well, if we can stand
a closer look,

there might be something in here
that can help us.

Let's split it up.
Go frame by frame.

Listen, Stephanie, why
don't we reschedule.

I'm completely jammed up
in traffic on the Strip.

Okay. Bye.

Who you hiding from?

Head of my share-free
election committee.

A smart woman,
tons of energy, but...

You can't stand her.

Well, you're welcome
to take refuge

in here if you want.

I mean...

election's over a year away.

They're already pressuring me
about my image, my platform,

soliciting contributions.

Getting appointed, I avoided
that whole campaign circus.

Well, no one's gonna run
against you this time.

So, your job
should be safe, right?

Well, that's
the other thing.

I don't know if I want it.

Really?

Sometimes I miss the lab.

The way you get to work
here, it's clean, honest.

You don't have to
get your hands dirty.

Well, for a Vegas sheriff,
your hands are pretty clean.

Unless you've started

planting bodies in the desert
like the good old days.

Not yet, but I can certainly
understand the impulse.

Some of the decisions I've
had to make in this job,

some of the ugliness
in this town.

We've had a big helping
of that today.

Yeah.

A killer with a taste
for human flesh,

preying on those
who fantasize about it.

That's the headline.

Well, we better
solve it

before it hits the news.

Came by to see
what you got.

Got a crazy story from one vic,

an arm

from another

and a snuff film from the third.

That's it?
No other physical evidence?

No.

And no reason to think
that this maniac is gonna stop.

(sighs)

You want to have some fun?

♪

♪

Hey.

So, it turns out,
trying to solve a murder

from inside the victim
is a hell of a lot trickier

than it sounds.
The best luck I've had

is with the murder weapon.

The knife is serrated.

Same kind of knife that cut
our other two victims.

And I noticed an unusual detail
in that freeze-frame.

Engraved symbol.

The Cyrillic name
of a Russian village.

«Marilsk».

So, either the killer
is from there

or just a collector.

Either way,

we still have no idea
who or where «Miss Feed» is.

Actually, we do.
As luck should have it,

her strange eating habits
weren't just limited

to her work.
I noticed this

in my analysis of
the stomach video.

Jelly donut wrapped
around hamburger.

There's only one place in town
that serves that sandwich.

Hangover Grill–
and I'm never going there again.

I got the credit card receipts

from the day
«Miss Feed» was killed,

and I ran them
through DMV.

«Miss Feed» is actually
Miss Brenda Waring.

Her home address
is in Henderson.

LVPD!

BRODY:
Dennis Hagel.

Cameraman.

We got it.

Why don't you
get some air.

Thank you.

Brenda Waring wasn't
just killed, she was butchered.

Salt and sage.

What the hell are we hunting?

(camera clicking)

♪

♪

A door was thrown open,

causing this picture
to go crooked.

Brenda was meticulous,
very organized.

I don't think
she would've let it

stay like that
for even a minute.

Unless she never had
a chance to straighten it.

We know that moments before

she was murdered, Brenda was
back there with Dennis

doing a cam session.

I just can't wait

to devour you.

Then the killer barged in.

Any sign of forced entry?
No.

Do you know what? She could've
left the door unlocked.

Nice neighborhood,
middle of the day — why not?

All the darkness,
all the weirdness

was kept in this corner
of her world.

Till it came storming in.

SIDLE: Single, sharp-force wound
to the neck.

Severed the carotid
jugular complex.

It looks like the cameraman
was just in the way.

He was taken out quickly.

The target of the killer's rage
appears to have been Brenda.

Dozen stab wounds centered
around her stomach.

That's quite a statement,
considering her line of work.

Assailant had to know her
as «Miss Feed».

Maybe an obsessed
or jilted client.

After consuming Brenda,

the psycho didn't seem
to have an appetite for Dennis.

Apparently, uh,

he bagged Dennis's arm to go.

It might not have been
all he took.

I haven't been able to find

a purse anywhere around here.

No wallet.

A cannibal, a killer...

and a thief?

HODGES: In some
cannibalistic cultures,

it was believed that
eating someone's flesh

was a way to absorb
their strength,

their, uh, spiritual
essence, their wisdom,

their skills.

You've studied this?

Caribbean cruise
when I was 11.

I was prepared
for any encounters.

So, I was thinking,
«Miss Feed».

feasted on all of those clients.

So, maybe the killer
was after her,

fed on her
because he saw her

as a sort of
human turducken.

All those spirits
inside of her...

would make for a
very powerful meal.

But «Miss Feed»
only dealt in simulation.

She never actually
ingested any flesh.

This killer
is brunching on people.

His logic might be
slightly out of whack.

(cell phone vibrates)

He's also out of cash.

Just got a hit that someone used
Brenda Waring's credit card.

Charging up
your sister's plastic?

That's a strange way of grieving
your sister's death, Colleen.

Yeah, I stole from Brenda.

But that was
five days ago.

I didn't hurt her.

I was in jail
until this morning

when I used her card.

We know that you didn't
kill your sister, Colleen.

You were locked up
at the time of the murder.

Meth possession.

But maybe you know
who did this to Brenda.

(crying):
I told her they would hurt her.

She's tempting them.

And the demons
wouldn't stay boxed

inside the computer forever.

I tried to warn her.

All the wicked people out there.

So, these, uh,
demons you mentioned–

the clients that
your sister performed for–

did she ever tell you
about any of them?

Problems she may have had
with them?

Last time I saw her
was five days ago.

And something...

somebody had scared her.

Brenda, if one of those online
pervs said something to you,

threatened you...

It wasn't one of my clients.

It's fine.

I don't know why you even
deal with these freaks!

They need me.

These urges
that some of them have–

if I can't help them,

they could end up
hurting themselves.

You can understand
that, right?

And if you came here for
money to use, forget it.

(door slams)

COLLEEN: She wouldn't give me
what I wanted,

so I took it.

I scavenged what I
could get from her.

(sobs softly)

And now she's gone.

Okay, this is totally
none of my business,

but did I hear that

you asked Nick out?

No, I did not ask Nick out.

But we do have
a work date.

We're going
to this party.

«The Feast of the Cannibals»?

Yeah, I found
the invite

in Brenda Waring's
recovered purse.

«Join us to indulge your palate
for the darkest of delicacies,

among the city's
most refined aficionados».

This can't be real.

The address is at a
foreclosed-on mansion

in Seven Hills,

so it's gonna be a party
of trespassers.

But I think it's a
good chance to talk

to these «vore» freaks
in the flesh.

See if they know anything
about the murders

at «Miss Feed's»
and the elusive «Eater».

Fetish is
a small community.

There's got to be somebody at
the party who knows something.

Yeah, maybe even our killer
cannibal himself will be there.

Mm-hmm. Well, don't wear
anything too appetizing.

(crickets chirping)

(gate creaks)

Want to check in
with our chaperone?

Uh, backup, we're
approaching the house.

Copy?

MAN (over earpiece):
Copy. Standing by.

♪

♪

(glass clinking)

MAN:
Ladies and gentlemen,

it's time to put aside
your hors d'oeuvres

and your idle chatter,
because tonight's entrée

is something...

far more substantial.

I sincerely hope
that you all have

the stomach for it.

(crowd murmuring)

419 inside location.
Make entry.

Quite the
feeding frenzy,

isn't it?

Choice cuts
for the newcomers?

Gelatin.
Hmm.

MAN:
LVPD!

Everyone on the floor!

Face down!

Me too?

Oh, it's a warm, fuzzy feeling

to know you guys would've been
here for me if this was real.

The gelatin's
not bad-tasting,

really.

No, no, I'm good.

So, you were hired
by these people, huh?

Hundred bucks to lie there
and let them snack on me.

Some trippy
fetish thing, I guess.

C-note's a C-note.

Yeah, it is.

And that should just about cover
your trespassing ticket.

I assure you, the feast
is a perfectly benign

role-playing fantasy
among consenting adults.

Predators and prey,
all pretend.

Well, there's someone out there
who shares your appetites,

but who is definitely
not pretending.

Do tell.

Nothing gets gobbled up faster
around here than gossip.

That's an interesting
cuff link, Mr. Korlov.

It's an heirloom.

It's the crest of my
ancestors' village.

It's a bloody family
saga worthy of Tolstoy.

I could talk your
lovely ear off with it.

Think I'll keep my ear.

Is there someplace more private
where we could speak?

Brenda.

So you knew her–
not just as «Miss Feed».

What happened?

She and her cameraman,
Dennis Hagel,

were murdered.

Butchered.

Parts of them were eaten.

For real.

And the knife...

that was used
in the slaughter

has the same symbol
as on your cufflinks, Gary.

I know what it is to live
in the jaws of a compulsion–

to have one
sinister impulse

ticking, relentless,
through your every fiber.

But my impulse is not
to feed on flesh.

Mr. Korlov...

Rather, to be fed upon.

«Miss Feed...».

Brenda... was an angel.

She was helping me

to heal from this.

What happened to you?

KORLOV: I met this
pitch-black soul online,

a man named «Eater».

I brought him offerings--

pieces of my flesh,
surgically removed.

«Eater» would dine
on my offerings.

The arrangement was
mutually satisfying.

I gave him that antique knife
as a gift,

to use during our dinners.

It was bliss.

I knew it would destroy me,

piece by piece,

so I sought out Brenda.

Seeking salvation
through her services.

So you were one of her clients

that she would
virtually consume.

Yes.

And I—I told «Eater»
I'd found a healthier way

to... quench my impulses.

And how did he take that?

Having food ripped
from his mouth?

Evidently, not well.

You were face-to-face
with «Eater».

Did you get a good look at him?

KORLOV: Yes. I looked
right into his eyes.

SIDLE:
If you believe him,

Gary Korlov said
that he was blindfolded

on trips to and from
«Eater's» place,

but he was permitted to watch
«Eater» dine on his flesh.

That's only fair,
I guess.

Korlov cooperated
on a police sketch of «Eater».

So, we still don't know where
this guy's «dining room» is?

That's what we're
working on now,

starting with the fact
that Owen Linder–

our escaped victim–
ended up here...

...and he couldn't run too far

from «Eater's» lair.

Let's call it a one-mile radius.

Korlov recalled
certain details of his visits.

He said it felt like
an industrial space,

and he said on one visit,
he heard a train

that was close enough
to disturb the dinner.

Rails cut through the north end
of that search radius.

Well, let's lose
the south half.

Mm.

It is still
way too much ground to cover.

Factories,
warehouses.

RUSSELL:
Mm.

SANDERS:
You know,

Linder had said something
in his first interview–

we thought he was just a
nut job with a crazy story–

but he said he smelled...
brimstone while being attacked.

Brimstone? Sulfur.

SANDERS: This company here
produces organic pesticides.

Sulfur is a major
component of those.

RUSSELL:
Well, the company may have

gone out of business
a couple years ago,

but the odor of sulfur
would have lingered.

May not be the only thing
hanging around there.

(heavy door creaks open)

Padlock on the door

and not a soul around.

Perfect place
for «Eater» to feed.

Smells like bleach.

SANDERS:
He cleaned up.

He knew we'd
be coming.

He set the table for us.

SIDLE: Murder weapon,
napkin left like that–

does it mean he's done?

Or just done
with the first course.

ECKLIE: A dead end?
Greg and Sara didn't find

any prints, DNA?

All right.

Uh... keep me
looped in, D.B.

Sorry, Bill.

Crime lab.

When I was sheriff,
that department was three geeks

with a microscope
I believe they ordered

off the back
of a comic book.

(chuckles)
Hard to think the lab

ever produced a man
fit for the tin star,

but you've proven yourself.

Well, I appreciate that.

Now you're telling me
you want to pansy out,

retreat from your duty?

No, I'll complete
my term.

I'm just not sure...
whether to run again.

That's why I wanted
to talk to you.

I've been doing some thinking...
Eh, thinking is

crime lab stuff — sheriff
doesn't have to think.

Sheriff has a gut
tells him what to do.

I hear you.

Listen, Conrad...

I know the job's
rough as hell,

politics can be bloodier
than the crime scenes,

and with the... the scrutiny
you're under nowadays,

you don't even have
some of the... release valves

sheriffs used
to be afforded.

But here's the thing:

you're the sheriff,
and you don't answer to anyone.

Not your campaign staff
or the crime lab

or not even your own voice
in your own head

when it starts doubting you.

You're the sheriff,
and you make it

so the people in this city
can sleep at night.

That's it.

And you're gonna
keep doing that.

Thanks, Bill.

Now, what's this I hear
about a killer cannibal?

Tell me you got
this creep in a cage.

I wish I could.
All we've got now

is a sketch
of the suspect.

Just released it
to the press.

That face on the news–
every numbskull

in the city is gonna be spinning
a Stephen King story for you.

You're supposed to be curing
nightmares, not causing them.

NEWSMAN: Police are asking
anyone with information

on the suspect
to call their tip line.

Sir, you-you believe
you saw the suspect?

I'm sorry,
did you say «undead»?

All this says something

about our city's
collective imagination.

Or maybe their
amphetamine use.

MAN: Listen to me!
I'm telling you,

I got him! I caught
the cannibal!

What's going on?
I swear to God,

I got him cuffed up
in the car outside!

Somebody help me!

Send Stokes out here.

Come here.

He's right over here.

Uh... right here.
Right here.

He's right, uh...

What?

No... What...?

Give me your light.

Our cannibal ate his way out?

♪

What the hell
were you thinking,

trying to bring him
here yourself?

Why didn't you
call it in?

I saw him, I just reacted.
It's my training.

Your training?

You're an office
security guard;

you don't apprehend
serial killers.

Well, apparently,
neither do you guys.

Take a seat, Todd.

Let's just get
this all straight.

So you saw this guy
outside your building...

I was at my watch post;
and I'd seen

the news, the sketch
of the suspect.

And there he was.

Same awful face
just passing by outside.

So, I grabbed my Taser,
I went out there...

You zapped him.

I tackled him and I cuffed him
in my car.

Did he say anything
when you were driving here?

No, he was silent.
He was just staring at me.

Waiting for his chance.

No hits on the prints

or DNA from the hand, but
with an injury like that,

I'm guessing, suspect's not
getting very far anyway.

That would be true

if this were the suspect's hand.

What are you talking about?
Once the wound was cleaned,

the tissue exhibited
significant deterioration.

That hand was disembodied
at least 24 hours ago.

Really?

PHILLIPS: And the tool marks
on the ligament indicate

that a knife was used,
not teeth.

The security guard is a liar.

You know why
we're in here, Todd?

'Cause the only real thing
about your story

is a severed human hand.

Whose hand is it?
I don't know.

ECKLIE:
You killed somebody.

You took their hand
to fake a story,

to make yourself
look like a hero.

No! I didn't
hurt anyone.

He gave it to me.

Who gave it to you?

Him.

The cannibal.

Enough. Listen to me,
you twisted little...

I'm not lying!

He approached me one night
when I was at work alone.

I don't know why
he chose me, but he did.

He knew the names of my
little niece and nephew.

He had pictures.

He said that if I
didn't do this for him,

that he was gonna...

He gave me the hand
and a bottle of blood,

and he told me what he wanted it
to look like.

I was just supposed
to drive here

and say that I'd caught
the cannibal.

Give it a rest.

You can understand,

this is all a little bit
hard to believe.

I'm a good person.

I—I never would've thought

that I'd cooperate with
a monster like that.

And it wasn't even the threat–
my niece and nephew.

There was something
about this guy.

When he was near me,

there was this...

this power...
buzzing off of him.

He could get you to do
whatever he wanted.

Like you were
face-to-face

with the Devil himself.

(gasping)
Todd? Todd!

Hey, Dad, this is for real.

Todd?

Todd? Okay, okay,
turn your head.

He's seizing.
Keep your tongue...

ECKLIE:
Get medical!

Any word?

Todd Burris is dead.
Cyanide poisoning.

Hospital ran tox

and gave us his possessions
and clothing.

Maybe he dosed himself.

Could've snuck a pill
into PD.

Once his story started
unraveling,

he knew he was gonna
get arrested, humiliated.

Didn't want to face it.

Or the matter of where exactly
he got that human hand.

What if there's some truth
to Todd's story?

He spent his dying
words telling it.

Okay, I suppose
last words deserve a chance.

So, according to Todd,
the cannibal forced him

to stage the bloody scene
in the car.

But why would he do that?

I mean, just to mess
with the cops?

SIDLE: Maybe to fuel the fire
of his own myth.

You know, the tale of
the killer cannibal who eats

through his own wrist to escape.

That's boogeyman-level stuff.

Lives on in urban legend.

So, «Eater» uses Todd
to spread his tale,

then somehow
magically doses him

with cyanide
to take him out.

Or Todd was just
another attention hound

with a vivid imagination.

He didn't imagine it.

This watch belonged
to Dennis Hagel,

our slain cameraman.

And this fabric...

Ripped from Brenda
Waring's lingerie.

Tokens from our victims.

Why?

Maybe «Eater's» trying to send
a message that he's real.

There is another
possibility

how Todd could have
these items

and why he would use
his last dying words

to spread the myth of «Eater».

There was this...

power buzzing off of him.

SANDERS: To paint an image,
more than just a killer,

but as something supernatural.

Like you were face-to-face
with the Devil himself.

What if the myth he was
spreading was his own?

Todd Burris was «Eater».

Did these horrific acts,
took tokens from his victims.

All because he wanted
to create his own legend.

To live on, not just as some
no-name rent-a-cop...

But as the nightmare
that devoured and disappeared.

FINLAY: Mr. Korlov,
the man you knew as «Eater»,

with whom
you had those meals...

...is this him?

This is just flesh.

You can't tell the
true essence of a man

just by looking
at his flesh.

I asked you a question.

And I would appreciate
an answer.

The being that I dealt with

looked just like I described
to you and your sketch artist.

A gaunt, glinty-eyed
Lucifer himself.

Are you sure you want
to stick with that story?

Because when we find out
that you're lying,

there will be consequences.

I'm going to ask you
one more time.

Is this the man
you knew as «Eater»?

A force like «Eater» will
never be captured like this.

ECKLIE:
That's the horror story

they want us to believe.

Todd Burris and
Gary Korlov

were in this together.

A murderer and his PR man.

You know, we don't
know that for sure.

(sighs)

Autopsy on Burris

didn't find any human tissue
in his stomach contents.

D.B., the last victim
was attacked two days ago.

Evidence was already digested.

And search of
Burris's home

didn't find trace from
any of the victims.

So he was careful.
What's your point?

What do you mean,
what's my point?

My point is «Eater»
could still be out there.

He never existed.
«Eater» is a myth.

Todd Burris
was the cannibal.

I understand that that's the
most likely explanation, Conrad,

but until we find
physical evidence...

D.B., the press release
already went out.

Why would you do that?
What if we're wrong?

Look, I get it, all right?
I've been in your shoes.

World looks different
when you're sitting

behind a microscope,
tweezing for

any split hair of doubt...
That's the job!

Well, my job now
is to make the people

in this city feel safe.

All right? Not the ones
dabbling in some deviant corner,

but the rest,
who are living their lives,

going to work,
supporting their families.

Sounds like you've
decided to run after all.

Case is closed.

NEWS ANCHOR:
Police have identified

the man responsible for the
grisly crimes as Todd Burris,

a Las Vegas security guard
who is now deceased.

WOMAN:
Here you go.

Thank you.
You're welcome.

Been a long one.

That's fine.
Thanks.

...Sheriff Conrad Ecklie
thanked the city's residents

for their help in apprehending
the perpetrator

and bringing him to justice.

Oh, sorry, sorry.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man