Original subtitles

Drop the gun.

Drop the gun.

Dean, is there anything we can help you with

while you're there?

Uh, negative.

Shots fired.

479 Park Path Walk.

Suspect has a shotgun. Possible gang.

Okay, he's underneath my light, guys.

Roger. We got your light.

Suspects heading southwest...

...211 just occurred.

1833 West 24 Street.

Suspect used a double barrel shotgun...

...Female with a gun

inside 209 West 103rd Street.

She has a .22 automatic stainless steel.

Use caution...

Drop the gun.

Shots have been fired.

Southeast unit. Code 2.

My leg!

Just relax, relax.

Can you move your foot though?

Twice.

Just above the heart, too.

- What were you stabbed with? - I don't know.

...It's a sickness within us, I suppose.

You just have to--

You're obsessed with getting it.

You're just obsessed with making damn sure

that this bastard isn't going to do it again.

Oh, Jesus.

My God. No, not him, too.

Oh, dear God.

Five years ago,

we had 1,500 murder cases.

This year it will be about 2,500 cases.

That is almost doubled.

Right here's a version of just an average

semiautomatic rifle. .22.

You buy it in a hardware store, department store

and they saw it off.

Shooting in progress.

103 Sequoia.

It's the scene of a large party and we issued Code 3.

Pick up that shooting in progress

- on Sequoia Northeast. - Roger.

Any Rampart unit. Screaming female.

415. Male with a gun.

America is the only industrialized nation

with a higher murder rate than countries at civil war,

like Cambodia and Nicaragua.

Just take and drill some holes in it...

An attempted murder every 3 minutes.

A murder victim every 20 minutes.

Japan, England, and West Germany,

with a combined population equal to America,

have 6,000 murders a year.

America has 27, 000.

In the 80 years of this century,

America has had more than a million murders.

More than all her fatalities in all her wars.

Bodies and more bodies.

All day, every day.

Guns and more guns.

No place seems safe.

Not even the street.

No person feels safe.

Not even the president.

President Reagan waves to the crowd,

then is shot in the left lung.

A secret serviceman is knocked off his feet

by a bullet in the stomach.

This is the gun.

The gunman is arrested.

John Warnok Hinkley, 25.

Son of a wealthy businessman.

- How do you feel? - How do you feel?

Great.

What are you going to do when you get home,

Mr. President?

What are you going to do when you get home?

Sit down.

But the President of the United States

had been close to death.

It wasn't always like this.

Just 25 years ago,

the American dream seemed to come true.

Big cars, big houses, big everything.

But not everyone

could get an equal share of the dream.

Though it seemed impossible,

they now exist side by side.

America the beautiful

and America the violent.

When legal remedies are not at hand.

Redress is sought in the streets.

In demonstrations, parades,

and protests,

which create tensions and threaten violence

and threaten lives.

We face therefore a moral crisis as a country and people.

The turning point was November 22nd, 1963,

the day the American dream of freedom was wedded

to the American nightmare of murder.

President John Kennedy,

the symbol of his handsome young country.

His smile embodies America's confidence

that it can do anything,

even walk on the moon.

Jacqueline Kennedy is making her first public appearance

since the tragic death of their newborn child.

President Kennedy lands in Dallas at 11:40,

greets the waiting crowd,

and leaves the airport at 11:52.

His motorcade passes street after street

of enthusiastic crowds cheering as he waves

and rides into the heart of Dallas.

At 12:29, his limousine approaches this building,

passes beneath his assassin's window,

and slows down to 11 miles per hour

to turn this sharp corner into Dealey Plaza.

The president's car is now turning onto Elm Street,

and it will be only a matter of minutes

before he arrives at the Trade Mart.

I was on the Stemmons freeway earlier,

and even the freeway was jam-packed with spectators

waiting their chance to see the President

as he made his way towards the Trade Mart.

It appears as though something has happened

in the motorcade route.

There's numerous people running up the hill

alongside Elm Street by the Stemmons Freeway.

Stand by.

Just a moment please.

Parkland hospital, there has been a shooting.

Parkland hospital has been advised to stand by

for a severe gunshot wound.

I repeat: A shooting on the motorcade

in the downtown area.

The president's car is now going past me.

The limousine is now traveling at a very high rate of speed.

Secret servicemen standing up in the limousine.

They are armed with submachine guns.

It appears as though someone ahead of the limousine

might have been hit.

Put me on, Phil. Put me on.

Phil, am I on?

We're here at the Trade Mart.

The motorcade is coming by here.

The presidential car coming up now.

We know it's the presidential car.

You can see Mrs. Kennedy's pink suit.

There's a secret serviceman spread eagle

over the top of the car.

Something is terribly wrong.

Looks as though they're going to Parkland Hospital.

Could have been one or two or even all of the people

within the car may have been the victim here.

There's already a cordon of police officers

running from the cars, from their vehicles here.

The policeman says, "No. You cannot come in here.

You cannot come in here. We'll let nobody else in."

It was definitely the president's car.

We can see the first lady's pink suit.

That's the only identification we could see.

Just now we received reports here at Parkland

that Governor Connally was shot in the upper left chest.

And the first unconfirmed reports say

the president was hit in the head.

President Kennedy has been given a blood transfusion

at Parkland Hospital here in Dallas

after he and Governor John Connally of Texas were shot.

Just a moment. Just a moment. We have a bulletin coming in.

We now put you through directly to Parkland Hospital.

The President of the United States is dead.

President Kennedy has been assassinated.

It's official now. The president is dead.

...Do solemnly swear.

That I will faithfully execute.

The office of President of the United States.

The office of President of the United States.

The young widow leads the shocked nation

through its grief with great strength and dignity.

She tells her two-year-old son

to salute his father farewell.

Presidents and kings do the same.

Two hours after the assassination,

Lee Harvey Oswald, 24,

is arrested in this theater with a pistol

and taken to this building, the Dallas police station.

His rifle is found hidden near the assassin's window.

Two days later,

as Oswald is escorted to a car in the basement,

a gunman jumps out of the crowd of reporters.

He's been shot.

He's been shot.

Lee Oswald has been shot.

The gunman is Jack Ruby,

52, a nightclub owner.

In 1964,

the Warren Commission concluded there was one assassin

who fired three shots from behind the president.

In 1979,

the House committee concluded there were two assassins

and four shots fired from both behind

and in front of the president.

This film is the best evidence.

Which way did the fatal shot come from?

Government audio experts say

a second assassin fired one shot from behind this fence.

The controversy continues to the present day.

We want all of our freedoms.

We want it here, and we want it now.

Martin Luther King

tried to heal the sickness of racial hatred

and won the Nobel prize for urging a violent land

to turn away from violence,

but the answer he got was more violence.

Shortly after this photo was taken,

on April 4th, 1968,

Dr. King was assassinated on this motel balcony

in Memphis by James Earl Ray,

39, prison escapee.

In 1979, a government investigation concluded

he was probably paid to do it

by two white men who hated blacks.

The murder of Martin Luther King

triggered riots in 125 cities.

Police needed the help of 45,000 soldiers

as the government fought a war with its own people.

Then another series of battle lines was created

by the growing hatred of the war in Vietnam.

♪ There's something happenin' here

♪ But what it is ain't exactly clear

♪ There's a man with a gun over there

♪ Tellin' me I got to beware

♪ I think it's time we stop children

♪ What's that sound

♪ Everybody look what's going down

♪ There's battle lines being drawn

♪ Nobody's right if everybody's wrong

♪ Young people speaking their minds

♪ Getting so much resistance from behind

♪ It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound

♪ Everybody look what's going down

We want workers to defend students.

♪ What a field-day for the heat

♪ A thousand people in the street

♪ Singing songs and carrying signs

♪ Mostly say, hooray for our side

♪ It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound

♪ Everybody look what's going down

♪ Paranoia strikes deep

♪ Into your life it will creep

♪ It starts when you're always afraid

♪ You step out of line

♪ The man come and take you away

♪ I think it's time we stop, children, what's that sound

♪ Everybody look what's going down

♪ Paranoia strikes deep

To shoot to kill any arsonist

or anyone with a Molotov cocktail

in their hand in Chicago.

♪ It starts when you're always afraid

♪ You step out of line

♪ The man come and take you away

♪ We better stop, hey, what's that sound

♪ Everybody look what's going down

♪ We better stop, hey, what's that sound

♪ Everybody look what's doing down

♪ We better stop, now, what's that sound

♪ Everybody look what's doing down

♪ We better stop, children, what's that sound

I did represent more the average citizen

in this country than did any other candidate,

based on the fact that

the man who works each day for a living

and pays his taxes and holds the country together

has been ignored except on election day.

Next president of the United States:

The honorable George C. Wallace.

Gorge Wallace has a good chance to defeat

Richard Nixon until this day in Maryland,

May 15th, 1972.

Call an ambulance!

This is the gunman,

Arthur Bremer, 22,

a drifter from Milwaukee.

Wounded four times, Wallace survives

and is confined to a wheelchair for life

but now has no chance to be elected.

Call an ambulance!

Before following Wallace's campaign,

Bremer first followed Nixon.

Though hard to believe,

presidential elections

were now being decided by killers.

Robert Kennedy appealed to young and old,

black and white,

student and worker,

trying to end the violence

that began with the murder of his brother.

We want Bobby.

We want Bobby. We want Bobby.

But as he speaks at this Los Angeles hotel,

an assassin is waiting nearby.

I thought that he was the prince.

I thought he was the heir apparent to President Kennedy,

and I wish to hell that he could have made it.

When I saw him in real life, it was a thrill to me, sir;

but when I saw him there that night at the Ambassador,

he seemed like a saint.

My thanks to all of you

and now on to Chicago, and let's win there.

Thanks very much.

On this day, June 4th, 1968,

he has won the California primary,

finishes his victory speech,

and moves through the happy crowd to this doorway.

Then enters the door

to the kitchen passageway,

where a Palestinian fanatic waits with a gun.

He is shot from behind three times,

including pointblank behind the ear.

Although rapidly losing blood, he says,

"Is everyone else all right?"

The gunman is Sirhan Sirhan, 24,

a horse track employee in Los Angeles.

Every morning when I get up,

I say, I wish that son of a gun were alive.

I wouldn't have to be here right now.

A doctor. We need a doctor right here,

there's an emergency, please, immediately.

The ambulance finally arrives,

but Kennedy dies in the hospital.

I started searching for coffee.

That was all that I wanted to do.

And I found some.

In the kitchen area?

But where, I don't remember, sir.

In a kitchen type room?

I don't remember where I saw it.

But I remember getting the cup.

It was a shiny...

- Large urn? - ...urn,

and there was a girl there.

I don't remember much more what happened after that.

- You don't remember? - I don't remember.

Do you remember anything?

Other than the choking and the commotion...

I don't remember that.

On May 18th of last year,

you were sitting and writing in your room.

They're the writings of a maniac.

They're the writings of Sirhan Sirhan.

They're not the writings of me now, sir.

I'm not mentally ill, sir, but I'm not perfect either.

If you had three wishes, what would they be?

The first wish...

I wish that Senator Kennedy was still alive.

And I wish that every day that I've been here.

Second one,

that there should be peace in the Middle East.

That's all.

Robert Kennedy,

killed like his brother by assassins' bullets.

The killing of America.

A few weeks after the assassination

of President Kennedy,

the murder rate exploded upward,

tripled in just ten years,

and continues to the present day.

A new breed of killer appeared.

They didn't want money or sex or revenge.

It was a new kind of murder

that senseless killing of random strangers.

The first major sniper incident occurred in 1966

on this peaceful campus at Texas University.

The sniper was a student who fired from this campus tower

overlooking the whole city of Austin.

Charles Whitman, 25, an ex-marine sharpshooter.

Like most snipers,

he was a white middle class honor student

who had never committed a crime.

One morning, he went to the top in this elevator

with a large supply of food and ammunition

and all these guns.

Whitman barricaded this door

and used a dolly to pull all his supplies up these stairs,

then hauled them out on to the deck

and began methodically shooting people at random.

The first victims are students walking across the campus,

talking to friends, and going to class.

Then Whitman aims at the city and kills random shoppers

and even a man in a barber chair.

This is a warning to the citizens of Austin.

Stay away from the university area.

Traffic is now converging on this area.

A boy riding a bicycle has been shot

and seriously wounded.

There has been a report of a policeman that has been shot.

Students try to rescue wounded friends.

There's another shot and another shot.

But some are already dead.

The county blood bank has asked

that anyone with the following blood types...

By afternoon, 16 people are dead,

and more than 30 seriously wounded.

Three police officers finally reach the tower.

The sniper was in this position

as he was distracted by the officers,

coming from the rear here.

He turned in this manner.

The officers fired a round, hit him here in this area

with six rounds.

The second blast was a round from the shotgun,

which hit him here.

This is where the sniper fell, here in this area here.

Police discovered that the previous night,

Whitman went to this apartment building

and stabbed his mother to death.

Then he went home and typed,

"I just killed my mother.

If there's a heaven, she's going there.

If not, she's out of her pain."

Then he went in the bedroom and killed his wife,

asleep in their bed.

But he didn't join her until he had shot 50 strangers.

Within five years,

snipers had become a fixture of American life.

Usually they were hardworking, wholesome looking students,

frequently in the top 2 percent of their class,

often still in high school.

What happened is not without a lesson to us.

That lesson is that we must press urgently now

for the legislation that's pending in congress

to help us prevent the wrong persons

from obtaining firearms.

The new law merely prevented minors

from buying guns by mail.

The increasing violence made gun sales quadruple in 10 years.

By 1970,

the number of privately owned guns in America

went over 100 million.

The combined total for Japan, England,

and West Germany is under 1 million.

Americans now own more guns than the police and the army.

More than 100 million guns

in just 60 million households.

Two guns for every family.

September 1980,

a security camera watches two teenagers

enter this market.

As the first one pays for a pack of cigarettes,

his accomplice pulls a gun and demands money.

The clerk agrees,

but before he can even open the register,

the first teenager orders the gunman to shoot

for no reason.

Okay. You have to pump it yourself.

Pack of Marlboro.

Will that be it for you?

This is a hold up. This is a hold up.

You see this?

Give me all your money in the bank.

Right now. Fast.

Oh! Oh God!

Call the police. Hurry!

We've just been robbed and shot.

Please hurry.

The 53 year old clerk dies

as his wounded assistant phones police.

Pack of Marlboro.

Will that be it for you?

This is a holdup. This is a hold up.

You see this?

Give me all of your money in the bank.

Right now. Fast.

Oh! Oh God!

We've been robbed and I've been shot.

Please hurry.

We've been robbed and shot.

Please hurry.

Murders like this now happen every day.

Eighteen-year-old Robert Smith

was a high school honor student in Arizona.

One November morning in 1966, he loaded two pistols,

walked into this beauty school,

and ordered the five women and two children

to lie on the floor with their heads at his feet.

One woman hid her baby under her body,

while another said, "You better go.

40 students will be here in a minute."

He said, politely,

"Sorry. I don't have that many bullets."

Then Robert Smith shot them each twice in the back of the head

and waited for police to arrive.

When they asked why, he said,

"To get known.

I just wanted to make a name for myself."

Brenda Spencer, an excellent student

in a San Diego high school.

One Monday morning in 1979,

she aimed out her bedroom window with this rifle,

which she had received for her 16th birthday,

and shot children walking to the elementary school

across the street.

She killed the janitor and principal

as they bravely pulled 11 wounded children to safety.

I got shot, and then Mr. Barnes said,

um, "Crystal", I mean, he said, um,

"Duck, you guys! Run!"

Then I got shot, and then I went in the nurse's office,

and I was bleeding a lot.

I was just laying there.

After five hours,

Brenda Spencer surrendered calmly to police.

When they asked her who she wanted to shoot,

she said, "I kinda like red and bluejackets."

When they asked why, she said,

"Because Mondays are always so boring."

Many of the young people have lost a purpose in life,

and by so doing, the human value is so low

that killing himself,

that aggression toward himself,

could easily be transformed

to aggression toward someone else.

In 1974, Anthony Barbaro said,

"Tell mom I went target shooting."

Instead, he set fire to his New York high school,

killed passing strangers from the roof,

and hanged himself.

January 1973,

three black snipers set fire to this hotel

in downtown New Orleans

and killed guests in their rooms,

including a young doctor on his honeymoon.

Other guests flee to the balconies,

trapped between flames and bullets.

A terrified black maid is told,

"Don't worry, we're only shooting whites today."

Then the snipers barricade themselves on the roof

and shoot arriving firemen.

The chief of police is killed during the first assault.

Two snipers are killed by nighttime helicopter assault.

There he is. I think he got him.

Yeah. He's dead.

But the leader continues shooting

from the rooftop bunker.

He is Robert Essex, 23,

recently discharged from the navy,

living in this apartment

covered with anti-white slogans.

The attack force carefully moves onto the roof

and prepares to charge the bunker.

Finally all the snipers are dead,

but they have shot policemen, firemen,

hotel employees and guests.

Like most snipers, they make no attempt to escape,

as if committing suicide.

The most bizarre killers are the mad saviors,

who have an insane belief in salvation by bloodshed.

Sirhan wanted to save Palestinians.

Mark Essex tried to save the world from whites.

Manson said he was saving the world from blacks.

The Manson Family was a family of murderers

who first brought to public attention

the new levels of grotesque viciousness.

Charles Manson, 36,

chose a house at random,

tied up the family at gunpoint,

then ordered his followers to go inside

and commit ritual slaughter.

Go ride a horse.

You're what?

Go ride a horse.

Feelings towards everything.

I feel no bad. I know no bad.

Yes. Open them.

I'm not against you.

Are you bitter?

Bitter? No. No.

I have a question. Are you guilty of any murders?

Are you guilty of plotting any murders?

I killed a chicken once.

- Any human beings? - No. No.

You're absolutely innocent of any conspiracy

to commit murder or telling anyone

to commit murder or planning it?

I'll plead guilty to the Indians.

Herbert Mullin, 25,

butchered 13 strangers in 1973

because God told him to save California from earthquakes.

John Frazier, 24,

killed a family, execution style,

on a divine mission to stop pollution.

He chose this expensive house

because it was built on a mountainside.

It belonged to Dr. Victor Ohta,

famous eye surgeon and humanitarian.

Frazier's note said,

"World War III.

Anyone destroying the environment

will suffer the penalty of death."

When arrested, he had shaved the left side of his head,

hair, beard, eyebrow.

David Berkowitz, 24,

called himself "The Son of Sam."

He believed the neighbor's barking dog

was the devil's voice,

ordering him to purify the world.

During 1977, in New York City,

he killed teenage lovers in parked cars.

When addressed, he said,

"People say, 'He's smiling,

so he must be happy he killed them. '

I wasn't happy.

I just had a job to do and was doing it."

The Reverend Jim Jones.

I really don't feel comfortable

with our worship being photographed.

I really don't.

I must go against the entire council.

I don't feel good about it.

I-- They can photograph me all they choose

because I do not care.

I'm fearless.

I come unafraid of anything.

But I don't want the cameras focusing on others.

Ask me your questions,

and I'll tell you right straight from the shoulder

where I stand.

Now get out there--

In 1977, the Mad Savior

decided to save his San Francisco church

by moving to Guyana

and building this jungle settlement called Jonestown.

There's the thumb that Father told you about

that was cut off.

I called on Father's name.

I put it back, and it's all right now.

About 3:00 or 3:30 in the morning,

I woke up, and I had a constriction,

I guess, in my chest, or in my stomach.

And I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't breathe at all.

I didn't even call on Father.

I thought of him and then it all went away.

Thanks, Father.

Thank you, Father.

Thank you, Father.

Although Jim Jones had often been bizarre,

in November, 1978,

the reports from former Jonestown members

went far beyond the bizarre.

That they considered a mass suicide,

which my younger brother,

my younger brother and sister are minors,

they don't have the maturity to make such a decision as that.

So to me that would be mass murder.

Flour, rice, black-eyed peas.

More peas.

We have different containers around the place.

We couldn't go through all of it.

Tremendous inventory they've built up.

KoolAid.

The United States government.

And we're here to inquire into the health and the welfare

of the American citizens who are here.

At first, the congressman finds no evidence

of the incredible rumors.

Many people in your group--

People play games, man.

They lie. They lie.

What can I do about liars?

Are you people gonna leave us?

I just beg you, please leave us.

Bill, we will bother nobody.

Anybody wants to get out of here can get out of here.

We have no problem about getting out of here.

They come and go all the time.

I don't know what kind of game--

People like publicity. Some people do.

I don't.

As the congressman and reporters

return to the remote airstrip,

Jim Jones sends his assassins to stop them,

hiding behind a tractor and trailer.

The slaughter continues

as the Mad Savior gives his people the final salvation

by ordering at gunpoint their mass suicide,

the babies first.

The congressman's dead.

Please get us the medication.

It's simple. It's simple.

There's no convulsions with it. It's simple.

Just please get it before it's too late.

The BDF will be here.

I beg you get moving, get moving, get moving.

Die with respect. Die with a degree of dignity.

Lay down your life with dignity.

Don't lay down with tears and agony.

Accepting death is like stepping over into another plane.

Don't be this way.

Stop this hysterics.

No way for us to die.

We must die with some dignity.

And finally, Jim Jones himself,

after killing more than 900 Americans.

There's been so much violence and uh,

I don't know, just, uh,

it's gotten to the point that, uh,

the police keep - they have these magnum weapons now.

They can't hit with them.

They keep blowing people away.

We need people, like-- Come on in.

Come on in.

- It fell through. - It's okay.

Nobody's getting hurt. Just come on in.

- Hey, hey, come on in. - You better come on in.

Come on in. It's too late now.

Grab you a seat over there.

- Sit down. - Park it.

Park it over here so we can keep everybody together.

In October 1980,

James Hoskins took over this Cincinnati television station

after making a newscaster his hostage in the parking lot.

Are you putting some responsibility on--?

On all the media. This was convenient.

It just seems if you could do something for these people.

It's so frustrating. My studio's down here.

And I watch people down in the street,

they're fighting over nickels and dimes.

There just seems--

You watch the politicians they got the same old bull.

Reagan's got the same bull. Carter's got the same bull.

We do not have democracy at this time.

Jim, we probably have another minute or so

on this tape.

Is there any other point you wanted to make?

I can't think of any point I want to make

except give me a place

where the police can come and get me

and we're going to shoot it out.

And you people can leave.

Here?

Well, I don't see any other place for me to shoot it out.

They've got their magnums.

They want to hurt the poor people of the street?

I've got my magnums.

I'm ready. I'm loaded.

How will that help, though?

All these idealistic things you just said, how--

You seem like such a nice gentleman.

I blew my girlfriend away tonight.

It's over for me.

- Can we-- - We planned to do big things.

We plan to take your station.

And through madness.

I'm trying to hold it together. I killed her.

- We won't-- - We planned to do things together

and I went berserk.

She's dead.

I can say, you don't seem like the kind of person--

If you don't want to hurt us--

I don't want to hurt you. I would like you to leave.

I just want the police--

They're always hurting poor people--

Let them come and [beep].

Let them come and hurt me now.

That won't solve anything.

That wouldn't solve anything but I killed my girlfriend.

What am I going to do?

But it wouldn't solve anything, though.

What am I going to do?

Can we get some help for you?

- We have friends. - You cannot get help for me.

They're going to take me--

They're going to put me in prison.

They're going to put me in there--

They're going to put people in where they rape you--

Turn this thing off

so you don't get these four letter words.

Waiting for police to attack,

he sat in the newscaster's chair and shot himself.

In April, 1979,

Richard Townsend, a San Diego psychotherapist,

is forced at gunpoint to remove his money

from this bank by Newman Osebar,

a Nigerian student living with Townsend's family

for two years.

Police surround the white Porsche

while Townsend sits at the steering wheel

with Osebar pressing the gun to his head.

Traffic on the freeway is stopped.

After two hours of negotiations, Osebar agrees to surrender.

As instructed, he throws out his coat,

belt, shoes.

Here her comes.

Got both feet out.

Well, there's that.

Oh, there goes a shoe.

He's got the shoes off, two shoes.

Well, he's out, Mom.

Oh!

Damn!

Christ!

But he comes out aiming a .45.

The hostage is rescued.

The gunman dies in the ambulance.

The traffic moves again.

Richard Hall is taken hostage

in his own mortgage company

and marched down the streets of Indianapolis

in 1977.

As Hall slips, an excited rookie draws his gun.

A seasoned veteran motions him to holster it.

...What are you doing with that thing?

Yeah, right in his neck.

I never said nothing, you bunch of bastards.

...In my life and I like policemen.

So you guys act--

Start acting like you know something.

Shut up, you dumb bastard.

Go.

The gunman takes a pair of police handcuffs

and a patrol car.

What are you going to do?

Stop.

Hey, get the cars out of the way now.

Anthony Kiritsis,

a bartender, is enraged at Hall

for turning down his loan application.

The handcuffed hostage,

with a sawed off shotgun wired to his bleeding neck,

is paraded before reporters for three days.

Hold it. Hold it.

I want this goddamn thing understood.

I'll read it.

Number one...

Another wire runs from the trigger

to the gunman's neck.

Give me a drink, pal.

Give me a drink.

I'm sober, man.

I had six drinks in 1976,

and I haven't had any this year.

And I don't miss them a fucking bit.

Number 4...

"We found it impossible to agree on terms

satisfactory to our best interest."

Their best interest.

I went up there to borrow money

to build a 10,000 square foot restaurant,

that would have grown to a million,

2 million bucks a year

and these motherfuckers gave it to somebody else.

What happened? What's the matter?

Jim?

I told this man,

I told this man before this thing was over

that he would think I was a goddamn witch.

I read him all these things, all these charges

that were on that paper, plus some.

That I typed up a few months ago and tried to recall

and recall back four years.

I called every goddamn one of them, didn't I, Dick?

- Didn't I? - That's right.

- Every goddamn one. - That's right.

I hope this doesn't go off.

I'm having too much fun.

I said, ladies and gentlemen,

that these people were lucky they were dealing with me.

I haven't got a goddamn nerve in my body,

and you're goddamn lucky.

A nervous guy would have blown his goddamn brains out

a long time ago.

And I can tell you, by god. I was in trouble.

I was in a hell of a lot of trouble.

You saw one of these goddamn things off

and kidnap somebody,

I'm going to tell you something, fellows,

there ain't gonna be much left in that old road.

I'd like to please--

A lot of nice people called me in two or three days

and told me that they were behind me,

and I want to thank them.

I want to thank my brothers Henry and George.

Mark and John.

Johnny, I can't think of his last name.

Johnny Ferguson.

...Unit code 2.

Kiritsis finally releases Hall

and surrenders to police.

The courts acquit him of any crime

but confine him to a mental hospital.

Let me say something.

We all live in the greatest country on earth,

but this is the type of thing that

undermines the liberties that my father and my mother

came here from Greece for,

and probably all of your ancestors.

And I'm not trying to be corny.

I may be a flag waver,

but I wave it a hell of a lot better than John Wayne.

I'll tell you that.

- I did not. - Okay.

But for three days

they seem to embody the plight of their country.

The man of progress

with the fool of violence on his back.

Drop the gun.

Drop it.

Drop it.

San Diego, 1979.

Sam Brown was a sidewalk sniper,

shooting at the drivers of passing cars.

Drop it.

Neighbors say he claimed to come from outer space,

from the Starship Enterprise,

with a secret message for earth people.

He died on the way to the hospital.

For three long minutes,

he ignored police shouts to drop his weapon

and calmly looked the other way,

then casually shifted his legs,

concealing the fact that he was raising his gun.

All this puts enormous pressures on police.

The American judicial and penal systems

are so overloaded

that killers facing life in prison

are allowed to plead guilty to a lesser charge

and get out in a few months.

Though hard to believe,

even Sirhan Sirhan will be released in 1984.

Everyone pays the penalty for these failures,

but every two days

one police officer pays with his life.

In two years,

3 officers were killed in England

and 13 in Japan,

while America lost 372.

♪ I believe in homicide

♪ I rest my case

♪ Don't cast a sign

♪ You'd better believe it

♪ That's the truth of it

They got dudes out here that will pay up to

$2,000 for a girl 11 years old, you know.

For six hours.

So they pay up to $2,000 for that, you know?

I don't know.

I gotta make some money tonight, too.

Listen, me and you.

All the kinky guys are out tonight.

Most of them like to see guys dance,

and I don't dance.

What do you mean "dance"?

You take off your clothes and dance in front of them?

Mm-hmm.

- How much they give you? - Twenty.

Take off your clothes and dance.

That's embarrassing.

I know. Too embarrassing.

Do they put on music even?

Yeah, they put on music.

It's not good music, but it's music.

♪ You better believe it

It'll be destructive.

Yeah, he'd try to beat you up.

And every time he'd go,

"You can leave any time you want."

And you say, "Well, maybe I'll leave now."

And he goes, "No, you can't do that."

And he pushes you back on the bed.

He wants to kill people. He wants to kill some of them.

♪ Homicide

♪ Homicide

♪ Homicide

♪ Homicide

♪ You try to tell me it's his fault

I just freaked.

I said, "What?"

I mean, I'm sitting there, thinking she's crying.

What she's doing was she's was gagging on her blood

out of her nose and mouth.

- It was so lodged with blood-- - What did she do?

She shot herself.

And I saw the bullet hole and the gun on the floor

and her eyes closed.

And she's going [snorting].

You know, all the blood and shit,

and I freaked me out.

I just picked up the gun.

I was debating on whether to shoot myself.

Put it down, you know.

I opened up the door, I started screaming, man.

"Murder," you know, "Suicide."

"Somebody get an ambulance."

"Help me," you know, "Make her live."

I started trying to hold her hand.

Manager grabbed me.

Told me to take my hands off her.

I said, "Bitch, she's my mother.

You don't tell me the take my hands off my own mother."

You know, I was telling her live, you know, survive,

you know, live through it.

She died nine hours later. She died the next day.

The public generally never sees what you find

when you arrive there.

And you--

A million things go through your mind.

You sit there and say, "My god. What's happened here?

How could this happen?

How could anybody do something like this?"

All the general things that the layman would think,

you experience these things also.

Did you at any time ever use an ice pick?

No, sir.

You struck Ms. Lamp with a sledge hammer.

Do you recall the sledge hammer, which was introduced?

Yes, sir, I recall it.

- Was that true? - No, sir.

Lawrence Bittaker,

with an IQ of 138,

dragged high school girls into his van,

then murdered them by twisting a coat hanger

around their throat with a pair of pliers.

When his tape recording of one murder

was played in court,

people rushed outside and vomited.

I touched Ms. Ledford in the breast

with cold metal pliers.

And if you listen to the tape,

you'll hear those pliers being replaced

in the tool box a few seconds later.

What did you touch her on the breast for

with a pair of pliers?

To shock her with the cold metal.

The 20th century is called

The Age of Mass Murder

because sex killers appeared every five years.

But in the 70s,

they began appearing every five weeks.

In 1971,

farm labor contractor Juan Corona

made headlines for killing 25 men who worked for him.

By 1977,

sex killers were so commonplace

that aerospace engineer Patrick Kearney

made no headlines

when he pleaded guilty to killing 21 boys.

John Gacy, 36,

a building contractor,

was known for his extreme generosity

and civic service,

such as entertaining at children's hospitals

as a clown.

In 1978,

the bodies of 32 teenage boys were found

under his suburban Chicago home.

Gacy grabbed the first victims from streets near gay bars

but then concentrated for five years

on the high school boys in his neighborhood.

A 15-year-old went to play baseball

and never came home.

A 16-year-old went to ask for a job

with Gacy's construction company.

A 17-year-old went to tell Gacy his paycheck was late.

Their mutilated bodies were found under the house of death.

John Gacy was finally arrested

because he ran out of space

and dumped the 33rd body in a river.

Are you guilty of killing anyone at all?

Am I guilty of killing anyone at all?

No, I'm not.

Unless you could say Dean Corll was killing?

I defended myself.

Wayne Henley.

He first gets involved in the Houston Mass Murders

in 1971,

when he is only 15,

by bringing his teenage buddies to the house

of a fatherly friend who is twice his age.

What did he want you to do?

He wanted to pay me to find people

and bring them to him,

and help him do his thing,

and kill them, and help him bury them.

- And pay me. - He was going to pay you?

How much would he pay you per person?

I don't know.

He said $1,500 once.

$1,500 a person?

That's what he said.

Dean Corll, 33,

electrician and ex-Marine.

Although he never pays any money,

Wayne keeps bringing him boys for two and a half years.

Most of the 27 victims live on the same street as Wayne,

attend the same junior high school,

and know Wayne Henley all their lives

until he invites them to Dean's house for beer and poker.

Although Wayne wants no part in the homosexual rapes,

he joins more and more

in the slow torture

and sadistic killing of his friends.

Inside Dean's house,

the naked victims are handcuffed

to this plywood board at gunpoint.

The floor is covered with vinyl sheets to catch their blood.

The stereo is turned up to drown out their screams.

The horrified boys see Dean get undressed

and hope it's only rape.

Then they see Wayne take out the hunting knife.

One summer night in 1973,

Dean Corll suddenly tries to rape and murder Wayne

on their torture board.

Hello?

Mama?

Who's this?

It's Wayne.

Yes, this is Mama, baby.

- Mama? - Yes.

I killed Dean.

What?

Oh honey, you didn't.

Yes.

Oh, God.

Where are you?

I'm-- It's all right. It's all right.

It's all right.

Where are you?

I'm by his warehouse.

Where?

At that warehouse he keeps.

Can I come out there?

Yeah. Yes.

Is that in Lawrence Park?

She can't-- No. You can't come.

I'm with the police, Mama.

Wayne showed police

the mass graves on the beach.

It took a bulldozer to find all 27 bodies.

The early ones were decomposed.

The later ones mutilated,

chewed and castrated.

One victim disappeared three months after his brother.

Two more brothers disappeared on the same day.

The youngest victim was nine, son of the corner grocer.

Wayne's best friend was a popular 7th grader

who liked to make everyone laugh

David Hilligiest, 13.

Wayne's mother and David's mother,

both strict religious women,

had been friends for 15 years.

The two boys had always been playmates,

running in and out of each other's houses

since they could walk.

Until the day David's parents sent him to pick up

his little brother from the public swimming pool...

...the day David disappeared.

What did he tell you about this location out here?

He told me that he had David Hilligiest out here.

What'd he say about David?

He just told me that he killed him

and buried him out here.

What did he want you to do?

He wanted to pay me to find people

and bring them to him.

Help him do his thing and kill them.

Well, I was just heartbroken. That's all.

I don't know how to express myself.

I just felt just dead. That's all.

What is your reaction toward the Henleys

that live just a block or so up the street?

Um, I have no bitterness.

I've known them all these years,

and I have a lot of compassion for them.

I realize that even with our grief with our son

possibly being dead

and possibly him knowing about it...

I can feel compassion for them

because I feel that they're in a much tougher place

right now than we are.

Wayne's in great spirits.

He said everybody had been really nice.

Most sadistic mass murderers like Wayne

have an IQ above 125,

yet they continue the kill like clockwork.

More than 100 victims in four cases.

Almost as if they are dedicated to the killing

of America itself.

One even said he mass murdered college students

because "I wanted to hurt society where it hurt the most

by taking its most valuable future members."

Kenneth Bianchi was called the Hillside Strangler

because he dumped the victims on Hollywood hillsides.

He dragged women from streets and apartments to his van.

Bianchi said his accomplice was his cousin,

Angelo Buono.

To even begin to try and live with myself

I have to take responsibility for what I've done.

You...

you're a motherfucker for trying to get me to leave him.

I killed her, and Angelo killed her.

You mean the Wechler one Angelo killed?

This broad I never seen before.

Martinic.

This broad I never seen before.

- You never saw them at all? - No.

This broad I never seen before.

Robinson?

This broad I killed.

These two Angelo killed.

- Johnson and-- - This one I never seen before.

This one I never seen before.

This broad I killed.

Markum you've never seen before

and Ms. Kastin is the broad you killed, you say?

Am I going too fast for you?

Yeah, you're going so damn fast.

I'm not that smart.

Ted Bundy.

The FBI suspects him of being America's worst sex killer,

murdering possibly 40 coeds in six states

over a five year period.

In Seattle, he was a law student,

suicide therapist, and assistant to the governor.

When he wrote the official review of state crime laws,

his friends and teachers were sure one day

he would be governor himself.

The police were sure he had murdered sleeping women

with such fury

that he ripped apart their bed frames,

then bludgeoned and raped them with the metal bars.

But police never had enough proof to go to court.

Bundy never left finger prints,

and eyewitnesses never recognized

his constantly changing face.

When he grabbed a 12-year-old girl

running to her gym class and dragged her to his car,

a passerby thought he was an angry father

beating his sobbing child.

Bundy stuffed her mangled corpse

in an abandoned pig sty.

He said he was going to get it.

Okay. You've got the indictment.

It's all you're going to get.

In Tallahassee,

he was finally indicted for mass murder.

I'll plead not guilty right now.

And your grand jurors, being present,

given the court to be informed and understand...

Alright. I'll be heard.

He tore up the indictment in the elevator

but was brought to trial.

How you doing?

Aren't you getting tired of Florida?

During the night of January 15th, 1978,

Ted Bundy crept into the Chi Omega sorority house

with a club.

He exploded from bedroom to bedroom in a frenzy,

savagely assaulting coed after coed.

The testimony showed that the frontal area of the brain

of the skull was fractured jagged

and exposed a portion of the brain.

She was left in her own bed in a pool of blood.

As to Count II of the indictment,

the Court finds while the victim was in her bed

was stripped of her night clothing.

One nipple was incised and bit off.

There was evidence of vaginal and anal trauma,

and she was left in a pool of blood in her own bed.

It was determined, of course,

that there was a bite mark.

A clear bite bark had been made in the buttocks

of one victim.

It matched Bundy's teeth as precisely as a fingerprint.

I can't.

- I'm leaving the courtroom. - No, you're not.

Sit down.

Sit down, Mr. Bundy.

Sit down, Mr. Bundy.

I'm not going to be in this room when the jury walks out.

I'm not going through this and you knew that, Your Honor.

- Sit down. - You know how far you can push me.

You want a circus, you got a circus.

I'll rain on your parade, Jack.

You'll see a thunderstorm.

Mr. Bundy, sit down.

I know it's not a party but please have water in the room.

You understand? Get off!

And if there's any more delay in this courts proceedings

occasioned by your voluntary acts,

we're proceeding without you.

Since I have been in Dade County--

Don't shake your finger at me, young man.

Don't shake your finger at me, young man!

But Bundy couldn't stop the testimony

of three coeds who miraculously survived his brutal fury.

Some of my teeth were knocked out.

Um, I had broken facial bones.

I had a broken arm and a crushed finger.

Her jaw bone was held together by a metal pin.

Damage to the inner ear forced another survivor

to abandon her career in ballet.

I had five skull fractures

and multiple contusions in my head.

And because of the skull fractures,

the 8th nerve was damaged,

and I lost the hearing in my left ear

and the equilibrium.

And I had a broken jaw,

and my left shoulder was pulled out of joint.

Mr. Bundy.

Yes.

Would you point him out then for the Court?

Objection.

I will allow this for the purpose of the motion.

It is further ordered that, on such scheduled date,

that you be put to death by a current of electricity.

His mother listened to the end.

And such current of electricity shall continue

to pass through your body until you are dead.

It's a tragedy for this Court to see such a total waste

of humanity that I've experienced in this court.

You're a bright young man.

You'd have made a good lawyer.

I'd have loved to have you practice in front of me.

But you went another way, partner.

Take care of yourself.

I'm an American

and I went off the deep end.

Ed Kemper has been serving a life sentence

in this California prison since 1973,

when, at the age of 24, he murdered his mother,

then called police and confessed

to having dismembered college coeds for two years,

as well as cannibalizing

and raping their headless bodies.

When someone abandons himself to being a victim,

he's going to have to be one.

With an IQ of 136,

Kemper is now the prison's best reader

of books for the blind.

I'm saying I wanted to kill my mother

since I was 8 years old and I'm not proud of that.

It started with surrogates at a nonhuman level,

physical objects, my possessions, other people's.

Destruction of things that are cared about,

and then destruction of things that are living,

on a lower level, small animals,

insects, animals,

and then finally people.

It started coming to a head again

so I went back down.

I ran away back down there.

And then a month later, I'm up living with my grandparents

in the mountains and ten months later,

I murdered them.

It made it worse to be on top of a mountain.

I was literally on the top of a mountain when it happened.

And I could sense-- I sensed everybody in the world

just stopping what they're doing,

turning around, saw what I did,

and are coming to get me.

And I knew I was paranoid at that moment,

and I knew anybody that came up there

and give me a funny look or fishy eye

or quizzical look, I'd have blown their brains out

thinking they were coming to get me.

If it had been in a city,

I'd have been a mass murderer at age 15.

I would have killed until they gunned me down.

I wouldn't have been able to reason my way out of it.

I was scared to death and I was violent.

I felt my back hit that wall.

I was the rabbit that always ran,

always backed away, always burns his bridges.

Suddenly there weren't any more.

My back hit that wall, and I came out screaming

and kicking and shooting.

He was released to the one person

that authorities at the state mental hospital

recommended he never see again.

I got paroled to my mother.

Atascadero decided

that I didn't ever need to talk to her again at all.

Don't give her Christmas present.

Leave her alone.

She got her pound of flesh out of you.

I wasn't sniveling about my mother to them.

I didn't like to hear what they had to say about her.

She went through three husbands like a hot knife through butter.

Four months after I was out,

I was back into the fantasy bag.

My first date was an absolute disaster.

Wasn't her fault, you know?

And I didn't blame her even then.

I'm saying. It was a terrible tragedy.

But boy, she didn't ever talk to me again.

It was awful.

Wasn't sexual or grabbing at her or any of that.

I was just such a dork.

Taking her to a John Wayne movie and Denny's.

It's terrible.

I never been on a date.

At 16 It was cool, you know?

I'd never been on a date, you know?

I was locked up since I was 15.

But I can't tell her that.

"Oh, gee. Don't mind me."

She kind of got hung up on my looks or whatever.

She was a gorgeous young lady. Pure class.

And she saw something there that I guess wasn't there.

And boy, she found out quick.

Taking elaborate precautions,

he drove around universities and picked up hitchhiking coeds

while wearing these glasses.

These are the ones.

Now, would you get in a car with this man?

Huh?

Hmm?

The state has made me much more credible as a human being.

While his mother worked at the university,

Kemper buried the mutilated bodies in the mountains

and took the severed heads home.

Then he slept with their heads for days,

and finally went looking for more.

I was losing a grasp on something

that was too violent to keep inside forever.

As I'm sitting there with a severed head in my hand,

talking to it or looking at it,

and I'm about to go crazy, literally.

I'm about to go completely flywheel loose,

and just fall apart.

I say, "Wow. This is insane."

Then I told myself, "No, it isn't.

You're saying that.

And that makes it not insane."

I said, "I'm sane, and I'm looking at a--"

I said, "Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

I've seen paintings and drawings of Viking heroes

talking to severed heads and taking them to parties.

Old enemies in leather bags.

Part of our heritage."

This is me back then in 1972 and '73.

Unable to live with the fact that I just stabbed to death

and cut the throat of an innocent young woman.

Innocent in the sense that she did not plan on that happening.

She didn't do anything specifically

for that to happen to her,

yet was a very active participant in her own death.

And in my memory of that. She was 19 years old,

and her roommate in the trunk

who died right after that was 18.

I didn't go hog wild and totally--

What I'm saying is,

I found myself doing things in an attempt

to make things fit together inside.

I was doing sexual probing and things,

in the sense of striking out or reaching out

and grabbing and pulling to me.

But appalled at the sense that it wasn't working.

That isn't the way it's supposed to be.

It isn't the way I want it.

See what I'm saying?

And yet I get, during that time,

I become engaged to someone who is young and beautiful

and very much the same advantages

and very much the same upbringing.

And Disneyland values.

And she's very much the reason I surrendered.

I picked up two girls who were so much like the first two,

it was unbelievable.

Almost identical circumstances. And I let them go.

Everything went towards killing them,

and I didn't.

But I'm saying, "Wow. It's uncanny."

It was almost like it was meant to be that way.

And I said, "Wow. I've got-- This has got to stop"

and I let them out.

They never even knew what was going on.

I let them out.

I would have gotten away with those two being murdered.

Said, "No. It's got to stop."

And a week later, I murdered my mother.

Went back to Santa Cruz and killed her.

He killed her with a hammer in her sleep.

Cut off her head and hands,

but then put her vocal cords in the garbage disposal

and threw darts at her severed head.

I am an American and I killed Americans.

I am a human being and I killed human beings.

And I did it in my society.

Death to the Klan.

Death to the Klan. Death to the Klan.

A hundred years after the O.K. Corral,

gunfights continue in the streets

in the land of a million murders

and a hundred million guns.

How long can we afford to have unregistered guns,

handcuffed prosecutors and revolving door prisons?

Whatever it takes, the solutions will be expensive.

But is living in fear a cheaper price?

How many senseless murders are we willing to tolerate?

Does the rate need to quadruple again

before we've had enough to make us fight back?

You know, people get together

and just howl, you know, play.

Whatever.

But we're trying it our way.

Maybe one day we'll all get together.

But we must all do something.

♪ All we are saying

♪ Is give peace a chance

John Lennon gave his autograph to the gunman,

six hours before the senseless shooting,

in the entrance to his New York apartment building.

♪ If I give my heart to you

♪ I must be sure

♪ From the very start

♪ That you would love me more than her

♪ If I trust in you

Maybe it won't happen again if we all join together.

We have about 40 seconds

before we begin our vigil.

We ask everyone's cooperation

with respect to our great friend John Lennon,

who I'm sure is with you all today.

We ask for complete silence.

We begin our vigil now.

At the conclusion, to terminate our vigil,

we will begin our recorded John Lennon music.

We start now.

May we all pray.

♪ Imagine there's no heaven

♪ It's easy if you try

♪ No hell below us

♪ Above us only sky

♪ Imagine all the people

♪ Living for today... Aha-ah...

♪ No need for greed or hunger

♪ A brotherhood of man

♪ Imagine all the people

♪ Sharing all the world... You...

♪ You may say I'm a dreamer

♪ But I'm not the only one

♪ I hope some day you'll join us

♪ And the world will live as one

Two people were shot at this Central Park vigil.

While you watched this movie,

five more of us were murdered.

One was the random killing of a stranger.