All language subtitles for Dexter.S08E02.1080p.5.1Ch.BluRay.ReEnc-DeeJayAhmed

Previously on Dexter:

How is Deb? She's better?

Yeah, she's great.

What case is she working on?
Briggs. Andrew Briggs.

Deb, what's going on?

I'm getting close to Briggs
so I can get the jewellery

before he fences it.

You haven't talked to me in weeks.
You made me compromise

everything about myself
that I care about.

I shot the wrong person
in that trailer.

Don't stop. Don't stop.

The chance that someone
might find out our secret

makes it even more fun.

You're all sweaty.
Yup. Just doing a little cardio.

Whoa.
Looks like a piece of it

has been scooped out.
That's the anterior insular cortex,

the portion of the brain
that processes empathy.

This is Dr. Evelyn Vogel.
Evelyn is a neuropsychiatrist.

I hear the FBI calls her
the psychopath whisperer.

What was he like?
Who?

The Bay Harbor Butcher.

I look forward to working with you,
Dexter Morgan.

Can you look into someone
named El Sapo for me?

- Who is he?
- He's a fucking fence.

El Sapo isn't a fence.
He's a hit man.

He's gonna get the jewels
and kill Briggs.

I'm trying to keep you from
getting shot along with him.

Aah!
I came here to save you.

Deb, look at yourself. You're lost.

You are lost.

Dexter. I was hoping
to share something with you.

What is it you want?

You can't kill me.

Why?

Because I don't fit Harry's code.

We're recording.

So to review where we are,

two weeks ago, you told me
that your son Dexter

had asked to see the actual scene
of a homicide.

You also said that you opposed
this request.

Yes. Because he's only 10 years old.

So why are you here today?

He kept asking and asking

so I decided to give him
what he wanted.

I even started to hope it might
shock him out of this...

condition.

Tell me what happened.

I got a call about a homicide
in Coral Gables.

A woman had shot her ex-husband as
he was trying to break into the house.

I waited until the forensic guys
cleared out

and then I snuck Dexter
onto the scene.

The victim had fallen
through a sliding glass door

so there was blood everywhere.

And it didn't seem to faze Dexter.

And he wasn't bothered at all?

If anything, he was fascinated.

He just stood there, staring.

Like he was admiring a painting.

I remember that day.
It was like a painting.

And I wanted to be the artist.

We didn't stay long, and when we were
driving home, I noticed that...

Dexter was holding something
in his hand.

He'd stolen it from the crime scene.

A trophy.

I'm right about Dex, aren't I?

There's something wrong with him.

One could put it that way,
but I do agree

that Dexter is exactly
what you suspect him to be.

Trust me when I say that there's
a place in this world for your son.

I don't know what it is
or what form it will take

but we're gonna find it together.

You were only 10 years old
when your father first sought my help.

I know almost everything
about you, Dexter.

Not just because I heard it
from your father

but because I helped create you.

Create me?
You sound like Dr. Frankenstein.

Don't mean to.
Don't know how else to put it.

I mean, it was obvious
that you not only showed

all the classic traits
of a psychopath

but that you would eventually
become a killer.

So we were faced with a little dilemma:
what to do with you.

It was me who convinced Harry
that your urges couldn't be stopped

but they could be focused.

Eventually we realised that hunting
animals wasn't going to satiate you

so we decided that you could be
taught to kill other kinds of animals.

People who truly deserve to die.

You're saying you came up
with the code?

Harry had a big hand in the details.

His law enforcement background
was certainly an asset

but he was operating
under my guidance.

I can't help but think of myself
as your spiritual mother.

I know we've only just met
face to face

but this is kind of like a reunion.
Heh.

I should have chilled
some champagne.

You experimented on me.
That's what mothers do?

I developed a framework
for your survival.

That's what mothers do.

You made me what I am.
Heh.

You'd have preferred an institution?
Death row?

I could have turned my back on you.
I could have let Harry do the same.

I could have even
notified the authorities.

Why didn't you?

Well, let's just say
you got under my skin.

I came to care for you, Dexter.

I still do.

Why are you telling me this?

I saved your life.

And I'm afraid I need
to call in the favour.

I'm sure you recognise this.

It's a section of the human brain.

Anterior insular cortex.

A murder victim was missing
the same piece of tissue.

And this is it. In the flesh.

I found it on my doorstep
wrapped in butcher paper.

Unfortunately,
there was no return address.

Why would the killer send this to you?
A message.

I've come to believe
that the killer could be

one of my former patients.

This would be the perfect
explanation for this little gift.

You think it's a threat.
Hm. A brain on a doorstep.

Hardly a love letter.

Sooner or later,

someone's going to be holding
a piece of my brain in a jar.

I want you to find him, Dexter.

And I want you to do
what Harry and I taught you to do.

I don't take requests.

You have contacts at the FBI.
You're working with Miami Metro.

Why don't you go to them?
I wish I could.

What's stopping you?

You're not the first psychopath
I've treated.

You taught other people the code?

No. You're special.

But I've used other
unorthodox methods,

some of which might be
considered illegal.

So if the police track down this killer
and it's someone I treated--

Your unorthodox methods
might be exposed

and your career would be ruined.

You might even go to jail.

You see my problem.

I see that it's your problem.

This will help put things
into perspective.

Don't tell me you're gonna pass up
on another piece of your history.

Think about it,
but don't take too long.

Killer's out there, Dexter,

and I don't mind admitting
I'm afraid of what's coming next.

You don't deserve this,
but I don't have a choice.

I have to. I'm sorry.

Dexter killed someone else
last night.

Who?

A drug dealer.

Guy robbed and killed two
of his clients. College kids.

At least Dexter is following
the programme.

He told me something new that he did
to the drug dealer before he killed him.

And that was?

He made him look at photos
of his victims.

Interesting.

Did you ask him why?

He said it was something
he felt he needed to do.

What do you think it means?

Humans are born with
an innate sense of justice.

Maybe Dexter is discovering this.

The important thing is,
after three kills,

he's embracing the process.

It's gonna work out for him, Harry.

I hope so.

She believed in you
at a time when I was in doubt.

Vogel gave me this DVD to make me
feel as if I owe her something.

Don't you?

If she's responsible for creating me,

she's responsible
for what I've done to Deb.

Maybe Vogel can help you.

Help me how?

With Deb.

You must have told Vogel
a lot about Deb.

She was part of your life.

I wish she still was.

Deb said she hated me,

that she should have killed me
inside that shipping container

instead of LaGuerta. Maybe I should
just listen to you, stay away from her.

All I'm saying is that Vogel
might open up some possibilities.

At the very least, she's a window
to your past that you just can't ignore.

I don't trust Vogel. I can't.

All the more reason
to keep her close.

Okay, just so we're on the same page,
you're supposed to locate Briggs

and take him into custody.
It's that simple, right?

I was also supposed to find
the stolen jewellery, right?

Recover the goods,
collect 20 percent?

Am I supposed to believe that's what
you were doing for two weeks?

Just looking for the jewellery?
Yes, Elway.

He wasn't gonna just give it to me.
It wasn't lying around the apartment.

I had to play him.

What is that shit?
It looks like horse piss.

It's electrolyte replenishment
formula.

You look dehydrated.
It impairs your judgement.

Probably fuelling that bad attitude.

So tell me,

where does it say undercover work
in your job description?

I was improvising.

Well, you put one of my assets
at risk.

Namely yourself.

That's my call.

Well, your asset is just fine.

I wish I could say the same thing
about Briggs.

That again?
I told you I don't know what happened.

I came back to our room
and he was dead.

"Our room"?

So you two were intimate?

First of all, who says "intimate"?

And second, what does it even matter?
What was I supposed to do, say:

"Hey, can I have that jewellery
that you stole

because I'd love to get
the finder's fee on that too"?

I was doing my job.

If you were, we wouldn't be here
with nothing to show for it.

We don't have nothing to show for it.
I found these on Briggs.

This looks like a key
to a storage unit.

I bet that's where
he stashed the jewellery.

Why didn't you tell me that
in the beginning?

Because it's more fun
to watch you eat crow.

Take a bite.
We haven't found the jewellery yet.

You could be wrong.
But what if I'm not?

Then we recover 20 percent.
Right. And you'll love me for that.

Another morning, another body.

Miami makes more corpses
than sunburns.

And I'm thankful.

A crime scene might be
the only place left

where I can still control the chaos.

Fuck me.

What does this guy think,
he's a fucking brain surgeon?

The Brain Surgeon.

Anterior insular cortex is missing,
just like the last one.

So we have a serial?

Vogel was right.

Judging from the lack of blood,

I'd say this one was done
post-mortem too.

No entry wounds.

Ah. Petechial haemorrhaging
around the eyes.

Bruising around the throat.

Asphyxiation.

So the last time,
the killer left the murder weapon

somewhere near the body.

Maybe he did it again.

So, what are we looking for?
Ropes, nylons, giant pillow.

Okay, everyone spread out.

A plastic bag?

Not the worst way
to asphyxiate someone.

Blood?
I think I've got a murder weapon.

Let's hope he left a print.

I got another delivery today.

Like the other?

Same section of the brain.

If it is one of my patients
who's doing this, I...

I have to wonder
if I could have prevented it.

You never felt guilty
about what I was doing?

No.

All I ever felt was pride.

Pride?
Mm.

You're not evil, Dexter.

You're actually making
the world a better place.

Not for everyone.

What do you mean by that?

I'm going back to the lab.

We might have a print,
which gives us a head start.

So you're going to help me.

You don't seem surprised.

Like I said,
even though I've just met you,

I know you, Dexter.

Better even than I knew Harry.

Why did he come to you

about me?

I was an expert witness
on a series of homicides

that he was working on,

and we became friends.

It's a long way from being friends

to "I think my son
might be a serial killer."

Harry was aware of my work
on young psychopaths.

And he also knew
that I didn't approach the subject

in terms of black and white,

unlike my colleagues at the time.

And so he just told you everything.

You have to understand
that he had no one else to talk to.

Not Doris.
Certainly no one in the force.

And there never was
any judgement on my part.

Unlike you towards me.

I'm not judging you.

But you don't trust me.

Which you should have expected.

Since you know me so well.

You nervous?

About breaking and entering?
Absolutely.

Prison would put a real crimp
in my business model.

See, we're not breaking.

We're just entering.

You really had sex with this guy?

Shit.

What? What is it?

If...

If I hadn't stayed
to try to get the jewellery,

if I just brought him in,
he'd still be alive.

Don't beat yourself up about it.

After all, it's a criminal
we're talking about, right?

He was actually all right
to hang out with.

He made me forget about
my shitty life for five minutes.

And what exactly is so shitty
about your life?

Other than working for you?
Excuse me.

You left Miami Metro
to come and work for me.

Wise career choice, I might add.

If you accepted more cases,
you may get paid what you're worth.

I left Miami Metro
because I was burned out.

Oh. Right.
Look, I know that's a party line.

Everybody knows Maria LaGuerta
was a pain in the ass.

I understand if you wanted
to dip your toes--

What the fuck
are you even talking about?

LaGuerta was a good cop.
She was a good fucking person.

Well, note to self: Never talk about
anyone Debra Morgan knows.

Understood. Got it.

Why don't you just be really grateful
that I work for you?

Because I'm about to make you
a fuck-ton of money.

It's an unopened bill
from a storage facility.

Why didn't F.L.P.D. find this?
Because it just arrived today.

Found a match for our key.

Okay. Buster's Self Storage.

All right.
Let's go.

I can't. I've got a new client
meeting at the office.

All right, then I'll go alone.
Sh...

Okay. Could you hang on?
Just-- Hey.

Hey.

Hey.

Just do me a favour, all right?

Just be careful.

If I fuck up, you can always ply me
with that electro-shite solution.

I'm running the prints from the plastic
bag through AFIS right now.

Any hits?

Not yet, but if the killer's
on the list you gave me,

there's a good chance he's already
in the system. It shouldn't take long.

Why don't I remember you?

According to you, I was 10
when you started seeing Harry.

I should remember you.

You never met me in person.

Harry forbid it.
Why?

He didn't want you to feel
like you were--

Like you were sick.
He was trying to protect you.

And I respected his wishes,
even after he died.

I could have used someone
to talk to after Harry was gone.

Someone who knew
what I was going through.

You wanted to talk about it?

I was young and I was all alone.

Here it is.

Lyle Sussman?
Sussman?

He wasn't on the list I gave you.
I don't know anyone with that name.

That doesn't mean
he doesn't know you.

You're a published author.

But why would he be targeting me?

Maybe he has an issue with something
you said in one of your books.

Arrested for drunk and disorderly
in 1992.

Single. Has a house on Messina.

Doesn't make sense.

Well, Sussman's print's
on the murder weapon.

Forensics don't lie.

Mm. Look on the bright side.

Maybe this means you did a better job
with your patients than you thought.

Oh. Heh.

Two great minds
at work here. Heh, heh.

Am I interrupting?

No. What's up, Vince?

Well, guess who found
a bloody fingerprint

on the duct tape that was
covering the victim's mouth.

You?

And guess who
it might belong to.

The victim?
Our killer.

It's a partial,
so it could take some time.

How about you?
Anything on the murder weapon?

Partial.

Well, okay. I guess the race is on.

Shit.

Why was it strange

that I needed someone
to talk to when Harry died?

People like you don't usually seek
an emotional connection.

Good luck.

It all looks innocent.

Just like my apartment.

Nah.

Either Sussman lost his green thumb
or he hasn't been here in a while.

Could he be hiding out
at his next kill site?

A hunting cabin?

Isolated. The perfect place for a kill.

Lake Nona. It's a large lake,
but at least it's a starting place.

Well, fuck.

You found my jewellery.

Really made my life easier.

Thank you for that.

What the hell's
your problem?

Bitch. Fucking nuts.

Yeah, I'm fucking nuts.

Stay down.

You're lucky I don't kill people
unless I'm paid to.

Ah. Ow!

I hope Sussman does a better job
keeping in touch with his mother

than I do with mine.

Any reason why you haven't
taken the sergeant's exam?

Uh-- Just haven't
gotten around to it. Why?

Matthews is riding my ass,
keeps pushing people on me.

Sanchez, Whitney.
I'd rather have you.

I didn't know you cared.

You better start taking
your career more seriously, bro.

Especially if you're gonna be
dating my sister.

How'd you know?
Because I'm a good detective.

Why'd you try to hide it from me?

Uh... I thought
your head would explode.

Just get your act together.

If you want me to be okay
with you and Jamie, earn it.

Man up. Take the test.

Do you have any idea where your
son might be, Mrs. Sussman?

It's very important
that we speak with him.

I haven't seen him for days.

Is that normal?

Well, it's not out of the ordinary.

He's probably off hunting
for the weekend.

So he likes to hunt?

Oh, he practically lives for it.

He always brings back
something for the quilt.

Isn't this something?

It sure is.

Where does he go
on these hunting trips?

He has a cabin somewhere
outside the city.

Do you know the address?

No. Sorry. That's all I know.

What did you say this was about?

We just want to ask him a few
questions. That's all, Mrs. Sussman.

I wish I could help you,
but I don't know what else to tell you.

Oh, you need some more. Ha, ha.
Oh.

Excuse me.

Can we go? That fucking quilt
is freaking me out.

It's like a nightmare in fur.

It's Dispatch.

Damn.

Lake Nona will have to wait.

Hopefully not for long.

What's the word, Vince?

Borborygmus. The sound of gas
rumbling through your intestines.

As in, seriously regretting having that
super-green passion fruit smoothie

right about now. Unh.

Gunshot to the head.

I call and raise you
one to the chest.

One in the dash
and one in the headrest.

Either the killer was panicky,

or he really needs some time
at the gun range.

Car's registered
to a Javier Guzman.

You think that's him?

Based on Guzman's rap sheet,
be my guess.

Small-time enforcing, murder.

Went by the street name
of El Sapo.

El Sapo was the hit man
sent to kill Briggs.

If he's been killed...

is Deb in danger?

Dexter Morgan.

Dexter Morgan.
Want to get with the programme?

Dex?

How do you think this went down,
Morgan?

Uh-- Yeah, sorry.

Driver pulls to a stop,
the assailant approaches the car,

most likely gun already drawn.

The vic sees the shooter,
pulls his weapon,

clears the holster,
but it's too late.

The gunman opens fire.

I got a second gun in the glove.

Bag it and tag it.

El Sapo's blood is confined
to the inside of his car.

This can't be his.

The killer might have been reaching
into the car and cut himself.

Dex.

El Sapo. Deb was involved
with these guys.

If someone's taking them out--
I know. I'm on it.

I don't understand, Dexter. You think
you know where Sussman's cabin is

but you're not going after him.
I have to do something.

What's more important
than stopping this killer?

My sister.

Debra's in trouble?
Yes.

Ah. That's what's
been eating at you.

I'm coming up on her house.
I have to hang up.

Jesus, Deb.

What the fuck are you doing here?

Deb.
I don't want you around.

I thought I made that
really fucking clear.

El Sapo is dead.

El Sapo?

The man who was sent
to take out Briggs.

I know who the fuck that is.

Well, someone shot him in his car.
It looked like an execution.

Do you know anything
about this?

All I know is what my head
feels like right now.

I tried calling.
I was worried about you.

That's touching.

I'm fine.

Fine isn't the first word
that comes to mind.

And anybody could have
walked in here.

The door wouldn't close
so I had to get creative.

What happened?

Deb, what happened
to your side?

El Sapo followed me
to the storage unit,

where Briggs kept his stash,
you know.

We tussled, he got the stuff,
end of story.

Except it's not the end of the story.
El Sapo's dead.

It's a better fucking ending.
He deserved it.

And if whoever killed El Sapo
comes after you?

Nobody's coming after me, Dexter.

How do you know that?

Will you not do this, please?

What?

Give a shit.

Deb, I'm your brother.
You can hate me if you want,

but it doesn't change the fact
that I care about you.

I didn't want to hate you.

I wanted the opposite.

But it didn't work out that way.

I can't change the way I feel, so...

Will you go, please?

I'm not leaving you.

Jesus fucking Christ, Dexter,
get the fuck out.

Go.

Deb doesn't want my help,
and Vogel is demanding it.

This is it. Sussman's cabin.

At least I'm staying ahead
of Miami Metro.

Sussman's no stranger
to blood and death.

Vogel is wrong.
Everything points to him as the killer.

Except this.

Maybe Sussman had an accomplice
who decided to take him out.

A killer like Sussman
doesn't use an accomplice.

They're rogues.
He could be the exception.

Yeah, or just the innocent victim
like the first two.

Sussman's prints were on the weapon.
He must have been involved.

Sit down, Dexter.

You're getting agitated.

I'm just trying to figure this out.

You have a hard time admitting
that you're wrong, but it's all right.

People like you have
an inherent need to be right,

to feel superior.

You keep talking about me like
I'm some kind of alternate species.

Like I'm less than human.

On the contrary.

Have you read any of my books?

I haven't gotten around to it.

Well, if you had,
you'd know that I believe

that psychopaths are not
a mistake of nature.

They're a gift.

A gift?

They're alpha wolves

who helped the human race survive
long enough to become civilised.

An indispensable demographic.

You believe that?

Did you know that
psychopathic traits

can be found
in the most successful CEOs?

In the most effective politicians?

Without psychopaths,
mankind wouldn't exist today.

Well, there's a lot of mankind
that doesn't exist because of them.

Every silver lining...

Well, one of your indispensable
demographics is still out there, killing.

And we're back to zero.

You'll find him, Dexter.

I have faith in you.

So, um,
what's going on with Debra?

That's between me and her.

It's affecting you.

So it makes it a problem for me too.

We're not going to talk about Deb.

Whatever you want.

Should I come back later?
Sorry.

I was just checking
to see if Dexter called.

He was looking in on Deb.

Deb?

Yeah.

Wow, we're a whole 10 seconds
into the date.

I thought we were gonna
make it to one minute

before you mentioned
your old fiancée.

What are you talking about?

Joey, you're always checking in on her
or talking about her.

Since we've been together,
you're on Deb patrol.

No, I'm not.

Okay. We'll do an experiment.
Let's see if you can go one whole day

without mentioning Debra Morgan.

What is it with you people? I mean--

What people?

I got your brother on my ass
about taking the sergeant's test.

You're on my ass about Deb.

Like, what is this,
a fucking Cuban thing?

What does Angel have to do with this?
He knows we're seeing each other.

He's on my ass about
making something out of my life.

"Man up. Take the sergeant's test."
You know what? Maybe I don't want to.

Wait, how does Angel know
that we're seeing each other?

And what's wrong about
trying to better yourself?

See? That's what I'm talking about.

You know what? Screw this, okay?

I did not get dressed up
to argue with you.

Go drink by yourself.

Ja--

Why the hell can't you stay
out of my personal life?

What'd I do?
Angel, you know exactly what you did.

Okay, you're putting pressure
on Quinn.

We just had a giant argument
because of you.

Wait a second.
You know what, I hope you're happy.

It's like, mind your own
fucking business, Angel.

If this finds El Sapo's killer,
it'll keep Deb safe.

It's Deb's blood.

She killed El Sapo.

Shot him in his car.

Deb.

Deb.

What is she doing here?

Morgan.

Sir.

I never got a chance to tell you
how disappointed I was

that you left the force.

From running Homicide
to chasing down bail jumpers.

It's a hell of a career trajectory.

It's not what you think.

Well, I hope it was worth it.

Debra Morgan?

As I live and breathe.

If I were to cop a feel now, it wouldn't
be sexual harassment anymore.

Hey, stranger.
Hey.

What brings you around?

Um, Quinn had some questions
about a case, so...

Is this about El Sapo?

Well, he's probably
grabbing some coffee.

Every morning when I come in,
I walk past it.

I have to turn around, because
I still think of it as Deb's office.

No, you probably should have
gotten it first, you know.

I never really belonged there.

You know that's BS.

This place ain't the same without you.

We're having some drinks
at Papa's tonight.

You should come.

Yeah, I'll try to make it.

Hey.

Thanks for coming in.

Come on.

I would have used
the briefing room, but it's taken.

I mean, this is fine though, right?

Otherwise fucking everybody'd
still be hugging you.

Um...

Do you wanna go to the coffee truck?
No, let's just-- Let's do this.

Okay.

El Sapo and Briggs.

What do you want to know?

Basically, we've hit a wall.

I was hoping you could open up
some leads for us.

What can you tell me?

Um...

I was doing a skip-trace on Briggs.
He robbed a jewellery store

and made off with like
a half-million dollars in merchandise.

I got a tip that he was
in Fort Lauderdale,

and I was staking him out
and overheard

that he was gonna fence
the stuff to El Sapo.

Isn't a skip-trace one of those

locate-and-bring-them-back
type of things?

Yeah, I was also trying
to get a fix on the goods.

What happened the night
Briggs was killed?

Um...

He was supposed to meet El Sapo
that same night.

I thought they were gonna
be a few hours

so I went to get a sandwich,
and when I came back,

F.L.P.D. was on the scene,
and, uh,

Briggs had a fucking hole
in his chest.

Is she lying to protect me
or to protect herself?

I can't tell anymore.

I was just wondering if you could
take a look at what we've got.

Maybe we could
put our heads together,

push this thing down the field,
you know? Like old times.

Heh. Um...

So, what we think is

the shooter approached
the vehicle from behind,

and then El Sapo drew his gun.

And then the shooter...

Hey, are you all right?

Sorry. Family emergency.
I gotta borrow my sister.

Sure.

Thanks.

What, Dexter?

I know you killed El Sapo.

I found your blood
at the crime scene.

Fuck.

Tell me what happened.

Talk to me, Deb.

I don't know what happened, all right?
I'm a little fucking fuzzy on it.

I was angry.
I wanted the jewels back.

And the next thing I know,
I'm standing over a dead body.

You shot at him four times.
You don't remember any of it?

He'd just beaten the shit out of me.
I was a little fucked up.

Why didn't you call the police?

I didn't know what I could tell them.

You could have called me.

You get me into trouble, not out of it.
Is that why you lied to me?

All of a sudden we have
a problem with lying?

We found a gun in El Sapo's
glove box. Is it yours?

Shit, it might be, yeah.

He took it off of me
before he beat me up.

It'll be traced to you.
How will you explain that?

You could switch it out.

Get rid of it.

What if I weren't here
to cover your ass?

You really want to play
the "what if" game?

What if you weren't a serial killer?

What if Harry had left you
in that shipping container?

That's enough.
El Sapo's not the first person I shot.

And he may not be the fucking last.

What's that supposed to mean?

Anything can happen in this hellhole
that is now my life.

Your gift to me, Dexter.

She's right. Whoever Deb was
before killing LaGuerta,

that person is dead.

I just wish I knew
what's taken her place.

Busy day?

Crazy busy.

Then maybe they haven't
tested Deb's gun yet.

I've covered evidence for myself
more times than I can remember.

But I'll never get used to
doing this for Deb.

You and Jamie patch things up?
How did you know we were fighting?

Because I'm a good--
Detective, right.

Yeah. Uh, the sergeant's test?

Yeah?
I'm gonna start studying for it.

Damn. Eh,

you gonna make an okay sergeant.

If not, I'll demote your ass.

Dr. Vogel says that psychopaths
are not a mistake of nature.

They're a gift.

But what kind of gift
destroys everything it cares about?

Hello?

Dexter, I think there's someone
inside my house.

How do you know?

Well, I just walked up,
and the front door is open.

Get in your car and stay there.

If someone was inside
when I called, he's still in there.

I haven't seen anyone leave.

Wait here.

Thank you, Dexter.

Are you sure
there's no one inside?

I checked the entire house.
I'm sure.

That DVD, it's not mine.

Put it in.

He was coerced.

And now he's dead.

I was wrong all along.

You were right.

Sussman was never a real killer.
He's just another victim.

I should have listened to you.

You were only doing
what you thought was right.

We had no idea that--

You should have no idea.
You've never done this before.

Me, it's what I do.

The one thing
I've always been good at.

Vetting, stalking, and killing people.

I can't even do that anymore.

What you're feeling now,
it's not because of the killer.

I've...

destroyed Deb.

She's gone.

You were wrong about me.

I'm a mistake.

You're exactly what you
need to be, Dexter.

You're perfect.