Original subtitles

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.