All language subtitles for 7x11 - Confession

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Read the next line
for me, please.

Okay. I see "M", "D", "C"...

Okay, that's enough.

I think I see what the problem is.

Your eyes are in terrible shape.

Probably from watching too much
Tales from the Crypt.

To fix it we will require cohacktive lenses

maybe even radio scare-totomy.

Although, there is another test
I could perform.

We'll start by turning out the lights
and making you look at this.

It's a nasty nugget about a writer
who's pretty fear-sighted himself.

I call this one "Confession. "

- Will you cordon off the whole building?
- Yeah.

Will do, sir.

Sir...

Oh, yes. A nice place.

Where's the Inspector?

- Inspector Herbert.
- Hello, Minty.

- Where is she?
- In there.

Same as before?

MINTY: Same as before.

- Find the head?
- No.

Third one, Minty.

Tell me something I don't know.

I wish I could.

Three women. Three missing heads.

And no leads.

MINTY: What's so funny?

I can see the tabloids now,

- "Headless Girl in Topless Club. "
- That's rich.

Ever think about a career in journalism?

No, too cutthroat for me.

- Sir, they've caught him.
- MINTY: Where?

- Windmill Street.
- How do they know it's him?

Billings found him.
He was washing his hands in the alley.

- The boys think it's blood.
- Caught red-handed.

Terry, get your boys
over to that alley now.

- Who do you want for the interrogation?
- I want our man Jack.

- I want a conviction.
- MINTY: Scrimpy, get me Jack Lynch.

SCRIMP: But sir, but Jack doesn't like
to be bothered on his bowling night.

Bowling?
I don't care if it's his wedding night,

you find me Jack Lynch
and you find him now!

Yes, sir.

Whose bright idea was this?

No, let me guess, Minty.

Herbert and Minty both.

I'm sorry, Jack. It's the missing head case.

"Big case on the line, call in Jack.
Jack's our man.

"Jack will make us look good. " Wankers.

Tell them to go fuck themselves.

Yes, sir.

Since when is it a crime
to wash your hands in this town?

Answer me!

I know you're in there.

Do you have any idea who I am?

Do you?

- He's the one.
- He's our psycho.

Most serial killers have
a truncated sense of identity.

Their frustration stems from
the feeling that

no matter how fierce their ambitions,
they can never attain the place

in society they desire.

Subconsciously, they long for
the international celebrity

that comes with their capture.

- Where'd you hear that?
- Jack told me.

He's good.

Tell me something I don't know.

I wish I could.

Jack's arrived, sir. I gave him the file.

- What did he say?
- He told you to go and...

He said that he'd be here in a minute, sir.

Always carrying that bowling ball
around like some kind of bloody trophy.

Serial killers collect trophies, you know.

Might take a bit of clothing, a necklace,
something to remind them of their victim.

Some of them have even have the nerve
to wear it in public.

To flaunt their crime in the face of justice.

More fun facts from the station's
foremost expert on serial killings.

And ten-pin champion.

Bowled another 600 series tonight,

-685 to be exact.
- So?

Do you think I have any idea
what you're talking about?

Just know it's good.

Very good.

Must be hard to live with perfection.

Somebody's got to do it.

According to my paperwork
you've waived your right to a lawyer.

Of course. This is a joke.
I didn't kill anyone.

Then, for the record,
you admit to signing these documents.

Yes. Can we get on with it?

Absolutely.

You're gonna be eating shit for this,
you do know that.

You're going to be sucking a shit shake
out of a crazy straw.

I look forward to it.

Sure, you do.

Great, being hauled in here
isn't bad enough,

I'm now face-to-face with
the Dirty Harry of bowling.

- Says in your statement you're a writer.
- Yeah, what of it?

- What kind of writing?
- Screenplays.

- For films?
- Correct! You won a cookie.

Can I go now?

We pulled your credits off
the Internet Movie Database.

Says here you wrote something
for a television program called

Tales From The Crypt. What's that?

Ancient history, years ago.

I was a kid. They rewrote everything I did.

It's been canceled now.
Serves them bloody right.

You've been pretty successful
since then though, haven't you?

The Devil's Banjo, The Incubus Club,

- Doctor Brimstone.
- All huge on video.

And you've even got a film
in the cinemas now.

Passover.

That's right, Passover.

It's been number one
for the past two weeks.

Four and a half weeks.
112 million gross in the U. S. alone.

112 million? Really? What's your secret?

Research.

No one does enough research anymore.

Research a film well,
anyone can write a good script.

- Even me?
- Even you, Inspector.

- So tell me about Passover.
- It's fucking great.

There's a serial killer. He has...

Wait a minute.
Why do you want to know...

About a serial killer who preys
on the first-born male infant

of each family he comes across.
Isn't that right?

You're not telling me that
someone's been killing

first-born kids or something?

You're trying to pin this on me?

Where do you get your ideas from,
Mr. Evans?

I write this stuff. I don't live it.

Have you blamed women
for your troubles?

I don't... What troubles?
I don't have troubles.

Do you have bondage fantasies?

- Do you like torturing animals?
- I wanna talk to my lawyer.

No, you've waived that right!

- Let's talk about your so-called research...
- I've changed my mind, you asshole!

Okay, good.

Good.

You call your lawyer.

Call a thousand lawyers.
Nobody's gonna help you.

You're one sad, twisted son of a bitch
and I'm going to prove it.

What are you trying to do to me?
I'm innocent, you bastards!

You can't fool Jack. He's never wrong.

He's a master at psychological profiling.

If it's in their head, he'll find it.

Tell me something I don't know.

I wish I could.

White woman. White killer.

Statistics show most mass murderers
kill within their own ethnic group.

- Jack tell you that?
- Yeah, he did.

What about Jeffrey Dahmer?

Jack said Dahmer was different.

He killed outside his ethnic group,
but he only ate the people he liked.

So, is he guilty, Jack?

Oh, he's guilty, all right.

I'm absolutely convinced about it.

But the bastard's good, Scrimp.

He's very good.
He's not giving anything away.

How can you be so sure that he's the one?

I don't know.

It's in his eyes,

in his gestures, the way he speaks.

Individually,

the signs may seem insignificant,

but put them all together

and you've got your man.

How come you didn't get promoted, Jack?

How come the other two got promoted
and you didn't?

You're so much smarter than those two.

Everybody knows that.

Somebody's gotta make them look good.

True.
They can't hold you down forever, though.

You're too good.

You're gonna get that promotion
next time.

Scrimp. Can I ask you something?

Sure, Jack.

Do you often handle other men's balls
without asking?

Sorry, Jack.

Here's a list I want you to check.

And I'm in a hurry, so be quick.

They're ready for you
in the interrogation room.

- Evans is asking for you.
- What about his lawyer?

Seems he's changed his mind again.

Why?

Because that's what you want me to do.

You took the line of questioning
down that route.

You wanted me to ask for a lawyer,
because that's what a guilty person does

and I am not guilty.
So I am not gonna ask for a lawyer.

Anyway I don't need some sharp kid
in an Armani suit telling me

where the line of questioning's gonna go.

I know where
the line of questioning's gonna go.

I've written scenes like this, remember?

I can help you catch the killer.

You are good. You're very good.

I know.

Did you have that same look on your face
when you murdered these women?

You know what, Inspector?

I've worked out
what I don't like about you.

You remind me of these no-talent,
film school brats,

born and raised with a silver spoon
up their arse.

Later on, some of them become
big, bad Hollywood studio executives

and act like arrogant little pricks.

But that's just to cover up the fact
that they haven't got a clue.

They're scared shitless. Just like you.

You seem to be struggling
with some class issues.

Do you want to talk about it?

I don't know. Does that fit in with
your psychological profile of a serial killer?

- Maybe.
- Well then, you are gonna be talking to

about a couple of million other people
today as well.

No, I think I've narrowed it down a
little bit more than that.

Go on then, take your best shot.

What were you doing in the alley?

I was washing my hands.

I had been to an occultist shop.

Mr. Finger's something-or-other.
I don't remember the name.

I don't have to remember the name.

Do you always wash your hands
immediately after browsing in a shop?

Yes, when someone has spilt

virgin sheep's blood all over my hands.

Of course, it may have just been red dye.
I don't know about that.

Did you also purchase

this in the occult shop?

Sure. Research, remember?

Don't tell me.
The serial killer's a Satanist as well?

You tell me.

Look, I bought this book because
I'm working on a film about a Satanist

who's reincarnated as a serial killer
who only kills other serial killers.

- Clever.
- Warner's thought so.

Paid me six figures for a two-page outline.

I found this in your pocket.
You wanna tell me about it?

They hand them out on the streets.
I thought I might pop by sometime.

Did you "pop by" tonight?

Only to hide a corpse.

I'm sorry, it's a joke, it's a joke.

Look, obviously from the way
you asked the question,

the murder's happened in this club, right?

Are you impotent?

Very clever, Inspector.
Throw me a curve, see how I react.

Truth is in the eyes, right?

Individually, the facts
may not add up to much,

but put them all together
and you've got your man.

I've also read Warden's paper
on genetic markers

and the psychology
of the sociopathic mind.

Research, remember?

Were you ever sexually abused?

Give me a break.

Why don't you just ask me about
my murder kit while you're at it?

- Your what?
- Knives, bandages, rope, condoms.

Like a tool kit for murderers.

Bianchi had one. Harvey Glatman.

Have you read your
Encyclopedia of Serial Killers?

Yes, I have.
Have you ever been in therapy?

- Murder is faster than therapy.
- Why do you say that?

Paraphrasing Edmund Kemper.

Come on, Inspector, you're supposed
to be an expert on serial killers.

You should have known that one.

Look...

Let's have a look at the evidence.

Now,

this is murder by numbers.

No sign of a break-in here.
Locks still bolted here.

Dinner on the table.

This woman was killed
by someone she knew.

These women were...
They knew their assailant.

You're looking for someone,
someone they trust. A friend.

A priest. A policeman, maybe?

And this. Could it be any more plain?

The killer is obviously somebody
with a hard-on for authority figures.

He's tormenting his pursuers.
Defying them to work out who he is.

Check your records.

Look for someone
who's been sacked recently.

Passed over for promotion?

Ring any bells?

And this.

Obviously, the killer is
physically very strong.

The right arm particularly.

Look at the bruising here,
on the right shoulder.

A sportsman, perhaps, someone...

Inspector, someone who likes to, perhaps,
roll large round balls

down a wooden pathway
towards ten oddly-shaped pins.

See, anybody can do this, this is fun.

Look, I know the law.

You can only hold me for 24 hours.
You're gonna charge me or release me.

I've shown you what I know.
I seem to know just about as much as you.

That's not saying much.

And what if I told you that

the woman we found murdered tonight
was a soldier's wife.

- Do you know what that would mean?
- I have absolutely no idea.

But I'm damn sure
you're gonna tell me.

It would mean that according to
the Professional Terrorists Act,

I could hold you for a lot longer
than 24 hours.

What the fuck are you talking about?

I could hold you indefinitely.
Certainly long enough to search your flat.

This soldier's wife stuff
is a load of bullshit.

- You have no right...
- As a suspected terrorist,

Mr. Evans, you have no rights.

This is like a scene out of some bad film!

He's the fucking psycho! Not me!

You're right, this is fun.

I wanna make a phone call.

Keep it short.

You're too kind.

Hello?

Hi, baby? Hi, it's me.

Listen to me. I've been arrested, right?

No, no, it's okay. It's all bullshit.

I've been arrested.
I want you to phone Stuart.

Tell him to get some people on this, right,

'cause I may want to sue these bastards.

Okay? Now, I want you to pack a bag.
No, just listen to me.

Pack a bag
and I want you to get out of town.

Go see your mum, okay?

And you know in the back of the cupboard,
you know my black bag.

You know that square one?
Take that with you, right?

Dump it.

Yeah, just... Just dump it.

I don't think that's such a good idea.

Let's begin again, shall we?

These are your video rental records
for the past five years.

Of 2,403 tapes rented, 2,012 of them
are pornographic.

811 of those involving bondage,
human sacrifice and necrophilia.

Your online computer accounts,

204 of which have material deemed
as obscene or of an adult nature,

403 involving scenes of bestiality
in some shape or form.

Research!

How to Make a Pipe Bomb,

How to Make a Silencer,
How to Make a Landmine.

- All of it research.
- Warhol Evans.

Formerly known as Kenneth Keith Landau.

Arrested by the authorities
for molestation of a minor.

Insufficient evidence.

Long time ago. I've worked hard.
I've paid my debt to society.

Well, tell that to the children you abused.

- I was acquitted.
- And the women you murdered.

- I'm innocent.
- Nobody's innocent.

Minty, get me the tabloids.

I've got a story they're gonna love.

"Innocent Hollywood writer decapitates
three women to get ahead!"

No, I'll kill you!

Like you killed those women?

Those women who wouldn't accept you
as an equal.

But the dead are all equal, aren't they?

The dead have no class.
Isn't that right, Mr. Evans?

Isn't that what you believe?

Fuck you.

That's why I told her to lose the bag.

I knew you'd never understand.

I bought it at a fairground.

Some sort of freak show.

I thought he looked funny.

Where did you hide the other heads?

Without the kid's confession,
we had nothing.

No blood. No weapon. Nothing.

- Just red dye.
- But Jack knew better.

Sure he did. He's the real deal. A pro.

Damn right. He got inside Evan's head.

Read him like a bad script.

Jack gets what Jack wants.

He's a natural.

- A policeman's policeman.
- He's the best.

Tell me something I don't know.

Too bad about Warhol.

If he had kept his mouth shut,

he wouldn't have gotten ahead of himself.

Still, I think prison might work
as a career move.

I hear great things about
their chop placement.

Well, kiddies,
your condition isn't as bad as I thought.

A prescription for die-focals
should do the trick.

Otherwise, your eyes are perfectly fine.

Want me to put them back in your head
for you?

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