All language subtitles for Profiler s01e20 into the abyss.eng

PROFILER
1X20: INTO THE ABYSS

ORIGINAL AIR DATE ON NBC: 04/26/1997
TRANSCRIBED FROM DVD

I heard a noise.
Is something wrong?

Lou Handleman... he around here?

Looking good, Lou.

- Johnny.
- I'll be damned.

How are you? I missed you.
How's it going with the Fibs?

You know, no complaints. I heard you
got a new rank. Congratulations.

Captain. How about that?

Why are you here in the mud and the blood?

We're stretched tight since
you left the shop. And you?

Sounds like we may have a pattern linking
this case to one in Ohio two weeks ago.

My boss thought we should check it out.
Come on. I'll introduce you.

Hell, I know Malone from
way back when he was a

greenstick fresh out of Quantico.
He likes the book?

He's not so bad.

Must not be. He snagged you away from me.

Good to see you again, Malone.

Lou Handleman. How've you been?

All right.

This is Sam Waters, our profiler.
Sam, Lou Handleman.

Nice to meet you.

- Let's have a look-see, huh?
- Sure.

After you.

This is Tina Holtz. Was
bedridden with muscular

dystrophy for, uh,
about fifteen years.

Her whole life was out that window.

- Incense.
- That's right.

I think it's the killer's because
it's burned right into the wood.

Same lace, incense classic
repose in death, her

hands over her heart.
Just like Dayton, Bailey.

And the mouth... *** la morte
- the grinning of death.

*** has lost her touch - except
they don't use the lace.

Grant told me about the other one.
Looks like a single shot to sever the

spinal cord at the base of the neck,
head repositioned on the pillow.

Her nurse heard the shot about, uh, 3:15.

She's not wearing her breather,
or did you take it off?

Not us. She would've asphyxiated
slowly, but someone took her

out quickly with the gun. I figure
some kind of Kevorkian deal.

A mercy killing?

No. Why the mutilation, the lace?
No. Doesn't make sense.

So, with at least two
of these in two states,

you probably think
this is your case.

It's not just because it
crosses state lines. This

is exactly the kind of case
we're set up to handle.

If I told you to go pound sand, there'd
be a federal warrant inside of an hour.

Come on, don't put us through that.

Keep me in the loop, Bailey.
Maybe I can help.

By the way, the patrol guys tell me they
rousted your daughter once or twice.

Frances? She just got to
Atlanta last month. You sure?

Afraid so. Kid of an FBI SAC gets
picked up, I always want to know about

it. Same with the city council. Same
with the mayor. You know how it goes.

Can't be owed too many favors. But
don't you worry about it. It's nothing

heavy, loitering, a little el supremo
on the air. We'll take care of it.

Ok. Both Tina Holtz in Atlanta and
Barry Langtry in Dayton were killed

with the same-caliber gun. It's an
Austrian-designed 9-millimeter glock.

Registrations?

About 1,000 between Georgia and Ohio.
We're still checking.

- All right. What else?
- Same lace.

Handmade, very expensive
classic irish design. We're

checking fabric stores. Oh,
and the incense is myrrh.

- As in "frankincense and"?
- Exactly.

Maybe some kind of, uh, religious
connection? What do you think, Sam?

- Mmm.
- You ok?

Mm-hmm. Mmm.

Nothing a couple of weeks in
Fiji wouldn't cure. Sorry.

Ahem. I don't think that the
myrrh necessarily means

that it's religious. I've
been studying death cults and

religious customs, and incense
is pretty common. It's

the lace and the bloody
smile are more intriguing.

Smile in death. Final release from pain?

Well, yeah, but Langtry
wasn't sick, so it's not a

mercy killing, I mean, not
in the usual sense, anyway.

- You think he'll hit again?
- I don't know.

We need something aside from M.O.
to connect the victims.

How about a guess.

I really need more to go on.

Would you at least agree that the
mouth-cutting isn't for thrills?

Some kind of message?

It could be. I just don't know what
he's saying. Look, without a crystal

ball, there's not much more I can
tell you, all right? Good night.

I'd say she's burnt.

She needs some time off.

Well, you're gonna have to twist her arm.
She's not gonna ask for it.

Chloe!

Chloe, sweetie, have you
seen my other brown shoe?

Chlo?

Chloe, sweetie, what are you doing, huh?
You have to go to school.

No, I don't. It's Saturday.

Yeah. You're right. It is Saturday.

Well... mama's lost her mind.
But you look very pretty.

You think so?

Yeah. I do, but you're really not old
enough to be wearing this stuff yet.

I want to look like you.

Oh, Chloe.

You have a few years before
you want to look like me.

Hold that. I'll be right back.

Hello.

Morning, Sam.

Hey, Bailey.

Sorry it's the weekend,
but there's been another

hit with the death smile.
Taxi driver in Macon.

Are you sure it's the same?

It's the same. Well, John's
already there. I've got a

chopper on standby. How long
before you can get ready?

I'm ready.

I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes. Bye.

Morning, officer.

That's not funny. It's 7 A.M. I've
been out all night looking for you.

So that's where you were. I tried to call.
Look, can we,

um... talk about this later, please?
I'm gonna crash.

Where have you been?

What's the difference? Look,
instead of cooking, some of my

friends and I went to go get a
burger and then checked out...

We had a deal, remember? 11:00.

I got sick, daddy, food poisoning.
I was puking and

convulsing. I thought I was gonna
have to go to the hospital.

I don't buy it, Frances.

Fine. Suit yourself.

I'm starving. What do we
got to eat around here?

Frances, did it ever occur to you
to just play it straight with me?

Didn't think so.

Then we've got more to
talk about than I thought.

Gotta go to Macon on a
case, try to be home

early. Get some sleep.
Don't leave the house.

What? I'm grounded for eating a burger?

Give it a rest, Frances.
Stay here till I get home.

I found these in the cab.

Great.

Thank you.

What do you got for us, John?

We got Ben Hodge, all right? His dispatcher
lost him over the radio about 2:40.

The cops located the cab about dawn.

Locals say it's pretty
quiet around here at

nighttime. No residential.
Mostly warehouses.

It's peaceful, peaceful place to rest.

Here.

It's an antidepressant,
controls bipolar disorders.

Macon cops already called his doctor.
Up until 6 years ago,

this guy here, Ben Hodge, son at
Georgetown Law, the whole bit.

What made him lose it all?

His wife and son were murdered,
random mugging in D.C., never solved.

He was in emotional torment.
Maybe they are mercy killings.

What about the others?

I'm still getting full background
on Tina Holtz and Barry Langtry.

Stay with it. Something in their
past may help tie this all together.

I don't know. You know,
we could use more, Sam.

I don't have any more right now.
What do you guys think? Do you think

you just push a button, and all these
answers are gonna come out of me?

I'm sorry. Um, I don't know
any more right now. Ok.

Samantha.

My... Butter... cup...

Only your surrender will grant you peace.

Meeting was for 9:00.

I'm sorry, I overslept.

What's wrong?

Nothing, nothing... I
just need that week in

Fiji or... maybe a
lobotomy at this point.

Go with Fiji. Couldn't hurt to see
something beautiful for a change.

Yeah, well, I'll get a wall calendar.

Seriously, Sam, I've been there a few times
...Not Fiji... I mean the end of the rope.

Come on, Bailey, don't be melodramatic,
all right? I just... I overslept.

I forgot to set my alarm... I guess.

I traced the bloody smile from
Sicily to Medieval Europe

to the Romans and, ultimately,
to primitive Africa. Now,

some cultures buried their
dead with these types of masks

to send them on their way
in a happy frame of mind.

Call that happy?

The killer does. What's
happening with the Holtz case?

We found out Barry Langtry's wife was
killed five years ago. He was cleared. Case

was never solved. Same with Tina Holtz. Her
daughter was raped and murdered in '91.

So what's the link between 3
murders from 5, 6 years ago?

Look at this. They're related
to the current victims.

John checked with therapists,
doctors, victim support

groups, see if the current
victims knew each other.

No connection other than losing a
family member to violent crime.

What about the knife? Any
details on the knife?

Well, it was sharper than a
stick, not as sharp as a scalpel.

Well, whatever it is, he's very
good with it, very precise.

Ok, the lace on all three victims was
cotton, twenty-four inches wide, handmade

at a small mill in Ireland. There's only
one store in Atlanta that imports it.

Assuming it was bought here.

If so, Haywood textiles
imports five bolts in

'89, sold it to only
three customers, right?

A decorator bought 4 bolts
of it for a historic

renovation. He died last
year in a traffic accident.

Last bolt was split between a bridal
shop and another woman, Diane Wykoff.

She's got a Glock registered to her name.

Well, what are we doing here?
Good work, John.

Are you sure this address is current?

According to the assessor.
Weird thing is the phone

company disconnected
service four years ago.

Reminds me of this crazy old man who lived on the
street where I grew up. Junk house, we called

it. We used to throw rocks at it. He'd come out
shaking his fist. Then we'd run the hell away.

They must be allergic to light or
privacy freaks. The blinds are

closed on every window. We'll
have to come back with a warrant.

Unless you feel like
chucking a few rocks at it.

- Huh?
- Here, Johnny.

Cheers.

So where does the FBI
rank and file hang out?

They don't.

Whew. You happy over there?

It's pretty intense.

Well, look, if it gets too intense, uh, you
might consider coming on board... a new

unit that I'm forming. Only thing that's
missing is the, uh, the right guy to run it.

Me? You serious?

Yeah. Think about it.

I hear you got a suspect in the Holtz case.

How'd you hear?

Come on, John. How long have I been
on the force? People talk to me.

You got something for us?

I know the Wykoffs. He used to
volunteer for us. He's a... a psychic.

You take that stuff seriously?

He helped us solve about a half-dozen cases
that were totally dead-end, and when he

led us to the Benton Park killer, whew, that
sure as hell made a believer out of me.

His wife's got a gun, same
as used in the killing.

Thanks for the tip, but I know that
already. She told me when she got

it. Thought it'd make him feel safer.
Have you talked to him yet?

No, not yet.

I gotta run.

Johnny. I meant what I said.
You think about it.

Who found the body?

Bunch of dogs. They kept
sniffing around so one of the

neighbors came over last night.
Almost had a heart attack.

Who is she?

We don't know yet. One shot to the spine.

Expect a slug from a 9-millimeter glock.

It's Diane Wykoff. I recognize
her from her photograph.

Well, so much for our prime suspect.

She's been dead, uh, couple of weeks.
Coroner'll have to pin it down.

Well, there's not much
blood here, except on the

lace. He probably killed
her somewhere else.

Why kill her someplace else
and bring her to Alabama?

Because this place meant something to her.
He wanted her to be at rest.

How do you figure that?

Well, he's taken more care with her than
with the others, pine boughs, the flowers.

It's as if he's trying to be kind to her,
trying to do something good for her.

It's got to be someone she knows. They
took the lace, her gun, someone close.

- She married?
- Yeah. He's a psychic.

His name's Elliott Wykoff.

When'd you find that out?

Handleman told me last night. Wykoff
worked some cases until he dropped

out about five years ago. Handleman
asked if we'd talked to him.

What'd you tell him?

I said no, we were looking for his wife.

You mind excusing us for a minute?

No problem.

Why would you discuss anything
about our case with Handleman?

He had pertinent information.

Well, then, it should come to me, John. You
know procedure. What are you thinking?

I got a prior relationship
with Handleman. No

offense, but he's not gonna
give you jack squat.

Just make sure you don't
give jack squat to him.

Ok. Fine.

So, what happened to Wykoff?

Gave it up. Couldn't handle
all the pain he was seeing.

Became a recluse. Shut out the world
completely. Doesn't sound so bad.

We need to find him and tell him about his
wife. See if he's the one who killed her.

- You clear with that?
- I got it. Thanks.

Ok. Here's the link between
the victims-Wykoff

worked with all three of
them about five years ago.

They must have been his last cases.

They were. He tried to solve the murders
in their families, but he came up short.

You got this from Handleman?

No. Atlanta, Macon, Dayton D.A.s.
Cases still open.

He couldn't stand their pain back then.
Bothered him so much

he gave up his work, but the
families are still suffering.

So his solution is to kill them?

Wykoff! FBI! We've got a warrant!

Wykoff! FBI!

Search it.

This food can't be more
than a couple days old, but

Diane Wykoff's been dead for weeks.
He's still here.

All clear.

"The Devil's Own", "Into the
Abyss", "Impressions of Man". All

light reading by Elliott Wykoff,
psychic-slash-positive thinker.

This is the same figure that's in
one of the paintings downstairs.

This bookshelf was added later.

Diane? Uhh. Diane?

Diane! Diane! Diane!

Diane! Diane!

We just got back the title search
on the house in Birmingham.

Wykoff?

Belonged to the Wykoff's fifteen years ago.

Good place to rest.

Raises Elliott Wykoff's
odds as a suspect. Not many

people would know about
their Birmingham place.

As her husband, Wykoff had access to
the pistol and the lace she bought.

He doesn't read like our killer.
The person that we're

looking for is neat,
organized, clinically precise.

Could be an act, though, Sam.
Anyone who makes their living

as a psychic for twenty years
is a pretty good con artist.

Handleman swears he's real. He's the last
person I'd expect to go in for black magic.

I want to speak to Wykoff alone. That
time as a recluse, he may be agoraphobic.

They should be finished
processing him in half an hour.

I'll talk to him tomorrow. I want
to get through some of his work.

It's four o'clock, Sam. He wrote five
books. You can't get through them all.

Well, actually, he wrote six.
There's an unpublished

manuscript and I'll just get
through what I can get through.

Not and sleep.

No, I got it. You guys, I'm fine.

You can only do what you can do, Sam.

Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you.
See you tomorrow.

You want to stop by Tamara's for a drink?

No, thanks.

I know I haven't been much fun tonight,
but I've been kind of distracted.

You gonna make a big deal out of this?

I'm gonna go home.

Fine.

I don't need to be entertained, John,
but when you're with me, be with me.

I know. I'm sorry. Actually, I do want
to talk to you about something, but-

- Ticket, sir?
- Thanks.

I've been offered my own unit
if I go back to Atlanta P.D.

Does it sound good?

It sounds great. I'd be
reporting to an old buddy,

Lou Handleman, and get
to call my own shots.

But how do I leave?

I've never told anybody this before, but...
I've always wanted the... respect

and admiration of my peers, kind of
like Eliot Ness in the old days.

Everybody's got dreams, John.
It's not wrong

to follow them. It's
wrong to deny them.

Beauty and wisdom.

Big guy was using the good stuff when
he made you. Still want to go home?

Eventually.

- Mr. Wykoff, please come in.
- Thanks.

Uh, excuse the mess. Um,
can I get you something?

- Evil.
- Excuse me?

That answers any question you
were going to ask me. Evil.

Whose evil?

The world's. It shines on
us like the sun, but we

don't get warmer, we grow
cold, and some of us...

"Some of us"?

Uh, Mr. Wykoff, in your books you
describe yourself as empathic.

We leave something of ourselves on everything that
we I can sense that. I have felt... the ugliest

of urges... the most unspeakable cruelty, the
deepest sorrow. I've died a hundred deaths.

You don't believe me.
You... you think I'm crazy.

No, no.

Are you saying that you can predict
who the next victim will be?

No. I can't predict the future. I can
only sense the feeling, past and present.

Give me your hand.

Sorry.
Please?

You idolized your mother.
She loved puzzles.

You used to sit up
together working them.

It made you feel so alive.
That's what hunting

these killers was at the
beginning, puzzles.

Ohh. Ohh.

Then you encountered
evil, evil in its purest

form. You looked into
the abyss, and...

he... he looked at you.
He smiled at you.

- It's close, but it's not him, is it?
- No.

Uh, Mr. Wykoff, uh-you... you talk
about the crimes that you couldn't

solve. All of these recent deaths are
related to those unsolved cases...

Miss Waters, you have a gift. It's...
it's like my empathy.

Please be careful. It
can destroy you and

everything you love...
just like it did my Diane.

Oh, oh, I know.

Bailey? Can I talk to you for a minute?

I gotta run.

Um, look, I don't think
that Wykoff is faking.

I really believe
that he is empathic.

Sounds like a candidate for
emotional mercy killing to me.

When he talks about his wife, he says that
she's his buffer. When he refers to her in

his books, he calls her his anchor and his
caretaker. Now, why's he going to kill her?

Maybe she threatened to leave him.

No. I don't buy that. I think the key
is in his unpublished manuscript.

It started off as writings about his unsolved
cases which involve the current victims and

devolved into these paintings and drawings, and
then, finally, he just stopped. Look at this on

the last page. He calls this "The Abyss
- The

repository of all human
evil." This is where

Wykoff thinks he's headed.
Now, what if the killer

is so close to him that
he believes it, too?

And the killer thinks he's saving people
by killing them before they fall into...

Exactly.

Wykoff's a recluse. Nobody knew him except
for his wife. No accountant, no lawyer. He

never went to the market. The mailman never
saw him. He was cut off from all humanity.

Well, not completely. In every one of his
books... even his unpublished manuscript..

.He thanks his editor, his secretary,
and his police advisor, Lou Handleman.

The editor moved to France three years ago.

They had a pretty close
working relationship.

He's now an editor with
Violet Blue Publishing.

Ok. Talk to him.

Thanks.

Mr. Hollister, were
you working for

Mr. Wykoff when he
withdrew from public life?

That's a nice way to put it. He
went bonkers. Couldn't leave

his house. But, yeah, I was working
for him. Please, sit down.

Did he have any friends, anyone
that he could confide in?

Just his wife, and she wasn't
all that stable either.

Have you seen him recently, or...

You mean since I stopped working for him?

Yes.

No, I haven't. At this point, I'm not
even sure he would know me if he saw me.

I see. Um, all right. Well,
thank you for your time.

Sure.

Out.

Get out.
Out. Out of the house.

Ok. Party's over. Pack up and get out.

Come on, out. Get out. Now.

Impromptu party? Where's
your head, Frannie?

Where's yours? You can't go
throwing my friends around

like that. You know, he
could sue or something.

I've got news for you.
You're seventeen years

old, and you're not
running the show; I am.

Oh, Really?!

I said, get out of the house!

Well, this is my life.

And you're screwing it up. That's it. Now
you are grounded. No calls, no visitors.

You go to and from school and you come
back to this room until I say different.

Fine.

Till I say different.

Agent Malone. Dick Solum, Federal Public Defender.
I'll cut right to it. You've got Elliott Wykoff

in your lockup. You've had him for 48 hours,
and you've filed diddly. Now file or kick him.

I'll take it under advisement.

You seem to have forgotten the
constitution. Now kick him and do it soon.

Walk away, Solum.

He's right, you know. I
don't think Wykoff did it.

I don't think he killed anybody, either,
Sam. But I'm sure he knows more.

Well, maybe not. Maybe he doesn't
want to know. Maybe that's why he's

locked himself away in his house for
the last five years. Look, let's just

assume for a minute that he is what
he says he is. Now, we get a constant

parade of the horribles on television,
on the radio, in the newspaper.

Everybody we meet bears their own cross.
Can you imagine

what it would be like carrying
the weight of all of that?

Could break him.

It did break him. And who's
more in need of emotional

mercy killing than Elliott Wykoff?
He could be next.

Washington.

- Sir?
- Set up on Wykoff's house.

- Twenty-four hour?
- Follow him remotely.

Yes, sir.

Bailey... I'm gonna head over with Wykoff.
I just want to make sure he's ok.

Mr. Wykoff?

That's as far as you go. Come on, Elliott.

Mr. Wykoff, I'd like to
see you in, if I may.

I'm all right. Please,
just let me go inside.

All right. Then I'll come by tomorrow and
check on you, if that's all right with you.

I'd like that. I would. And we can
talk more about, you know... him.

Well, I don't want to add to your burden.

I want to lighten yours. Might do us both
good. But right now, I really need...

a little solitude.

- Who called you?
- That's confidential.

Elliott Wykoff isn't socially functional.
He probably hasn't used

a phone in years. He would not
call a lawyer, so who called you?

If I didn't know any better,
I'd think I was a suspect.

The victims were all related
to cases you worked on.

Killer also uses a glock. So do you.

So do half the cops in this city.
What's this really about, Bailey?

You embarrass me like this, haul
me down to the federal building

as part of a murder investigation.
What's your beef? You pissed

'cause I mentioned that your
daughter's not red riding hood?

Personal motives have no
place in bureau procedure.

Oh. Duly noted.

You know, I thought about applying
to, uh... feeble, boring,

and incompetent about twenty
years ago but I'd have never

stuck it out with your rules,
and how Johnny Grant manages

is beyond me. He said you
slapped him with a gag order.

Don't give me that crap. If one of
your subordinates was horse trading

with my agents without your say-so,
you'd put a stop to it real quick.

Probably. On the other hand, if a little
back scratching helps put away the bad guys,

I'm all for it. You wouldn't scream if we
bagged the Jack of all Trades, would you?

What about Jack?

Oh. John was filling me in on the case.
Now that I know something about

it, if my department should come up
with this guy, everybody wins, right?

- John.
- Yeah.

- Excuse me.
- Yeah.

We had a drink. That's all.

What did you talk about?

Oh, come on, Bailey, you
run my life fourteen hours

a day. Now, you want to
dictate my personal time?

Handleman threw it in my
face you filled him in on

some of the details about
the Jack investigation.

Didn't happen. You reminded me of the
rules once. That's all it takes.

Ok. I believe you. Handleman's
pulling my chain.

What's your problem with Handleman?

I hardly know the man, John.
From what I've seen, he's like a

small-town politician who never
found a corner he couldn't cut.

That's bull. He's a damn fine cop.
He's not one of those

brown-shoe, walking cufflinks we
have too many of around here.

I didn't realize you resented working
here so much. You miss the Atlanta P.D.?

Yeah. Sometimes I do.

They have one form for every ten of ours.
When they give you responsibility,

they at least give you the room
to do your job your own way.

The bureau's a bit more rule-bound than
the local P.D. I'll give you that.

Maybe so, but working here is still
like having your head in a vice.

It's catching up on all of us. I mean, look at
Sam. She's edgier than I've ever seen her. And

you're here, what, fourteen, sixteen hours a day?
You got a teenager you barely have time for.

Yeah.

I'm still trying to figure out
how to be a father. I'm not

succeeding. She's pushing it
every way she knows how, John.

I'll say. She's already on a first-name
basis with half the cops in Atlanta.

Where'd you get that from?

Handleman mentioned it the other day.

You're talking with him about Frances?
That's totally unacceptable.

Business is one thing, John.
My personal life-Off-limits.

Listen, it just came up. What do
you expect me to be, Bailey, some

kind of robot who needs your
permission every time I want to think?

This is my daughter, John,
and you're talking about

her with some guy who's
trying to compromise me.

At least he trusts me to do my job.

Is that what you think?

You're way out of line, John.

Probably. Or I would be if
I still worked for you.

Uh-Can I get a martini,
straight-up, please. - Yes, ma'am.

- Hey. SAM: - What's the score?
- Somebody's winning, I think.

So, I heard you quit.

Have you decided what you're going to do?

What do you mean?

Come on. We've been through a lot together.

We know each other pretty well by now.

You're stressed to the max.
You should save

yourself. You've seen too much.
You're burning out.

That's funny, you know that?
That's what Wykoff told me.

So, why don't you listen to him?

Part of me likes the fact that I help get
these maniacs off the street, right? But...

there's another part of me,
you know, and I'm starting

to feel like I'm fading away.
I-I'm... scared.

But I'm not going to quit.

If that's what you're living with day to
day... you should get the hell out, too.

- Hi.
- How's Wykoff today?

Oh, quiet. No visitors except the mailman.

I'm going to go inside and say hello.

I thought you could use
some coffee and donuts.

- Thanks.
- Yeah. I've got a walkie if I need you.

Ok.

- Hi.
- Thank you.

Good morning.

Good morning. You're looking better today.

I'm glad to be back home.

Yeah, I can imagine.

- Please, have a seat.
- Thank you.

Um...

I brought some things. Um...

the man whose presence you sensed, he may
have handled these, and I thought that...

- What was his name?
- Uh, we call him Jack.

Jack.

He likes the name. His...
his identity is quite

fluid; but the core,
it's fixed, putrid.

Oh, god.

He hated someone you loved.
Killed him, didn't he?

Yes.

Ungh... goes back a long way.

His family, uh, sent him
away for doing unspeakable

things. Oh, god! I can't...
I can't do it.

Elliott, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Elliott, are you all right?

What are you doing here?
How did you get inside?

It's all right. He takes care of me.
He's a friend.

Why did you lie to me about not
having seen Wykoff in years?

It was none of your business.
You should leave him alone.

You can see how damaged he is.

You're the one who called the lawyer.

Who else was going to protect him?
You have no idea what

this man has been through, and
obviously you don't care.

He never stopped working
for you, did he, Elliott?

I stopped paying him years ago. How
could I? But his devotion never lagged.

Mr. Hollister, uh... I would
like you to come with me.

She's only here to use you, Elliott.

No, no, please, don't take William away.

It's ok, Elliott. It's ok.
All right.

Mr. Hollister, could you
please just step outside?

Washington, I need you to
give me a hand, please.

It's all... it's all going
to turn out for the best.

It's all really going to be fine.

Mr. Hollister, please put the gun down.

- What are you doing?
- Don't worry.

William!

It's going to be all right. He
thinks that he's helping you.

It's going to be all right.

Did you kill my Diane?

No.

You killed my Diane.

No, please. Elliott.

You killed my Diane.

Please, please. I am here to help you.
I'm here to

take away your pain. I'm
here to take away your pain.

Elliott, please. Please don't go
away from me. Please. Please come...

Let go of me!

- Get on the floor!
- Down! Get on the floor!

I got him.

Please... get up! Let's go!

Let's go!

Ok. Ok. Elliott. Elliott.

- Elliott?
- Oh... Oh, Elliott.

- Hey.
- Hey.

I found out why Hollister was
so obsessed with Wykoff. He was

kidnapped. Wykoff led the
police to him, saved his life.

Hmm. What a way to pay him back.

How's Wykoff doing?

Well, I called the hospital about
a half an hour ago, and...

there's no change. He has
non-pathological catatonia.

- Treatable?
- Maybe.

Well, good luck to him.

He predicted it. He knew he
would fall into the abyss.

It's an abstraction. It's not a
real place, Sam. It's in his mind.

Yeah. What's the difference?

Remember...

mommy always used to say
that improvement...

begins with "I."

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