Previously on Dexter...
It's for sure. I'm pregnant.
What kind of father would I be? After all, I kill people.
Me?
Demented daddy Dexter.
This child is happening.
But your role in its life is entirely up to you.
Yesterday morning you said, "When the case ends, we end."
I thought you understood when we got involved.
I track killers, that's what I do.
A pattern of bodies was identified in Oregon.
- My flight leaves tonight. - We gotta work out logistics.
Do you honestly want to go down this path?
I don't know if I'm gonna be a father.
How could you even say you're not gonna be a father?
I mean, where would you be without Harry?
Harry knew my mother. Laura Moser was his informant.
Was he just using her?
Was he using me?
Dad wasn't perfect, Deb.
What did he do? Cheat on mom?
Bullshit! Who?
I need all the records you have on my dad's confidential informants.
- Attractive female CIs. - Why? You know something?
There's a good reason why Quinn's of interest to IA.
Internal Affairs is investigating you. There's something you're not telling us?
- Anton's not officially a CI. - What do you mean?
I never filed an arrest report on him.
You are the best thing that has happened to me.
Just sending out my positive intentions to our baby.
You know, we're connected. You're what makes me real.
Please, say yes.
Yes, we will marry you.
Syl has offered to list my house,
so we can buy something bigger.
Better hope she doesn't insist on a place with central air.
I was actually thinking I might keep my place.
"No" doesn't really work in a relationship, Dexter.
Every man needs his privacy. Some more than others.
Is it possible I had actually made a friend?
Someone I can trust with my dark secrets?
I didn't teach you the code to share with your buddies.
Miguel really did it. And I taught him how.
Harry was right. He used me.
You're all just unchecked versions of myself,
what I would have become without my father's code.
I could kill you now.
I've never felt this.
You've never had a son before. You want to see him come into the world.
I never wanted anything so much in my life.
I have moved on from my father.
But I still need his code.
But right now, life is good.
Dexter Morgan, family man.
Subtitles: La Fabrique (1.00) www.sous-titres.eu
Tonight's the night.
The night when a primal, sacred need calls to me.
I've waited
and waited,
but tonight,
this night,
it's time.
Tonight's the night I finally...
sleep.
Oh my God! No!
Okay, Harrison.
The driving thing didn't work. The singing thing didn't work.
You planning on both of us not sleeping for another three months?
Apparently so.
Okay, I want to take you inside, but I don't want you waking mommy.
If you could talk you'd tell me not to worry about you, right?
Please!
It's already over.
Marco?
Polo!
Marco?
Polo!
There's this cliché where serial killers are always described
as quiet, kept to themselves, kind of a loner.
And it's a cliché for a reason.
Has anybody seen my keys?
Astor, I asked you to keep it down.
Why do you hate my music so much?
I don't hate your music.
You don't?
Cody, get out of the Larsons' pool. It's time for school!
If I had an iPod, you wouldn't have to listen to my stuff.
You want an iPod, earn one.
- Do your chores. Unpack your room. - God, you're so unfair!
Did you get any sleep?
An hour and a half, maybe.
And you have court. Look, I appreciate you taking the night shift,
but when you have a big day like today, it's okay to wake me up.
Well, it's kinda on-the-job training, you know.
All that matters is his father's there for him.
- I cannot find keys. - Cody!
Astor, the music!
- You usually leave them by the phone. - I know.
- School. Clothes. Now. - Sorry.
You don't get some sleep, it won't be your keys that get lost.
It'll be your mind.
I lost that years ago.
Dexter Morgan,
good suburban husband
Happy father of three.
On paper, anyway.
Hey, Dex! What's the news?
Too soon to tell.
Dex, you forgot your cellphone.
Good morning, Elliot!
Another beautiful day. More pool time for the kids.
You already took the morning shift, so I'll watch them this afternoon.
Takes a village.
Carpools and swimming pools...
How much are we living the dream?
So much.
Living the dream...
Do you think you can TiVo Jon Stewart for me?
You're thinking about Jon Stewart?
Well, he is handsome
and funny.
I love you.
Oh, fuck me.
Well, that's kinda where this is heading.
No, I'm late for work.
It's a good thing you moved in, or I'd never see you.
One of us has to live here.
At least with the cruise ship I get to see you every few days.
- I went on tour. - I know.
It's okay, I kinda like it. Keeps you from getting sick of me.
- That's never gonna happen. - Yeah, because you're never here.
No, because you make me happy.
And what conclusions did you draw from the blood evidence, Mr. Morgan?
I was able to determine the victim's movement and direction...
after the initial blunt force trauma
to the head caused by the defendant's fist.
- How so? - I...
reconstructed...
timeline and sequence of events by examining...
It's here somewhere.
I noticed a passive flow pattern bloodstain,
approximately two meters in length, emanating from the head wound,
and the sample was consistent with the sample from the defendant's shirt.
You did say "passive flow pattern bloodstain"?
Quote, unquote.
What exactly do your notes say?
"The bloodstain described a passive pooling
"and flow configuration type 0-negative,
"matching the sample taken from...
"Leonetti's
"shirt."
But this is the Gomez hearing.
Yes, Mr. Morgan. The defendant's name is Benito Gomez.
I must have brought the wrong notes.
Do you frequently become confused and disoriented
when conducting your spatter analysis, Mr. Morgan?
No, I do not.
We just had a new baby. Things were a little hectic this morning.
So you're sleep-deprived and it's affecting your judgment?
No, it's just a momentary mix-up.
Wrong notes, wrong blood type,
wrong defendant, wrong case...
That's what you call a momentary mix-up in a murder trial?
I misspoke.
The witness has just demonstrated how unreliable he is in a courtroom.
I would have to ask how reliable his work is in the lab.
Or on a crime scene.
Moreover, how reliable is a police department,
that they would place so much trust in his expert opinion.
I'm halfway through the CI files you gave me.
If I were you,
I'd spend more time with that man of yours
and less time looking for some old confidential informant
your daddy might've diddled back in the day.
I meet another one tomorrow.
Maybe then I'll finally get some answers.
Say you do.
Then what?
Then...
I'll know.
That my perfect fucking father wasn't so fucking perfect.
So that's what, the meaning of life?
The meaning of my life.
Hey, buddy.
Guess where I was yesterday.
I'm not sure...
I was at a store. Wanna take guess what kind of store?
- I don't know. Grocery? - Clothing.
You know me, I'm pretty into that shit. Gotta come correct. But not yesterday.
- If this is about... - Come on, buddy. Let me finish.
I was at a store helping a lady to pick out a suit for her son.
Know why?
'Cause he had to be in court. See the guy who killed his old man.
Kid's first fucking suit. Something a father should be doing.
- Sorry. - Little late for sorry.
- That asshole you let walk? - Benito Gomez.
Now you get it right.
You actually see what that fuckhead did?
Gomez hit the kid's old man so hard, his cheekbone broke,
pushing his eyeball up and out of his face.
Then Gomez, sweetheart that he is, kills the guy in front of his own son.
- I know. - And this beauty?
Gomez did 5 years for beating his girlfriend so bad
even her dentist had a hard time with the ID.
So is your "Sorry" gonna keep Gomez from pounding somebody else
- into the next world? - Jesus, chill out, Quinn!
No, Deb, he's right.
I screwed up in court today. Gomez walked. This one's on me.
Thanks. That means so much to me. Why don't you hold onto those for me?
I'm sick of looking at them.
You screwed up?
Big time.
Should I be worried?
No, I'll be okay.
Maybe it's Benny Gomez who should be worried.
And good solve on the Reynolds case, guys.
Next up,
chief's office wants...
Anything I can do to keep that Irish off your ass, let me know.
You're a real friend, Vince.
Quinn is a good cop.
I need a good kill.
And sometimes one just falls into your lap.
We've got a body in Kendall. Morgan, Quinn, you're up.
And Dexter. There's blood. Lots of blood.
Talk about your blood bath.
Tough room.
Femoral artery severed. She bled out in minutes.
- Suicide? - No weapon on the premises.
Exactly. The coroner can suck my uncircumcised dick
- if he doesn't rule this as a homicide. - That's way TMI, Masuka.
Employment records show she just got promoted to sous-chef.
A total babe, and she could cook. Had it all going on.
Then this.
It's a very well-organized crime scene. The assailant took his time,
cleaned up after himself.
Obviously doesn't have kids.
Keep an eye on our expert witness.
In case our girl's parents want to see someone go to jail for doing this.
Harsh.
Christine Hill, Broward Journal Dispatch.
And?
And was Miss Bell the only victim?
Who gave you her name?
I searched the address on this thing called the Internet.
What can you tell me about the murder? Suspects?
Murder? Suspects?
We still haven't officially ruled out suicide.
So it was pills?
Then she bled out.
Women pretty much only do one or the other.
You break this case before we do, give me a call.
It's Detective Joseph Quinn.
Miami-Metro, extension 3734.
Cell number?
Nice touch, Joseph.
Damn it!
Can't anyone fill up the...
fucking water thing?
- Tough crime scene? - No.
Kind of.
When things are going good,
that's God's way of saying to cover your ass,
because something's gonna jump up and bite it, hard.
Well put.
- You and Anton are doing okay? - Knock on wood.
Any sign your ass is gonna get bit?
None.
- So this is you making yourself crazy? - That's kind of what I do.
What?
It's just I've taken that trip a thousand times before.
- And? - And knock it off.
Is that an order, boss?
Just some free advice from someone who's been there before.
Did you ever go out with that guy that Anton wanted you to meet?
Musicians aren't really my thing.
He owns a restaurant.
Three of them. Cuban restaurants.
What the fuck is wrong with musicians?
That came out wrong.
What makes you think a Cuban restaurant matters?
That came out wrong too.
I'm not looking for anyone new anyway. But when and if,
I'll let you know.
Thanks.
Finally, peace and quiet.
No crying baby.
No Marco, no Polo.
Just me...
and blood.
And Mr. Benito Gomez.
Where to find a washed-up boxer like you?
Trailer Park. Great.
Kids, neighbours.
More kids.
Sounds like my world.
But this...
the only still open for business establishment in a lonely strip mall.
That's kind of calling to me.
This feels good.
Hey, you.
Hey, Dex. You're alone?
Yeah, why?
Harrison won't go down for his nap.
Surprise, surprise.
Maybe you could sing to him?
You bet.
I will gonna put you on speaker.
Oh beautiful for spacious skies
For amber waves of grain
For purple mountain majesty
Above the fruited plain!
America! America! God...
He's finally calming.
Thank you, Dexter. We love you.
Me too.
First up today finish the Lisa Bell blood work.
Tonight, a little Benny Gomez recon.
Then go home and sing the last 95 verses of America, the Beautiful to my son.
Who knew life could get so...
unsimple?
I can deal. I can deal.
- Boobs plus drinks equals... - Titty bar. Can't. Got a date.
How about you, Morgan? Stud muffin still out of town?
It's tempting, Masuka. And elegant.
Fuck off and die. Then die again.
So that's a no.
- I'm feeling no love here, folks. - Then it's working.
Hey, slacker! Half day?
This is me leaving, Vince. I do it every day.
Every day wasn't like today. What you went through?
Drinks are on me. It'll cheer you up!
I'm not uncheered.
Tell that to your face!
- I'm going home to my family. - Vastly overrated.
Just got a call from robbery.
Some guy on his honeymoon took a shot in the head.
Grave condition. They're pulling the plug tomorrow.
Nice fucking wedding gift.
Yeah, the file is gonna land on my desk first thing in the morning.
And robbery's got squat.
It's gonna be a total goatfuck.
It sounds like you need a drink, papi.
You know what, Vince? I can use a Cuervo. Or ten.
My dark passenger is like a trapped coal miner, always tapping,
always letting me know it's still in there, still alive.
Quinn's legwork may have shown me where to find our friend,
but this, Benny...
My bloodwork is the stuff that seals your fate.
No security cameras. Parks away from the lights.
You just come and go as you please.
But as of tomorrow night,
those days are over.
I wasn't sure you'd actually come by.
Put in my face time with Masuka.
And then I came to where I really wanted to be.
Tell me again this isn't crazy.
Yeah, it's crazy.
Crazy good.
Keep shooting.
He's so sweet, when he's sleeping.
We were all like that, once.
Pure and innocent.
But then we grow up,
things happen.
Nothing's gonna happen.
Not when he has a great dad watching over him.
Yeah, he's a lucky guy.
- Mom! - Turn that down!
We wouldn't have this problem, if you...
This is not how you go about getting an iPod.
Since you woke your brother up, you can walk him around until he falls asleep.
- But he never sleeps! - Think about that next time.
There we go.
You'd like an iPod, wouldn't you, little Harrison?
Why not just end the terror and give her an iPod?
No, it's a power play.
She's trying to manipulate us to get what she wants.
Not in this family.
Oh, right.
Of course.
Cody? No more Marco Polo in the mornings.
- But it's important! - So is being ready for school.
When I grow up I wanna be just like you.
Do what I want, when I want.
You and me both.
I wanna be just like you.
Great time last night, Angel?
What? You could've totally fucked that stripper.
Get to work, gentlemen.
What got into her?
What is this? Extreme Home Makeover: Forensics Edition?
The first pass through, I found blood that didn't belong to the victim.
Possible DNA from the Killer?
Don't think so. The sample was pretty degraded.
- Then what's the source? - Not sure... yet.
Coming from you, why does that not surprise me?
You know he's my brother?
Found something. Mr. Morgan.
It's blood.
Pool pattern, not incidental spatter from the recent murder.
- This is something else entirely. - Where is it from?
Bathtub.
So, you're taking an already extremely difficult case
and polluting it with your, what, theories?
- I didn't put the blood there. - Neither did our killer.
Joey, why don't we step outside, let the geeks get their geek on?
I gotta be somewhere, so see if you can hold things down
without going all asshole on my brother, okay?
Blood tells. Blood always tells.
How is my favorite blood spatter analyst?
Great.
How is my favorite serial killer hunter?
- You just missed Deb. - Actually, I'm here to see you.
Database has a girl killed here recently.
Severed femoral artery?
Pretty brutal.
Crime scene telling you anything?
Not much.
Killer was careful, right? Immaculate.
Very.
You're in the middle of something here. I don't want to interrupt.
Mind if I drop by the station later?
Sure, not a problem.
Good seeing you again, Dexter.
Shit!
Hello, detective.
Won't you come in?
I'm here to talk about Harry Morgan.
I'm his daughter, Debra.
Debra Morgan.
Handsome Harry Morgan. How is he?
He died a while back.
Life does tend to suck.
Did you and my father have...
a good relationship?
No.
Your father was a driven man.
He saw something he wanted, nothing got in his way.
You're talking about women?
Women. Bad guys. Anything.
Anyone.
Harry always said, the only word that wasn't in his vocabulary was "No".
Did you say no to him?
I said yes.
All the time.
Shit.
Hundreds of times.
Only problem was...
Only problem was what?
I was saying yes to a question he never asked.
So you didn't have an affair with my father?
I don't know who you're looking for, honey, but it ain't me.
Shut down for decades. Way out of town.
I'm liking this.
Broken-down boxer. Broken-down arena.
A fitting place for a punk like Benny Gomez to go down for the count.
Where you been?
- Looking for misery. - No upside to that.
So I'm fucking learning.
That's all we got on the groom. Plug was pulled 4:45 this morning.
It's all yours.
A man's life and death, reduced to a few...
- What do you call them? - Bytes.
A few bytes. Just like that.
This economy. Last thing our city needs is dead tourists.
"Welcome to Miami.
"Have a nice day."
Is that our tourist?
It is.
The mayor's already given me an aneurysm over this one,
so make it a quick solve.
So, whatever happened between you and that Barbara Gianna from vice?
We broke up.
Wanted different things.
Office romances. Doom before they fucking start.
Do you mind if I ask her out?
Knock yourself out.
The perfect husband would've gotten rid of his old apartment.
But I kill people. Not exactly the perfect husband.
Someone new is moving in.
Be nice.
The land that time
and Florida Electric forgot.
Look at this place!
All the cheering, all the triumph, all the blood.
All for sport.
Until tonight.
Keep at it, Benny, and you'll be feeling no pain.
Better that way.
Tell me you got a reason for sleeping alone in your car
outside a bar other than you're drunk.
I'm tired.
License and registration, please.
Sorry about this, officer. This is not what it looks like.
- You're with homicide? - Yes, sir.
Then you ought to know better. Get out of the car, please.
You know your ABC?
- Of course I do. - Give me 'em backwards.
Shut up already. You're not drunk...
yet.
Damn it, Benny.
I can't go chasing after you with a cop up my ass.
You got more important places to be, Mr. Morgan.
Tell me about it.
I thought you were working late.
So did I.
Baby's down.
You know what that means?
- Sleep. - Sex!
And I'm not talking the rushed, frantic, the-kids-are-asleep sex.
But slow, hot,
steamy, naughty sex.
Look, if you're too tired...
Ever since the move and the baby,
we've had, like, zero time together.
I mean, aren't you as horny as I am?
'Course I am.
All right. Well, just...
close your eyes.
Maybe I can squeeze in a power nap.
Okay, open.
Or not.
I was saving these for when we finally got some real time alone.
And...
And tonight's the night.
It's alright. I'll go.
You've already done so much.
Look at that.
Yeah, who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?
Wanna know a secret?
Daddy kills people.
Well, bad people.
Not really anybody else I can tell about that, you know?
Daddy's not going anywhere, buddy.
I've already lost my innocence. I'm not going to sacrifice yours too.
Triple Red-Eye, please.
That's your third one today, bro. You don't cut back,
and you're tempting the heart gods.
Least of my worries.
Bro.
Brought you a copy of my article.
Figured you're a dumb cop and don't read the paper.
I never miss the obituaries.
- Front page. Nice. - Yeah, I do what I can.
My editor okayed a follow-up. You got anything for me?
I would if I could, but I got nothing.
Besides, off the record, we got bigger fish to fry.
What kind of fish?
Off the record.
You know those pricks who've been shaking down tourists?
- The vacation robbers? - No, the vacation murderers.
They shot some poor newly wed. Didn't make it, so
we're more than a little distracted.
You want another distraction? I'd love to take you out for a drink.
You know, to thank you
for your help with the bathtub story.
- I'm so not hitting on you. - Yeah, me neither.
Let's make it dinner.
I've got the blood work back from our bathroom do-over.
- You ran it through the database? - No point.
The blood you swabbed showed shit-all on the DNA front.
Our chances of finding out who it belongs to are about
one in six fucking billion?
What was Lisa Bell's address?
1578 Glencoe, why?
If the DNA won't tell us who it belonged to,
maybe the address will.
1578 Glencoe.
April 11, 1979. Homicide.
1979?
Vicky Noonan, 22. Found in the bath tub.
Bled out. Incision to her thigh.
What are the chances of that?
What are the chances of what?
Special agent Lundy.
Vincent Masuka, if memory serves.
That's right.
LFI on the PHB.
You're working a case, right? Feds need us to...
Mind if I speak with Dexter?
Well, I go to records and get the write-up on Noonan.
Just doing my job.
He's right.
About?
Why I'm in Miami.
It is a case.
Yeah, I figured.
But why do you need me? You have the full resources of the FBI.
Not anymore.
I'm retired.
Their loss.
Yeah, well...
I fish, travel,
and...
now I have the time to track down the twisted son of a bitch who got away.
So, who is the twisted son of a bitch?
I call him the trinity killer.
Kills in threes.
Been doing it all over the country for years.
Problem is, I can't prove he exists.
Law enforcement doesn't talk to each other.
So no one at the FBI is even on board.
Just me.
I've been looking for a break. Then this happens.
Lisa Bell.
Her murder profile fits the previous victims.
Trinity is in Miami, Dexter,
starting his cycle all over again.
How far back do your cases go?
About fifteen years.
The house and room, where Lisa Bell was murdered,
was the site of a very similar homicide thirty years ago.
Take a look.
Always come full circle. He's back where his killing began.
Thirty years.
You know what this means?
Trinity's the most successful serial killer to ever...
get away with it.
What? I'm fine.
I can't wait to see you.
Anton, I have to go. I have a meeting.
Hello, Debra.
Motherfucking fuck.
Nice to see you too.
Fuck.
What are you doing here?
Are you here on a case?
Actually, I'm retired now.
Yet you're here.
Life has a natural forward momentum.
Certain things are inevitable.
Like you.
Making detective.
- Congratulations. - Thanks.
I never had any doubt.
How long will your forward momentum keep you in Miami?
Not sure exactly.
Be seeing you.
I guess. Maybe. I mean, I don't know.
Big plans this evening, sergeant?
The usual, lieutenant.
Hey, guys.
Drinks?
I had Benny Gomez on the ropes and let him slip away.
No way I can go to that bar again. Officer Alphabet made sure of that.
Which means I grab Benny where he lives.
A higher degree of difficulty, but I don't have a choice.
If I want to be around for my son, I have to do this right.
I'm killing for two now.
The fuck you want?
You.
Look at him.
Fast asleep.
Lucky guy.
I know you.
I'm the blood guy.
You've made a lot of people very miserable.
Me included.
Till now.
Because now I get to answer life's big question.
My life, anyway.
Can I do it? Can I have it all?
Shit!
Dexter, I need you to go to an all-night pharmacy right away.
- I'm kinda in the middle of something. - Harrison has an ear infection.
He's in a lot of pain, Dexter. Whatever you're doing can wait.
Right, my mistake. I wasn't thinking.
I'm on my way.
Kids...
Gotta go.
The clock's ticking.
But it's all about sacrifice.
The good of the family.
Maybe tonight wasn't perfect.
Maybe I need to reboot the way I do things.
But at least I'm on the right road.
I'm on my way to taking care of my family,
raising my son.
And all the while doing what I have to do
to satisfy a calling that I can't ignore
or deny.
I can do this.
You don't need to sleep!
You need to wake up!