May I help you?
Yes. Thank you.
I need some replacement electrical tape.
Okay. You bring me the empty and I'll get you a new roll.
Empty what?
The cardboard core that's left when you run out of tape.
What? Why?
That's the way we do it.
I can't give you a new one until we get the old.
Are you kidding me?
No.
Whatever, Dennis.
ReEncoded By Dr.XJ | PSA www.PSArips.com
This is your captain speaking. New York City to the Bay Area...
Just, hey, do me a favor. Don't mention this to me ever again.
-I'm going to. -It's the insanest idea I've ever heard.
-I'm going to, Bill. -We have a job to do.
-We are here to teach. -Chino, California Medical,
California Men's Colony, Norco, Soledad, San Quentin--
If you'd said to me, "I want to become a Beach Boy, take up surfing,
-sit around smoking the vibes." -Folsom.
Or, "I want to make it in the movies.
Gonna get me a walk-up in West Hollywood and a Pekingese."
Manson is 30 miles away in Vacaville.
A hop, skip, and a jump.
-You really wanna meet Charlie Manson? -Why not?
- Sir. -Swing by and say hi.
Yeah.
Thank you.
Nobody wants to hear about that crazy motherfucker.
You know this.
Welcome to San Francisco. Please remain seated...
Besides, when are you gonna find time for these fireside chats, Holden?
I'll figure it out.
Nobody can talk to Manson.
Tom Snyder's been trying to interview him for years.
We're the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
What if his civil rights are being violated?
Please just get in the car.
In California every year, 35 percent of murders go unsolved.
That's more unsolved murders than in any other state.
It's partly due to geography.
In the woods, in the mountains,
-ravines, hiking trails-- -You can't get to Manson,
-even if you're a fed. -
CMF treats him like a fucking unicorn.
No one needs to think about psychology more than the people in Santa Cruz.
-In a homicide situation... -If you go to Vacaville, meet Ed Kemper.
- What happened that triggered him? -Give me that name again.
Kemper. Ed Kemper. They call him the "Coed Killer."
What about when even the killer doesn't know why he behaved as he did?
You can't miss the guy. He's like six foot nine, 285 pounds.
-Whoa. King-size. -Super king.
- Violent murder used to be... -Killed a bunch of coeds in Santa Cruz.
Six teenage girls, chops their heads off, has sexual intercourse with the corpses.
-Oh... -Kills his mom with a claw hammer,
has sexual intercourse with her head.
-Bullshit. -In her mouth.
-No. -Yeah.
When strangers murder strangers for no apparent reason...
He was in a mental institution right up until then too.
He's a total whack job. He was murdering his grandparents at the age of 15,
but then he manages to convince everyone that he's completely rehabilitated.
Oh, my God.
In many of these crimes, the motives are not just obscure...
Jim Conor knew him real well. I'll introduce you.
-Really? -Yeah.
-...borderline unfathomable. -Thank you.
Used to call him Big Ed. Everybody here knew him.
-Was he an informant? -No, but he was smart. He was funny.
He used to watch all the cop shows on TV. Crazy about Wambaugh and Police Story.
He wanted to be CHP, but it didn't work out.
He would joke that they could conceal his psychiatric record
but not his fat ass.
Stupid shit like that.
Guys like him always want to be in uniform.
Losers. Losers are drawn to authority.
Nobody wants to admit it, but losers are useful.
-Why? - They're nosy.
They know what everybody else is up to. And they're resentful, a lot of 'em.
-They always got a raw deal. -Ed was a busybody.
And this was before you knew about the killings?
Oh, we knew about 'em, just hadn't connected them with him.
-He kept asking about them, though. -And you didn't suspect him?
What?
"What?" You liked the guy.
-Let's say he was a friendly nuisance. -Oh, come on.
-He was hard not to like. -So you were the arresting officer?
In the end, he lit out to Pueblo, Colorado,
expecting there to be some kind of manhunt.
When nobody came, he got sick of waiting and decided to turn himself in.
Called from a pay phone. Confessed!
We thought he was bullshitting. I drove him all the way back.
He wouldn't stop yakking. Going into forensic detail.
I thought I hit the jackpot.
After a few hours, I'm like, "Oh, God, please. Enough!"
You think Kemper would talk to us?
Try stopping him.
Who's "us," kemosabe?
David Berkowitz, 24.
Spent his days sorting letters at the post office so he could...
What?
Really, what are you expecting to learn?
A killer who can't stop talking? It's a gift.
A gift, huh?
He made a severed head perform fellatio on him.
His third victim was a 15-year-old child, Holden.
You don't want to talk?
So, basically, you just got me out here to carry your slide projector?
To help with the workload, yeah. The work we're sanctioned to do.
Kemper doesn't interest you or is beneath you somehow?
A little of both.
-This is the man... - Think the tie's too much?
What about the suit?
Anybody finds out you're a fed, there'll be a riot.
Shepard finds out you've been interviewing the Coed Killer
as a side project, he'll flip his shit.
It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission.
Okay.
If you're gonna go in, you need to go in stone goddamn cold,
take him by surprise, get the fuck out as quick as possible.
Good advice.
Straight in there, don't phone, don't give them a chance to ask around.
I'm a buddy of Jim Conor's.
"Jim Conor reached out," you bet. "He sends his regards."
"I stopped by the Jury Room for a drink."
"The guys all say..." Blah, blah, blah.
-"Can I call you Big Ed?" -I wouldn't mention the killings.
You're not there because he's a necrophile degenerate.
You're there because he's... fascinating.
How do I not mention the killings?
Just take it slow.
-What are you doing? -Just in case.
They're not gonna let you in with a sidearm.
The guy is six foot nine, weighs 300 pounds.
-That's right. -So what's he gonna do?
He's gonna take the fucking thing away, kill you with it,
and then have sex with your face.
Hold it, guys.
-You're clear. - I don't want to spoil your fun.
-I'm good. Nine is fine. -
You could come. Take notes.
You take notes, I'll help you write 'em up.
You're really gonna go golfing
while I glean profound insights from the Coed Killer?
-It's my day off. -You're gonna be sorry.
No. You're gonna be sorry, Holden,
when he decides you're using him and there's nothing in it for good old Ed.
-I think there is. -What?
He's going to be part of something instead of rotting inside a cell.
Part of what? We're not even here.
All right.
I must respectfully ask for your badge and firearm.
Yes, sir.
In addition, I have some paperwork for you to sign.
A disclaimer that states in the event of your death, or if you're taken hostage,
attacked, assaulted, or otherwise abused within the correctional facility,
the United States government forswears any and all liability.
Oh. Okay.
Kiss my ass!
Hey, boy, bring that shit over here!
Bitch!
Can we unlock the--
No, those stay on. They're regulation.
I think that's gonna be a little awkward.
You're FBI.
-Okay. You're all set. -Thanks, Jim.
- I'll see ya later. -Later.
Holden, right?
-Edward. -Edmund.
-Oh, I'm sorry. I assumed that it was-- -Are you tired?
How could you tell?
It's a beautiful drive, but it's long.
Edmund was my mom's idea, so you can call me Ed.
Sure thing.
So how can I help?
Okay. Um...
I'm an instructor working out of the Behavioral Science Unit at Quantico,
and I had this idea--
Have you had breakfast?
Can I get you something? You want a sandwich?
-No, I'm okay. -What kind of sandwich you like?
-Um... I'm good. -You want an egg salad sandwich?
-I'm fine. Really. -I'll get us an egg salad sandwich.
I can get almost anything you want from the canteen.
Okay.
-Do you have tuna? -Oh, the egg salad's better.
-Hey, Jim? - Yeah, Ed?
Have you seen Mitch this morning? You think you can find him for me?
-Good, huh? -Mmm!
These guys are great.
I've been here five years. We just clicked right off the bat.
You like the guards?
Well, they like me. I'm polite.
You know, I heard that you used to drink at the Jury Room.
You mean in Santa Cruz?
Yeah, those are good guys.
I applied to California Highway Patrol.
My mom spoke to the cops to get my psychiatric record expunged.
Turns out my record didn't bother them at all, I was just too tall.
Too tall? I've heard of being too short, but...
What?
Nothing. It just seems...
You think they lied to me?
No.
Well, cops like me because they can talk to me...
more than they can talk to their own wives, some of them.
Really? What do you talk about?
You know, books, movies.
I watch all the cop shows on TV.
Do you know, uh...
Joseph Wambaugh, Police Story? You ever watch that?
- Huge fan. -Oh.
I got a lot of my insights right there.
Really?
What kind of insights?
Well, so, for example, with cops,
I would not allow myself to walk into a trap
because I knew exactly how their minds worked from watching Wambaugh.
What kind of trap are you talking about?
The classic is talking too much about the crimes.
Over-interest.
You have to remain casual.
They tried everything to trick me. I'm too savvy.
I don't fucking talk, period.
Really? That's interesting.
So...
you had this idea?
Yes. Uh, yes.
It's kind of, uh...
Well, it's more of a research thing.
Research.
Just a series of interviews,
chatting with...
individuals not unlike yourself.
We're just talking?
I don't get to go someplace, do a bunch of tests?
No. Yeah, no tests. Just right here.
Why?
Well, because I believe it could be useful.
Talking about what?
Well, I don't know.
Your...
behavior, I guess.
If you want to, that is.
We don't have to talk about anything at all if you don't want to.
Why are you so tense?
Hm?
You're tense, right now.
No, I'm not tense.
Well, I'll be honest, I don't get many visitors.
When I do, you think they want to talk about this shit?
Fuck no. It's like if you worked at a slaughterhouse with livestock,
real conversation stopper.
Did you?
No, I'm just saying...
People who hunt other people for a vocation,
all we want to talk about is what it's like.
The shit that went down. The entire fucked-upness of it.
Right, sure.
It's not easy. Butchering people is hard work.
Physically and mentally. I don't think people realize.
You need to vent.
What are you writing down?
Oh, I just think it's an interesting choice of words, "vocation."
Well, what would you call it?
A hobby? I'd say it's more than that.
Look at the consequences. The stakes are very high.
Is this helping? Are you getting what you came for?
-I think. -Good.
Can I-- Could I just ask you something?
Do you believe that prison can help you?
Are you kidding?
You think you shouldn't be in prison?
I think it's shutting the barn door after the horse has bolted, somewhat.
What do you think the state should do with you instead?
Well, Holden, a lobotomy's not out of the question.
Lobotomy?
Like Frances Farmer.
-You remember Frances Farmer? -No.
I loved Frances Farmer. She was an actress.
They lobotomized her in the '50s.
She was very smart and intense... very misunderstood. She was a lot like me.
You don't think you could benefit from psychiatry?
I already did all that in the institution.
It didn't take.
For me, I think surgery might give me the best chance.
And if surgery doesn't... take,
in this modern society, what do we do with the Ed Kempers of the world?
Well, isn't that your department?
From your perspective.
Death by torture?
So what are you not telling me?
Why do you keep looking at me like that?
-Like what? -Funny.
You keep looking at me like I'm a specimen.
Well, to be honest...
It's just you seem like a nice, ordinary...
It's difficult for me to square you with what you're in prison for.
Oh.
Well, sure.
I was a regular guy most of my life,
with a nice home, nice suburb.
I had pets, I went to a good school.
I was a thoughtful, educated, well brought up young person.
There's no question about it.
But...
at the same time...
I was living a vile, depraved, entirely parallel other life
filled with debased violence and mayhem, and fear, and death.
Well...
it certainly seems to me like you had your own unusual...
An unusual MO. Oh, sure.
Well, I was gonna say...
signature.
An oeuvre , if you will.
You could study it.
You can spell oeuvre, can't you, Holden?
You know, there's a lot more like me.
Do you think so?
People that kill in sequence like you did?
-Sequence? -One right after another.
At regular intervals.
I've just been calling them...
"sequence killers"...
if you will.
-How many would you say? -Well...
it would be a guess,
but I'd say right now...
North America, more than 35.
Thirty-five?
But you're never gonna find them if they don't want you to. Not even close.
That can't be right.
Well, Holden, I'm not an expert. I'm not an authority.
I'm just an extremely accomplished murderer
who spent my adult life successfully evading capture...
until I gave myself up because I despaired of ever being caught.
So take it or leave it.
What do you want from me?
I have no idea.
His oeuvre? What the fuck? He's Stanley Kubrick?
He was extremely talkative.
He likes talking to cops. He's lonely. He could do it all day.
He's not some frenzied thrill killer, Bill.
I think we need to face that.
He chopped off women's heads and had sex with their corpses.
If that's not frenzied, I don't know what is.
He is so articulate.
He's meticulous and highly intelligent.
Yeah, he meticulously chose small, young, female prey who couldn't fight back.
Animal cunning.
He's self-aware and objective. Isn't that highly unusual?
He's saying everything you want to hear,
just like he did with the shrinks in the institution.
He knew just enough to talk his way out, then went hunting.
-Don't be stupid about this. -What makes you so sure I'm being stupid?
I know these fuckers.
It's only a matter of time before he hits you up for privileges.
-Next, he's complaining to the warden-- -Come with me next weekend.
-See for yourself. -No, I'm not gonna do that.
You're just going to play golf?
It helps me think clearly. You might want to try it.
- Oh, yeah. Up a little. - Uh-huh.
-Over a little. Left. -My left or your left?
My left.
This okay?
It's fine. What's wrong?
-You want a break? -Why would I want a break?
-That's not how it works. -All right.
You want me to throw in something? Play with your nipples?
-Why? -Move it along.
-You're doing great. Just stop stopping. -Okay.
He knows more about lust murder
than the whole FBI Behavioral Science Unit.
-We should put him on the payroll. -Would the FBI ever do that?
Doubtful.
Everyone's freaked out that Berkowitz might sell his life story.
New York State is moving to make that sort of thing illegal.
It'd be awful for the families of the victims.
- What can I get you? -Hi.
Uh, can I get two eggs over medium,
home-fried potatoes, and wheat toast with grape jelly?
-And for you? -Uh...
-I'll just have an Ed salad sandwich-- -A what?
-An egg salad sandwich. Thank you. -Holden, you don't even like egg salad.
- Thank you. -Right. Um...
I'll just have a Denver omelet.
You've got mention-itis. You cannot stop mentioning him.
Think of how much we can learn from a guy like Kemper.
He called it a vocation.
-Killing women? -Yeah.
Jesus. How do you wrap your mind around that?
Couldn't attract them.
Didn't have the social skills.
That would describe a lot of guys.
Why does he hate women?
I should ask.
-But not outright. -No?
He sounds like the kind of person who would tell you what you wanna hear.
-You have to disarm him first. -You mean, like...
-What? -Ask him questions about himself.
Lean into him, listen intently.
-I do that. -Keep your arms uncrossed.
Mirror his movements.
Encourage him to talk about the things he's excited about.
Are these feminine wiles?
Cross your legs in his direction.
-Do you really do that? -But don't touch him.
You want him to like you,
but you don't want him to think you're gonna fuck him.
Look at your face.
Here's the thing.
I spent five years as a brick agent and a couple of years at the academy.
-I'm squeaky clean. - Oh.
I'm Eliot Ness. I'm--
You're Melvin Purvis, G-MAN.
Exactly.
And back then, no skirt in the FBI.
-No women, just men. -Wow.
Then I enroll in college, and suddenly, I am Warren fucking Beatty.
-Wow. -Everything goes.
-You take sugar? -No.
-Cool. Milk? -Thank you.
-You got it, man. -Suddenly it's disco and poppers,
and fern bars.
I am up to my neck in chicks.
Pussy, pussy, pussy. I hear that.
It turns out chicks do really dig a guy with a badge.
"Gas, grass, or ass. Nobody rides for free."
Next thing I know, I'm with a 24-year-old that I met in a bar.
No woman has ever been so into me in my entire life.
Don't brag. It's unbecoming.
Oh, my God. I am so sorry.
I'm kidding.
Man...
the things she comes up with in the sack.
You gotta love that young pussy.
I do. I really fucking do.
You gotta make it with that young pussy real quick before it turns into Mom.
Yeah.
So you were a virgin up until then, that's what you're saying?
-No, not at all. -Oh, you go over like you're a virgin.
-What? -What's wrong with that?
I was a virgin for years.
Oh, no, there's nothing wrong with it, it's just I'm... not.
Uh-huh.
This new girl, she take it up the ass?
We haven't really discussed it.
Ask her.
An asshole will suck your cock right in, literally.
It's like a hole that sucks.
It's easy.
But when you fuck somebody in the neck, it's entirely the opposite.
It's nothing but resistance. It's really difficult.
Let me.
You feel this?
Feel it. It's all muscle.
Cartilaginous.
Is this interesting?
-Oh, yeah. -Because I can skip some of the detail.
No, I'm here for the detail.
A major college campus.
It's like a giant candy store, you know what I mean.
Right.
Your, uh, your mom worked on campus at UCSC, right?
Remind me again what she did.
-Administrative assistant. -Right.
That's all she lived for, man, her work and her precious coeds,
whom she mothered relentlessly.
Do you think that she neglected you for them?
Put it this way,
she had a very violently outspoken position on men.
She had a failed marriage with my father.
I looked a lot like him, so...
You reminded her of him.
Do you think you developed a dislike for young women as a result?
As far as she was concerned,
I was never going to end up with one of those girls
because I was a fuckup and an embarrassment.
-You were a failure in her eyes. -Look.
My mother was a decent, upstanding, reasonable woman,
but when it came to me,
she had nothing but contempt,
disappointment, and disdain.
That must've been awful.
Well, here's the thing.
I'm listening.
Women are born with this little hole between their legs...
which every man on earth just wants to stick something into.
And they're weaker than men,
so they learn strategies.
They deploy their minds and their sex,
and they intuitively learn to humiliate.
Did your mother humiliate you?
Ed?
Lust murder doesn't cut it.
He did not stab, and rape, and decapitate Mom because he was aroused.
He was conditioned to do it.
-Did he say that? -As good as.
It's schtick.
He learned the vernacular in the institution.
-He's sophisticated enough to use it. -No, that's not my instinct.
Is it your instinct he was choosing words carefully or did he just spew it out?
Very carefully.
He's got you pegged. He's telling you what he's guessed you want to hear.
-But why would I want to hear that? -Because you're you.
You told him about your university education,
and your sassy girlfriend, and your sensitive character,
and he tailored his bullshit to fit.
-Why did you tell him that stuff? -To loosen him up.
Why do you feel the need to tell him about your girlfriend?
Just to get him talking.
Holden, he's had seven years in a correctional facility.
He's been practicing. Don't encourage him.
-I was trying to disarm him. -You're a federal agent.
Don't give him anything. He's your subject. Be objective.
-I've gotta trust my instincts on this. -There's that word again.
So in Fairfield, Iowa you were in the Dark Ages,
and now suddenly, you have all these unimpeachable instincts?
Well, it's been a process.
Okay, look, there's no doubt whatever happened in there
was a profound experience for you,
but I need you to understand that whatever you think,
there is a distinct possibility that he's manipulating you.
[Steve Miller Band's "Fly Like an Eagle" playing]
♪ Ticktock, tick Doo, doo, doo, doo ♪
♪ Time keeps on slippin' Slippin', slippin' ♪
♪ Into the future ♪
♪ Time keeps on slippin' Slippin', slippin' ♪
♪ Into the future ♪
♪ I want to fly like an eagle ♪
♪ To the sea ♪
♪ Fly like an eagle Let my spirit carry me ♪
♪ I want to fly like an eagle Till I'm free ♪
♪ Fly through the revolution ♪
It's not my fault.
♪ Time keeps on slippin' Slippin', slippin' ♪
♪ Into the future ♪
♪ Time keeps on slippin' Slippin', slippin' ♪
♪ Into the future ♪
♪ Time keeps on slippin' Slippin', slippin' ♪
♪ Into the future ♪
♪ Time keeps on slippin' Slippin', slippin' ♪
Gentleman, I'm Detective Roy Carver.
Listen, I was a little late for the presentation,
but that was just great.
-Well, thank you very much. -Glad to be of service.
Listen, before you go, I was hoping I could ask you something.
I know you're not just here to teach.
-No, we really just teach, Roy. -Pretty much all we focus on.
I was hoping I could get you to take a look at something a little, uh...
unusual.
Oh, sure thing.
Her name's Rosemary Gonzales, 73 years old.
Her husband died of cancer so she sold the family farm in Chico,
moved to Sacramento to be closer to the grandkids.
Two weeks ago, we find her beaten within an inch of her life
in a doorway to her back porch.
She hasn't been robbed.
She's been groped and assaulted but not penetrated,
and the little dog's throat's been cut.
Was the dog killed because it was protecting her?
Or for some other reason?
That I don't know. But it's interesting.
Why didn't he stab her?
Didn't have the nerve?
I don't think some Latino with a shiv got scared of a little old lady.
Why do you say that? Why do you say "Latino" like that?
That's the neighborhood, spics and blacks.
Did she identify anybody of that ethnicity?
No. She was hovering in and out of a coma for the past ten days.
Now she's finally come around, she has no recollection whatsoever.
You think it's about a little dog?
Scottish Terriers can be loud. Their bark...
-Could be annoying. -Listen...
we need to know exactly how worried we need to be.
My husband would've cried to see me like this.
Me, I don't cry. I'm tough.
But he was just like a baby.
It would've destroyed his faith in humanity.
What did I ever do?
Who would do such a thing?
I never hurt a soul.
I don't have any enemies.
I don't dress like a whore.
-I'm an old lady-- - Está bien.
Let me ask you something.
Did your dog ever bite anyone?
Never.
Ever bother anyone by barking? Any complaints from neighbors?
No. He was very well-behaved.
-Who cuts the grass, Rosie? -Who helps you take care of the yard?
I have all sorts of help. Kids mostly.
Which kids?
Just local kids.
It's a very close community.
And you didn't recognize your assailant? He wasn't familiar?
I just don't remember.
Do you have kids?
Two daughters.
Married?
The eldest is divorced. Dios mío.
The younger I don't see that often.
Can you remember anything else?
Was he big, little?
Do you remember any moles, scars, tattoos, distinctive marks?
I remember moonlight.
And...
I do remember a smell.
What kind of smell?
I don't know, he just...
-He stank. - Like what?
Grease or gasoline, fertilizer?
Like a bum.
Like somebody who needed to wash.
Seventeen, eighteen-year-old high school kid,
low self-esteem, hates authority,
doesn't get along well with his parents.
What, just some punk?
Gets into a fight with his old man one night,
maybe he gets a hold of a bottle of liquor and comes across the house,
recognizes the place because he cut the grass there when he was younger.
-Some neighborhood kid? - He goes inside.
She doesn't recognize him, thinks he's broken in, and starts yelling.
The fight gets physical.
He's drunk, he beats the shit out of her.
He knifes the dog because the dog is yapping its head off.
And then he runs.
Are you guys serious? A teenager?
He has bad hygiene.
Doesn't bathe because bathing is what his parents want.
Look, we got a lot of kids like that around here.
But what kind of degenerate carves up a little dog?
Maybe the kid saw the dog in the yard,
decided to conduct a moonlight experiment with his Bowie knife, gets interrupted.
A careful, considerate old lady would bring her dog in at night.
She went outside with the dog because she heard something.
Listen.
It was a harvest moon.
We have been tossing the idea around that maybe it's one of these, uh...
you know, satanic deals.
You know, like maybe the dog is some kind of ritual sacrifice or something.
Check.
You need to squeeze the neighborhood kids.
One of them knows something.
We had a kid like that, brought him in for questioning twice.
Bring him in again.
We're gonna get pushback from the family.
His aunt works for the county.
-Then make it formal. -I'm probably gonna need a warrant.
We might be able to help you with that.
Fuck!
Nancy's gonna kill me. We can't get a flight till Sunday.
-Maybe this kid's like Kemper. -We have to get a room.
I can take care of the room. We can turn this into an opportunity.
-It could help with the Gonzales case. -I can't believe I'm stuck with you.
-We can talk to Kemper. -No!
-I'm gonna play golf. -Come with me.
I'm not consulting with Ed Kemper.
Not to consult. Just background.
When did his behavior escalate?
You can't stay away from that motherfucker, can you?
No, please. Don't say "motherfucker."
You know that he'll respond to your seniority.
-You could really smoke him out. -No, not now.
We're stuck here all weekend. What else are you gonna do?
I said forget about it, man.
So, you're the big boss, right?
Well, I established the Behavioral Science Unit years ago,
but Holden's come in with a lot of new ideas.
So Holden's the intrepid rookie investigator?
Bill taught me everything I know about criminal behavior.
Is that right? Well, let me ask you something, Bill.
What do you think about Joseph Wambaugh?
He knows Joe. Right, Bill?
Well...
Actually, he based a lot of that stuff on Bill.
-No shit. -Uh-huh.
Not the, uh, stories,
but the psychological insights and the vernacular.
Yeah.
That is fascinating.
I sure would love to pick your brain sometime.
Well, that's another life sentence right there.
- - Maybe you could, uh...
talk about your background a little bit with Bill.
Maybe tell him the thing that you told me the other day
about your mother.
My mother.
Well, you see, Bill,
even as a child, I had kind of a rich fantasy life.
As a teenager, I began by cutting up inanimate objects.
G.I. Joe. My sister's dolls.
Ripping their heads off, cutting up the bodies.
Mutilating them, if you will.
You had fantasies of what, real women?
Oh, yeah.
And my mother would yell and scream at me, tell me I was sick.
She thought I was going to do something hideous one day.
What did she think you were gonna do?
I guess rape my sister or something.
This is when I was ten years old.
Nice.
Not exactly The Brady Bunch.
Why do you think she thought this?
Because she was fucking nuts.
-You didn't do anything to frighten her? - She frightened me.
She'd make me sleep on a dirty old mattress in the basement.
Lock the door. Ten years old.
So then it became dogs and cats, strangling them,
burying them in the backyard.
Hold on. Sorry.
Just to vent.
You know what I'm saying? Classic displacement activity.
Because it was my retreat from the insanity of the world.
-Then, you see-- - Sorry. Wait a minute.
Sorry, guys.
Is that why your mother sent you away?
In the end, I ran away to live with my father,
but he didn't want me either.
So they packed me off to live with my grandma.
She thought I was a freak.
Is that why you shot her?
Well, they were both very controlling, aggressive, matriarchal women.
-Matriarchal? - Female-centric.
Get that down. That's a big antecedent.
What happened after that?
I was put in a fucking mental institution.
I was 15.
I was 21 years old when I came out.
All those years when other kids were having their sexual revolution,
I was locked in a room.
You remember the whole flower power, college girls into love and peace?
Physically, I wasn't impotent, but emotionally I was.
Because of the way I was conditioned by Mom, right? Like you said.
-Conditioned? -Right.
You see, Bill,
I knew a week before she died I was gonna kill her.
She went out to a party, she got soused, she came home alone.
I asked her how her evening went. She just looked at me.
She said, "For seven years."
She said, "I haven't had sex with a man because of you, my murderous son."
So I got a claw hammer and I beat her to death.
Then I cut her head off.
And I humiliated her.
And I said, "There. Now you've had sex."
If there's one thing I know, it's this:
A mother should not scorn her own son.
If a woman humiliates her little boy,
he will become hostile, and violent, and debased. Period.
Ladies and gentlemen, we've reached our cruising altitude...
-I think we need to talk. -Now do you see?
I need to speak to Shepard. Tell him what's going on.
It's too early.
The longer we wait, the worse it's gonna be.
-We'll be drowned in red tape. -And there's a reason for that.
The FBI is a glacial bureaucracy, but it's highly effective.
Kemper's in lockdown, what's he gonna do?
Kemper is a gigantic blabbermouth.
He's friends with all the prison guards.
A federal agent is meeting with him, you think that hasn't reached the warden?
A couple of months, that's all I need.
No. Because if we get censured,
we're off work two weeks minimum, no appeal.
And you can kiss goodbye to the Gonzales case.
They'll never catch that guy.
Did you tell a detective in Sacramento you would intercede
with the district attorney on behalf of the FBI?
Some DA called me and asked why I had two agents in Sacramento.
"Two goons," his exact words.
It's a strange case.
The locals were struggling. We were trying to figure a way forward.
What were you thinking?
At the time, we deemed this of great urgency.
The circumstances were unusual.
Assault and battery? Since when does the FBI consult on that?
Not even homicide.
Unless you count a dog.
Bill, the past three years I've heard you complain
about how overworked you are with the Road School.
I gave you your assistant,
and this is how you choose to spend your time?
I trust you understand my position on this.
Is there anything else you want to tell me?
I get back on Tuesday, if you want to pick me up from the airport.
Sure, I'd love to.
-You should come with me sometime. -To Detroit?
See your old stomping grounds. Meet my mom.
- -
Okay, good to know where we're at.
-No, I would love to meet your mom. -I said sometime.
No, actually, it's something I would really enjoy.
I meant eventually.
I'm sure she's really, really lovely.
Actually, she's kind of a bitch,
especially when it comes to people I'm dating.
Really?
But... I like you.
I might give you the secret to win her over.
What might that be?
Well, Mom doesn't care what kind of music you like, what kind of job you have,
what kind of car you drive.
Instead, she'll ask you about your mother.
It'll seem like a perfectly innocent question,
but she'll be watching you closely.
If she thinks you love and respect your mom,
she'll know that you'll treat her daughter the same way.
That's actually shrewd.
...hair group. It can't do anything about the hair...
So...
do you like your mom?
I do.
She's someone I really enjoy talking to.
I knew it. I knew you were a momma's boy.
You should just come with me tomorrow. You've already passed the test.
I couldn't even if I wanted to.
Shepard doesn't want us leaving town.
Why? What's happened?
We-- Well...
I...
really fucked up.
Ooh. You grounded?
When are they gonna start taking this whole thing seriously?
-Hi. -Hi.
-How do you know where I live? -Personnel gave me your address.
Let's go back to Shepard.
Tell him about Kemper, tell him what we've been doing.
-You think he'll listen now? -Let's make it official.
You don't want to wait till Sacramento blows over?
No, I want to go back to Sacramento and fix it.
If we fix it, Shepard might give us what we want.
He's not stupid. He'll have to listen.
Are you out of your fucking minds?!
You interviewed Edmund Kemper?
Not so much interviewed. More like a conversation.
He said interesting things that turned out to be really useful.
-What the fuck? -I just had this idea--
I don't want to hear your idea. I'm sick of your ideas.
It is not our job to commiserate with these people.
It is our job to electrocute them. How long has this been going on?
-Just when we were in Sacramento. -The conversations with Kemper shed light
on things we've been exploring in the unit.
There's a correlation with what we're finding at crime scenes.
It proves that we're on track.
Proof the Federal Bureau of Investigation is on track after all these years?
Well, golly, what a relief. I am so pleased for us.
-We're pleased too. -Don't smart-mouth me, Holden!
You fucked up the Gonzales situation, pissed off the Sacramento DA,
and you've been interviewing lifers in the state penitentiary.
Sir, the insights during these visits may help us identify
the person responsible for the attacks in Sacramento and prevent others.
Wrong, wrong, and wrong. Here's what it is. Burn your notes.
Don't speak to me about this anymore. Don't put it in any reports. You're done.
Excuse me, sir.
I truly believe there is a vein here that needs to be mined.
Okay, kiddo. You're looking down the barrel.
Three whole bags: censure, suspension, transfer.
Pardon me.
Sir, permit me to speak. I've been doing this shit for seven years.
I trained Holden because he was transferred to my department.
He knows his criminal psychology.
He's done his homework, worked his butt off,
and now I think he's onto something.
Onto what? He made friends with the Coed Killer.
If this is going to work, we need to talk to more subjects.
More? No! What's next, Charles Manson? When's he booked for?
We were thinking June.
I think it's right.
We need to use whatever resource--
Resource, my ass! What's the matter, bored with golf?
California jails are full of thrill killers and lust murderers.
-And we put them there, that's our job. -Dying and rotting on the vine.
Cry me a river, Holden. All the wasted potential.
It is wasted potential, sir.
-We could be using these people. -Using how?
-Their knowledge and insight. -Of what?
- Themselves. -Whoselves?!
Then we know what we're talking about when we speak to other law enforcement.
-Can you make him shut up? -I have not been able to, sir.
How do we get ahead of crazy if we don't know how crazy thinks?
I like you, Bill.
I don't particularly like him, but I like you.
Okay, you may continue with your little sideshow.
However, no one can know about it. Clear?
You will relocate yourselves
to the basement beneath Behavioral Sciences,
reporting directly and exclusively to me.
The basement? I'm 44 years old.
You may dedicate ten hours of your 50-hour work week to this.
If I deem any aspect of it to be unwarranted, unnecessary, or unsavory,
I will end it. Do you both understand?
Yes.
And thank you, sir.
Thank you, sir.
[Talking Heads' "Psycho Killer" playing]
♪ I can't seem to face up to the facts ♪
♪ I'm tense and nervous And I can't relax ♪
♪ I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire ♪
♪ Don't touch me, I'm a real live wire ♪
♪ Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est? ♪
♪ Fa-fa-fa-fa Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa, far better ♪
♪ Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away ♪
♪ Oh-ho-ho ♪
♪ Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est? ♪
♪ Fa-fa-fa-fa Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa, far better ♪
♪ Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away ♪
♪ You start a conversation You can't even finish it ♪
♪ You're talking a lot But you're not saying anything ♪
♪ When I have nothing to say My lips are sealed ♪
♪ Say something once, why say it again? ♪
♪ Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est? ♪
♪ Fa-fa-fa-fa Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa, far better ♪
♪ Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away ♪
♪ Oh-ho-ho ♪
♪ Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est? ♪
♪ Fa-fa-fa-fa Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa, far better ♪
♪ Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away ♪
♪ We are vain and we are blind ♪
♪ I hate people when they're not polite ♪
♪ Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est? ♪
♪ Fa-fa-fa-fa Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa, far better ♪
♪ Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away ♪