Oh!
I didn't realize you were still in the house.
I'm sorry to startle you.
Here's the estimate.
House looks good.
Can't think you need much beyond door and window sensors.
I included in the cost three keypads.
My husband wondered,
would you ever just sell the stickers for the windows
and a sign for the front lawn?
Signs come with the sensors, I'm afraid.
Of course they do. That makes sense.
- Monte Rissell. - Monte Rissell.
Falls Church, Virginia.
They sentenced him a few weeks ago.
Five victims, all women, raped and murdered.
Method?
First and last victim were beaten and then drowned.
Middle three stabbed.
- I thought one of them was shot, no? - No.
Virginia State Penitentiary. Monte Ralph Rissell.
Monte Rissell.
- Why don't you have a seat? - Monte.
Hey, you guys need me for any of this?
No, thank you. We'd prefer to talk with you alone.
Behave yourself, Rissell. Move.
My name's Bill Tench. This is my partner, Holden Ford.
We're from the Federal Bureau of Investigation's
Behavioral Science Unit.
Scientists?
We're from the Behavioral Science Unit.
We're doing research.
Interviewing... men like you.
Men like me?
Murderers with multiple victims.
To better understand why you do what you do.
I'd like to know, too.
- You think this might help? - Help with what?
Find a cure.
No idea.
Think I could get some Big Red?
"Big Red"?
Pop.
You know, like, soda.
Used to have it when I was a kid.
- I always loved Big Red. - Um...
- We'll see what we can do. - That'll depend on the insights.
I can't get stuff like that in here.
What do you say we get down to brass tacks?
What do you want to know?
Why I raped those girls in Florida?
For starters, how did you choose your victims?
Victims?
That doesn't sound good.
No, it doesn't.
How many other... "men like me" are you talking to?
Quite a few, Monte.
They all talk to you?
It's... early days.
Hmm...
- Really think you can get some Big Red? - Look at me, Monte.
Let's stay on track.
You know what?
- I don't think I'm interested. - Fine.
You want to diddle around, we'll walk out of here.
We'll go have a nice, leisurely lunch wherever the fuck we want,
and then take the picturesque drive back to Quantico.
What's the rest of your day look like?
What my partner's too polite to say is, we're talking to men like you
because we can't understand
how someone could fuck up their life so completely
before he's barely old enough to vote.
Okay.
I first got into trouble at 14.
They sent me to Florida. This, uh...
... "juvenile facility."
Doctors watching over me all the time.
I had four girls while I was under observation.
But you didn't kill those girls in Florida, that came later.
What was different when you came back from the hospital? What changed?
Hmm...
Let's see.
They let me out.
I come back up here,
get myself a job, a girlfriend.
Girlfriend's a year ahead, she goes off to state college,
but, you know, we keep in touch, we write.
You're taping it, man.
Taking notes helps with transcription.
You were saying? Back in school, a free man...
Not free, no, sir.
Probation, counseling, therapy.
I gotta keep checking in or they send me back.
But you got yourself a girlfriend...
Do I, though?
You know chicks.
She sends me a letter.
Tells me, shocker, there's all these guys up at school, you know.
There's all this, uh...
She tells me, in so many words, she wants to ball other guys.
What am I supposed to do with that?
I hop in the car, gotta see it for myself, and what do you know,
there she is, making out with some dork.
What a dumbshit, right?
Chicks.
What can you do?
You can't live with them.
I'll tell you what you can fucking do.
I get some beer, because I'm fucking angry,
I have some weed,
and I'm smoking, and thinking,
and driving, and drinking, and then...
Then I'm back at my apartment,
in the parking lot,
no idea how I got there.
A car pulls into the lot.
Girl on her own, maybe 20, 25.
It's got to be four in the morning.
It's like...
the idea of doing it
pops in your head like a...
Like a sneeze, you know what I mean?
I hop out the car, tap on the window,
pull the gun,
drag her into the woods,
rip her fucking panties off, hike up her skirt.
"Oh, yeah, give it to me, baby! I want it, I'm so horny."
I'm trying to rape her, but she won't shut up.
She takes off screaming,
runs through the parking lot, down a ravine.
You know, she's stronger than me, but I'm fast.
I catch up to her. I get her in a headlock.
I choke her.
We go rolling down the hill into a stream.
The whole thing is fucking chaos.
I smash her head against a rock,
hold her underwater...
and that's that.
No more drama.
You had a gun, why not use it?
I wanted to cool her off.
Do you think... Pardon me.
Do you think it would've ended differently if she hadn't...
- Like, if she wasn't... - Wasn't what?
A fucking prostitute?
Yeah, could be. Could be.
Your science buddy might have something there.
Second time, this blonde chick, she will not stop with the questions.
I have her driving at gunpoint, and she's like,
"Why are you doing this? Don't you have a girlfriend?
What are you planning to do? Why me?"
Is that why you stabbed her?
I had to.
Shut her the fuck up.
Then you drove around for hours in her car.
Yeah.
By the third girl, you could say I had, uh... perfected the routine.
You stabbed her, too?
Yeah.
I stabbed her so many times.
Yeesh...
I did let one of 'em go, though.
Yeah.
We're in the car, I'm getting ready, she has no idea.
All of a sudden she starts crying, out of nowhere.
Tells me her daddy's dying... Cancer.
My brother had cancer.
Cancer. It's, uh...
It's a bitch, man.
Yeah, it's hard on a human being.
So I let her go.
It's, uh...
- It's a weird feeling, man. - What's a weird feeling, Monte?
Um...
How do I put it?
- Showing mercy. - What?
Come on, kid. You don't expect us to buy your mercy horseshit.
I think what Agent Tench means is...
I think I've had enough science for one day.
Throat's a little dry.
Maybe next time you should be careful...
Holden.
- I didn't say anything. - You don't have to. I get it.
- Let's move on. - I wasn't going to reprimand you.
I hope not.
Okay, we're moving on.
Here's the thing.
Monte Rissell danced around a bunch
of psychiatrists when he was a kid.
Did the same thing when he was on parole.
He's an Olympic-class bullshitter.
Why do we think he's being honest with us?
But we don't think he's being completely honest. Do we?
We just need to extract what's useful and discard the rest.
So my mistake with Rissell was what?
- You okay? - Yeah.
Fuck!
Jesus Christ! What the fuck's the matter with you?
What were you doing, 80, 100?!
- You turned without looking! - You were speeding!
Doesn't matter! I had the right of way!
Doesn't matter?
- That's the law, buddy. - The law?!
- No. Here's the fucking law, pal! - You can't do that.
I'm gonna call the police!
Stay away from me, man!
Unbelievable!
You fucking moron.
You sure you're all right?
No, I get it. You got a lot going on. It's a lot of pressure.
I completely understand.
Let me talk to Bill and I'll call you back.
Is that for me?
Thanks. Debbie says hi.
It's fine. As soon as class is over, she'll come down.
She says she'd rather us get a room
so she can pick us up in the morning.
I'm a little ticked off.
I get Debbie doesn't want to do all that driving,
but we have a situation here. I'm asking her for help.
Okay, she's got midterms and that's on her mind, but...
Why am I so upset?
Maybe 'cause she can't drop everything when you call.
Because she doesn't want to.
Here you go.
- One more, please. - Yes, sir.
You want to call Nancy?
Are you okay?
Or we could just eat.
I didn't see it coming, Holden.
You could've been killed, and I didn't see it coming.
It's one thing if it's the job.
But some fucking Pinto comes shooting out of nowhere...
I think if I called Nancy,
if I heard her voice,
I'd just lose it.
You know, we adopted a boy...
three years ago.
He's six now.
Nancy always wanted a family.
And I guess I did, too.
But we can't have kids of our own, so...
It's not going well.
He's a beautiful boy.
At first, I thought he was just quiet, you know, a quiet baby,
nothing wrong with that.
He can speak,
he just won't.
I feel like we're failing him somehow.
I'm sure you're not.
Maybe he was like this before.
But it's a real strain.
It's supposed to be this great thing, having a son.
God, Bill.
I'm sorry to hear that.
When the car was spinning out, I just...
You have no idea what I'm trying to say, do you?
Not exactly...
but I want to.
I don't know either.
It's nothing, it's fine.
Seriously, Bill...
Call Debbie.
Tell her she can come get us in the morning.
Come on, kid.
You don't expect us to buy your mercy horseshit.
I think what Agent Tench means is...
I think I've had enough science for one day.
- Well, should we hear it again? - Eventually, yeah.
Okay. So there are two triggers,
one right after the other, for Rissell.
Maybe trigger is the wrong word. Too facile.
Also, in law enforcement, has more than one meaning.
What about stresses? Stressors.
Let's make that our term of art.
Stress is more internal anyway. It's more appropriate to our focus.
So, two stressors set Rissell off?
Her letter, obviously.
So, the girlfriend writes him a Dear John letter and he...
Rissell cracks.
- But he doesn't call her or write back. - No, he goes down there.
- Stalks her like a hunter. - Not like a hunter.
He doesn't kill the girlfriend, he only watches her with her new beau.
- Big difference. - "Beau"?
So what if Rissell doesn't mean to kill anyone at this point?
He's still on track for rape,
but it's this first victim's compliance
that just kind of pushes him over the edge.
He kills the first one because she likes it or pretends to?
It's dominoes.
Her compliance makes him angry.
He throws her out of the car, she tries to escape.
Where is it? He says, "The whole thing is just fucking chaos."
- He needed to reassert control. - Exactly.
Which means that the victim's behavior is also a stressor.
I mean, it may be that they can't change the ultimate outcome,
but they can affect when and how it happens.
Exactly what I was thinking, which is why I asked the question.
But...
But what?
Isn't that just life?
Your girlfriend dumps you?
You're trying to be intimate with someone, and it goes wrong?
Obviously, not that wrong,
but it seems like Rissell just couldn't hack life.
Well, what else is a criminal
except somebody who can't function in society?
If we want to be reductive,
we can say these men can't handle normal stages of development...
Why do I get the sense "reductive" is your worst insult?
Not at all. I meant to say you were right.
How would most men feel if they were being intimate with a woman
and they sensed that she wasn't enjoying herself?
Come on, be scientists.
Disappointed.
- It would feel awful. - Right.
You want her to have a good time.
But when Rissell sensed that his victim was enjoying herself,
it turned him into a murderer.
So, yes, what happens to these men is normal,
but the way that they process it is not.
That's our goal, to dig into the why, like you did with Kemper.
We're headed to Altoona for Road School.
We'll try and see Rissell again when we get back, if he'll see us.
You know that this is gonna take twice as long
if you can't do the interviews full-time.
What is it? A question of money, of institutional rigidity,
scheduling, what?
All of the above.
You know, I've been in academia all my life, let me see what I can do.
Honey, I gotta go.
Brian.
Come on.
Give your father a hug.
Say goodbye.
See you soon, son.
Ready?
Yep.
All yours.
Ain't easy to get on the East Coast.
No, it's not.
So you're not from the East Coast, originally?
What?
I'm sorry, I missed that. I'm a little deaf.
I was just asking if you consider yourself an East Coaster?
You don't have that in your file?
You were born in Wellington, South Kansas.
You're the youngest of three,
and your parents divorced when you were seven.
That's all in the file, just not what you have to say about it.
Yeah, my mom blamed that on me. No idea why.
My brother and sister were around,
but it was always on me when things went bad.
Pretty soon after, Mom up and married Hank.
- Dragged us out to Sacramento. - You wanted to stay in Kansas?
Be with my real father? You bet.
I did not want to be in California, that's for sure.
Nobody wanted me there, either.
Did your mother say she didn't want you there?
Why you always want to do that after?
Crush the can.
It feels good.
Yeah, maybe.
What made you think nobody wanted you in California?
Mom wanted to be with Hank.
And Hank didn't want to raise somebody else's kids,
so he bought us shit.
Thought that'd be enough. When I was seven, he bought me a gun.
- He bought you a gun? - BB gun.
My brother and sister were drinking, smoking a lot of weed,
doing all kinds of shit.
Sometimes they'd share.
When I was nine, I shot my cousin in the ass with that gun.
That made me star of the show.
I mean, everybody fucking hated my cousin.
So you kids were left all alone.
Hank broke the fucking thing over my head.
- He beat you? - Yeah.
It's how I burst my eardrum.
I got into all kinds of shit, man.
Broke into some lady's house, stole a hundred bucks.
Mom and Hank divorced when I was 12, that was kind of my doing.
Fourteen, things got a little worse.
Burglary, larceny, car theft, rape twice.
My mom somehow got them to send me to Florida.
Thanks, Ma!
I get back. I'm 17, living on my own,
working double shifts at Pizza Hut.
Nobody wanted me, man.
Nobody on this earth ever wanted me.
Put that on your fucking tape.
If only they'd let me stay with my dad...
it'd all be different.
I might even be a lawyer.
- So your dad wanted you? - Have a nice car.
House.
Be out in the backyard perfecting my recipe for barbecue.
I'd have found my way.
So Rissell's the real victim here?
That's how he sees it, sure.
A pathological liar
who murdered five women sees himself as the victim.
And we're giving him a shoulder to cry on.
We're not giving him a shoulder to cry on.
We're not flattering him. Or helping him.
We're using him.
Yeah, okay.
Motive, means, opportunity.
The three pillars of criminal investigation: what, why, who.
What happened...
When I'm involved in a hostage negotiation,
the perpetrator is standing right in front of me.
- Not a bad group tonight. - Yeah.
We got one?
Look at him just standing there, watching us.
He's just having a cigarette before he heads home.
See how he's deliberately trying not to look at us?
He's screwing up the nerve to approach.
- I put the over-under at half a minute. - I'll definitely take under.
- That's a bet. - Loser buys dinner.
Look out, he's on the move.
Hey.
You guys mind if I bother you a minute?
Sure. What's up?
Beverly Jean Shaw, 22.
Never came home from her babysitting job.
Four days later, we find her in the dump on Wopsononock Mountain.
Um, based on stomach contents, we think she was killed right away,
around midnight Wednesday.
She was sitting like this at the dump for four days?
Well, no, um...
See, there wasn't enough, um...
If she had been at the dump four days...
We'd see more insect infestation and animal trauma.
So, between when she was murdered on Wednesday
and the body was discovered four days later,
she had to be someplace else?
Her breasts.
They were, I guess you'd say... amputated.
Um, we have not been able to locate them.
Was this postmortem or...
Coroner said she was already dead. Yes, sir.
He blacked both her eyes,
broke her jaw, multiple stab wounds.
You can see he kind of frogged her legs out there.
And there was, um...
Sorry.
We don't get this kind of thing.
- It's hard to... - Take your time.
There was an incision. From her...
From her vagina to her, um... anus.
- God damn it. I'm sorry. - You're doing fine.
- The family local? - Uh...
Parents upstate. Fiancé in town.
You don't think somebody local did this?
Hard to say at this point.
I go to church with these people.
We get peeping Toms, sure. But something like this?
It doesn't make sense.
To go from shoplifters and underage kids buying beer to...
what happened to Beverly... Has to be an outsider.
Draped over the ironing board here, is that human hair?
Yes, sir.
You have it?
Sure.
Yeah, Forensics bagged it up.
It's all about Forensics. I am starting to appreciate that.
And the ironing board, you take that as well?
Uh, I mean, we dusted it for fingerprints and everything, but, uh...
But you do think the unsub scalped Beverly
and then draped it over the ironing board?
That mean something?
Everything in this photo has meaning.
If the unsub meant to display the hair, he was saying something.
- He could've put the hair anywhere. - Right, no, I get it now. Uh...
Soon as Forensics confirms it's Beverly's hair...
I'm sorry, what?
Well, we shouldn't jump ahead of Forensics, am I right?
I think, in this case,
we have a dead body missing a chunk of hair,
a big chunk of hair nearby, so we can go out on a limb and assume...
I think what Agent Ford is trying to say, in his own way,
is we're behind the eight ball here, we've come late to the party.
We're gonna have to go over ground you've covered:
witnesses, crime scene.
We don't mean that as a challenge to you.
It's not any kind of a criticism.
We're just trying to catch up. Am I right, Agent Ford?
Absolutely.
We may ask some obvious questions
and maybe a few you haven't thought of.
But it's not a contest or a competition. We're all on the same side.
- Okay? - Sure.
Let's go through the rest.
I'm curious why you're cutting this guy so much slack.
He's never seen this kind of thing before.
He's rattled. It's not his fault.
Without a doubt you have more experience, but why rub it in his face?
I'm not trying to make you feel bad.
Maybe a little.
The point is, local cops want to catch
their guy as much as we do, maybe more.
For them, it's not just theoretical, it's where they live.
This is where your focus should be.
Not on the crime scene, not on the corpse, not on the schematics.
Focus on Beverly.
What did the killer see in her?
We've learned that this is a crucial detail, and not the only one.
Based on the facts Detective Ocasek laid out earlier,
our methodology tells us we're looking for a white male.
These crimes rarely cross racial lines.
He's probably around Beverly's age.
A killer will usually choose someone smaller and weaker than himself.
He's a loner, hunts at night.
I'm sorry, "hunts"? Is that a figure of speech?
It is not.
Coroner's report said Beverly was killed and then butchered.
Isn't that what hunters do?
We're probably looking for a loner.
These men like to explore the fantasy first,
bondage pornography, hardcore material.
It gives them a certain... attitude towards women.
Hence, a loner.
Close-knit community like this, you would've spotted that by now.
I think our man is an outsider, probably a drifter.
Most likely, he'll move on from here and kill again.
Again?
The killer thought of Beverly Jean as just another piece of trash.
Folks loved Beverly Jean. Trusted her with their kids.
Had to be a drifter, like you say.
Some stranger passing through town.
All that pretty hair caught his eye.
He needed to possess it, then destroy it.
You talk to the fiancé?
There's only so much you can get out of a man in that state.
Benjamin was still in shock. Gotta take all that into account.
Well, I'm sure you know your people, but let's just cover our bases.
And let's try to get him cold. Make some excuse when you call.
Don't mention the FBI, or even the murder.
Help us get an unguarded response.
Soon as Benjamin gets back into town.
- Back into town? - You let the fiancé leave?
He went up north for a bit to be with his relatives.
You need to be with family at times like this.
He'll be back soon. I'll vouch for that.
He'll be back.
Where was the body found?
Up here to the left.
Here's the ironing board.
Right. I'll have a couple of the boys come pick it up.
Sorry about that.
No apology necessary. We're all learning as we go.
You can see why I went easy on the fiancé.
Ugly end for someone you just proposed to.
How long were they engaged?
Couple months, I think.
Could be he felt trapped.
By a pretty, young blonde?
Remember what Wendy said?
A colleague of ours, a psychologist.
Events we process as good news sometimes
hit these killers the wrong way.
Huh. That's interesting.
Who found the body?
A welder, Alvin Moran, out taking his dog for a hike.
- At the dump? - He have an alibi?
Alibi? He came to us. Why's he need an alibi?
Sometimes the killer will insinuate himself into the investigation.
- Even report his own crime? - Mm-hmm.
Can we talk to him?
Yeah.
Excuse me!
Mr. Moran?
You remember me, Mr. Moran?
These men from the FBI would like to talk to you. That all right?
Great.
We're told you found Beverly Jean's body.
How'd you happen to find yourself at the dump?
Hiking. Wopsononock Mountain.
Like to take the trail, clear my head.
- Get a break from the wife and kids? - That's right.
Get up there a few times a week. Take the dog for a walk.
Still not clear how that puts you at the dump.
- The path comes in pretty close. - Does it?
You see any sign of a hiking trail out by the dump, Bill?
The other side of the railroad tracks, up the hill.
Looks like a bunch of trees from where you're standing.
But if there's no clear view from the dump to the trail...
Are you really FBI?
Am I under suspicion here?
Okay.
So I come off the trail to take a piss, no law against it.
There may be, actually, but let's leave that for now.
You go to take a piss, you see Beverly Jean's body...
I thought it was a store mannequin or something.
Wouldn't your dog have gone straight for it?
Might have, but that's not what happened.
What kind of dog do you have?
- Retriever. - And he didn't sniff it out first?
That seems odd.
- He's an old dog. - Not too old for a hike.
I took care of my business,
I collected my dog, and I went to the police.
Right away? Few hours later? Next day?
Couple hours later. Maybe that night.
It was actually morning when you came in, sir.
Why'd you wait so long to report the body, Mr. Moran?
You're talking to the FBI, Mr. Moran.
If we want to find something out, we will.
I was scared the cops might want me for it, okay?
My wife talked me out of that. I did my duty as a citizen.
You thought they'd want you for a murder?
I seen cops get desperate, grab whoever they can get.
But why you?
I got a bit of a record, all right?
It ain't much. I lit up a few fires
when I was a kid, got into a few fights.
I ain't proud of it.
Came here, met my wife.
Family man now.
Before that, did you move around a lot?
Not a good way to live. I feel settled now.
Is that your statement, Mr. Moran?
I come into town, grab a beer now and then.
I seen Beverly Jean a few times.
You saw Beverly Jean at a bar?
At The Kettle.
- Finally got up the nerve. - The nerve to do what?
To buy her a drink.
She wasn't interested, end of story.
Maybe I asked her more than once.
More than once that night at the bar, or on more than one occasion?
I guess you'd say on more than one occasion.
He's too old and too married.
He was a drifter until recently.
Beverly Jean rejected him.
He's got a record. He tried to help the police.
And his alibi? Home watching TV with the wife?
If a man like that took Beverly Jean,
he'd draw it out, make her suffer.
You saw the photos, he must've tortured her for hours.
Those wounds were inflicted posthumously. Can't forget.
You said that before. What difference does that make?
When you're married, it's a contract.
There's children, a mortgage,
a house to keep up, almost like a business.
Only you can't quit. She can't fire you.
Stock goes up, stock goes down...
doesn't matter, you're trapped.
Unless you want to bring on the lawyers and open Pandora's box.
Resentment builds on both sides.
A thousand tiny cuts.
If Alvin Moran had a married man's anger,
he'd have tortured, then killed her.
No question in my mind.
Maybe we should talk to his wife. See if there's anything there.
I mean, she's the whole alibi.
Wouldn't mind checking it holds up.
Mrs. Moran, thank you for coming in.
My name is Bill Tench. This is my partner, Holden Ford.
Hello.
I don't understand. I can't call my husband?
Aren't I supposed to get my phone call?
You're not under arrest, Mrs. Moran.
These men are from the FBI.
They just want to ask you a couple questions.
Have you been following the investigation?
Can't look at that. Poor girl.
- Wouldn't hurt a fly. - You knew her?
Can we ask how you knew her?
- She was almost our babysitter. - Almost?
Mrs. Moran?
We talked with her about it.
When she left, Alvin wouldn't shut up about the girl.
Meaning?
You know what I mean.
It's best if we don't have to guess, ma'am.
She was young, and skinny, and...
"Oh, such pretty blonde hair."
Didn't need that in my house.
Not with two little kids in the picture.
What do I look like?
Were you aware that your husband made overtures to Beverly
on several occasions?
Didn't I just say he had a thing for the poor girl?
Alvin does this.
It's like sportfishing. He doesn't mean anything by it.
We were told he was home with you watching television
the night Beverly disappeared.
You think Alvin did this?
Oh! No.
I mean, I'd love for him to get a good scare,
bothering a girl half his age,
but... no.
The idiot was with me.
The whole night?
The whole night.
Okay, her husband made a pass at a younger woman.
He's an idiot.
But so are a million other men.
I don't see any of the anger you've been talking about.
So lo and behold, we're back to the fiancé.
Follow your own logic, Bill.
The anger makes no sense in a young couple either.
This could be the first in a sequence.
Nine times out of ten, it's the boyfriend,
the husband, somebody close.
Nine times isn't every time, Bill.
Listen, uh...
Can't say how much I appreciate all your help.
Sorry if I got off a little shaky there at the start.
I'm gonna stick with Alvin, if it's all the same, keep you posted.
So you're in the middle of an ongoing investigation?
A local detective asked for our help. What else could we do?
Tell them you have more important things to do with your time.
We've been consulting with local cops for years.
No reason to change that now.
My assumption is you're good at your job.
Which means you're gonna be more focused on solving an actual crime
than the theoretical work we're doing.
- And that's bad? - It's not good or bad.
We can't end crime, no matter what we do.
But in the long run,
I think that our project could have a deeper impact
than solving a single murder.
We can do both. It's not an issue.
What jumped out when you were talking to Rissell?
He seems aware of the trap of his childhood.
How things might be different if he was allowed to stay with his dad.
Kemper said something similar.
They're both playing the victim, looking for sympathy.
I think it's more complicated.
I think you're both right. I mean, it's self-pity, absolutely.
And the psychopath understands how that plays to his audience.
- Exactly. - But the complicated part
is that they actually believe it. They have to.
I mean, if they admitted that they rape and murder for pleasure,
it would destroy them.
There's a tension.
They need to be seen to have power over someone,
and yet circumstance demands that they erase the only witness,
which means they have to do the whole thing over again.
It must be hell.
So the self-pity angle works. You have sympathy for both of them.
Yeah, of course. How else could I do my job?
Do Kemper and Rissell have other common traits?
That what you're doing with these cards, figuring out similarities?
And differences. I've been going through their files.
I'm trying to frame an overall taxonomy,
except I don't know where to start.
The crime scene.
Kemper's like a general, planning his campaigns.
But Rissell...
Didn't intend to kill his first victim.
All of his victims seem spontaneous.
He just walks away when he's done.
Kemper took photographs, and dissected the victims,
and was very good at hiding the remains.
So could we say "systematic" and "anti-systematic"?
Maybe something a little less...
Something even a beat cop could understand straight away.
Right. Like "organized" and "disorganized."
Okay. Let's try it.
What goes where?
Well...
"High intelligence" would go under "organized."
"Low intelligence": "disorganized."
- What do you think? - Definitely.
The class is great, but he's obsessed with the meaning of shit.
Does shit have meaning?
All shit has meaning, man.
Is that her?
No. Wendy's more...
not that.
Look at you.
Dr. Wendy has you all nervous. Should I be jealous?
Would I have invited her to go out with us if I was interested in her?
I've seen men do stranger things.
- So she's married. - How does that follow?
If you're not interested, she must be married.
For a man who picks up strange women in bars, you have your scruples.
Thank you.
I don't think she is married.
That's her.
No.
Do you plan on getting married?
Having kids, the whole thing?
Are you proposing, Holden Ford?
Just curious.
- Your parents have a good marriage? - I have no idea.
- Where's this coming from? - The study.
We're talking a lot about parents.
Harsh mothers, absent fathers.
All fathers are absent fathers.
That's definitely her.
No.
Hello.
Hi.
- Wendy Carr. - Deborah Mitford.
It's a pleasure.
Thank you so much for the invitation.
It was unexpected, but appreciated.
Yeah, for a fed, he's not so bad at having a good time.
Are you in law enforcement also?
No, I'm doing postgrad, actually.
- Sociology at UVA. - What's your concentration?
- Social deviance. - So... Durkheim?
- Yes. - Oh, God.
Because I didn't know who Durkheim was...
- Or Goring, or Blumer. - It's fine.
I'm not intimidated being around women who are smarter than me.
Men often say that, but they rarely mean it.
Holden means it.
He has a lot of flaws, but surprisingly, that's not one of them.
- I'm... Excuse me. - Yes.
Could I get a Manhattan? And will you have another round?
- Yeah, thank you. - Yeah.
So he called you directly?
No, Andrea called. Said he wanted to meet with us.
Any idea what this is about?
No. Usually, it's about finding clarity.
But he asked for me specifically?
All three of us.
Come in.
Dr. Carr, Unit Chief Shepard. Nice to meet you finally.
You as well.
Sit, please. All of you.
So, how's everything? Progressing?
Uh, yes, thank you.
- Fine, thanks. - Slowly, but yes.
Can I help with anything?
Is there anything I need to know?
- Sir, if this is about the car... - Nobody cares about the car.
It was insured and I assume driven by your protégé.
- It's not important who was driving. - I agree.
Dr. Carr, I'm aware of your consulting with Bill over the years
and your help framing certain psychological concepts with the BSU.
Uh, yes, a handful of times. Special Agent Tench was...
I assume that meant you understood
how things were done here at Quantico.
I assumed the same for your cohorts.
You might think it is my job to impede your progress
with my insistence on timelines and established protocols.
- No, sir. Not at all. - That is not my job.
My job is to provide guidance and quite a bit of protection.
- I don't understand. - Clearly.
You have stepped outside the shade of my umbrella
and you are now exposed to direct sunlight.
I applied for grant money from several sources
anticipating a response months from now.
Much to my surprise,
the Law Enforcement Assistance Administration was already aware
of our needs and activities.
I see. I had no intention of embarrassing you, Unit Chief Shepard.
I was at a fund-raiser for the university and I was talking to some...
Yes, talking to people outside the FBI
about something you were not even supposed to be aware of.
The LEAA explained that the application was anticipated.
How could that be, I wondered.
It seems they know more about what's going on in our basement
than I was comfortable including in the application.
- I so apologize. It... - Sir, this is my fault.
Your research has been awarded $200,000.
- What? - There's more.
As I said, I applied to more than one place for funding.
The National Institute of Justice heard about the LEAA,
and they are in competition,
so the NIJ has awarded you an additional $185,000.
You can't be serious.
This amount of money comes with considerable scrutiny.
And I'm not talking about bookkeeping,
although you will certainly be required to keep meticulous records.
I'm talking about Congress having a real interest in everything we do.
So much for the protection I might have afforded you.
Congratulations, I suppose.
Have a nice day.
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