Alright.
Telling you this, I'm trusting you more than I trust most people.
Good, I'm about ready to punch you.
It's probably nothing, but it's no skin off our teeth.
The pizza parlor guy is a friend from the FBI.
Who, stinky man?
For years, the FBI's been hooked into the library system.
- Keeping records. - Assessing fines?
No, monitoring reading habits.
Certain books are flagged.
Books on, say, nuclear weapons,
"Mein Kampf".
Anyone checks out a flagged book, his library records go to the FBI.
Wait. How is this legal?
Legal, illegal. These terms don't apply.
You can't use the information directly. It's a guide.
Sounds silly, but you can't get a library card
without an ID card and current phone bill.
- So they run a list. - Precisely.
If you want to know who's reading
"Purgatory", "Paradise Lost" and "Helter Skelter",
the FBI's computers will tell us. It could give us a name.
Of a college kid writing a term paper
on 20th century crime.
At least you're out of the office.
Get a haircut.
- How do you know this? - I don't.
- Neither do you. - Exactly.
"Divine Comedy",
"History of Catholicism", one called "Murderers and Madmen".
"Modern Homicide Investigation", "In Cold Blood".
"Of Human Bondage".
- Bondage? - It's not what you think.
Marquis de Sha-day.
- Marquis de Sade. - Whatever.
Writings of Saint Thomas Aqua-something.
Saint Thomas Aquinas. There.
He wrote about the 7 deadly sins.
- Is that it? - Yep.
- Let's try it. - Jonathan Doe?
Whatever.
We're sure about that name?
You were, you saw it. John Doe.
You want to go back, I'll go back.
Let's take a look at him, talk to him.
This is crazy.
We'll just talk to him.
"Excuse me, sir. Are you a serial killer?"
Okay.
You do the talking.
Put that silver tongue of yours to work.
You been talking to my wife?
Retarded.
Charlie's fucking Angels.
A name off a computer.
Mills.
- You hit? - No.
He's going down.
Fifth floor.
Police. Is there a back way out?
Lock your door.
Get out of the fucking hall.
Get down.
Get the fuck down!
Goddamn it!
Out of the fucking way! Clear!
Mills!
Go.
Where are you going?
- I'm going in. - No, wait.
- Wait. - What? He shot at us!
You can't go in.
- We need a warrant. - We got probable cause. Come on.
Think how we got here.
- I can't tell about the FBI. - Get out of the way.
We have no reason to be here. Listen to me.
- Get the fuck off me. - Alright. I'm sorry.
Just pay attention a minute.
With a hole like this, we won't be able to prosecute.
The guy will walk. That's what you want?
By the time we clear a warrant... Fuck that!
We need a reason to knock on this door.
Think about it.
Okay?
Okay.
You're right. I'm all fucked up.
When you're right, you're right.
Well...
no point in arguing anymore.
Unless you can fix that.
You stupid son of a...
How much money we got left?
So, I noticed this guy going out a lot,
when the murders was happening, so I...
- So you called Detective Somerset? - Right.
- She called Somerset. - 'Cause this guy...
was creepy and shit and one of the murders
...happened over there. - I told you the rest.
- Got everything? - I got your story.
Have her sign. You gotta sign.
Good.
You did good.
- I did what you said. - Here.
You get something to eat.
Everybody stay outside.
Victor.
Fuck.
Somerset.
- What? - We had him.
What are you saying?
Fucking photographer...
on the stairs.
We had him and we let him go.
You sure this is him?
Yep. Good. Get it out.
We've got nothing to go on.
No pay stubs, appointment books. Just this receipt.
- Keep looking. - Wait, look at this.
This was under the bed. His only source of funds?
We got his money. I like it.
You won't believe this.
We haven't found a fingerprint. Not one.
Right. I don't believe you. Keep looking.
We could us some more men.
I'm doing my best.
- What are you getting? - There are 2,000 notebooks here.
Each one has about 250 pages.
What about the killings?
"We're sick, ridiculous puppets. What gross stage we dance on.
What fun, dancing and fucking.
Not a care in the world. Not knowing that we're nothing.
We are not what was intended."
Wait, there's a lot more.
"On the subway today, a man started a conversation.
Small talk, a lonely man talking about the weather and things.
I tried to be pleasant,
but my head began to hurt from his banality.
I almost didn't notice,
but I suddenly threw up all over him.
He was not pleased,
and I couldn't stop laughing."
No dates.
Placed on the shelves in no discernable order.
His mind poured out on paper.
Looks like a life's work.
With 50 men, reading 24 hour shifts,
...it'd take 2 months. - I know.
Phone? Phone?
People, quiet!
I admire you.
I don't know how you found me. Imagine my surprise.
I respect you officers more every day.
I appreciate that, John.
- I tell you... - No, listen.
I'm readjusting my schedule in light of today's setback.
I just had to call to express my admiration.
Sorry I had to hurt...
one of you, but I had no choice, did I?
Accept my apology?
I'd like to say more, but that'd ruin the surprise.
Got it.
Everybody back to work.
You were right.
He's preaching.
These murders are his sermons to us.
Look, we know him. We know him.
Who's the blonde?
Looks like a 'pro'.
Maybe.
She caught John Doe's eye.
- He collected it last night. - Last night?
- Yeah. - This man?
Yeah, John Doe. Easy name to remember. Had a limp.
- And the job you did for him? - I've got a picture.
One sweet piece, actually.
I thought he was a performance artist.
The sort of guy that
pisses in a cup on stage
and then drinks it.
Performance art.
Right.
I think I undercharged him.
- You made this for him? - Yeah, I've made...
weirder shit than that.
They found the blonde.
The picture!
Fucking pigs!
- I need you to move. - I'll come out, but you guys...
Get out of the booth!
I've been in this cage the whole time.
Come on, this way.
- Can you stop this music? - We're looking for the guy.
You from Homicide? You better...
see this.
Get this thing off me!
God, get it off me!
Get him out of here, now!
I want to hear it again.
Tell me again.
You heard nothing strange, saw nothing strange.
- No. - No?
He ask me if I was married.
- I saw a gun in his hand. - Where was the girl?
The what?
The prostitute. Where was she?
Someone comes to your establishment...
they want to go downstairs, get some ooh-la-la. Whatever.
They got to come to you.
Yeah.
You didn't see anyone?
With a package? A knapsack? Something under their arm?
Everybody comes in with a package under their arm.
Some guys carry suitcases full of stuff.
She was just sitting on the bed.
Who tied her down? You or him?
Do you like what you do?
These things you see?
No.
No, I don't.
But that's life,
isn't it?
He had a gun.
And he made it happen.
He made me do it.
He put me that thing on me.
He made me wear it.
Then he...
told me to fuck her.
And I did. I fucked her.
Oh, God! Oh, God!
He had a gun in my mouth.
The fucking gun was in my throat.
Fuck.
Oh, God. God.
God, help me. Please, help me.
This won't have a happy ending.
- It's not possible. - We catch him, I'll be happy.
If we catch John Doe and he's the Devil,
if he's Satan himself,
that might meet our expectations.
But he's not the Devil.
He's just a man.
You know?
You bitch and you complain and you tell me these things.
If you think you're preparing me for hard times,
thanks but...
But you got to be a hero.
You want to be a champion.
People don't want a champion. They want cheeseburgers...
- play lotto and watch TV. - How did you get like this?
I want to know.
It wasn't one thing, I'll tell you that.
Go on.
I don't think I can continue to live in a place...
that embraces, nurtures apathy as if it was a virtue.
You aren't different or better.
I didn't say I was. I'm not.
Hell, I sympathize. I sympathize completely.
Apathy is a solution.
It's easier to lose yourself in drugs...
than it is to cope with life.
It's easier to steal what you want than earn it. It's easier...
to beat a child than to raise it. Love costs. It takes work.
We're talking about mentally ill people.
We're talking about crazies.
- No, we're not. - Yes. Today.
No, we're talking about everyday life here.
You can't afford to be this naive.
Fuck off.
You should listen to yourself.
Yeah. You say that...
the problem is people don't care.
So, I don't care about people.
Nonsense. You know why?
You care?
Want to know? Damn right.
You'll make a difference.
Whatever. The point is that...
you're not quitting because you believe...
these things you say.
You want to believe them...
because you're quitting.
And you want me to agree with you and say,
"You're right, it's a fucking mess.
We should all go live in a fucking log cabin."
But I won't.
I won't say that.
I don't agree with you. I do not.
I can't.
I'm going home.
Thank you, though.
I love you.
So much.
I know.
911, What's your emergency?
Could you repeat that?
I've done it again.
What have we got?
Sleeping pills.
Glued to one hand.
Telephoned glued to the other.
You see what he did?
He sliced her up.
Then he bandaged her.
"Call for help and you'll live.
But you'll be disfigured.
Or put yourself out of your own misery."
Come on.
He cut off her nose.
To spite her face.
He did it very recently.
Listen,
I've decided to stay on till this is done.
One of two things will happen. We'll get John Doe,
or he'll kill 7 and this case will never end.
Don't do me any favors. Thanks, but I got it.
I'm asking to be your partner a few days more.
You'd be doing me a favor.
You knew I'd say yes. We're here!
Your wife called. Get an answer machine.
Detective?
After this, I'm gone.
- No big surprise. - Detective!
You're looking for me.
Don't fucking move.
On the floor!
- Stay back! - On the fucking floor!
I know you.
Now, get down!
Get down on your stomach.
You piece of shit. Now!
All the way! All the way, fucker!
Down!
Faster.
Faster, fucker. Now.
Nose on the ground.
Jesus Christ. What the fuck is this?
I'd like to speak to my lawyer, please.
Godamnit!
He cuts the skin off his fingertips. That's why...
we found no prints in his apartment.
He's been doing it for a while.
The bank accounts? The guns?
So far it's a dead end.
No credit history, no employment records.
A 5 year old bank account opened with cash.
We tried tracing his furniture.
All we know about him...
is he's independently wealthy,
well-educated,
and totally insane.
Because he's John Doe by choice.
- When can we question him? - You don't. He goes to court now.
No way he'd turn himself in. It makes no sense.
There he sits.
It's not supposed to make any sense.
He's not finished.
He's pissing in our faces and we're taking it.
You know what I'm saying.
For the first time, you and I are in agreement.
He wouldn't just stop.
So what the fuck, man?
He's two murders away from completing his masterpiece.
We'll wait for his plea.
My client says there are two more bodies hidden away.
He will only take Detectives Mills and Somerset
to these bodies,
only at 6 o'clock today.
Why us?
He says he admires you.
Part of the game.
If they don't accept the offer, the bodies won't be found.
Frankly, I'd let them rot.
We've got him.
Downstairs, locked up. He'll get...
free room and board, cable TV.
My wife doesn't even have cable!
Something stinks. And this one, you, in your $3.000 suit,
smug smile on your face, dealing for that piece of shit.
Mills!
The law requires me to serve...
my clients' interest as best I can.
We don't make deals here, Mr. Swarr.
My client informs you
that if you don't accept, he'll plead insanity.
Let him try it.
I'd like to see it.
With the extreme nature of these crimes, I'd get him off
with such a plea.
I won't let this conviction slide.
If you accept his conditions, he'll sign a confession,
plead guilty right now.
It's your case. Make a decision.
Full confession. I'm in.
Has to be both of you.
If he claims insanity,
this conversation is inadmissible.
Blackmailing with his plea.
My client wants to remind you, two more are dead.
The press'd love to find out the police weren't concerned
about finding and burying them.
If there are two more dead.
The lab report came.
They did a quickie on Doe's clothes and fingernails.
They found blood from Doe's fingers,
blood from the woman whose face he cut off,
and a third party,
as yet unidentified.
You'd be escorting an unarmed man.
Let's finish it.
If John Doe's head splits open and a UFO flies out,
I want you to expect it.
I will.
If I accidentally shave off a nipple,
would it be covered by worker's comp?
I suppose so.
If you were man enough to file a claim,
I'd buy you one myself.
I keep coming home late, my wife'll think something's up.
You know...?
Yeah.
What?
Will this wind hurt us?
Who are you, John?
Who are you really?
What do you mean?
At this stage, there's no harm telling us about yourself?
Doesn't matter who I am. It means absolutely nothing.
Stay on your left up here.
Where are we heading?
You'll see.
We're not just picking up two more bodies, are we?
That wouldn't be shocking enough.
You've got the papers to think about, yeah?
Wanting people to listen,
you can't just...
tap them on the shoulder anymore.
You have to use a sledgehammer.
Then you'll get their strict attention.
But the question is:
Why are you so special that people should listen?
I'm not special.
I've never been exceptional.
This is, though. What I'm doing.
My work.
Your work, John?
Yes.
I don't see anything special about it, John.
That's not true.
No, it is. Funny thing is, after all this work,
in 2 months no one'll care, give a shit, or remember.
You can't see the complete act yet.
But when this is done,
when it's finished,
it's going to be...
People will barely be able to comprehend.
But they won't be able to deny.
Could the freak be more vague?
As far as master plans go...
I can't wait for you to see.
It's going to be something.
Know what? I'll be standing next to you.
So when this thing happens, be sure and let me know.
I don't want to miss it.
Don't worry. You won't.
You won't miss a thing.
What's so exciting?
It's not too far now.
I tried to figure out something. Maybe you can help me?
When a person is insane, as you clearly are,
do you know you're insane?
Maybe you're reading,
masturbating in your own feces,
do you just stop and go:
"Wow, it's amazing how fucking crazy I really am"?
Yeah? You guys do that?
It's more comfortable for you to label me insane.
It's very comfortable.
It's not something I'd expect you to accept.
But I did not choose. I was chosen.
Whatever.
I don't doubt that you believe that.
But it seems that you're...
overlooking a contradiction.
Meaning what?
Glad you asked.
If you were chosen,
by a higher power,
if your hand was forced,
it seems strange
you'd get such enjoyment.
You enjoyed torturing those people.
That doesn't seem to fit with martyrdom, does it?
John?
I doubt I enjoyed it any more than Mills would enjoy time with me
in a room without windows.
Isn't that true?
How'd you like to...
- hurt me with impunity? - That hurts my feelings.
I would never.
Only because there's consequences.
It's in your eyes, though.
Nothing wrong with a man talking pleasure in his work.
I won't deny my own personal desire...
to turn each sin against the sinner.
Wait, I thought all you did was kill innocent people.
Innocent? Is that supposed to be funny?
An obese man.
A disgusting man who could barely stand,
who you'd point out so your friends would join you mocking him.
If you saw him while you ate, you couldn't finish your meal.
Then the lawyer. You had to secretly thank me for that.
A man dedicated to making money
by lying with every breath he could muster to keep
murderers and rapists...
...on the streets. - Murderers?
Murderers, like yourself.
A woman so ugly inside, she couldn't go on living
if she wasn't beautiful outside?
A drug dealer. A pederast, actually.
Let's not forget the disease-spreading whore.
Only in a world this shitty...
could you say they were innocent and keep a straight face.
But that's the point.
We see a deadly sin on every street corner,
in every home,
and we tolerate it.
We tolerate it because it's common.
It's trivial.
We tolerate it morning, noon and night.
Well, not anymore.
I'm setting the example.
And what I've done
will be puzzled over
and studied
and followed...
forever.
Yeah.
Delusions of grandeur.
You should be thanking me.
Why's that, John?
Because you'll be remembered after this.
Realize, the only reason that I'm here now...
is that I wanted to be.
No, we would have got you.
Really?
Were you biding your time? Toying with me?
Allowing 5 "innocent" people to die...
until you sprang your trap?
What was the evidence...
you were going to use on me...
right before I walked up and put my hands in the air?
John. Calm down.
I remember us knocking on your door.
That's right.
And I remember breaking your face.
You're alive because I didn't kill you.
Okay, sit back.
I spared you.
Sit back.
Remember that when you look in the mirror...
for the rest of your life.
Or I should say the rest of the life...
I allow you to have.
Sit back, you fucking freak!
Shut your fucking mouth.
You're no messiah. You're a T-shirt,
at best.
Don't ask me to pity those people.
I mourn them as much as the thousands at Sodom and Gomorrah.
You're saying you were doing God's good work?
The Lord works in mysterious ways.
See those high-tension towers?
That's where we're headed.
I see it. 9 o'clock, and follow that road.
There sure as shit ain't no ambush out here.
No fucking nothing out here.
They'll come behind us in about two minutes.
I want you to go way up.
In 30 seconds, bank east on my mark.
I'll get him out.
Get out.
Slowly.
Stop.
Stay.
What do you got?
A dead dog.
I didn't do that.
What time is it?
Why?
I'd like to know.
7:01.
It's close.
Let's go take a look.
It's this way.
Down. Down. Down.
Watch him.
There he goes.
It's good we have some time to talk.
The guy in red. Keep the crosshairs on him.
A van's coming down the road.
From the north.
Be ready for anything. Wait for my signal.
Get out!
Out!
Jesus Christ, man. Don't shoot.
Step away.
Turn around. Hands on your head.
What's going on?
Why are you here?
I'm delivering a package to this guy, David.
Detective...
David Mills.
Get it. Slowly.
A guy paid me $500 to bring it.
He wanted it here at exactly 7 o'clock.
Put it down.
We got a box.
Call the bomb squad.
Bomb squad, we got a box.
Face the van.
Hands up.
Turn around.
Okay, go.
Off you go. Go.
I sent the driver out on foot.
He's headed north.
Have him picked up.
I don't know.
I'm going to open it.
When I said I admired you, I meant what I said.
It's blood.
You've made yourself quite a life.
- You should be very proud. - Shut up, you piece of shit.
California, stay away.
Stay away. Don't come in here.
Whatever you hear, stay away.
John Doe has the upper hand.
Mills!
Here he comes.
- Throw your gun down. - What?
- I wish I could've lived like you. - Shut up.
What are you saying?
Do you hear me, Detective?
I'm trying to tell you...
how I admire you and your pretty wife.
What?
Tracy.
- What did you fucking say? - It's disturbing...
how easily a member of the press can get...
information from your precinct.
What the fuck?
Throw your gun down!
I visited your home this morning,
after you left.
I tried to play husband.
I tried to taste the life of a simple man.
Throw it away!
It didn't work out.
So...
I took a souvenir.
Her pretty head.
- What's he talking about? - Give me your gun.
What's going on?
Put the gun down.
What was in the box?
I envy your normal life.
Drop the gun.
It seems envy is my sin.
- What's in the box? - Give me the gun.
What's in the fucking box?
He just told you.
You lie! You're a fucking liar! Shut up!
That's what he wants. He wants you to shoot him.
Say it's not true.
- That's not true. - Become vengeance.
She's all right.
Become...
wrath.
She's okay.
If you murder a suspect,
you throw it all away. He knows that.
- She begged for her life. - Shut up.
She begged for her life,
and for the baby inside her.
He didn't know.
Give me the gun, David.
If you kill him,
he will win.
Oh, God!
We'll take care of him.
Whatever he needs.
Where are you going to be?
Around.
I'll be around.
Ernest Hemingway once wrote:
"The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for".
I agree about the second part.