So let me guess : satanic hazing ritual gone wild.
Dead custodian.
Jeremy Fitch, 31, single, been cleaning the freshman dorms for the last three years.
Janitor.
L.A.P.D. specifically wanted us for this?
Did the signature match one of our suspects?
Actually, they thought we'd be more interested in the victim.
This is really sick.
These are students.
From the dorms he cleaned. He was quite the shutterbug.
Artist, too.
Any chance these were planted?
Considered that. Until we found this.
Right? It's like, "C'mon buddy, get it together..."
Then you open his death locker...
Well, looks like he was planning on doing some real damage.
Not anymore.
The Inside Season 1 Episod 3 - Pre-Filer
Transcript : Raceman
Traduction : Cookie
Synchro : Raekwon
www.forom.com
Stan Hedges, 34, copier technician.
Found at the Puente Hills landfill.
Suffered 30 gunshot wounds at close range from an assault rifle.
Police later discovered he'd sent death threats to his coworkers.
A search of his apartment revealed...
an AK-47, 2,000 rounds of ammunition, and floor plans to his office.
Looks like this guy was getting ready to c.c. everybody.
Frank Bicks, 46, actuary, father of three.
Four days after he was reported missing from his Pomona home, police find a loaded .45 and a shovel in his minivan,
along with a map leading to four freshly dug graves in the San Gabriel forest.
One for an adult, three child size.
Guess where they found Frank.
In one of the holes he dug for his family.
Shot execution-style, untraceable .45 slug.
His wife said he had a violent temper and was on antidepressants, but he had no prior record.
Just like...
Jeremy Fitch.
Prints weren't found at any of the scenes, but the signature is unmistakable.
A killer who kills serial killers?
These are future serial killers.
None of the victims had committed a crime at the time of their murder.
- How does he know how to find them? - He's a profiler.
He does what we do.
All three of the men's homes had been broken into and their public records accessed by an unknown individual.
He researches potential killers.
Those that don't meet his criteria, he rules out.
Those that do, he executes.
In the way in which they... may have killed.
It's poetic justice.
Should add him to the payroll.
Paul... have Carter search everyone in L.A. County that was rejected by the FBI over the last... five years.
Rebecca, tell us who we're looking for.
Preliminary evidence suggests he chooses victims within his own demographic.
So we're looking at a single white male, early 40s... highly intelligent, athletic, lives alone.
- Phew, it's wet out there! - Hey, what are you doing?
Cute couple, aren't they?
- Man, get the... - What's that?
Shut up, turn around, put your hands on the wheel.
Oh, God...
I, um... my wallet's in my pocket, my back pocket.
What am I supposed to do with that? Secure my grocery money? Come on, James. Think.
Wait, how do you know my...
Who are you? What do you want?
An even better question, James, is what do you want?
Sitting out here every weekend, watching the lovers go to the movies...
and then watching them go home to make love?
I mean, I guess it's okay.
At least it's not illegal.
And it's even past 6:00 on the traffic meter, so you really haven't broken any laws at all.
Except maybe when you ordered those snuff films.
What?
And I'm thinking there's probably a city fine for shooting stray doggies in your backyard, though we'd have to look that up.
But we're not gonna do that.
'Cause you and I both know that in a couple weeks, give or take, you're going to act out what you've been dreaming.
And one of those couples is going to end up like one of those dogs.
Not because you're an unresolved oedipal maniac, of course, but because they're all such a bunch of selfish whores,
who laugh just to think that you'll never have what they have.
You thinking about the .45 in the glove box?
It's a Sig Sauer, right?
Just like this one, P220, except not with a silencer.
You bought it at Jerry's on Oxnard, right?
With Mommy's Mastercard?
Please...man... I...
I... I haven't done anything.
And you never will.
Victim is James Havens, 42, telemarketer.
Two .45 slugs to the back of the head around 9:00, 10:00 last night.
What's the hook?
Lived at his mother's place at Eagle Rock, and liked to kill dogs.
They found snuff films under his bed, ordered online, and a .45 in his glove box with his prints on it.
No prints anywhere else.
Box office guy said he'd seen him before.
Liked to sit outside and watch people come out of the theater.
All he was missing was a T-shirt said "Serial Killer" on it.
Also, um... he hadn't killed anyone.
Yet.
She's positive he bears the sig of the Pre-Filer.
The Pre-Filer?
You like? That's mine.
Boss, I'm thinking we let this guy go a couple weeks more.
- Start taking Sun... - "Start taking Sundays off." Yeah, now the third time I've heard that.
I'm not joking. Like Web said, he does what we do.
Danny, we're not psychics, okay? We don't predict the future, and we don't prosecute thought crimes.
Guy had a gun, dead dogs, snuff porn.
- Statistically speaking, he was... - Do you own a lot of personal firearms, Danny?
- Did you ever download porn? Gruesome images? - Well, I'm a federal agent. That's all research.
So what if you weren't a federal agent?
Got a history of violence?
Talk to me about the killer.
He chose this spot.
Best vantage point in the area.
Unobstructed view of the movie theater, the cafe.
Hey, Danny?
The box office guy did he tell you what nights he usually saw the car?
Fridays and Saturdays.
When people are out.
Dinners... movies... people on dates.
He was fantasizing.
They have what he wishes he could.
Relationships.
Happiness.
He wants them to suffer.
The way he has.
He stayed in the car.
Kept his distance.
He was afraid.
He didn't yet have the courage to kill.
But it wouldn't have been long.
Couple of weeks, give or take.
That was a very thorough description of the victim, Agent Locke.
I was asking about the killer.
There was more than one.
Not according to the evidence.
Until something larger than a dead dog shows up, we have to consider Havens as innocent prey.
Prey? Yes.
Innocent? No.
Here, here.
Sorry I'm late.
I'm replacing George tonight.
He calls Felipe, like, an hour ago.
At least he called in this time.
Felipe, hold the door, will you?
- Could you get my...? - You know what? Never mind.
Just let me drop these...
Could you just...?
I got a summary on the field cards from the Havens crime scene, couple of witness statements,
and these are the results on the rejected FBI applicants.
Good morning to you, too.
Bunch of weirdos, but given their whereabouts at the times of the murders, they couldn't have done this.
How many coffees did you have this morning?
None.
Should I have one? No.
She's just all fired up.
You really want to catch him, don't you?
I want to know how he does it.
That's weird.
Which part?
My clock.
It's usually...
...here.
Rebecca?
Who drives a silver Cherokee?
'Cause you parked in my spot.
I thought we'd been through this drama already.
Did you say a silver Cherokee?
Yeah.
This is Special Agent Locke, VCU. I need a bomb squad to the parking structure,
lock-down on Level Three and containment of the vehicle in spot, uh...?
- 872. - 872.
It's him.
Three witnesses saw a suspicious silver SUV, late-model American, leave the area.
Good eye.
He must've got in with the cleaning crew when they changed shifts.
Knew their names, knew where the cameras were.
See, this is why we need that new building. I mean, you'd think after 9/11 they'd pump up security.
Extra security is an illusion.
Bureau servers are secure, and he hacked in to find out who I was.
So, he's saying he can get to us.
He's also saying he's better.
The message is general, meant to intimidate...
Like the car.
- Hey, Carter. - Hey. Welcome.
Don't you love getting out of the office?
When it's not safe, yeah.
What can you tell us?
It's a rental and this bad boy is clean.
No bombs, or so they tell me.
No bugs, which I can tell you. Also no blood, bullet holes and other incriminating "B" words.
What about GPS?
Wiped.
Except for the memory cache.
I dug out the last five entries that were programmed in.
That's the address of vic number one. In Whittier.
That's number two, Pomona.
Three and... four.
Message just got a lot more specific.
Guess what we're gonna find at address number five.
Our next crime scene.
- Stop! - FBI!
- Get on the ground. - Get down!
- Now! Now! - Wait! Wait! Wait!
Get down!
What's going on? What is this?
Roger, what's going on? Who are these people?
This just got ugly.
Roger Comack, 43, executive sales VP at a surf wear company.
Business degree from U.C. Santa Cruz early bankruptcy he recovered from, no criminal record.
Lives in Santa Monica with wife, Kelly, his high school sweetheart, and their two young boys, Cody and Justin.
- I don't get it. - I don't even have a joke. We expected to find a victim and were instead presented with a target.
Yeah, but why this guy?
That's the question the suspect wants us to answer.
Or a challenge he wants us to accept, designed to prove his superiority "Can you protect this guy from me?"
Paul, did you station somebody at the house?
Yeah, we have two unmarked units watching at either end of the street, right now.
Not enough.
Pre-Filer got inside here with like a shoelace and a whatever.
He can get past two guys falling asleep.
I don't feel like scaring the crap out of them any more than we already have.
Batman breaking into your house to kill Daddy is pretty scary.
That's not gonna happen.
Danny, work me up a low-profile security plan for a four-man team.
- Wait... I can use one of my safehouse variables. - Wait. Wait a minute. What if this is a trap?
We make it a trap for him.
And we make it now, people.
Rebecca.
You really think this Comack is a threat?
I think Pre-Filer's been right so far.
I'm not asking him.
I think... we need to get inside that house.
Absolutely not.
- Not without knowing why we'd have to... - Sir, it's for your own protection.
Protection from what?
FBI?
Is this... is this about the family across the street? The Duwanis? Aziz Duwani?
No.
No. Mr. Comack, your address was found in the possession of a suspect that we've been pursuing as part of an ongoing investigation.
Suspect for what?
Multiple homicides.
Who... who is it?
I'm afraid we can't tell you that right now.
Because you won't, or because you don't know?
- Well... how did he get our address? - That, we don't know yet.
Then what are you trying to tell us? Huh? What do you know?
The man we're after acts on vigilante tendencies.
If you're on his list, he's already decided... you're a danger to others.
Oh, so he's insane?
An insane man wants to...
- Well, why us? - I don't know.
Why us?
We're a normal family.
This whole arrangement is temporary
until we can find a safer place to transport you and your family...
Mom!
Justin keeps taking my controller!
Mom?
- Come on, honey, let's, uh, turn that thing off. - No!
Come on, let's watch a movie.
- No! - Justin, drop it!
Just, just pretend we're not even here.
Hey, Missus!
The burglars can't get inside, right?
That's right.
We put up a force field.
But... what if they're already inside?
Can I help you with something?
- No. I was just looking for, uh, something... - Paper clips?
They're in the next drawer over.
Do you keep a gun in the house, Roger?
Me? No.
Any other weapons of any kind?
Weapons? No.
Why do you ask?
For your safety.
Yeah.
Why don't I believe you?
I don't know.
What are you doing in my office?
Huh? What are you people really doing here?
Step back.
No.
This is my house.
Step back.
My house.
There he is.
Hey, champ. What are you still doing awake?
Come on, let me get you to bed.
What was that about?
You saw.
He got totally aggressive with me.
What are you doing in his office?
It's not enough to just admire the killer, is it? You actually want to prove he's right.
No.
This time I want him to be wrong.
It can't be him.
Help you?
Aubrey?
You should really stay upstairs.
Are you kidding? That's Aubrey Richardson. She lives in the neighborhood.
Wh-Where's Angel?
What? Get in here.
Is that Aubrey?
Where's Angel?
- Who's Angel? - Her cat. She's still missing, honey?
He told me Mr. Comack had him.
Wait, uh, honey, who-who told you that?
The... the blue man.
Aubrey, can you tell me what the blue man looked like?
He had a hat.
He could be dressed like a cop.
Perimeter units go to secure.
Come back with your 20's.
Do we keep her in?
No. Take her home.
Aubrey, honey, take my hand, and we're going to run home real fast, okay?
But what about Angel?
The FBI's on the case.
I'll watch the door.
Locke.
Someone should tell that girl not to talk to strangers.
You tell them it's me, I hang up.
It's Web.
I'm alone.
Okay.
I hope I'm not interrupting you.
I don't mean to rush your work or anything.
Thank you.
What's your name?
Uh... no.
Any other questions?
Why Roger Comack?
Oh, please.
It's not enough I gave you an answer you want me to read it out loud for you?
Fine.
Then why me?
You can thank your boss for that.
He showed you off for me.
He's very proud of you.
You were there.
At the Havens crime scene.
"Crime scene."
You still using the word "victims," then?
No.
Victims suffer injustice.
These men suffered the opposite you.
You stop them before they cause pain...
Bitch, don't try to profile me.
You don't have Virgil Webster's track record.
Besides, you're the damaged one.
I'm just someone who's a little smarter than a really stupid system.
No. The stupid system accounts for human error.
Your ritual depends solely on your ego.
You're about power, not justice.
You kill because you're powerless not to.
Just like every other serial murderer.
That's Paul Ryan talking.
When do I get to hear from Rebecca Locke?
Or better yet, put Becky George on the line.
I want to ask her if she wouldn't have wanted someone to take out her abductor before he came in through the window.
What'd you expect, dummy?
We can't find Comack.
Not surprised.
Aubrey Richardson.
Roger's gone.
No...
Roger's loose.
What led you to the attic?
On the phone, he mentioned my abduction, which, including the article on my computer, was his second reference to it.
In your case, an attic was involved.
Yeah.
So his sending the girl was...
A symbolic reference.
Maybe it was more direct than that.
Maybe he was saying, "Look, here's Roger's target. I'm showing you."
I guess I put it together too late.
So, uh, the police sweep's already halfwayup past Lincoln.
If Roger's not hiding under a pool house, he's still on foot or he caught a bus.
Either way he's restricted. We'll get him.
Good. In the meantime, our guy has been here before we were.
I want this trunk and the contents at the lab for hair, print and fibers.
And we have to seize the cat.
Oh, come on.
She just got him back.
Right.
No, you stay here.
Roger may come back.
- But, I... I should be helping with the evidence assessment... - I'm taking the Pre-Filer.
You are taking Comack.
Look... there's a dangerous man living in this house.
There's plenty of evidence to assess, right here.
I need the photos.
The candids.
Okay.
Web.
What is it?
You don't think Roger's coming back.
You think that the killer had some connection to Rebecca, might try to engage her again.
That's why you're sticking with her.
Right.
Where are Cody and Justin?
Cody's room.
Where's Roger?
We're still looking.
Maybe you can help.
Did Roger ever travel for work?
No.
Sometimes.
Not really.
Does he ever stay someplace near the water?
Get those away from me.
I'm sorry. We don't have a lot of time.
No, I'm sorry. Get out of here!
Rebecca.
Could you, uh, could you step out, please?
- Why? - Because you can't be in this room right now.
Uh, I-I apologize for my colleague.
- She's a little... - I want to go to a hotel.
I want to take Cody and Justin with me.
We wouldn't recommend that right now. Your husband may call in.
And just to make it clear, no one has accused Roger of any crime.
We know that those items may have been planted.
They're not.
What?
They're not!
I... I... I don't know when I first knew, or... not knew, but felt.
...when I felt that something was wrong with Roger.
Sometimes I would ca-catch him glancing, or... just a little too long?
Oh, God. Oh, my God!
I want to go to a hotel. I'm scared.
Look, the man that we're after, he may be after Roger.
He's not after you or your boys.
I'm talking about Roger.
Roger's over.
Any threat he may have posed was predicated on his secret world remaining secret.
You don't really believe that.
Roger's company sometimes rents rooms in a hotel, for showrooms. I'm not sure which one.
Somewhere near the pier.
What do we have?
Sentimental items from all four victims and Roger Comack.
Guns, knives, dirty books, restraints, pills, fetish paraphernalia...
Prints, hairs and other... residue.
- Any trace of the Pre-Filer in the Comack evidence? - None.
Pre-Filer. That's kind of cool.
The answer is here.
Yeah, I can tell you some stuff about the victims none of it's nice.
As for the suspect... I can run more tests, but I highly doubt we'll find anything.
Gotcha.
You were right to check me back there, with Mrs. Comack.
- I'm just not used to dealing with... - People?
Look, I just think you're being overzealous about taking down Roger.
I should be under zealous?
He hasn't actually committed a crime.
You're defending a pedophile.
No. I'm keeping a clear perspective on a basically
law-abiding person whose life has been openly threatened by a serial killer.
It's just that textbook, huh?
No, it's that personal. And I know it is for you too.
Well, it was for Roger.
There.
Roger, open the door.
It's Agent Ryan and Agent Locke.
It's open.
Get down on the floor, on your stomach.
He's not under arrest. Listen, Roger, we're here to protect you.
Spoke to the front desk, Roger.
You're here a few times a month.
Drop your gun.
Drop yours.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six...
Okay.
- ...four, three, two... - Okay, okay...
Please.
I did what you said.
Please, let me go.
I haven't done anything.
I know.
Hello.
Could've been worse.
He took Rebecca.
- Is he ready to go? - Yeah, he's good.
- Ready? - Yeah, concussion willing...
Don't worry, we'll get her, man.
Web's on it.
- He's got the scent. - Web? Where's Web?
He's at the post office.
Yes.
These check digits, these delivery points,
this mail was most likely processed through this branch.
Who would've processed this mail?
We got 89 clerks working shifts around the clock, seven days a week.
We sort though thousands of pieces of mail...
We're looking for somebody who's been recently reprimanded or fired.
Recently?
No.
Though we're facing cutbacks soon.
Look, the guy we're looking for is Caucasian, single, early 40s, athletic, very smart, keeps to himself, well spoken.
Marty.
You're talking about Marty.
Marty...
Manning.
Martin Manning.
That's the only guy.
We call him "college boy."
You got an address for this guy?
It all starts with the mail.
They need fuel, so they order illegal pornography, arson manuals, weapons, you name it.
They order this crap to their house, through the mail.
Hey!
Friends not coming.
Stop looking at window.
Nobody has a clue who I am, much less where I live.
You work at the post office.
That's phase one.
Sort through suspicious material, see where it leads us.
Phase two is filter down: research public records, access private records, access credit card data.
Sort the good from the bad from the ugly.
Phase three is physical penetration of the lair, where I make the final analysis.
Phase four is intervention.
That's impressive.
I respect you, Rebecca.
I respect your talent.
So don't think I'm out of line to ask for your respect in return.
So please don't condescend to me.
What do you want?
On the phone, you implied that my methods were faulty.
In fact, you insulted me by calling it a ritual.
I'm sorry.
I don't feel entitled.
I don't feel the need to be right.
I just want to have a fair chance to prove my point.
So I figured the best way to prove it would be to let you prove it for me.
Believe me, I know how theatrical this all looks, but it's fairly straightforward.
- No! Don't! - Wait!
Don't worry.
I don't pull the trigger until you tell me to.
Now, profile Roger.
What?
Profile Roger.
Tell him who he is.
You've already done the work.
So have I.
There's nothing...
There's no crime...
- I told you not to condescend to me. - Wait! Wait! All right, okay. Stop!
He... he probably started a couple of years ago... at one of the conventions for work.
He was at the hotel...
Yeah, I know. Tell him.
You... you were at the hotel.
You wound up with a west-facing room, and you saw a girl on the pier.
From a distance, she looked just like Aubrey Richardson, the girl who lives next door.
And you got curious.
You started watching.
The next time, you brought your camera.
Just to get a closer look, not to take pictures yet.
But every convention, you booked a west-facing room.
By the time you started shooting photos,
you were booking the room even when there was no convention.
And you know it's wrong.
And you hate yourself for it, and you hate the girls for the way they make you feel.
It will get worse.
The tension there.
And you'll need to find a way out, to get normal.
And that's when it will happen.
Six months, a year maybe.
Just once, but it won't last, and you'll need to do it to get normal again.
- And again. - No.
And again.
We don't have enough evidence on him, Rebecca.
They're gonna let him go free.
We know what he'll do.
You, especially.
What should we do, Rebecca?
What can we do?
Let him go.
Wrong answer.
Boy, Roger, this is your lucky day.
This pretty girl has decided that you're good to go.
Fortunately... she's not the only one who has a say in this.
I guess we're all on our own for phase four.
Oh, God, help me, please!
It's way past that, amigo.
Hey, do you want to know how you were going to do it?
Hey! I thought this was a debate.
When do I get my turn?
- If you want to talk about ethics... - I want to talk about you.
Didn't I tell you not to do that?
If you feel entitled...
Oh, so you're gonna do me, huh?
Okay.
I'll give you a head start.
My childhood was bad.
I hate myself...
You hate half yourself.
Web.
We're in position.
Is the street secure?
Affirmative.
Take the house.
The other half you like.
The smart half.
The part that sees things so quickly and puts them all together.
You like the part that thinks, and hate the part that feels.
Because you feel the same thing that Roger feels.
And the same thing that Jeremy Fitch feels, and James Havens, and Frank Bicks.
And every time you kill one of them, you kill that half.
But nothing changes, does it?
What happened a long time ago, to us... still happened.
And there's nothing you can do to stop it.
Let's get a medic up.
Just kill me.
No.
I think we'll arrest you.
Just think of it this way... you're lucky to be alive.
I don't feel very lucky.
Reb... Agent Locke, um... thank you, again.
So is this what you wanted to ride along for?
You know you did the right thing, right?
Right?