Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com
Previously on Dexter...
You really believe in nothing?
I suppose I believe in a certain set of principles
so that I don't get into trouble.
Sounds like something I might teach a puppy.
Is that so bad?
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you
Lieutenant Debra Morgan.
If I could have feelings at all, I'd have them for Deb.
She's the only person in the world who loves me.
You've been the one constantly good thing in my life.
There's something inside.
Holy frankenfuck! Snakes!
- So it's begun? - Yes.
It's begun.
No!
Is this Doomsday?
I'm taking a lot of heat on Doomsday.
Are we making headway?
I'm about to interview
my top pick for the detective slot.
So far, our Doomsday killer has given us three tableaus,
most likely referencing Revelation,
Chapters 8 through 10.
- I think I found a new lead. - Who's this?
The latest and greatest intern from my forensics class.
The game is about homicide,
but in my game, you can be the serial killer.
I think this is offensive.
Who would choose to be a serial killer?
Are you out of your mind?
You fucked a person of interest?
Maybe you're jealous.
This is a job of trust,
and I can't have a partner I can't trust.
I don't know how to act, I don't know what to do,
- I don't know who to hire. - Deb, you're too smart
to think that this was gonna be easy.
Do you really think that Matthews made you lieutenant
because you were ready?
It's all politics to get back at me.
Every time the shit hits the fan, I go to him.
He's your safe place.
You're making it sound like
I wanna be with him or something.
Well, do you?
You didn't really think you could foil God's plan, did you?
I have to stop him.
What happened to saving him?
Travis's Dark Passanger is a part of him.
He can't be saved from it any more than I can from mine.
- Ugh! - I think Travis
is gonna kill again.
The eclipse is here, Travis.
This is not how it's supposed to be!
It's exactly... as it should be.
Oh, God.
It's simple human nature to keep little secrets
about ourselves.
We all do it.
"I dye my hair."
"I watch Internet pornography."
But what if your whole life is a secret?
A lie?
How can I help you?
One economy class ticket, flight 449.
To Budapest.
Correct.
And exposing the truth
could destroy everything you are.
What do you do?
Run?
Oh, God.
Get the fuck away from the body.
Deb, it's me.
Who's on the altar?
Travis Marshall.
Dexter, what the fuck?
Oh, shit.
Talk to me!
Would you lower your gun?
Please?
I came to do one last forensics sweep
like you asked me to do.
Travis was here. He came at me with his sword.
I fought him off.
I knocked him out.
How did he end up
wrapped in plastic on the altar?
I snapped.
You snapped?
What the fuck does that mean?
There's been a lot of anger inside me since Rita died,
and when I looked at Travis
and thought about everything he did...
I wanted him dead, so I killed him.
That still doesn't explain why he's wrapped up like that.
I didn't even think about it.
I'm a forensics expert.
I guess it's just second nature not to leave a trace.
Jesus, Dex.
Why the fuck didn't you call me?
I wasn't exactly in the best state of mind.
- Are you hurt? - No.
Physically, I'm okay.
- Who are you calling? - The station.
I've gotta get everyone down here.
No.
Th--please--wait.
Why?
How does this look?
- Pretty fucking weird. - Exactly.
An investigation could complicate our lives
more than either of us are prepared to deal with.
But it was self-defense.
Yeah.
But it's pretty fucking weird.
I have to call this in.
You had a moment of temporary insanity.
We can fix this.
How?
I'll get you the best fucking lawyer in the city.
Even if I'm lucky enough
to get off due to temporary insanity,
they'll still put me in some psych ward.
I'll lose my job, my career...
and probably even Harrison.
So what, then?
Travis is dead.
- Yes. - Nothing's gonna change that.
Maybe we should just get rid of the body.
- What? - I could put it in my car
and take it somewhere and dump it
where no one would ever find it.
- No. - If I'm careful--
No! Use your head.
If you get caught with the body,
everything's ten times worse.
We're not moving the fucking body anywhere.
Okay.
We make it look like a suicide.
Frustrated that the world didn't end like he predicted,
Travis committed ritual suicide at the church altar,
stabbing himself with his sword.
Maybe.
But not before first setting the church on fire.
Fire.
It's biblical.
One last tableau.
And it'll erase any trace that we were ever here.
How do we do that?
It would have to burn so fast.
Gasoline. There's a station nearby.
I'll go get a couple of gallons.
No, Deb, go home.
I'll do it. I know what I'm doing.
Bullshit.
Jesus, Debra.
That's a good doggy. Uh-huh.
Hey, dad. His name is Banjo.
Where the hell did that dog come from?
The Millikans' dog had a litter.
- I couldn't resist. - No dogs in this house--ever.
- But why? - Because...
Oh, Harry, look how much Debra loves--
End of discussion.
Dexter.
Don't even think about it.
I have to do whatever it takes
to keep Deb from the full truth.
I have to keep my secret safe.
Otherwise, my life, her life
will never be the same.
Oh, fuck, Dexter,
I don't know if this was the right thing to do.
It's only a matter of time before we get called back here.
- We have to go. - Go where?
- Go home. - I don't want to be alone.
I don't want you to be alone.
Well, just follow me. We can't stay here.
This is all wrong.
I should be on my boat right now
dumping the bags overboard.
I can't let this get away from me.
Morgan.
All right, everyone knows their jobs.
Let's do this.
The arson investigator said the fire started
somewhere in the middle of the church.
The melted remains of a gas can
seem to confirm that.
I was also able to get one fingerprint
that does give us preliminary confirmation
that this is Travis Marshall.
Travis appears to have doused himself in gasoline
as well.
He then climbed up on the altar,
grabbed his sword at the hilt,
and plunged it into his heart.
One final tableau.
He died instantly.
Please tell me he at least felt a little pain.
That makes sense.
The world didn't end like he predicted,
so he had to end his.
Good. Saves us the trouble having to do it.
Cheer up, lieutenant.
This is a big win.
Would have been better to catch him alive.
Plastic.
After all he did? Fuck him.
Masuka, Masuka.
Is it possible to kill yourself with a sword?
Oh, yeah, sure.
The ancient art of hara-kiri has been well established,
particularly amongst my own ancestors
as a penance for various embarrassing
and humiliating transgressions.
Congratulations, lieutenant.
Miami has one less murderer on the loose.
Thank you.
There's a large press gathering outside.
This is a good opportunity for you to make a statement.
There's still a lot to be done in here.
She's not as comfortable lying to the world as I am.
It's okay, lieutenant. You can go.
We're just, uh, wrapping things up.
Go talk to them.
Come on. I'll be right behind you.
I'll sneak out back.
If the press sees me, they'll only want to talk to me,
and you're the hero this time.
Yeah, but it's more heroic if you don't get mad.
Lieutenant--
- Hey-- - What happened?
Hey, you. Come here.
Would you make sure this gets logged?
Thanks.
Even if I put Deb in the uncomfortable position
of lying for me,
at least I've kept the bigger truth from her.
It'll all be okay.
Oh, hey, Dexter.
What are you doing here?
Uh, Jamie's putting Harrison to bed.
I didn't want to wake him.
So you used my computer without my permission?
I just wanted to check the basketball scores.
- I thought it would be okay. - It's not okay.
Well, I'm really-- really sorry.
I don't give a shit if you're sorry, Louis.
Never touch my things.
Louis, here you are.
- Yeah, here he is. - What are you doing here?
This is Dexter's side of the apartment.
I didn't realize there were different sides.
I'm, like, super-sorry.
- Is Harrison asleep? - Yeah. He's out.
- You should go home. - Okay.
Shit.
It'll all be okay.
You know, everyone acts like
Dexter's such a great guy,
but he's really kind of a pompous jerk, don't you think?
Uh, no.
Come on.
He's all like, "Don't touch my shit, man."
What a dick.
Louis. What is your problem?
Dexter's my boss, okay?
And he happens to be very good to me.
I still don't understand
why you were on his side of the apartment.
I told you.
I just wanted to get some water.
Right.
You know, the more I get to know you,
the weirder and weirder you get.
We go live to this Breaking News 9 special report.
I can only speculate, but I think it's fair to say
that Travis Marshall felt the intense pressure
of Miami Metro zeroing in on him,
and that led to his decision to commit suicide.
Lieutenant Morgan, are you ruling out
the possibility that this was a murder?
- Hey, Mike. - Just had a thought.
Where was his car?
- Whose car? - Travis Marshall's.
His car wasn't found at the scene,
so how'd he get to the church?
I'm guessing that a man that was about
to stab himself in the heart with a sword
probably wouldn't see a long walk as a big deal.
Ah, probably right,
but...still.
Sure. Yeah. You should check it out.
I will.
First thing in the morning.
Good night, L.T.
Need some help?
No. No, thank you.
It--it's okay. I can fix it.
Relax. I'm a cop.
Where's your lug wrench at?
No-no!
How were you so perfectly prepared to kill Travis?
What do you mean?
The plastic wrap? You just...
happened to have that with you?
I found it in the storeroom.
What about the knives?
You said Travis came at you with a sword.
Where did you get the knives?
There was, like, a whole roll of them.
Travis had them with him. They were his knives.
I don't know where he got them from.
You weren't in your regular work clothes.
You changed. You had a...
rubber apron.
Plastic sleeves.
I'm just trying to put this together.
Deb, I'm sorry I put you in this situation.
You look pretty stressed.
Yeah.
But...
you know my job can get messy.
I always keep a change of clothes in my car.
The apron, all that other stuff is just part of my kit.
Every blood spatter guy's got 'em.
What about when you said, "I know what I'm doing"?
When you tried to get me to go home,
you said, "I know what I'm doing."
What did you mean by that?
I meant I work crime scenes every day.
I know what people like me look for,
so I know what to cover up.
This doesn't feel right.
I know it doesn't.
Deb, I never meant to get you involved
in any of this.
But I am.
We gotta go to work.
What's wrong?
We had to give Banjo back.
I am so sorry, sweetheart.
I never should have gotten him without talking to your dad.
This is all my fault.
I want Banjo back.
No. It's all my fault.
Deb,
look, I made a huge mistake. I admit it.
But other than saying I'm sorry again and again,
I don't know what else to say.
Morgan. What?
When?
Jesus fuck!
That was dispatch. Mike's been shot.
- Is he okay? - I don't know.
- I'm right behind you. - Now, Dex!
Deb, I gotta...find my keys, put my bag together.
I'll get dispatch to text me the address.
I'll be two minutes behind you.
My getaway pack.
I don't want to run.
But if Deb doesn't let up,
that may be my only option.
Mike Anderson. One of our own.
Whoever did this to Mike
is gonna be very sorry.
He'll be very fuckin' dead.
Hey. We do everything by the book.
We're cops, not killers.
But being a killer would feel so very good right about now.
She suffered blunt force trauma to the head...
from something... narrow and cylindrical.
Steel pipe? Tire iron?
Yeah. Something like that.
The first blow was the left side of the head,
and then three more blows to the top, much harder.
She--her skull was fractured
and she hemorrhaged,
as evidenced by the blood that's trickling from her ear.
When will she believe me?
What happens if she never does?
When do you think she bought it?
Rigor has set in.
She hasn't been moved from this trunk.
And judging from the lividity
and pooling on the right side of her face and torso,
I'd say 8 to 12 hours ago.
Not long after we all left the church.
Yeah.
What a fucked up couple of days.
I couldn't agree with you more, Lieutenant.
We're looking for one shooter at a minimum.
The shooter hits this girl, dumps her in the trunk,
- speeds off. - Gets a flat tire.
He repays Mike's kindness
by shooting him and fleeing in Mike's car.
His car was found in an industrial park
near north west fifty-second.
I've got people there. We'll start canvassing.
And here? Any witnesses?
None so far.
Maybe somebody saw something.
I'm on my way to talk to Mike's wife.
All of her family's in Chicago,
and she's gonna need all our support.
Anything she needs.
Hopefully Dexter and I will win the DNA lottery
with our swabs, 'cause it looks like he wiped the car clean.
Nothing on prints except for hers.
Well, judging by her attire, or lack of it,
she was a stripper.
And on duty at the time of her death.
I've got an I.D. on the fingerprints.
Kaja Soroka.
Same person this car's registered to.
We'll find out where she works.
Steering wheel, shifter, door handles,
seatbelt buckle-- they're all wiped clean.
But there's always one place they forget to clean--
the turn signal.
- You're clear. - Oh, f-fuck.
The road's clear.
Thank you.
Fuck!
Excuse me.
I need to see the files on the Ice Truck Killer case.
- Row F-17. - Thank you.
Kaja Soroka was a Ukrainian national
here on a work visa.
She worked at the Fox Hole Gentleman's Club in Pinecrest.
Now, the same owner is listed as having
five other strip clubs in Miami.
We looked into them when I was with narcotics.
Figured they were using the places to launder money,
but we never got anywhere with it.
Let's get somewhere now.
Quinn and I is gonna take the fox hole.
The rest of you split up the rest of the clubs.
Let's go.
All the prints belong to Miss Soroka
except the one from the turn signal.
But there aren't any matches
in Florida AFIS, FBI, or DHS.
There's always Interpol.
I had this weird flashback of being on Rudy's tabl--
Brian's tabl--
whatever the fuck you want to call him.
Your brother's table.
Sorry. That must have felt not good for you.
It didn't.
But what bothers me about it
is that I was set up on that table
the same way Travis Marshall was set up on the altar.
Deb...
I mean, how do you explain that?
I don't know.
I was there too.
But I pulled you off that table.
I was on that table.
I almost died on that table.
You would think that I would remember every fucking detail.
But even I don't remember it that clearly.
Dexter, you were somehow able to perfectly duplicate
how he set everything up--
the same positioning,
the same amount of plastic wrap.
They are the same, Dexter. They are exactly...
the same.
Because Brian was imitating me.
This is crazy, Deb.
I know that.
It's crazy that I did what I did.
It's crazy that you just happened to walk in
and see me doing it.
And what were you doing in the church, anyway?
Just...
I-I was just fucking
checking to see if everything was okay.
I'm sorry for all the questions.
I'm just--Dexter, I'm...
I'm trying to make sense of this.
Deb, it's not gonna make sense.
Did you find anything in the car?
No, not yet.
Give up, Deb.
Give up and just leave this alone.
We have a match.
Viktor Baskov.
When you're losing control of your entire life,
it helps to focus on what you're good at--
my little secret.
I shouldn't be doing a kill now.
The irony is that's the only way I can maintain control,
the only way I can keep this from Deb.
Someone packed in a hurry.
Blood...
and gunshot residue.
Looks like you're our man, Viktor.
How careless were you, Viktor?
One first class one-way ticket to Kiev, Ukraine
leaving in less than two hours.
Very careless.
How can I help you?
One economy class ticket, flight 449.
To Budapest.
Correct.
That would be $1,890, please, Mr. Hartwell.
Ha. Dog track.
- Lucky you. - Yeah, lucky me.
- You're all set. - Thank you.
Step through.
- Please wait. - Wait, sir.
What are these for?
Diabetes. I have a prescription
if you want to see it.
Go ahead.
Hello, Viktor.
Right here, sweetheart.
Kill the music.
Good afternoon, everyone.
I'm Sergeant Batista from Miami Metro homicide.
We are investigating the suspected homicide
of one Kaja Soroka...
As well as the homicide of a Miami Metro police officer,
and no one is leaving until they've been questioned.
Employees of the club up against this wall,
and the rest of you perverts up against this wall.
Is there a manager here?
Yeah, I'm the manager.
George Novikov.
Oh, my God.
An employee and a pervert.
I don't know which wall you go to.
You know this guy?
Yeah, he was a low-level scumbag.
Now I guess he's a mid-level scumbag.
Nice to see you, Detective Quinn.
What can you tell me about Miss Soroka?
Kaja wasn't the smartest girl in the world.
No?
These girls come here from their little villages,
still stinking of cow shit.
They think they're gonna land some rich American husband.
They hook up with the wrong guys,
they end up over their heads.
Is that what you think happened?
I really have no idea what happened.
Look, I'm sorry Kaja's dead, you know?
She was a sweet kid.
And I'm sorry about your police officer too.
But their deaths have nothing to do with us.
Perhaps we can start with you supplying me
with a list of all of your employees.
Sure.
Can I get a head-count list to main bar?
Something cold to drink, detective?
Your name, please?
Foxy Raven.
Is that the name your mother gave you?
Maybe you could show me some form of ID.
I do not speak English.
No, of course you don't.
One of our guys found blood outside the door.
Excuse me, sir, I have your wheelchair.
I don't need a wheel...
It never matters your destination.
The smart traveler must be prepared
to make last-minute adjustments.
Lieutenant, you got a second?
Yeah, what's up?
We shut down the strip club,
questioned everyone, but didn't get shit.
We know she worked last night.
She signed in at 10:00, never signed out.
And we found blood in the parking lot
which we believe belongs to Miss Soroka.
But with all that, we still haven't gotten anywhere.
- No one saw her leave? - No.
No one remembers any customers she might have talked to.
No one remembers seeing her car in the parking lot.
No one saw shit.
And it's like she's a fucking ghost
- in a G-string. - That's bullshit.
She walked out of a packed club in the middle of her shift.
Someone saw something.
These places are all mobbed up--
Russian, Ukrainian organized crime.
Those strippers were brought in there.
They know not to talk.
How would you like us to proceed?
Shut down every one of their clubs
every night of the week until someone talks.
Okay. We're on it.
I'm gonna need more coffee. Coffee truck?
I already got so much caffeine in my head,
I can barely think straight.
You know what,
you're not gonna get anything done tonight.
Just go home.
It's been a very long, very fucked up day.
I'm too worked up to sleep, but I could use a drink.
Wanna head across the street, knock one back in Mike's honor?
- Lead the way. - You're coming, lieutenant?
Rain check. But slam a double for me.
Sure.
- Good night. - Night.
Good night.
What's up, lieutenant?
Any progress?
We know our shooter was wearing
size ten Prada shoes, very pricey.
We know he was right-handed.
So that narrows it down to about
800 million people.
- Dexter here? - No.
I told him I'd work late if he came in early.
Scotch and whatever my friend is having.
I'll have a vodka.
Don't you mean Shirley Temple?
What? I can't toast to Mike?
To Mike.
What if your union rep sees you?
Aren't you in some kind of program?
- I start next week. - That's good.
The sooner you address your problem the better,
'cause I'm tired of your bullshit.
Is there a reason why you're still breaking my balls?
You lose one girlfriend,
and the wheels completely come off.
I'm a sensitive guy.
I lost two wives and countless girlfriends,
and somehow I managed to keep my shit together.
Yeah, I wish my life was more like yours.
I mean, you're living a fucking dream.
Keep it up.
I'll put it for that transfer after all.
I don't care what the union says--I'll make it happen.
I thought you already put in for my transfer.
I didn't quite get around to it.
So you were just fucking with me?
You don't want me to leave.
You were only trying to get me to shape up.
A lot of good that did.
- You still fucking love me. - Fuck you.
I try to help you,
and you go running to your union rep
like a little bitch.
That was weak.
- Well, actually... - What?
I plan on talking to him
as soon as I find out who he is.
What about this program thing you're in?
That's bullshit. You know I don't have
a drinking problem.
Or maybe that's just me in denial--who knows?
We may never get to the bottom of this.
Yeah, do what-- just deal with your shit.
Mike was a hundred times better cop than we'll ever be.
I'll drink to that.
Hello, Viktor.
Where am I?
You're in a place where things are forgotten.
Never to be used or seen or touched again.
It seems fitting for a cop killer.
Not to dismiss Kaja Soroka. She counts too.
Who are you?
Good question.
It all depends on who you ask.
Who sent you?
Hmm?
You should not fuck with me.
I have very dangerous friends.
If you knew how many times I've heard that
over the years....
What do you want? Money?
I can get you a lot of money.
I've heard that a lot too.
Why are you doing this?
You want the long version?
That could take a couple of hours.
Short version.
Because I have to. Because I need control.
I'm trying to make things go back to the way they were.
You are crazy.
There's really no need for name calling, Viktor.
Is there anything I can do to keep you from killing me?
No.
Then get it over with!
Normally, I don't take orders.
But in this case...
How can I help you?
This is Isaak.
Viktor left on an evening flight.
He arrives in Kiev at 5:25 P.M., your time.
Good.
What about the dead police officer?
It's still a problem,
but they don't have shit on us, so...
I'll make it go away.
Good.
Ridding the world of people like Viktor
is the one thing I'm good at.
And when I'm stressed near to the breaking point like now,
it centers me.
Maybe nothing has to change with Deb.
Hello?
Hi, Jamie. Is Dexter there?
It's Deb.
No, he's working late.
He's at work?
Mm-hmm, yeah.
He said with Mike's shooting and everything,
he might be there all night.
Oh, yeah, right.
Um, does that happen a lot?
I mean, I know I should know his hours and everything.
It's just that I'm always juggling things, so...
Oh, yeah, he works crazy hours.
Lots of nights till 3:00, 4:00 A.M.
All right. Okay, thanks.
Do you want me to have him call you?
No. Um...
No, I'll see him at work tomorrow.
Okay.
Good night.
What's his name?
Banjo.
Are you okay?
No.
Why did daddy take the real Banjo away?
What did I do wrong?
You didn't do anything.
It's me. It's my fault.
Why? What did you do?
Dexter's allergic to dogs, sweetie.
That's why we can't have them.
Sorry.
What were you going to tell her?
- The truth. - What is the truth?
That you got rid of the dog
'cause you thought I might kill it.
But I wouldn't.
I couldn't take that chance.
But what's more important
is that you mustn't ever tell Debra the truth about yourself.
Why?
If you think she's upset now,
that's nothing compared to how she'd feel
if she learned what you are.
She'd be terrified.
But she loves me.
Dex, she loves who she thinks you are.
If she ever saw the real you, she'd never get over it.
Son, your mother and I aren't gonna be around forever.
Someday Debra will be all you have left.
You don't want to lose her, do you?
My mistake was stepping outside the code.
I should have killed Travis the instant I met him
rather than try to save him.
Compassion does not fit me.
- You're ready? - Yes, I'm ready to join you.
But I can't. Not Deb.
No. You can't be a killer and a hero.
Vincent, you're working late.
Yeah, well, lots to do.
- Everyone's doing double shifts. - Hmm.
I know you're working on Mike's case
and that's top priority,
but I was wondering if anyone had a chance
to go through the evidence from the church.
Sorry.
It's all in those boxes over there,
but I'm kind of swamped here.
Of course.
Hey, does our forensics team
ever take blood slides at crime scenes?
No.
If any of the evidence is transportable, we bag it.
Otherwise, if it's blood,
we absorb it into cotton squares, then we bag it.
I see.
The only one person who ever worked at Miami Metro
ever took blood slides.
And that was?
Sergeant Doakes.
And that was only because of his side gig
as the Bay Harbor Butcher.
Right.
Of course, Sergeant Doakes.
Thank you.
None of us want to be fully revealed,
all our faults and weaknesses laid bare for the world to see.
All the more reason to make sure
I never again stray from what Harry taught me.
Did you kill all these people?
I did.
Are you--
are you a serial killer?
Yes.
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com