Previously on Dexter...
- Why? - The gala this weekend.
Your left jacket sleeve is slightly shorter than your right.
Son of a bitch.
Buddy of mine's hiring cater-waiters.
What part of the city's it in?
That Leon Prater guy's mansion.
You fucking stay away from my son.
Of course.
Room service.
Charley came by work today.
She's fucking with your son.
It's probably time I pay Charley an unexpected visit of her own.
She's taking care of her mother.
D-Did you kill my mom?
That's not who I am. Leave my son alone.
Yeah, I need to speak with, uh, Mr. Leon Prater.
I'm curious how you know this guy.
- You mean Mr. Schmidt? - No.
He's Dexter Morgan.
I worked with him for over 20 years
in Miami Metro Homicide.
I thought, with everything going on here today,
we should meet in my vault.
Dexter Morgan.
Stay cool. Stay very cool.
I know exactly who you are.
I love it!
I have extensive files on serial slayers across the globe.
And what's the plan for Angel?
That is the price of your admission.
So much for cooperation.
Dexter Morgan... fuck you.
That was unbelievable.
I think you mean "stupid."
Pretty fucking stupid.
- I killed him. - You killed a cop.
I've put up with these psychopaths for years.
I don't even mind getting rid of them for you,
but what happened in there,
that I did not sign up for.
I know. Things got really out of hand.
Are you not listening?
You killed a cop,
right as every police officer in the city
is coming here for your gala.
I'll take care of the gala,
just like everything in there will take care of itself.
Are you just gonna leave him in there?
What do you want me to do? Let him out?
Introduce him to the police commissioner?
Invite him to dance?
Okay.
Point taken.
Remember the rule of threes.
Three minutes without oxygen. Three days without water.
Three weeks without food.
He's good on oxygen.
So, three days, then.
We can live with that, right?
Even if he can't.
I'm needed downstairs.
You stay here. No one gets near that vault.
There's a first aid kit in the credenza.
Tend to that wound. I need you at your best.
Shit.
That gun killed Angel. Can't get my prints on it.
There has to be another way out.
This was not on my list of ways to die.
Bet that wasn't on Batista's, either.
Rest in peace, Angel.
You were a good cop...
and an even better man.
You did it again.
That's what happens when you try to be someone you're not.
I told Angel to go home.
Batista couldn't go home.
He spent 20 years thinking you were his best friend.
And then another ten mourning your death.
Only to find out you're a murderous psychopath,
and you never actually felt anything for him.
Then why does his death hurt so much?
Because you're still listening to your fake dad
instead of your actual brother, your blood.
I offered you a life
with someone who actually understands you.
And you killed me.
And then, you got a second chance
with Prater's little club,
and you fucked that one up, too.
And for what?
For people like Batista?
Your so-called friend,
whose dying words were, by the way, "Fuck you."
I'm glad I killed you when I had the chance.
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_
Three days, huh?
Good luck.
If I had the Bay Harbor Butcher
locked in a room full of weapons,
I wouldn't open that door for a month.
So, unless you want to start
carving up some Batista sashimi,
you're gonna die in here.
And your shriveled, emaciated corpse
will be Prater's greatest trophy yet.
I am not dying in here!
Shit.
Only one way to unlock this phone.
I'm so sorry, brother.
Hey, Angel. Um...
I got a call from some detective in New York.
What the fuck are you doing up there?
Come home. I'm worried about you.
And, look, the real reason why I'm calling...
I can't handle another day with Masuka. He's driving me fucking nuts.
I miss them.
But there's only one person I can call.
You said you were coming here to protect your son.
Now you want to bring him into the lion's den?
I promised to keep Harrison safe.
I can't do that if I die in here.
So this is all about being a good father?
Not because you're afraid to die?
Both things can be true.
I should probably check that.
Who the hell is Batista?
Some fucking guy that won't leave me alone,
as-as you can see.
Hey, asshole.
Harrison can't talk right now.
His mouth is full... of me.
Oh, okay.
Your dad wants to talk to you.
Hey, Dad. What's up?
I hate to do this, but I need your help.
Why are you calling from Batista's phone?
- Prater knows who I am. - Dad, stop.
Why are you calling from Batista's phone?
The last time you called me from a cop's phone...
Yeah, Logan. I know. Harrison, listen to me.
Prater killed Batista.
And I'm next.
Fuck.
What can I do?
- _ - Shit.
Yo, Harrison. What's good?
Yo. I was just wondering if that offer was still good to work the gala?
Hey, my man wants some loot after all.
Yeah, I was just picking up some supplies.
I'll text you the address.
Great.
What's this?
Prater's files on all his serial slayers.
Maybe the code to the vault is in here... somewhere.
You think Prater left a Post-it note
labeled "secret vault code"?
I can figure it out. It's an eight-digit number.
You only get one chance.
And if anyone were to put in the wrong code
just once...
Wait, Charlotte?
Charley Brown.
No wonder she's always so pissed off.
Prater likes to keep tabs on his employees.
Prater likes to keep tabs on everyone.
Can you imagine the irony of you going down as the Dark Passenger?
Yes.
Gonna have to destroy these.
If you ever make it out of here.
He had to have written something down somewhere.
Cooper Morris.
That's the guy Prater told you about. Killed his parents.
And others.
What if Prater didn't write the combination down
because it's a number he'd never forget.
Today's date.
Prater hosts his gala on the anniversary
of his parents' death.
The night Cooper Morris killed Prater's parents
was the defining moment for him.
It's a pretty significant eight-digit number, don't you think?
That alarm goes off, a hundred cops rush upstairs.
- Better be sure. - Sure?
I'm betting my life on it.
What about Harrison's life?
Attention, servers.
Behind those curtains are the most powerful people in New York City.
I want to see wine glasses full at all times.
I want to see dishes cleared ASAP.
I need you all available. You understand me?
And use your eyes, ears and mouths.
- I'm in. - Great.
Can you get me a better view?
Okay, guys, let's go. What are we waiting on?
- Move it. Move it. - Yes, ma'am.
Got to get to work.
Okay.
All right, where am I going?
The penthouse is above the east wing of the mansion.
Got it.
Allow me.
Wow. You...
That's a really good color on you.
Your sleeves are still uneven.
Now where am I headed?
Uh, all I see is champagne.
Fuck.
Okay, should I take those stairs?
No. Those don't lead to the penthouse.
There. What's that door?
Uh, the service kitchen?
Head there. Keep an eye out for Prater and Charley.
They'll know something's up if they see you.
I work with rich people all the time.
They never notice the help.
Excuse me.
Leon.
I saw the silent auction has a charter on your yacht.
Just brought her up from St. Bart's. Mr. Mayor.
At, uh, Chelsea Piers, right?
- How are you liking that? - Oh, boy.
- I can tell you some stuff about that. - Uh, we're thinking of switching.
Fuck.
Well, we got that over with.
Let's not get cocky.
Past that freezer on the left. Is that a staircase?
Fuck.
Harrison, get out of there.
Where do you think you're going?
Uh, a-actually, I was looking for you.
Uh, one of our waiters is really stoned.
Uh, I'm afraid he might be a liability out there on the floor.
Point him out to me.
He's right... there.
Thanks for the heads-up.
Well played, son.
Yeah, remind me to make it up to Lance.
What a turnout.
Welcome, everyone, to my favorite night of the year.
The Tenth Annual Gala for New York's Finest.
Yeah!
The penthouse is five floors up.
Do those stairs go up that high?
Yeah.
This is five.
Uh, that goes to the roof.
Uh, I think I'm here.
It's-it's locked.
Do you have anything to pick it with?
Can you pick the lock like I showed you at Iron Lake?
It's not, it's not quite catching.
Harrison Morgan.
You're going through a lot of trouble
for a man you barely know.
Have a seat.
Dad, what do I do?
Give the phone to Charley.
My dad wants to talk to you.
Ah, Charley Brown.
So good to see you.
We need you to open the vault.
As fun as that sounds,
I think I'll leave the Bay Harbor Butcher safely locked away.
Yeah, I kind of figured you'd say that.
What's this?
Just a little something I found in your boss's secret file cabinet.
Time-stamped right before Mia's tragic suicide.
There's a whole file on you...
paper trails, phone logs, surveillance photos.
Looks like Prater's been documenting your dirty work
for a very long time.
That motherfucker.
The thing is, Charley,
there's quite a few cops downstairs.
You'd be surprised how many of them
keep their AirDrop wide-open.
It would only take me a second.
And if you go to prison,
who would take care of your mom?
So here's the deal.
I destroy everything,
including the copies I took on Batista's phone.
All you have to do is let Harrison go and open the vault.
You'll never see or hear from us again.
You let my mom live.
_
So, here's what's gonna happen.
I let your son go,
and then I walk away.
You die in there.
Release those files any sooner,
and, well, you know how good I am at finding people.
A month from now, a year from now,
two years from now, I kill your son.
After I torture him.
As long as you have it, take a look at my file.
You'll see what I'm capable of.
Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have some unfinished business with my former employer.
If you were smart...
you'd walk away, too.
There's nothing good in there.
Harrison, are you still there?
Dad, I'm here.
_
I'm losing battery on this.
Uh, switch to just audio.
I'm pretty sure I have the code to the vault.
It's through the wine room.
There's a keypad on the wall by the door.
But we only get one shot.
If I'm wrong, the alarm goes off.
And if that happens, you need to get the hell out of here
before a hundred cops rush up the stairs.
No pressure.
Harrison, you don't have to do this.
You can leave right now. I would understand.
Just give me the code, Dad.
Zero.
Three.
Two. Six.
One. Nine.
Eight.
- W-Wait. Stop. - What?
_
That might not be the right code. Can you start over?
Are you sure?
'Cause you second-guessing yourself is not really inspiring confidence.
Delete everything. Start over.
You ready?
Yeah.
Eight. Two. Six.
Six. One. Nine. Three. Four.
Did you get all that?
Okay.
Shit.
Dad?
Fuck.
Dad! Do you want me to...
You did great.
- What the fuck is this place? - Listen.
Wait right here.
I'm gonna grab a few things. Don't let that door close.
Son.
You should quit while you're ahead.
I want them.
You need to deal with Prater first.
I will, but right above a gala crawling with cops
is not the time. I need to be in control.
These are mine.
- Thanks for the bag, Sal. - _
Let's go.
Tell me we're getting out of here.
- What's wrong? - Shit.
Dad?
I forgot something in the vault.
- What-what is it? - A fake thumbprint.
Adding that to the list of things you're gonna explain to me later.
That thumbprint is my only way out,
but you can go back down the way you came.
Through the gala? Are you nuts?
It's like you said, "No one notices the help."
No. I mean, I'm not leaving you.
Right now, Charley could be telling Prater you're up here.
I'm not having you wait around to see what he'll do.
- I need to know you're safe. - What about you?
I'll be okay.
Harrison.
If something happens, I just want you to know
I'm really glad you didn't kill me.
Me, too.
L.P.!
- Hey. Hey. Yeah. - Great party.
Listen, when can I get you for a photo with my officers?
- Viv? - I'll add it to the schedule.
Okay. Just can you hold on one moment? I'll be right back.
- Let's go to my office. - Here's good.
What's going on? You shouldn't even be down here.
You're talking like I still work for you.
I quit. I'm done protecting you.
- You're not going anywhere. - Why not?
Because you have a file with compromising photos of me?
It wasn't enough for you to hold my mother's health hostage?
You needed to own me.
How do you know about that file?
Where's that fucking thumbprint?
I'm going to disappear.
You're going to keep paying for my mother's medical care,
and all of our secrets stay secret.
Or... we can go scorched earth.
Up to you.
Goodbye, Leon.
All right, let's take this party up a notch.
Is everybody having a good time?
Okay.
Sounds like somebody needs to open a few more bottles over there.
But, let's remember, this gala is not about,
you know, champagne and caviar. It is about raising money.
To care for the brave officers
who have been wounded in the line of duty.
That is why, tonight, I'm going to match
any and all contributions made by 9:00 p.m.
Starting with my first contribution of $1 million dollars.
I guess that makes it $2 million dollars.
Yes.
So, I... I don't want to hog the spotlight
all night long, so let's give a warm welcome
to my coconspirator in this evening's shenanigans,
NYPD Commissioner Franklin McNamara.
Come on, Franklin.
So...
I, um...
I-I-I couldn't be prouder of the department...
Mr. Prater.
Show me all the cameras on the north ballroom exit,
inside and out.
Shut down all the cameras.
- Sir, are you sure you want... - Do it.
Give me your gun.
Hello, Harrison Morgan.
Please, head back down the stairs, now.
Thank you.
Prater has a lot of expensive toys,
but I'll never be one of them.
I'm almost out. Where are you?
Why don't you come back upstairs?
Trust me,
you don't want to miss this after-party.
Where's my son?
Alive.
Where... is... my son?
Tell your father where you are.
W-We're in his wine room.
Harrison?
Bye, Dad.
Things would be a lot easier if I didn't care.
Is this the cost of loving someone?
Get that fucker.
So glad you could join us.
We both have compromising info on each other.
Release my son, you'll never see me again.
You don't have to do this.
Actually, mm, I do.
I've always admired people like you,
but today, I finally got a taste
of what it's like to be you, and it felt exhilarating.
So thank you for giving me the, uh,
what did you call that?
The... the itch? The need?
The... the great yearning?
The urge.
The urge. Yes, the urge. That's it.
That's it. I finally have that.
My heart is racing just talking about it.
Maybe this was my destiny all along.
But I never would've known if you hadn't pushed me.
That is why I'm so honored
that you are here to witness my first proper,
non-impulsive kill.
Love does have a cost.
And this is the ultimate price.
If this is your big show-and-tell...
you can do better.
Kill me instead.
You will be the apex predator,
the best of the best,
the man who took out the Bay Harbor Butcher.
Kill me
and leave Harrison to live with the consequences,
just like the man who killed your parents did to you.
Yeah, but unlike Cooper Morris, I can't leave a witness.
I'm sorry I couldn't give you the protection that you needed.
If you're spending the night there, you might want some...
protection.
That better be the last time you tell someone to shoot you in the chest.
What are we gonna do with him?
There's no "we." You're leaving, now.
Claudette's still in the ballroom.
If she sees either one of us, finds Batista, not a good look.
Here.
Use this.
Take the elevator down and go through the garage.
How are you gonna get out?
I'll thumb a ride.
Yeah.
Help!
What's wrong?
I thought you loved it in here.
Please, don't hurt me. Please, please.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
Don't be scared.
It's like you told me,
"Death is a natural, necessary part of life."
I'll give you anything you want.
A life of luxury.
I'm good.
What about your son?
Don't you want Harrison to go to a good college?
I'll give you enough money to send his grandchildren to college.
Never utter my son's name again!
Okay. Okay. Oh, God.
None of this would've happened
if you'd just killed that cop when you were supposed to.
Yeah, sorry to disappoint. I try not to kill good people.
A serial killer with a conscience?
A Code.
Given to me by my father.
He understood my childhood fated me to be like this.
Just like your childhood fated you
to be like you are.
But my father had a thing for justice.
He taught me to kill only bad people.
So, I was intrigued when I found Red's invitation.
Your dinner
offered a buffet of killers to feed my urges.
But then I got here.
Being around like-minded people.
Oh, it was intoxicating.
That's-that's-that's what I always wanted.
I know.
A place for people like you, where they can belong.
We all want to belong.
Yeah, I got to hear Al and Lowell
and Mia
and Gareth speak so freely, openly...
gleefully
about their kills.
And it was a fucking revelation.
I knew that you would enjoy it. I knew.
But...
then I realized all their victims were innocent people.
Not so like-minded after all.
_
You made a compelling offer.
Chance to give my son generational wealth
over generational trauma.
But...
I learned something about myself here.
That thing for justice?
Maybe it runs in the family.
It's not about the thrill of the kill?
Both things can be true.
Okay. Big smiles from everyone.
She means you. Look happy.
It is my preference to not smile for no apparent reason.
How much longer do I have to be up here?
We still have to pose with Prater.
Any minute now.
Where is he? I do not see him.
Mayor Thompson.
Would you do us the honor of announcing tonight's fundraising total?
Oh, I thought Leon was gonna do it.
- Uh, still no sign of him? - I am going home.
Please, everyone needs to remain on the stage.
We're about to make the big announcement.
You don't want to miss that.
Hello, everyone.
Uh, please turn your attention to the clock.
It's almost time for our grand total.
In five.
Four.
Three. Two. One.
And that brings our grand total,
with Leon Prater's generous match,
to $22.8 million dollars.
Leon, where are you?
Prater!
Prater! Prater! Prater! Prater!
You hear that?
Enjoy it now.
Because, after you disappear,
you'll just be remembered as a cop killer
with a serial killer fetish.
No.
I'm not going in the blood slide box?
Nope.
You're not.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Yes.
I knew you'd see it my way.
Nobody can turn down that kind of money. No.
No.
I am going to kill you.
But-but you...
I keep trophies to remember,
and I don't want to remember you.
Now, I am leaving. My time is valuable,
and I would like to use it to sleep.
- Let me walk you out. - There is no need.
I can hail a cab by myself.
Thank you.
What's happening?
Will you be joining me, or do you prefer to merely stand there and watch?
Goodbye.
For real this time.
Looks like that private charter might be up for grabs.
Time for the world to see the real Leon Prater.
That's coming from the penthouse.
Somebody turn off that fucking alarm.
What the hell is this place?
We got to call this in.
No one to call, kid. We're all here.
Got a body over here.
And a gun.
Jesus.
Being back on a boat is a resurrection of sorts,
but it's different this time.
Harry taught me the Code to keep me from getting caught,
to control my urges.
Still no sign of Prater?
No, but guess whose prints were on that gun.
Wait.
It belonged to Captain Batista.
Claudette.
Check this out.
_
Look at this.
_
But my urges are evolving.
When I came back from the dead,
I thought I was fated to a solitary existence.
What's going on?
We're leaving this cesspool of a city.
- What? Where are we going? - Home.
Home?
We're going back to Amherst.
I bought the house you brought me up in.
What about your job? Your-your students?
We have a lot to talk about.
But maybe I'm not built for solitude.
I need people like Blessing and his family.
As Al said, even people like me need to belong.
Harry always pushed me to lean on Deb,
but she's gone.
I miss her.
But now, I have Harrison.
He can lean on me.
And when my darker urges start to swell...
I can lean on him,
to become more human,
more connected.
To remind me why I do what I do.
_
I used to wish that I could be different.
Normal.
A life without my Dark Passenger.
But who am I kidding?
This is who I am
What I am.
I'm Dexter Morgan.
I'm exactly who I need to be.
Exactly who you want me to be.
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