_
Just a moment.
What is it, Mary?
- What's happened? - Up on the new bridge,
he said something bad happened.
I found him down on the Bowery.
All right.
There you go.
My name is Dr. Kreizler.
Can you tell me what you saw?
It's all right.
Why was he wearin' a dress?
Sorry?
The dead kid.
He was dressed up like a girl.
Somebody cut him to pieces.
Are you sure it was a boy?
That's what the cops said.
Stevie? Ready the calash.
I need you to fetch Mr. Moore and bring him to the bridge.
Tell Moore to bring his drawing kit.
And tell him I need details!
Where were you this evening?
At Mrs. Astor's.
Was Jack there?
I don't recall.
What is it?
Forgive me, John.
I love him.
Oh, for God's sake!
Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Moore,
but there is a young lad here to see you.
He says it's very important.
What? Flora, dégage! J'ai besion de la chambre.
Good evening, sir.
What can't possibly wait, Stevie?!
He said he needs you.
Hyah!
Where on earth are we going?
The cops is there, so he said he wanted you to go take a look.
- Get out the way! - Hyah! Move!
Take a look at what?!
No!
- My God! - Hey, watch it!
Hang on!
Roosevelt's there.
You're gonna have to talk your way up!
For God's sake, Stevie, up where?!
Ah. No further.
And who might you be?
John Moore. I'm with the "New York Times."
No reporters.
I'm not a reporter. I'm an illustrator.
Well, then, there's two good reasons
for you not to be going up there.
Commissioner Roosevelt sent for me.
Well... we sure wouldn't want to be disappointin'
the commissioner.
Moore? What the hell are you doing here?
Theodore.
I gave strict instructions not to allow anyone up.
He said you sent for him, Mr. Roosevelt.
Kreizler sent me.
I'm to capture an image. I know nothing more.
Then he's got no business being here, sir.
Especially if he's been sent by that quacksalver doctor.
Dr. Kreizler would not have made the request
had it not been important.
Very well, Moore, if you think you can stomach it.
Git on, then.
Where are her eyes?
'Twas birds got 'em or rats.
Somebody's done you up good, young Giorgio.
You're a hell of a mess.
You know this child?
I do.
Giorgio Santorelli.
He's a boy-whore, worked out of Paresis Hall.
'Twas was known as Gloria there, though.
Why must you call him "it"?
What else you call a degenerate who dresses himself
as a girl for the pleasure of grown men?
Enough! You say the boy worked out of Paresis Hall?
- Hmm. - Who is the proprietor?
That'd be Biff Ellison and Paul Kelly what own it, sir.
I want them in my office tomorrow.
But beggin' your pardon, Commissioner,
but summonin' a man like Paul Kelly
just because some little piece of dago trash has been found...
My office tomorrow or your badge on my desk, Captain Connor.
As you command, Mr. Roosevelt.
What kind of devil could do such a thing?
Synced & corrected by -robtor- www.addic7ed.com
Fire setting in children is often a sign of loneliness,
not malice.
Then there's the bed-wetting.
The medical term is enuresis.
Bed-wetting has connotations of shame.
That is unhelpful to a child.
The people who recommended you said you treat adults, too.
That is correct.
But I've always found children's minds to be more interesting.
What we'd like to know, Doctor,
is if you can cure Ezra.
Before we end up in a heap of ash.
As an alienist, I treat mental and emotional disorders
in my patients, and I try to alleviate their condition.
I do not presume to cure them.
The exercise room is over here.
One, two, three, four.
Good, children. One, two, three, four.
One, two, three, four.
The music room is down the hall.
The dormitories are upstairs,
and you may have seen the playground.
You look as if you like playing outdoors.
The man's a fraud.
It's good to see you.
You've caused me a sleepless night, Laszlo.
The first of many, I suspect.
Forgive me, but I had no choice.
Roosevelt and his officers
would have never allowed me on that bridge
and I thought they might be better disposed to you.
Did you know the child?
Not this one.
Do you have the drawings?
Here.
Thank you.
Tell me what you saw.
Tell you?
It's all right there. I've drawn it for you.
You've idealized it.
This looks like a martyred saint in a Renaissance painting,
not a mutilated child.
It's no use to me.
Well, if that's what you think of my work,
why did you drag me away from a perfectly good evening
to witness a sight that will probably stay with me
for the rest of my life?
Because I need to see what you saw.
I need your help in this matter, John.
I saw a boy,
dressed suggestively in girl's clothing,
who had been...
It was as if an animal had torn him apart.
More specific. Deep wounds or shallow?
Precisely executed or haphazard?
Were the viscera exposed? The guts, Moore.
I know what viscera are.
The boy's throat had been cut to the bone.
His right hand was severed.
His chest and abdomen ripped open,
and the innards were left by his feet...
a kidney and a lung, I think.
And his genitalia had been removed,
and birds plucked out his eyes.
And his dress?
A white dress.
The same as any little girl might wear.
You still haven't told me what this is about.
Are you supposed to interview the suspect?
What suspect?
I'm sorry, Dr. Kreizler.
I wasn't told you were consulting on these murders.
Please don't concern yourself, Dr. Fuller.
I only just found out myself.
And how did Mr. Wolff come to be here?
He was discovered hiding in a warehouse down by the new bridge.
The police had been looking
for him for a different murder.
And do they know who?
Another male prostitute like himself.
The police claimed he stabbed his friend
to death with a knife.
Then, crazed by blood lust,
went looking for his next victim.
No, no, no, no!
Has anyone questioned him,
aside from the police?
One of the wardens tried, but Wolff almost gauged his eyes out.
Accompany them.
Thank you, Dr. Fuller.
Settle down.
May I ask what you're hoping to achieve with this exercise,
Mr. Wolff?
The police have the lion's share.
My name is Dr. Kreizler.
I sometimes work as an alienist for the courts.
Tell me, Doctor...
can you cure this?
There's no cure for advanced syphilis.
You have been charged with the murders of Edwin Band and...
Edwin deserved it!
I'd kill him again if I could.
And the boy?
You're accused of cutting him to pieces.
Yes.
Police said you knew him from Paresis Hall.
Do I look like a boy to you?
I wouldn't step foot in that molly house
full of rich pansies.
What are you looking at?
Do I stimulate you?
Does he remind you of Edwin?
Guard, please, open the door.
Open the door!
- Back up! - Laszlo.
What are you doing?
Laszlo.
How do you know I won't hurt you?
You stabbed Edwin 20 times.
He must have hurt you deeply.
What color were Edwin's eyes?
Green.
The color of envy. He found someone else.
What color were Giorgio's eyes?
You did not kill that boy, did you?
No, I didn't.
Doctor?
What'll take me first...
the gallows or the pox?
I'm afraid in New York State, it'll be the electric chair.
Either way... your pain will be gone soon.
Captain Connor?
Did he do it? Was there a confession?
Let's just say, Linc, we gave him a little bit
of the third degree, and he melted like butter.
Uh, Chief Byrnes?
You have anything to do with apprehending this Wolff fellow?
No.
I was just passing by to congratulate
Captain Connor here.
I'm retired, as you know, but I take great pride
in the achievement of my boys.
I'm Sergeant Doyle.
What do you think of the new commissioner's policies
on department reform?
I say we give Mr. Roosevelt all the rope he wants.
We'll see if he doesn't soon hang himself with it.
A-And a quote, sir?
W-What have you been doing with your time
now that you're no longer chief of police?
Speculating on Wall Street.
Mr. Morgan and some of his associates
have been most generous with their advice.
- There's Kreizler. - Dr. Kreizler!
Dr. Kreizler, a moment of your time.
As an alienist, have you been asked to get another madman...
Dr. Kreizler!
Dr. Kreizler.
That's him. I've heard about him.
Miss?
John Moore.
- Hello. - What are you doing here?
I've, um... W-We've come to see the commissioner.
- Sara and I... - I am Miss Howard,
an employee of the New York Police Department.
You will please accord me the respect
that my position demands.
Our families have long been acquainted.
Miss Howard is the first woman to hold a position
- with the police department. - Excellent.
Perhaps Miss Howard can help arrange an impromptu meeting
with the commissioner?
And how should I help do that?
With my "especially rosy mouth" or my "sparkling blue eyes"?
- Sara, I did not... - Miss Howard.
Certainly, Miss Howard, it was a society feature,
and I only drew the illustration.
You don't have an appointment.
Let me introduce you to Dr. Laszlo Kreizler.
Dr. Kreizler.
I've read your work.
I found it fascinating. Most of it.
Laszlo and I attended Harvard together,
along with the commissioner.
We're all old friends, you see,
which is why a surprise is in order.
Oh, no, but you can't just go in there without...
Hello, my friend.
Moore. I might have suspected you were behind this ambush.
I told them they needed an appointment.
Laszlo has something important he would like to s...
The man being held for the murder of the Santorelli boy
is quite innocent of the charge.
And just how would you know that?
Because I interviewed him.
On whose authority?
My own.
As usual, you've overstepped your bounds.
Stabbing a grown man in a heated argument
and the methodical disemboweling of a young boy
are very different things.
I'm well aware of your theories, Kreizler.
But at this juncture, your expertise is not required.
I took it upon myself to interview your suspect
because of an unsolved case three years ago.
The Zweig twins... Benjamin and Sofia.
The boy was a patient of mine.
His parents brought him in
because he wished to dress as his sister.
And one day, they both disappeared
while outside playing.
At first, it was thought they had run away,
but then their bodies were found in a rooftop water tank.
The body of the girl was unremarkable.
However, the boy was cut from sternum to pubis,
his innards displayed.
What are you suggesting?
That the Zweig murders and the present one
are works of theater,
inspired by the same imagination.
One person committed both crimes?
Yes.
Gentlemen, I think this may be a little indelicate.
Miss Howard.
And what is it you want from me?
I shall need to look at the postmortem of the Zweig case
to see if there's a connection, if one indeed exists.
I cannot allow that. It is neither legal nor ethical.
Murderers like this exist whether you accept it or not.
If I'm correct, your men will be ill-equipped
to fathom the motives of a perpetrator
with an impulse to butcher young boys.
Furthermore, I should like access to additional police records
to see if there are other victims that you have missed.
I should have known when I let Moore up on that bridge,
I'd be inviting this sort of incursion.
I cannot permit you nor any other outsider
access to privileged information.
Just because you live by your own set of rules, Kreizler,
does not mean I do.
Wolff did not kill that boy.
And that won't change,
no matter how many times your men put a boot to him.
My God, Laszlo, sometimes you can be
as subtle as a blowtorch.
How long have you known Miss Howard?
Oh, no.
Long enough to ask her a favor?
I won't do it.
I will not ask Miss Howard
to get you the Zweig file.
Well...
someone has to illustrate the society pages, I suppose.
Excuse me.
Oh, no, no, c-come right in, Miss Howard.
We've nothing to hide here, huh?
The commissioner would like a word.
Miss Howard? Mind yer petticoat.
There's a sizable, hairless rat
been spotted about the station house.
Funny, Captain Connor.
I see only a little pink mouse.
I like her even more now.
Miss Howard.
Now what?
I have something to ask you.
Yes?
May I address you as Sara?
You may, but exclusive of my official duties.
Sara, I would very much like to ask you
to get me the file on the Zweig case.
Have you lost your mind, John Moore? I mean, honestly.
It would only be to borrow it.
It will be returned with no one the wiser.
I'll be the wiser.
Kreizler needs the file.
Did he send you?
No.
Regardless, I will not betray the trust
the commissioner has shown in me.
Not for Dr. Kreizler, nor for anyone else.
Sara, please.
We need your help.
Our graft... paid for this building, Commissioner.
And lined the pockets of your men.
And now you drags us in here
like a couple of two-bit sneak thieves
when you already got your throat slitter behind bars.
Now, where's the decency, huh?
Might you have a pen, Mr. Ellison?
Thank you, Mr. Kelly.
I think what Mr. Ellison is trying to say here,
Commissioner, is that we are businessmen.
In fact, we have enjoyed an understanding
with the police over the years.
And after all the profit from your pandering, gambling,
and intimidation,
how much do you make from this understanding?
A great deal.
Well, here's something else for you to understand.
A child is dead.
A child exploited by you and your brothel.
No more. I want Paresis Hall shut down.
- Shut down? - You have until 6:00 today.
You can't do that.
I think the commissioner is right.
Best we close our doors on account
of this sad turn of events.
- Here you go. - Watch yourself!
Get the hell out of here!
Look out!
Move your fannies now, girls.
We open for business in less than an hour.
And Jesus died on the cross for your sins!
Never seen a girl before?
- Step right up! - Come on, put your backs into it!
I took out a ten-spot to cover the inconvenience
of closin' down.
But you're only shiftin' 'em across the street.
Will that be all, miss?
I can't decide whether they abhor our shape
or crave another.
They believe us to be delicate creatures, miss.
Then to hell with them.
Miss Howard.
How did you find me?
Your grandmother didn't know where you were,
so I asked one of your sporting companions.
He told me you were particularly fond of this house
and could be found slumming it here most nights.
This is an unsavory neighborhood for a young lady.
I'm not here on savory business,
and every panderer, mawk, lush, and billy noodle in the city
pass through the doors of the police department,
not to mention the mutton shunters that I work with.
So please don't concern yourself with my blushes.
I've come to return your work.
And to give you the file Dr. Kreizler asked for.
I don't know how to thank you.
If Dr. Kreizler finds anything of interest
in these particular documents, I should like to be told.
That is the only thanks I require.
I have it!
Laszlo!
I've got the Zweig file.
I do hope you thanked Miss Howard.
Well, what have you found?
There's nothing here.
No details as to the kind of wounds,
no sense of how they were inflicted.
I... I need evidence.
? Morning bells are ringing
? Ding, ding, dong
? Are you sleeping?
? Brother John, Brother John
? Morning bells are ringing
? Dormez-vous, Dormez-vous
? Sonnez les matines
? Ding, ding, dong
Ma'am?
Excuse me, ma'am. Ma'am.
I can only imagine how you must be feeling, but...
let me assure you that the disinterment was unfortunate,
but necessary, Mrs. Zweig.
Hmm.
I read about the boy on the bridge.
About what he was wearing.
Your son's desire to wear the same clothing as his sister
has little in common with the boy on the bridge.
You said there was no need for concern.
You said our acceptance of Benjamin was what mattered most.
And we believed you.
We trusted you.
Giorgio Santorelli dressed as he did
because he was a prostitute.
Benjamin was only following his nature.
Mrs. Zweig...
your son was the victim of a very disturbed mind.
My Benjamin is dead.
Both my children are dead.
Because of you.
Gentlemen, this is John Moore, friend and colleague.
Hello, Mr. Moore. I'm Detective Sergeant Marcus Isaacson.
This is my brother, Lucius.
Detective Sergeant Lucius Isaacson.
Theodore didn't trust the coroner's office
to keep silent about revisiting the Zweig case.
It was good of Commissioner Roosevelt to lend you to us.
May I ask how long we have the benefit of your expertise?
As long as you like, Doctor.
I doubt my brother and I will be missed at the police department.
I imagine your modern methods don't make you very popular.
That and the fact we're Jews.
Has the commissioner told you what this is about?
Only that we're to perform an autopsy
and keep the results strictly confidential.
Benjamin and Sofia Zweig. Their bodies were discovered...
Three years ago in a water tower on Suffolk Street.
- We read the file. - The injuries to the boy
are what interests me the most.
You've heard about the Santorelli murder, I assume?
Of course.
If you're looking for similarities,
there's only so much we can tell from a body in this state.
I want you to look at what remains...
each bone, each fragment for every detail, every mark...
no matter how insignificant.
Anything that may connect Benjamin Zweig
to the Santorelli boy.
We will do our best, Doctor.
Get the "Tribune"! Get the "Tribune"!
They won't be finished for quite some time.
I thought we might get an early dinner somewhere.
How can you think of eating now?
I don't recall you being so delicate.
I'm afraid once seen, those images
will remain forever in my head.
That's what I admire about you, John.
You represent the good that people want
to believe is in all of us.
It's why people like you more than they do me.
Thank you, Cyrus.
Get the "Tribune"! Get the "Tribune"!
Come!
- Cyrus! - Sir?
Were you away from the carriage at any point?
No, sir.
What? Do you see something?
There.
Laszlo!
Where did he go?
_
Did you see the Santorelli boy's mouth?
I'm certain cold-blooded killers walk among us.
They're out there now, hidden,
yet their motives are understandable,
but this one is different.
His acts are so wretched, so evil that...
only if I become him,
if I cut the child's throat myself...
if I run my knife through the helpless body
and pluck innocent eyes from a horrified face,
only then will I come to truly understand what I am.
Only then will I recognize that what drives me
is not an absence of emotion at all.
Rather, a torrent of feeling.
The kind that gives meaning and purpose
to my own blackened soul.
I must see life as he sees it.
Feel pain as he feels it.
Take the same path he takes.
Yes.
I must follow this wherever it goes.
Even if it leads me to the darkest pit of Hell.
What's wrong, child?
Synced & corrected by -robtor- www.addic7ed.com