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Jennifer 8

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- You can drive down there.|- I'm already walking. Where is it?
On the infill.|A guy from LA just went down.
- What's he doing here?|- He waited a while for you,
then decided to go and take a look|himself. Hope that's OK.
Damn right it's OK.|With a bit of luck I'm going home.
- What have we got?|- A derelict.
They cut his throat.
- Who are you?|- Trimble.
Where do you fit in?
His father's the manager. He was|shooting vermin and found the body.
Get ready, cos you're in for a shock.|They slit him from ear to ear.
- Do you want me to make a statement?|- Not right now. Thank you.
- Did you bring it?|- Hope I'm not intruding.
Be my guest.|What have you got?
Old guy offed himself with a knife.|Can't find the knife.
They cut his throat.
Get behind the tape|and tell your father to put that fire out.
That ain't legal.
- What would make him do that?|- Don't annoy me, Travis.
- So where's the knife?|- I don't know.
I guess that dozer must have shifted it.
You're gonna need some hands|up here to look.
You heard look for the knife.
You, too, move that ass.
- You do the pockets.|- No, sir. I haven't started till Monday.
I'm a tourist.
Welcome to Eureka.
How long has he been feeling like this?
A week or two. Must have been|on kerosene. Stinks like a diesel engine.
Mr Blattis of our local newspaper.
- You sure it's suicide?|- Yeah. It was well rehearsed.
What does that mean?
Cut your own throat...|you're nervous and you hesitate.
He's got three trial cuts, lower left side|of the neck before the big one.
Got a dead dog here, sergeant.
Find the knife!|Venables, has the coroner called?
Yes, sir. He's delayed.
All right, I'm out of here.
I'll catch you later, Freddy T.
How does anyone|as dead as this lose a knife?
What about that kid, Ross?
Shit. Of course, the kid.
Travis. Find that kid|and get the knife off him.
He's gonna lie,|but he's got it, so get it.
Get on with it.|What are you staring at?
- I think I've found something horrible.|- What do you mean?
I think I've found a hand.
You're right.|It's a fucking hand.
What do you think?
I think you' re here all day.
How much longer are we here?|We ain't gonna find anything else.
Give it another hour.|Did the photographer do the dogs?
- Dogs?|- There's two dogs.
He should do the dogs.
Got a brassiere here.|Looks like it could be blood.
- All right I'm coming.|- Shit.
The coroner wants to know|if we can release the derelict.
Yeah, he can go.
I think I'll lay down with him.|It's the only way I'm gonna get out of here.
It's good to be with you, Ross.
Glad you finally made it, bro.
- Want an umbrella?|- Yeah, thanks. Give me hand with this?
- Is this normal?|- Pisses down October to June.
- How long have you known Freddy?|- Ross?
- He was my sergeant when I was a rookie.|- He got you the job?
He would have if he could have.|He's been trying long enough.
Welcome aboard.|Caught the rain?
Sergeant Serato, Taylor and Travis I think|you know. I'll be with you in a minute.
Do me a favour.|Bring the rest of the stuff out of the car.
Hey, Travis, don't lose it.
Find the knife, sergeant?
No, but we have a theory.
The kid told me he didn't take it.
Maybe he was lying to you.
Is it true you found a hand?
Is that it?
- Interview over, Blattis.|- Come on, chief.
If it's sensitive, just tell me.|I'm not taking notes.
We got a body part. We don't know|what it is. Probably hospital debris.
Now you know as much as we do.
- Was it male or female?|- A woman's hand.
I'm grateful for your candour.
Keep this out of the paper.|That dump serves a dozen communities.
We don't know if it's ours.|So don't worry about it.
- Was it frozen?|- Come on, get out.
This guy's trying to move in.|Anything new, you'll be the first to know.
- Why did he ask if it was frozen?|- I couldn't tell you.
Don't worry about any of this.|By the time you're back it's gone.
You scared me!|Look at you. You look good.
Do a rush on three pizzas.
Pizza? I haven't seen him in year.
Dinner's another night.|I've only got an hour.
Bobby's out.|What's the rush?
Friday night at City Hall.|I got a chance to frighten the fat.
- Freddy's new obsession.|- Who is who?
A bitch with an ass the size of Africa.
- So tonight she confesses?|- Tonight if you're lucky.
- Not for me.|- I opened it for you. French champagne.
- It's Californian.|- Even better.
- I'll have diet soda. I'm on a diet today.|- Since when do you drink diet soda?
Since he started looking so good.|Don't pay attention to him. You look great.
- How's your house?|- It's OK.
- What does that mean?|- Not too good in daylight.
Just shut your eyes till it's painted.|You'll love it.
- This is God's country.|- So I hear.
Hi. This is Mike Blattis, Eureka News.|I'm out of the office right now...
Can somebody drop these off for me?
- Sure. I'll take care of it.|- Thanks.
Are you winning, sergeant?
You know something about that hand?|I think it was frozen.
- Frozen?|- Yeah. What does that mean to you?
How you doing?
Come on Venables, you're a policeman.
A policeman always has an answer.
- Well, sir.|- Well what?
We had a real bad murder|a couple of years ago.
Not in our county, but south of here.|A girl with no head and no hands.
You didn't read about it?|It was big shit.
40 or 50 detectives were working on it|and never identified her.
Never found the head,|nor the hands.
Could be a crazy guy kept the hand|in a freezer, and wants to get rid of it.
- Where's the file?|- In there if there's anything.
It'll be under "John Taylor".|I believe the code is "Jennifer".
- Was it really frozen, sergeant?|- No. Been dead two weeks.
Notice anything weird about it?
Look. One, two, three... four, five.
Six, seven, this long one, eight...
Nine, ten. I count 1 1 scars on this hand.|And there's four more that might be scars.
Now, I count them on my hand. I have 5.
I'm 37 years old. This girl's about 1 8.
- How come she has so many scars?|- I don't know.
That's the question.
So. Why don't you tell me about Jennifer?
You know I'm going to find out.
It's an unsolved. They spent about|$500,000 for a dead end.
- Check with Taylor. He worked the case.|- I did. What's his problem?
This. He thinks you stole his promotion.
- What exactly are you doing there?|- It's to quit smoking.
That's interesting.|It must help with the withdrawal.
It's a technique I read about.|Smoke 60 a day...
...throw one cigarette away, smoke 59.|Day two, throw two out, smoke 58.
- Why not just smoke none?|- It's a ritual. You got to do it.
- Do you want my advice?|- Find yourself a farmer's daughter
with nice big tits
and shake that bye-bye.|Send it to Sacramento.
I sniff grief.
- You're done except for the floor.|- Thanks. You're a saint.
Don't forget the wagon.|Bobby, help me with this.
- I'm dying.|- OK. Let's go.
- All right. I'm fucked.|- You've got to stop smoking.
- If I can do it, you can.|- How did you do it, old man?
Somebody bet me a dollar.
It's not worth quitting for a dollar.
All right, I'll bet 50 dollars.
50 dollars?
You got a bet.
JB, it's Ronzo. You know that brassiere|you sent me? I got some results.
First-the blood is human, and it's not a|popular brand. AB negative and that's rare.
Two-the blood on the brassiere is|compatible with the blood from the hand.
And three-anything else, the answer|from all us in Los Angeles is "fuck off".
And shoot me a duck,|would you? Bye.
- What are you going to do now, soldier?|- Dig up Jennifer.
- What is that?|- A laser enhancement of the fingertip.
It's really bothering me.|You see these striations here?
It's like she's always worrying|the end of her finger.
Rubbing it... rubbing it...
rubbing it with her thumbnail or something.
Almost identical to Jennifer. Slim, white,|same age. Her bra size is even the same.
- Nicely made lady.|- How do you know her hair's black?
The hair on her hand.|And Jennifer had black hair.
What's with this Jennifer stuff?
- These cases aren't connected.|- I think they may be.
I think Jennifer and this lady|got hit by the same guy.
I have four points of positive|comparison on the cut.
That's all very interesting,|but where's the body?
I don't know much about this Jennifer|except what I've heard.
The principle feature of the case|was a gruesome display of the body.
So if this is the same guy,|why has he hidden this one?
Just wondered if you'd had time|to get around to my pharmacy stuff.
You'll have it in the morning.
I'll try again tomorrow. Chief.
You're probably making him feel|antsy with this back on the wall.
- I thought it was Taylor's case.|- It sucked in officers all over the county.
It was the worst six months|this station ever had.
Why don't you give it a minute|and stop by my office? We should talk.
- So what does he think it is?|- Everything it isn't.
Make a left.
He even tried self-inflicted.
- It's possible.|- Give me a break.
It's the garage in the far corner.
- You can't stop it can you?|- What?
The worrying, the clicking, the picking.|You might as well be back in Los Angeles.
Why don't you dump it?|Mail it off?
Give it to the FBI... a present.
Stay here.|You might not be finished yet.
I just got an insane idea. If I'm wrong,|I'll redecorate the entire house.
She's blind. That's why all the scars.
Here that traffic light?
That noise is for blind people.
That's why she has marks|on her fingertips. She reads in Braille.
Who's next?
Amber Stone, 1 9 years old,|last seen six weeks ago.
- Is this the last one?|- One more to go.
Welcome to Shasta Trinity Institute.
Reception is through the double doors|and to your right.
- What exactly is your interest in Amber?|- I'm afraid I can't answer that.
As I explained to your secretary,|we're doing a lot of looking.
We're not even|sure it's Amber we're looking for.
And what do you hope I'll do?|Dissuade or persuade you?
I was hoping you might remember|something to give us an idea where she is.
Then you could have saved|yourself a lot of driving.
What I said on the phone|is what I'm saying now.
I have no idea where she is|or who took her there.
And, I might add, in five weeks,|1 50 students will be leaving here
for Christmas holidays with people|whose names I won't know either.
Excuse me.
You have an appointment|with Miss Robertson?
Apparently she saw Amber|the weekend she left,
and was briefly in the room|with the man she left with.
I see.
She teaches another class at four o' clock.
I'd appreciate it if you don't detain her.
How come this place is so big?
Where is everyone?
I don't know. He said this was|the staff side of the building.
What did you think of that fucking idiot?
He had a handshake|like a partially excited penis.
Hi. Sergeants John Berlin, Frederick Ross.|We have an appointment.
What do you want to ask, Mr Berlin?|Please sit down.
I'd like you tell me, any way you like,
what you can remember|about the time you spent with Amber...
...on the afternoon she left.
Well, I think I told you on the phone...
I went up to her room to say goodbye...
we sat on the bed and chatted while|her friend was collecting her things.
What kind of friend?|Boyfriend? Old friend? New friend?
I don't know.
Do you have any idea|what this friend was like?
- Do you know how old he was?|- No.
Let me put it this way.|How old do you think I am? 26, 39 or 53.
You must have some idea.
When we spoke on the phone,|did you know I was blonde?
- No.|- Why not? You heard my voice.
We don't have some sixth sense,|except in ridiculous novels.
If I hadn't known,|I would have thought he was blind.
Blind? Why?
Because he was comfortable with us.|He shook hands like blind people do.
- How's that?|- Blind people often use both hands.
- And he did that?|- Yes.
He used breath freshener.
I think his name was John.
You never mentioned that on the phone.|Why do you think that?
She must have called him John.|I don't know.
I'm making some tea.|Would you like some?
- I think we got something here.|- We got a witness.
Give me some time.|She might remember something.
She's blind. You'd be better off talking|to one of these Beethoven guys here.
This is crazy.
Two hours here and back|and all I got "John".
You said he spoke.|Can you remember what he said?
He just said, "Come on. Hurry up.|It's starting to snow again."
He was breathless from carrying the cases|because the elevator had gone out.
- It wasn't working?|- No.
It has a mind of its own.
Four o' clock pm.
- Well.|- Can I see your hands?
- My hands?|- Yes.
I have a class.|I have to go.
Can you tell me anything else|about him or her?
- It doesn't matter how small.|- No.
Except he smoked like you.
I could smell it on his breath|like I can smell it on yours.
I have a class. I'm late.
Do you have a seeing eye dog?
There's lots of scratch marks|on your door.
Sometimes I look after friends' dogs|if they go to dances.
Sergeant, can I just refer you|to this memo here?
- Did Amber have a dog?|- Yes.
- What colour was it?|- I don't know.
If she writes or calls or anything...|you'll let me know?
I'll leave a number with the office.
50 fucking dollars, OK?
What exactly do you teach, Helena?
Music composition and 'cello.
50 of them and I want them now.
You are now on the fourth floor.
Amber had a seeing eye dog|since she was 1 8.
I knew that labrador|was too good to be dead.
- We'd better get back to that dump.|- No way. I'm not going back.
You might find someone's prick|in a hot dog roll.
We're going.
Get the light down here.
In that bag you'll find a knife|and a pair of long-nosed pliers.
Looks like a 22.
Jesus, he said six.
I want you to see Citrine with me.
I know he'd listen to you.
Listen to what?
I want to take the Blind Institute to pieces.|Addresses, phone calls...
- Everybody there from the last five years.|- For a dead dog?
We've got a major series here. This girl's|not the second victim. She's Jennifer Eight.
I'm gonna see Citrine this afternoon.|Will you come?
You're not.|He's out of town.
You believe me, don't you?
How does it matter what I believe?|You've got to worry what Citrine believes.
But I can't help you with this.
I'm sorry, brother.
You're on your own.
Is anyone there?
It's John Berlin.
Have you been here long?
Just a minute or two.
I knocked on your door.
No one home.
So I followed the music.
I'm sorry.
Let me get my things.
It's not a problem.|I'm not in a hurry.
As a matter of fact,|I saw a restaurant down the road.
I thought maybe we could have lunch.
Was someone here with you?
When I came in the door was flapping.
I don't think so.|No one comes here at weekends.
- I must be the worst witness you ever had.|- I admit you are one of them.
I just wish I knew what vehicle|you were talking about.
Some cars sound fat, some sound thin.|This one sounded hollow.
Maybe it was a foreign car.
Our kind of cars sound fat.
Are you sure you want to see it?
It's another three floors up.
- How often does it break down.|- All the time.
They keep on threatening to fix it|but they never will.
I sat right there on the bed.
If I came to the diner with you,|would you bring me back?
Of course I would.
What are you staring at?
It's all right.
It's just you suddenly reminded me of him.
He was standing right where you are,|kind of breathless like you.
I'll go and get my coat.
I'll wait for you downstairs.
I couldn't take another minute|of Los Angeles.
I felt like I had to say sorry|in every street in the city.
I'll tell you what.
If I promise to stop being a cop,|will you stop being a witness?
I don't have to ask all the questions.|You can ask too.
- Are you wearing a uniform?|- No.
I'm glad we got the conversational side|of lunch over.
Sorry, just I don't want to sit in a restaurant.|I feel like everyone's looking at me.
Nobody's looking at you.|Hardly anyone's here.
The only person looking at you is me.
Are you married?
Was. I don't like to talk about it.
- You asked me to ask you questions.|- I know.
Just you picked the one time|I like not to remember.
I was in the badlands, Helena.|It happens to a lot of cops.
We don't want to talk about that.
"Thoughts that lie too deep for tears."
Yeah, that'll do. Is that "Hamlet"?
No, it's Wordsworth.
Do you like poetry?
Do you like poetry?
I don't know. I haven't read much.
I don't think poetry's my kind of thing.
- But you pray.|- Pray?
You said you were in the badlands.
No, I don't pray.
I had a dream once about God.
It was just about the time I was getting|well, and he was a nasty looking guy.
He moved into the apartment right above.
And I said,|"Don't you listen to people's prayers?"
He said, "Prayers?"
"Not often. They're junk mail."
You're pushing too hard.|It's like you want me to say stop.
You must know it's going that way.|We've got other cases so ease up a little.
This is a major, chief.
- We're closer than ever to this guy.|- So where's the body and why hide it?
He hasn't. He never made a hit this far|north nor read a weather forecast.
She's probably 1 5 feet from the highway,|three feet under snow.
Got a match on the bullet?
- Got a print from the hand?|- No, sir.
It could be anyone's hand.|Illegally disposed of hospital debris.
It's her hand and scars.|Her dog was shot and she's missing.
She's not missing.|Did she scream? Did he coerce her?
No. She left of her own free will.
And if she gets on a plane and goes to|Peru with the prick, she's still not missing.
I love to paint. It's not great art,|but I switched the colours.
- If you're not going to hear me...|- I have heard you.
You just don't like hearing me.
You got this whole thing out of proportion.|I don't know about Los Angeles,
but I don't believe|there's a police chief in the country
who would put together|a task force for a body part.
We have multiple homicide.
We have a body part|under suspicious circumstances.
A tailor's dummy wearing a brassiere|and a bill for $1 7 for its wig.
You know the great joy of fishing?|You don't have to think.
Just you and the mackerel|and nothing in between but God.
I'm thinking about|the old bum at the dump.
Naturally, it's a beautiful day.|The sun's coming out. Barbecue chicken.
- What else would you be thinking about?|- He was murdered.
- He was also cremated.|- Tell me about it. I made a serious error.
The guy who took him out|knew how to fake it.
Here they come.
Throw it high in the air.|There you go.
Why is she blind?
She had a car accident at 1 4.
Her entire family was wiped out.
No shit.
Such a shame.|She's a really sweet kid.
She's a doll,|but I wish he hadn't brought her out here.
Rule one is,|don't diddle around with a witness.
Except for the hair colour,|she looks just like Suzanne.
Well, that's who she is.
Except she can't run away.
I really like Margie.
She likes you.
Have you known her long?
She's my big little sister.
She doesn't sound like you.
She kind of adopted me.
How come you never asked me|what I'm like?
I know what you're like.
How do you know what I'm like?
- Ross told me.|- Oh yeah? What did he say?
He said you were quite chubby|and you have a nervous tick.
What else did he say?
- Just your age.|- How old did he say I was?
I don't mind.
- What's the matter?|- That was like the hollow car.
A Volkswagen van.
Are you sure?
Her dog was barking all the time.
It didn't like him.|He said, "Put that thing in the back."
Then I heard a door slam,|and the van drove away.
Why were you out here?
Because I wanted to feel|the snow on my face.
I love the snow and the rain.
What are you doing, Mister?
We're having a lot of vehicle robberies.|Your door was open.
- Can I see your driver's licence?|- Yeah.
I saw you leaving the Institute.|Do you go there a lot?
That was you who nearly ran into me.
No, you nearly ran into me.|Are you up there a lot?
My mother and I run an arts centre|and buy stuff from the institutes.
- Where's your store?|- Oakland.
Well, on your next stop,|make sure that door's locked.
Merry Christmas.
Miss Robertson may appear mature,
but let me assure you, she isn't.
Not even by her own perceptions.
If she could look in a mirror,|she'd expect to see a child of 1 4.
I don't wish to be indelicate, Mr Citrine,
but I think you understand what I'm saying.
Investigation of a possible homicide|is never easy.
And I hope you're not suggesting|any impropriety on the part of my officer.
Having said that, this department|has no further interest in Miss Robertson.
Thank you for your cooperation.
I appreciate it.
Just hear me out.|I have a vehicle and a name.
- What name?|- John.
- What's the vehicle?|- A Volkswagen van.
You'll be knocking|on doors all over the state.
- Just give me a month.|- No. Finito, maestro. Closed.
And this has nothing to do with him.|It was over anyway.
I'm sorry.|I know this means something to you.
I don't want you at that institute again.|I'm flat out about that.
Goodridge got it from Amber.
It's a postcard.
Apparently she's alive and well|and living in Oakland.
- She's dead, chief.|- Then that's a very unique souvenir.
Can I buy you a beer, sergeant?
Don't try to ingratiate yourself with me,|Travis. But just this once I'll have a Mic.
How are you doing?
- Three Mics, Susie.|- A couple of shots.
Look at those amazing bosoms.
- Want another beer?|- No. Gotta go. I'm nights.
- Give me a ride?|- Sure.
How's that hand job coming along, John?
We're not talking the "talk" tonight.
No one's gonna make that dude.
Six months investigation and the nearest|we got, we thought he was a sailor.
- A sailor?|- Yeah.
In and out of Frisco on the big boats.|Every lead pointed to the sea.
Night Freddy T, John.
How come he's suddenly so forthcoming?
- I'd kick him in the fucking ass.|- Stop it.
If he'd told me, I might have got|somewhere. I never heard that theory.
He might have|the one thing I need in his files.
Have a fucking lemonade.|Let it go.
What are you looking for?
Vehicle references.
Wrong cabinet.
I have a link with a series in San Diego|and half a VW van.
I thought you might have the other piece.
What's happening?
Sergeant Berlin is doing|a little in-house investigation.
- I wish you'd fucking shout at me.|- You got some kind of obsession?
Do the job you're paid for.|There's work right up the corridor.
If our stuff's too dull,|why don't you go back to L.A.?
I'm gonna be here when Jennifer 8 shows.
In spring she'll come through the snow.|Then I'll find her killer.
Then I'll go back.
When you finish in here,|I've got a report to type up.
Maybe you'll let me know.
You really are the working part|of an asshole, Berlin.
I didn't intend to come today.
I'm not supposed to be here.
It's in Braille.
It's from Amber?
It's dated a week ago.
"Dear Mr Goodridge, I'm sorry|I didn't get a chance to say goodbye.
"Just a line to say all is well.
"I'm looking for a job|and an apartment.
"Love to all who love me. Amber."
- I don't think Amber wrote this.|- Why not?
Amber wasn't very good at Braille.
She couldn't have written it.|She couldn't even have read it.
- You see this?|- What?
You out of your mind with this?
If anything happens to her,|I'll break your back.
Easy on your words.
What's going on?
His blind friend got attacked.|Angelo went up there.
- Somehow it got in the paper.|- You put it in.
- I may have said something. I don't recall.|- Don't lie. I just spoke to Blattis.
- You gave him the whole case.|- The case is closed. So what?
You just hung a target|round her neck.
Bullshit, pal.
Don't you know?|He collects newspaper cuttings.
Now he's reading Helena Robertson's|name like she's a witness.
- You couldn't have been more stupid.|- Come on, let's all hear the expert.
Just walk away from me.
Think you're the only guy|who's worked homicide?
I was a big city cop, too.|I busted the clock on "Jennifer".
I know more about this man|than you'll ever know. It ain't him.
- You're investigating a soap opera.|- Come on, stop.
He says bye and she gets attacked.|Give me a break!
There is no serial killer. Put her name|in neon and there still isn't one.
Everybody here is saying it.|I mean everybody.
- Shut up, King Jay.|- Let's have this out.
You know what everyone thinks?
You're making a case|because you found a nice piece of ass.
No one's blaming you.|I hear she's worth the flowers.
But don't come in here|getting holy over us.
Yeah, I put it in the paper.|Because I wanted to stop this bullshit.
- It's pissing everyone off.|- You don't know what you've done.
If your friend from San Diego was here|and thought she was a danger to him,
he would have taken her out weeks ago.
Why don't you get a dictionary|and look up "witness"?
- I know what a witness is.|- Yeah, well, her it ain't.
That bitch is blind as a blind fucking...
I'm gonna do something you never did.|I'm gonna catch this bastard.
And when I do, he'll find out|how good a witness she really is.
Meanwhile, you'd better be aware of me|because I wish you ill.
I told you what would happen|and it's happened. "Goodbye, Princess."
And that same night she gets attacked.|That's a tough one to swallow.
I am familiar with Taylor's opinion.
- You don't really believe this?|- 1 00 fucking per cent I believe it.
You know why?|Because I never said goodbye. OK?
- Is that good enough for the committee?|- I didn't know that.
No, you didn't know that.
You left your booze in here.
Who do you think it was?|You think it was him?
- That is a very stupid question.|- I'm asking it.
How the hell do I know who.|Some jerk-off. Some peeping tom prick.
Definitely not him.|He's in the trade.
He won't just look at her.|If he's in a room with her, she's dead.
- Ease off.|- I'm sick of this toy town shit.
What you're saying is reasonable,
but there's a reasonable explanation|for the opposite.
Don't give me another word of that.
There is a bad man out there.|He may be in the next room or next state.
I don't know what trigger's him,|but if he reads her name in the paper,
I think he'll do something about it.
I got a bad feeling about this. And I've|been doing this too long to be wrong.
I don't want you to worry, OK?
We're going to find this guy,|and everything will be OK.
- OK?|- OK.
You want your music on?
You're looking worried again, Helena.
No, I'm not.
You look more worried now|than when you decided to stop worrying.
I'll tell you what I'm going to do.
I'm going to roast you a chicken|with candles around it.
Wouldn't it be better if I cook it?
You said, you can only boil.
From Helena.
Sounds like Frank Sinatra.
- Where are the ladies?|- Putting on the war paint.
I can't thank you enough.
Don't thank me, thank Margie.|It's her invitation.
And where Citrine is concerned,|we'll keep it that way.
- Got ya.|- Chivas Regal.
Gentlemen, Merry Christmas.
Now, turn around.|Let's see the whole thing. Go on.
You look so pretty.
Once a year. Christmas.
What do you think?|Not too much, just right?
She looks so pretty.|Well, say something, guys.
I got you. Hold my beer, sweetie.
Where the hell have you been?
The duty sergeant fucked up.|I'm on tonight.
- How long have you got?|- One big drink.
- John, did you get my message?|- No.
I left a message on your machine.|It wasn't me calling. Is my wife around?
Kitchen. We got a so-called|professional cook out there,
having a nervous breakdown|over a turkey.
Sure you didn't call?
I spoke to what's-his-name|but never asked for her.
Her who?
Someone's been calling the Institute|wanting to ask Helena more questions.
Not guilty.
Thanks, Angelo.
You got a quiet phone?
Don't start getting antsy|over this.
- It's probably some local cops.|- It's what I want to find out.
Beautiful. There. Good.
- Are you sure I look OK?|- Are you kidding?
You are the prettiest girl|here by 200 per cent.
Press your lips together.
There. Good. OK, sit down.
- How are you doing on those heels?|- They don't mix very well with beer.
When did John divorce?
Two or three years ago.
- What was she like?|- She was very pretty.
But a policeman's wife she wasn't.|So one day she just packed and left.
And his whole life|went straight down the nearest toilet.
- What does that mean?|- It means, he crashed, you know?
He just couldn't come to terms with it.
Every spare minute he ran down to|San Diego, having a terrible time with her,
getting drunk, coming back... You wouldn't|believe the amount that man drank.
- You think he still loves her?|- I think he still thinks about her.
Not like then.
Then it was an obsession.
Yes, come in.
That woman in the kitchen says, if she|doesn't get help, she's going to resign.
That woman, she's a disaster.
OK, tell her I'll be right there.|No, wait a minute.
Take Helena with you and find John.|Don't let go of her hand until you do. Good.
I'll just see if he's upstairs.|You stay right here.
- Excuse me.|- Sorry.
- Hey, Popeye!|- Hey, Fat Guy!
You are still|the prettiest goddamn cop in this town.
It's me, John.
Do you want me|to bring Margie back up here?
Take me home, please.
I just can't walk in these shoes.
You don't have to dress like this for me.
You can't get in there.
- What are you doing?|- I suppose I'm drinking myself sober.
- You got any Glasers?|- Yeah. Right drawer. Left drawer.
- .32s?|- Right drawer.
- What exactly are you doing?|- I'm going to the Institute.
This "cop" that's been calling thinks|she'll be there over Christmas.
I checked with the locals|and our station. No calls.
So whoever it is, it isn't the police.
This bastard's|getting worried about something.
I think there's a chance he might turn up.
Well, let's hope he does.
And if he does,
I'm gonna drop a bomb on the fucker.
You don't have to come.
Hey, watch 'em working.|I'm your partner.
What time is it?
Where's your watch?
I guess it's by the bed.
It's 2:40.
Isn't she a little young for you, bro?
Do you think if she could see, she'd|hang around with an old dog like you?
Your stomach's going round|to meet itself behind your back.
- I'm in my prime, baby.|- Bits. Bits.
What do you mean?
Policemen's bodies age at different rates.
Look at me. My belly's in its 50s, my balls|are in their 60s, and my feet in their 80s.
Hit those wipers.
There. See it?
- See it, fourth floor?|- Yeah.
He's fucking in there.
Let's do it.
- What channel?|- Local.
Local? What if we need back up?
We're not here.|I don't want the desk to hear us.
- You only got that.32?|- And my Beretta.
This fucking thing's quitting.
- I'll start at the top.|- You ain't going alone.
That is a liability.|I don't want you hanging on my shirt.
If anybody comes down, take him out.|I want this bastard living!
- Ross.|- 1 0-2.
- I'm going in.|- You take care, bro.
- Ross, you hear me?|- 1 0-2.
I'm going upstairs.
John, what's happening?
I'm on Helena's floor|to take a look at her apartment.
Are you OK?
My flashlight's kaput.
The door's locked.
What's happening, brother?
I hear something. Something upstairs.
I've got footsteps above me.
John, what's happening?
- You are now on the third floor.|- Shit!
The fucker's in the elevator.
Get ready, Ross.|He may be coming down.
Can you hear me?
Can you hear me? Let's go.|Can you hear me?
Can you hear me?
Can you hear me?
Just be careful because I'm coming up.
Is that you, John?
Answer me. Now!|Or I'll blow this fucking staircase to pieces.
It's me, Freddy.
What the hell is going on up there?|I've been calling ten minutes.
Jesus Christ, what are you doing?
What the fuck are you doing?
Holy shit, John.|John, not you! Not you!
Get me the police. Quickly!
Where's Margie?
Taking Bobby to her friend's.
Thinks his dad's in the hospital.
Why did you go up there, John?
Right here.
Is that Margie?
I'm here, darling.
I'm right here.
Don't cry, darling.
He was a big old cop.|He didn't like tears.
- Margie...|- Don't.
What are you going to do|about this, little brother?
I don't know, Margie.
I don't know.
I'm tired now.|I'm going to go to sleep.
Let me go. Let me go.
Let me go. Let me go.
I want 24-hour protection|on Margie's house.
Otherwise I'm not saying nothing.
You give me that,|or read my rights and talk to a lawyer.
All right. You got it.
I'm going to put an observer|in there with you.
- I don't trust the F.B.I.|- I want Serato.
- No.|- Why can't I have Serato?
Because I'm short of men.
And Angelo won't do it.
Whoever I got free first, you get.
I always figured I'd like to retire|to a little town like this.
Maybe buy a boat, do some fishing.
You fish, John?
I have done some.
All right, let's not beat around the bush,
whatever that might mean,|and get right down to it.
You don't mind if I jump around a bit|while I'm easing my way into this, do you?
- You're asking the questions.|- You had an argument with Ross?
- Assaulted one of the officers?|- I wouldn't use the word assault.
- You got a racy temper?|- Not especially.
Just something they did|made you lose your rag?
Not they. He. Taylor put a piece in the|paper, which put my witness in jeopardy.
From whom?
From the man I detailed in my report.
He's a crazy man. And to my certain|knowledge has killed eight girls.
Not a lot of support|for that scenario, though.
No. Not a lot.
Not even from Ross?
Is that why you lost your temper with him?
Frustration. No one believing you.|Is that why you were angry with Taylor?
- You don't like Sergeant Taylor, do you?|- Like?
- You want to use another word?|- I'm indifferent to him.
You don't blame him|for the situation you're in?
His motive for exposing my witness|was malicious.
- So you don't like him?|- No, I don't like him.
...wish him ill?
This crazy man, what makes you think|he wants to eliminate Miss Robertson?
- Did you read my report, sir?|- I'm asking a question.
He reads the newspaper. I'm|investigating her friend's disappearance
and Miss Robertson becomes|the focus of his anxiety.
How good a witness is she?
He's a crazy man, but he ain't stupid.
He's got a flexible modus operandi|and doesn't want to get caught.
We'll have plenty of time to discuss|your mystery man and his flexibility later.
Right now I'd like to talk about the event.
Can you turn that thing on?
All right, the door comes back,|hits you, knocks you out.
For how long do you figure,|approximately?
One minute? Ten?
OK. Then what happened?|Immediately you got up?
I saw a flashlight|at the bottom of the stairs.
- Did you check your weapon?|- Maybe. It would have been instinctive.
- All I know is I was in possession of it.|- You didn't check it?
- I don't know. I didn't think of it.|- Why not?
- I was dazed.|- You were confused?
- I was unconscious ten seconds ago.|- I understand.
Then I grabbed the flashlight.|I tried to get Ross on the radio.
There was nothing. Static.
I noticed blood on my hand.
- My eye was cut.|- Could you see out of it?
Yeah, I could see.
I climbed out of the window,|and went down the fire escape.
When I got to the bottom, I found Ross.
- Were you breathless?|- Sure I was breathless.
When did you realise you were|no longer in possession of the.32?
In the hospital.
You figured you lost it|in the hospital or on the way there?
I figured it had fallen down the stairwell.
- Like the flashlight?|- Yes.
Were you drinking that night?
- It was Christmas Eve.|- That wasn't my question.
- Yes.|- What about Ross?
Were you drinking in the car?|You had a bottle in the car?
- I think Ross had a mouthful.|- But not you?
- I may have had a nip.|- To keep out the cold.
It was very cold that night.|Wasn't it very windy?
- Which hand was the flashlight in?|- Left hand.
So the Walther was in the right?
- The Beretta was in the right.|- You said you didn't check.
So how do you know which gun you had?
You said you thought it had|gone downstairs with the flashlight,
which you picked up in confusion. How do|you know you didn't pick up the.32?
- Are you playing games with me?|- Games?
I told you I lost the Walther.
You said you didn't know|until you were in the hospital.
So it could have been either weapon.
The gun in my right hand was a Beretta.
And I'd like that note corrected|for the record. Now, please sir...
- Do you want a lawyer?|- Another game question.
What do I want a lawyer for?|I got nothing to hide.
- Don't you?|- You know I don't. So quit the bullshit.
Get down to it.|What's your angle?
Where is that little gun?
- I have no idea.|- You don't?
If it isn't at the Institute,|the man who killed Ross took it.
The man who killed Ross used it.
And you don't have any idea where|that little.32 calibre Walther's gone?
All right, here it is.
I intend to prove you shot|Frederick Ross with malice aforethought.
Therefore, I will be preparing|a case on behalf of your chief
to prosecute you for first degree murder.
Dad! I want my dad!
I hate her! I hate her!
Could I have a number of a taxi, please?
There was a gale that night.|All the doors were swinging.
So this door comes back,|clips you, and down you go.
Within 35 seconds of unconsciousness,|you were on the fire escape.
And you're really confused.
You don't know if Tuesdays come in twos|or happen once a week.
You see a figure coming up the stairs.
Ross isn't meant to be on the stairs.|He challenges you.
And this ain't a piece of wood|with a nail through it.
This guy's got a 1 2-gauge Winchester|up your nose, and he's drunk.
You're dizzy, and your eye's full of blood.
You ain't thinking good,|and you're seeing worse.
And... wow... it just went off.
You just put him down.
And you get hit by a Glaser,|you stay down.
But he ain't dead.|Now you realise, you shot your partner.
"Oh, Suzanna,|how am I going to get out of this one?"
I know.
Serial killer shot him.
And now... comes the malice, bro.
1 7 seconds later,|you put another one in his throat.
Isn't that what happened?
Tell me what happened then.
Let me ask you a question,|before I forget.
- Do you take medication for that?|- For what?
- Breathlessness.|- No.
Let me answer your question:|"What is the relevance of the janitor?"
Why don't I take you through it|from where I'm sitting?
At some time between 2:00 and 2:30,
the janitor thought he heard|a vehicle approaching through the woods.
He looks out, sees nothing.|No lights, nothing.
He figures it must be hunters.
Some time later, he hears a noise.
A door. Maybe a window slam.
He gets up, and between 2:30 and 2:45
he makes a search with a flashlight|of the top three floors.
Finding nothing untoward,|he goes back to his apartment on the roof.
The flashlight you saw was his.
The footsteps you heard were his.
The elevator you were chasing|up and down was empty.
It's prone to such activity|due to an electrical fault.
Apparently it happens|frequently during gales.
The gale that was swinging the door,
knocked you down|and confused you so much.
And so here we are|back to where I'm sitting.
Why don't you tell me|what really went on that night?
There are two men|that know I didn't kill him.
One is me,|and the other is the man that did.
Which man is this?|We just dealt with the man.
John, is that you?
You got really fucking lucky,|didn't you?
Feel my face.
I was starting to get|kind of concerned about you, Jenny.
Like, how blind are you?
As blind as your friend,
or less blind,|because she could see, you know.
She had a view out of one of them.
But you...
you don't see nothing, do you?
Nothing at all.
But let me tell you, little Jenny.|If he ever gets to me, you're dead.
That's a promise.
Get St. Anne in here|for a minute, will you?
Give him this.|Our blind lady has been attacked again.
She's in love with him.|She'll try anything.
I hear I've been nominated|as an official observer.
- It's either you or Taylor.|- He don't want to do it either.
I'll toss a coin,|but one of you is going in there today.
Bullshit or not,|you should get a proper statement.
That's been done.|What do you want to do with it?
Let him have it.
I need a friend, Angelo.
You got one.
She's a bad witness, John.
And a fucking lousy alibi.
I know why you did it, Helena,|but you're not helping me.
Everything they are hearing from me|they think is a lie.
Here comes the man|who I'm desperate to prove exists
and what do you know,|he turns up at my house to chat with you!
Nobody in California is going|to believe that. No one believes me.
- I don't believe me.|- Don't you dare say that! I believe you.
- You just don't understand.|- Then explain it to me.
I've got enough darkness, haven't I?
The man who killed Amber|is a psychopath.
He was in the Institute to kill you.
He didn't want to kill Ross,|he was there to kill you. That's the truth.
That's why I wanted you to stay|in Margie's house.
I can no longer protect you here.
- Why me?|- He thinks you're a witness.
- Then why didn't he kill me?|- Stop it, please.
- Why didn't he kill me, John?|- Stop that! I'm not Serato, Helena!
He didn't kill you|because he wasn't here.
He won't stay in the same room|with you and let you live.
Kiss me, John.
Kiss me again.
I love you.|Are my lips lying to you?
Is my mouth lying to you?
He was here.
I've been calling ten minutes.
Jesus Christ, what are you doing?
What the fuck are you doing?
Holy shit, John!|John, not you!
Ross switched in to channel 8, so we|have a recording of the whole incident.
John, I could help you.|Why don't you tell me the truth?
I have.
That isn't me.|I've never called Ross "Freddy".
- I've heard you call him "Freddy".|- No you haven't.
You have no voice in here,|so keep your mouth shut.
You tell a lot of lies. Is it something|that comes naturally to you?
- I don't lie.|- You'd lie to your chief?
- Under exceptional circumstances.|- What caused you to lie to Freddy Ross?
I've never lied to Ross.
- You didn't?|- No.
Well, he thought you did.
He even wrote it down here in his book.
"Berlin is a liar."|It's underlined.
It's dated the day you got your first break|with your mystery man.
You don't know why he wrote that, do you?
Maybe he thought|there was no mystery man.
Maybe he thought|your investigation was bullshit.
Maybe he thought you were making it up|because you wanted to be top cop.
Isn't that why|you ran up that garbage dump -
so everyone could stand in awe of top cop!
You came up here|cos you couldn't make it in LA.
You got a pissy little degree|and came here to be top guy. Right?
But Ross was top guy, wasn't he?|Always would be top guy.
And he did it without even trying!
Everybody loved him.
He had everything you wanted, didn't he?
Great marriage. Great kid.|Everything that you couldn't have.
And you wanted it all to go away.
Cos you had a lousy life
with a lousy wife|who was fucking everyone.
Wasn't she?
Is that why you needed|to pick on this little blind girl?
Cos you could control her.|Control who she's fucking...
Come on, John. Lose your temper with|me. You're good at losing your temper.
- Come on, lose your temper with me.|- No way, Mr St. Anne.
But you lost your temper with Ross,|didn't you?
Why don't you tell me the truth?
You got into an argument in the car.
You lost your temper with him.
You stood over him and blew|his fucking larynx out with a Glaser!
Where were you aiming, John?|Going for the face?
You wanted to blow his fucking face away|because you hated him so much?
No, I love that guy. It's tough knowing|that he thought I killed him.
Well, that he did.|And that do l, sergeant.
What do you take|for that breathlessness?
- I don't take anything.|- How about Aminophylline?
- I don't know what that is.|- You don't?
It's an anti-asthma medication...
...prescribed for breathlessness.
It came out of the ashtray of your car.
But you don't know what it is.
You know how it got there?|You don't use it for breathlessness?
John, I'm running out of questions...
and you're running out of lies.
You've one more chance|to take that second degree.
- I'm gonna need some time to think.|- All right.
You think about it.|But don't make a fool of me.
You come back with another lie,|I'll press for the maximum penalty there is.
That's the death penalty.
Come on, get your things. Let's go.
The man who murdered Ross|gets asthma.
It's not breath freshener,|it's an asthma inhaler.
This capsule came out of the van.|This guy drove that van.
- OK. Oakland. What?|- Arts and Crafts.
Dan. Yeah. Here.
You sure?
- No Amanda with a VW.|- Arts and Crafts.
I gotta find that store.
If you find him,|call me with his name.
The time is 9:00 pm.
You should not have come|to my mother's house.
Police spent several hours this morning|at Sergeant Berlin's home.
Various property was removed|including a.32 calibre Walther pistol -
the weapon believed to have been used|in the slaying of Sergeant Ross.
I'm unable to say anything right now
except this is a very sad and tragic day.
John Berlin lied to me and, much worse,|he lied to everyone in this community.
- Where was Sergeant Berlin arrested?|- At his home. 6:00 am.
- Who arrested him?|- Sergeant Taylor.
- Did he resist arrest?|- I've nothing to add.
He did not arrest me in my house!
He hit on me in Oakland.
I'll sign anything you want. Anything!
I just want an opportunity|to talk to her and Margie, that's all.
That's my deal, chief.
- All right, I'll put it to St. Anne.|- Be quick, or she's dead.
He didn't push her down the stairs|when they met, did he?
He went up there to plant the fucking gun!
Open the door, Travis!
- Margie?|- It's Sergeant Taylor.
I'm sorry, Margie.|I've been trying to call. Your line's down.
We're taking the guard off today.
Is she going somewhere?
You're not going to try|and bail him, are you?
I really wouldn't do that, Margie.|We found the gun.
I know.
Do you want me to drive her?|I'm through with my shift.
No. I'm going to take her.
I've got your suitcase.
Here's my arm.
Taylor was a cop in San Diego.|He comes up here, hits another girl,
then spends months|feeding false information into "Jennifer".
Let me tell you about this sick man|named John Taylor.
He grows up|in an environment of blind children.
His mother is blind, she teaches the blind|and he has classes with blind girls.
He's a boy, so he's attracted to them.|But every time he smiles at them...
He really don't like you, JK!
...they reject him|and his fantasies develop into a rage.
He's gonna dig himself in some bullshit|with this bullshit.
Therefore he hates them. What is he|going to do with those lousy bitches?
He's a little boy.|He turns them into little dolls...
He tears their heads and hands off|and puts them on his face.
He really didn't like me!
- He's out.|- What?
Margie just made his bail.
There's no one here.|Mom took her back to the Institute.
- What? When?|- I don't know.
How come they let you out?
Is Margie with her?
- Is she with her?|- No. She came back and went out again.
They're all out around here.
He'd have to be real crazy to kill her now.
I mean, we're talking|real full-blown insane.
He is insane. His brain's upside-down,|but he's very cunning.
He won't go after her with a.45 Colt,|he'll just push her down the stairs.
Say night-night, dead girl.
Is it dark yet?
No. But it's getting kinda red.
I remember red.
JFK (directors cut) CD1
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Jaal (The Trap)
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Jackass - The Movie
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