American Horror Story (2011–…): Season 2, Episode 4 - I Am Anne Frank: Part 1 - full transcript

A new patient claiming to be Anne Frank exposes Arden's past. Kit learns why Grace was admitted to Briarcliff.

She has no identification,

no wallet, no keys,

and she wouldn't
talk to the cops.

So they dropped her
on our doorstep?

When I was on the force,
we used to do that all the time.

psychiatric hold.

Really cut out
a lot of paperwork.

Wait here.
You got it.

What's your name?

I hear you caused
quite a disturbance tonight.

Some anti-Semitic remark
set you off.

They made a joke.

The businessmen at the bar.

They said,
"Don't let them Jew you down."

That's how it always starts,
you know? With jokes.

There's blood
on your coat there.

Is it yours?
It's theirs.

I broke a beer bottle.
I stabbed them.

They will live,
but they will never forget.

I'm not immune to the atrocities
your people suffered.

Did you lose
someone in the war?

We'll start treatment first thing
in the morning. Lock her up.

Am I gonna die?

Not exactly.

As a matter of fact,

after this, you'll probably live forever.



You guys should have been there
a little longer.

Coffee break.

I could sure use
a cigarette about now.


Where is it?

That son of a bitch.

No new incision...

to indicate
surgical implantation.

What'd it do,
crawl back inside you?

- Through which orifice?
- I don't know what you're talking about.

Yeah, he smacked me around,
shot me up with X-rays,

looking for that...
that thing he found in my neck.

The tracer from the creatures
in the sky?

You still believe me,
don't you?

Yeah. Of course.

But it doesn't matter what I believe.
It does.

Especially in this place.
Your story is who you are.

I wish I could forget my story.

No. You have to say it
out loud all the time...

just to keep it straight
in your head.

Tell me.

Tell me your story.
I won't judge you.

I can still hear the sound
if I let myself.

You hear something?

What's going on?

What time is it?
Stay here.


Get back here!

I lost my father
and my stepmother that night.

I lost my stepsister
the next day,

when she accused me
of murdering them.

Red and Patsy
were secretly lovers.

They wanted the farm
for themselves.

They'd planned every detail
to convince the police,

and no matter how many times
I told my story,

no one would believe me.

I believe you.

I loved the farm.

I miss the horses the most...

the freedom I felt riding them.

Like I was flying.

You'll fly again.

Where did you go during
the movie, Lana?

I... I told you,
I excused myself.

I'm not going to say a
word to Sister Jude.

I would have done that already, if
I thought that's what was needed.

You reappeared.

You, Kit and Grace.

The Mexican,
a sex-crazed deviant...

and a pinhead
won't get far in this storm.

I hope they all drown out there.
Lights out in 10 minutes.

All right, let's go.

Shelley made it out. If she got
past whatever's out there.

What the hell were they? We
can never talk about that.

If they know we got out,
it's the end of us.

Here's the thing, Lana.

You don't belong here.

You're not a danger
to society.

You were right to try to escape.

You head shrinkers
are such hypocrites.

According to your bible,

the Diagnostic and Statistical
Manual of Mental Disorders,

I'm sick.

I have an illness.

I believe I can help you.

I'd like to try
if you'll let me.

But I'm not even your patient.

I see myself in you.

You're thoughtful
and intelligent.

You have something
to offer the world.

And they can't
keep you here...

if they don't have
a current diagnosis.

If I can convince them that I've cured
you, they'll be forced to release you.

Doctor, I have been this way since...

since I can remember.

There is no cure.

Your choice.

I'm not like Sister Jude.
I won't force you to do anything.

But I also won't be here
very much longer...

another week if we're lucky...

so if you want help
getting out of this shithole,

we'd better jump in.

You're a fish out of water,
Lana, gasping for life.

It won't end well.

Trust me.

Fifteenth of November, 1964.

Dear Kitty,

This relentlessly cheerful tune
never stops playing.

The walls are closing in.

I can hardly breathe.

It's Amsterdam all over again.

But there are eyes everywhere...

these eyes of madness and disease.

These people,
they are resigned to die here.

We were never resigned.

We always held on
to a shred of hope.

Give me your pen.

If they catch you writing,
they'll throw you in solitary.

In spite of the religious icons
everywhere, this is a godless place.

You might want a friend.


I hope you like pain.

Ah. You must be the new girl.

You were there.

- What?
- In Auschwitz.

Nazi murderer!

- You Nazi swine!
- Orderly.

- Sedate this woman.
- Murderer! Nazi swine!

Don't you remember me,

I am Anne. Anne Frank!

So, Anne Frank, is it?

What a relief it'll be to millions of
schoolchildren to know you survived.

You think I'm crazy.

Anne Frank died...

Bergen-Belsen, 1945...

just weeks
before the camp was liberated.

There were so many bodies
when the Allies arrived...


buried in mass graves...
but I wasn't one of them.

I was too sick
to tell anyone my name,

even if they had asked.

The Brits nursed us back
to some semblance of health.

I kept to the streets in Germany.

A pickpocket, a thief.

And then
I met a soldier.

Private William Snow of Rutherford,
New Jersey. He saved me.

- He brought me to America.
- So you're a married lady.

A widow.

William was called back to service
during the Korean conflict.

He was killed there in '52.

That same year, my diary was
published here in America.

Only then did I realize
that Pim had survived the war.

And you made no attempt
to contact your father?

I wanted to, at first.

But he had a new family,
a new life.

But more than that,
it was the diary.

People finally started to pay attention
to what they'd done to us,

all because of
a martyred 15-year-old girl.

She had to stay 15,
and a martyr.

I could do more good
dead than alive.

Your story is indecent.

No. You are indecent.

You have a Nazi war criminal
working here.

I find myself in a bit
of an ethical dilemma, Kit.

If I deem you as sane, you'll almost
certainly go to the electric chair,

but if I judge you unfit
to stand trial,

you'll be allowed to live out
the rest of your days here.

So... what's the problem?

The problem is I don't think you're
crazy, but I don't think you're evil.

- You think I'm innocent?
- In some ways, yes.

The innocent victim
of a brutish society...

which drove you
to commit acts so terrible,

so... antithetical
to who you are as a person...

that your psyche

this elaborate fantasy
about alien abduction...

to absolve you
of your guilt.

No. That's not true.

I believe it is.

But I also believe that your death
at the hands of the state...

serves no moral purpose.

Listen to me
very carefully, Kit.

I'm willing to lie to the courts
in order to save your life,

but only under
one condition:

That for the rest
of our time together,

you face the truth
of what you've done.

If you can do that,

then I'll be able to leave here
feeling I've done some good.

I already told you what happened.

Now let me tell you.

He wasn't called Arden then.

He was Gruper.

Hans Gruper.

He was S.S., and he was
not like the others.

I saw him the night
we arrived in Auschwitz.

That's where
they sent us first.

He seemed...
kind, gentle.

I remember that
there were two boys, twins,

and when the guards
herded the other children away,

Gruper saved those twins.

And I can recall thinking
that they were lucky.

But nobody was lucky
in Auschwitz.

I didn't know it then,

but Dr. Gruper
never saved a single soul.

He would visit us regularly
in the women's barracks,

bring us sweets, chocolates.

The guards would never strike us
when he was present.

He wanted to help, he said.

But he couldn't treat
all the girls, he would say,

so he left it to chance.

And when they came back,
if they came back,

something had changed.

He had made them sick,
whatever he'd done to them.

They'd be afraid to speak out.

They'd be sworn to secrecy.

You married Alma in secret.

You didn't feel
you could tell anyone.

And as time passed, what should've
been your greatest joy...

your greatest shame.

The pressure in you built.
It needed a release.

And it found one.

On... January 16,

Donna Burton, a librarian, was abducted
from the Wasaugee County Library...

a short drive from the gas
station where you worked.

Her remains were found
two days later.

Her skin had been removed.

So had her head.

Why the skin, Kit?

Why the head?
I don't know.

Her race? Her identity?

The very things about Alma
society was punishing you for?


It happened again in March.

Allison Riedel,
a secretary,

was taken outside
of her home.

And it happened to Alma.

The night it happened, you said you
had been visited at work by friends.

You said that
they were suspicious,

that they followed you home.

But it wasn't them.

Of course it was, Kit.

Kit? Kit?

And maybe Alma
had had enough of the hiding,

of the shame.

And when she confronted you
about it, you snapped.

All that rage, all that shame,
finally found its real target.

You killed the thing
you loved the most.

It wasn't me.

It wasn't him.

I know what I saw.

You didn't see anything,

because you weren't there.

I know where I came from,

Can you say the same
about your Dr. Arden?

From the Commonwealth Gazette
in Western Massachusetts,

for her searing
six-part exposé...

of the horrific mental health
abuses at Briarcliff Manor,

home for the criminally insane,

where she was held
against her will...

and subjected
to unspeakable torture,

the brave Miss Lana Winters.

Thank you.

I want to thank my real heroes:

The other inmates at Briarcliff,

whose stories broke my heart
and inspired me to survive.

Like Martha.

They say when she first arrived,
she was young and beautiful.

She had suffered
a nervous breakdown...

after her husband
committed suicide.

When I met her, she banged
her head against the wall...

pretty much
every single day.

And Rudy,

diagnosed as
a chronic masturbator.

Sister Jude's cane did
little to help his habit.

In fact, he got worse.

They tried hard
to crush my spirit...

"Something there is
that doesn't love a wall,

"That sends
the frozen-ground-swell under it,

And"... destroy my mind
so I'd forget what I saw.

The, uh...
"The upper boulders in the sun"...

I did everything
I could think of to survive.

And then I did
what I had to do to get out.

How soon can we begin
your therapy?

Are you seeing Sister Jude's
face in the dough?

I want to punch her too for
making us work double shifts.

What if I am crazy? Huh? What
if I imagined the whole thing?

The spaceship, the
creatures, Alma abducted.

What if-

What if I made it all up because I
couldn't face up to what I'd done?

Why are you saying this now?

Dr. Thredson, he...

he said some things that are
starting to make sense.

Well, if you were crazy,
they wouldn't make sense to you.

Self-doubt is a sure sign
of sanity.

Wait. You're confusing me.

If- You're saying
that if I'm crazy,

then I wouldn't believe
Dr. Thredson,

but if I'm sane, then my
crazy stories would be true?

I have no idea
what you just said.

What am I?

Crazy or sane?

Am I a killer?

I don't care.

Whatever you are,

I'll be with you.


I've taken the liberty
of choosing one, Sister Jude.

A cane befitting their...


I don't know what's gotten
into you lately, Sister,

but it's a decided improvement.

You two...

Are far too familiar.

You're drawn to each other
like the serpent and the apple.

Are you purposely trying
to make a murder baby?

Grace didn't kill anyone.

She told me her story.
She was framed.

Just give us our beating
and get it over with.

I think a more reliable step
needs to be taken...

for the both of you.

You can't do that.

What is it?

Two detectives are here
questioning Dr. Arden.

I don't know about what.

Sister, see to it that
these two are secured...

until the paperwork
for the procedure is approved.

I'll take 'em to solitary.

Frank, why don't you take
Grace, and I'll take Kit.

Would that be all right,
Sister Jude?

Just make sure
they're kept apart.

Come on.
Let's go. Get up.

Let's go.

It's good advice, Kit.

She's not the innocent girl
she claims to be.

Dr. Arden, I'd like
to go over with...

Oh. Oh, I'm terribly sorry.

I wasn't aware
you had visitors.

I'm Sister Jude.
I run this facility.

Detective Byers.
This is Detective Connors.

Detectives. My gracious.

This really doesn't
concern you, Sister.

Two police detectives

one of my most valued staff
members concerns me greatly.

Maybe the sister can help. A nun would
make one hell of a character witness.

If it's a question of the doctor's
character, I've got lots to say.

Well, your colleague here
has been accused...

of roughing up a certain
lady of the evening.

A prostitute?

No need to retire to your
fainting couch, Sister,

because all of this
is an egregious lie.

I've never even met the woman.

Must have been frightening,
meeting strange men,

what with a killer
on the loose.

She says she saw some things
which alarmed her.

Obscene material.

Nazi memorabilia.

When she tried to leave his
home, he got physical with her.


This is utter hogwash.

I was here.

Can you verify that
for us, Sister?

- Did you say Nazi memorabilia?
- This is outrageous.

I have no idea
what I'm even being accused of.

One would think that the Wasaugee
County Police Department...

would have something better
to do with its time.

I know I have.

Good day to you.

Aren't you going to arrest him?

For what? Well, you're
the Vice detectives.

Actually, Sister,
we're Homicide.


Certain details of the victim's
statement caught our eye.

Maybe we can ask you a question
about one of your patients here.

- Kit Walker.
- What about him?

He seem like the kind of guy that would have
the surgical skill to remove a woman's skin?

And her head?

What is this stuff?

The standard drug...

for this kind of cutting-edge
aversion therapy.

They use it at Harvard,
Brigham Young, Cornell.

The theory is that we're
training your body...

to be physically repelled
by certain...


How did you get that?

From your house,
when I was there.

I thought you might want it.

Say when.

I need a few more minutes...

I need a few minutes
before the next one.

I'm very impressed with
your determination, Lana.

Let's take a break
from that.

Let's move on to the conversion
part of your therapy.

I think you might
actually enjoy this part.

You know Daniel. I've asked him
to help out with your treatment.

He told me that he thinks
you're a very good person,

and he would be honored
to participate...

in anything that
might liberate you.

Whatever you say, Doctor.
I want to do whatever works.


Let's get started then.

We'll begin with very
simple visual stimulation.

Daniel will take
off his robe,

and you will
regard his physique.

I'm sorry, but...

I don't feel anything.

That's okay.

You're not gonna make him
touch me, are you?

I'm going to ask you...

to touch yourself.

Can you do that?

I don't know.

Try to focus
on his genitals.


Good, Lana.

Now, take your other hand...

and place it
on Daniel's member.


Good. Now keep
touching yourself,

and try to relate the pleasure
that you're feeling...

to his tumescence.

- You're doing good work, Lana.
- Yeah.

We're all rooting for you.

Give me a few minutes!

Please just give me a few more seconds!
I know I can do it!

In a perfect world, I would
love to dive into talk therapy,

discover the root
of your fixation,

but my expertise is telling me
that aversion/conversion therapy...

won't work with you.

Sister Jude,
we need to talk.

Yes, I agree.

The police came
to Briarcliff last night.

It seems
Dr. Arden solicited a...

a woman of the night.

The young woman found
Nazi souvenirs in his bedroom.

Are the police pursuing
a case against him?

No, I don't believe so, but...


this obsession
with Dr. Arden has to stop.

But there's mounting evidence
that this man is a war criminal.

Just a moment. Where are you
getting this information?

There is a patient
who survived the death camps.

She remembers him.

Which patient is this?

Her name is Anne.

Anne who?

Anne Frank.

I know it... I know how
it sounds, but you...

No, I really
don't think you do.

I saw a prison tattoo.

She was in Auschwitz. Where's
she now, hiding in the attic?

You're so eager
to believe any calumny,

any vile thing said about
this man you despise...

that you're taking the word of
an inmate in a mental ward.

Father, this isn't about me.

I am trying to protect you,
this institution, our dream!

You imperil the dream,

by refusing to face
your own failures.

You'd rather see Nazi war criminals
in our midst than look in the mirror.

Or maybe this job
is too much for you.

No. This job means everything to me.
You know that.

All I know is that
you've been drinking again.

Several of our employees witnessed
you were a drunken fool...

on the night
of the escape,

slurring your words,
almost slobbering...

during the introduction of the
film for your movie night.

Do you think alcohol...

has compromised your
judgment in these matters?

You don't need
to answer now.


Pray on it.

They're onto you, Arthur.

If you have any housekeeping
to take care of,

I suggest you do it now.

Mother Superior,
I have slipped.

Oh, dear.

Pressures had mounted
all around me,

and then this
godforsaken storm.

And somehow there was a
carafe of communion wine...

left in my office.

That's how God is.
He loves to test us.

Well, I failed.

And now he's given you
another opportunity.

God loves to see us triumph.
It gives him pleasure.

Was your alcoholic transgression
the only reason...

you sought my counsel today,
my child?

No, Mother.

There's an employee
of Briarcliff...

who I believe is a sadist
and possibly a war criminal.

Have you brought this to the
attention of your monsignor?

He has declined
to pursue justice or action.

The men of our church...

your Monsignor Timothy,
even the Holy Father himself-

by their very nature
they react out of fear...

when confronted
with tough questions.

It's their instinct
to protect themselves,

cover their mistakes.

Now I'm familiar with somebody
who may help you.

Oh, no, Mother, I cannot,
I will not go behind the back...

of the man who gave me
my mission in life,

who believed in me,
with whom I share a dream.

He is not who made you
who you are, Jude.

You came to me
a tortured woman,

ravaged by alcohol and guilt,

but you had a compass.

That was your gift.

And God gave you
that gift for a purpose.

Now he's put obstacles
in your path,

and, like all this debris
after the storm,

it's up to you to make clear
that path again.

Kit, are you all right?

- Did they...
- Cut my balls off?

Not yet.

I was so worried.

You are the only person I ever had a
second thought about in this hellhole.

Why'd you lie to me, Grace?
There was no man named Red.

You killed your stepmother
and then your father.

What do you want?

You want to hear me say
I'm sorry for what I've done?

I'm not sorry.

Tell me the truth!

I was so young when it started.

My father would come
into my room at night...

and do things.

Sometimes I felt
like I was in a dream,

watching him do it
to a stranger,

or a corpse.

I finally got the courage
to tell my stepmother.

She gave me candy
to keep quiet.

There was truth to the story
I told before, Kit.

I loved my horses.
They were my escape.

I found out he sold them all.


That's when I woke up
and saw my life for what it was.

And once I opened my eyes,
there was no turning back.

Have I opened your eyes, Kit?

Are you repulsed
by what I am?


I admire you.

I want to talk to you.

I haven't been able to sleep
since you left my office.

I'm so sorry, Lana.

I wish I had been a real help.

I'm not an aversion
therapy advocate,

but I thought it made
sense in the moment.

Now I wish I'd spared you.

You tried.

I brought you this.

Thought you'd want it.

They'll never let me keep this.

You only have to hide it
until the end of the week.

I'm leaving here on Friday
and I am taking you with me.

I don't know how yet, but...

I will not leave you
in this place, Lana.

That's a promise.

I understand you want to confess.

I can only regard this as a ploy,

considering the circumstances.

You were, after all,
caught in the act.

No, uh, Sister, this is, uh...
this is not about Grace and me.

This is about my crimes.

Your crimes?

And I know I'm not
a very religious man,

but I did go to Sunday school, and I
was taught that God sees everything.

Is that true?

It is. And he does.

Even if I
might not remember...

some terrible act that I might
have committed, he knows, right?

God knows all.

Well, then he knows
if I murdered those women.

He knows if I...
if I did those horrible things.

And he knows...
if I killed Alma.

- And did you?
- I must have.

I mean...

Everyone's saying that I did.

And those creatures...

The creatures,
they can't really exist.

I remember when
I first showed up here,

you said to me that in order to
find forgiveness I had to...

That... that I had to admit
to what I'd done.


I need to be forgiven.

God forgives all who seek him.

Then help me. Please.

Help me find God.

I'll admit to everything that I've done.
Oh, my child.

We are all sinners,
every one of us.

But the things I've done, Sister-

That you can't recall.

Now, what have you been
saying about me?

The truth.
I know who you are!

You don't even
know who you are.

Anne Frank? She died!

Or didn't you bother
to read the book?

Your lies have caused me
a great deal of embarrassment.

What are you gonna do to me?

The same things you did to
those girls in Auschwitz? Huh?

I was never in Auschwitz.
I'm from Scottsdale!

Liar! I bet it looked
a lot like this place!

You want to know
what goes on in here?

You're about to find out.

Where'd you get that?

I'm not the only one
who's onto you.

Oh! I'm sorry.

Come on.

Now's the time.

Confess, Hans Gruper.

Nazi piece of shit.

What's that?


- What is in that room?
- Go to hell.

I've been there.

Give me the key.

Give me the key!

Want to lose another leg?