The Alienist (2018): Season 1, Episode 3 - Silver Smile - full transcript

Use of the innovative new procedure of fingerprinting leads the team to discover crucial evidence is missing. Kreizler and Moore interview a witness to find out what happened to Moore at the brothel.

A toast.

To the beginning
of a fruitful partnership.

We found this.

A bloody finger mark.

I've read about this.

And what is my role to be
in all of this?

Perhaps you've
already played it.

May I assume
you have an interest?

It wouldn't be fair to assume
anything about me, Doctor.

I'm seeking information.

What was his name?



The one
with the silver smile?

Byrnes: Mr. Van Bergen.

Sir?

You may bring
the dessert now.

Yes, sir.

Mr. Van Bergen,
there's been an incident.

An incident?
Yes.

It involves a boy,
a rather young boy.

Does this have something
to do with Willem?

Um...

The police aren't entirely
certain, Mrs. Van Bergen,

but...um...

inquiries have been made

by persons
outside the department



that could be cause
for concern.

There was a young
street urchin

killed up on the bridge.

Your son is known
to have frequented

the disorderly house
where the boy worked,

and it is said that
they were fond of one another.

-Enough!

What's this?

Steamed treacle
pudding, sir.

Mmm!

I am terribly sorry to have
disturbed your lunch.

But it seems as though
Willem has

got himself in water
a bit hotter than usual.

I thought
you should know now.

There's no later.

Paul:
I don't like it, Tom.

I don't like it one bit.

None of us like it.

Willem's been
warned before.

No rough stuff,
not with Biff's girls.

I've had a meeting
with the family,

gave due notice.

We won't let it
happen again.

Paulie, don't worry.

Goddamn sodomites.

What about
the Moore fella?

I don't think he's gonna be
talking to nobody

about his little visit
to Paresis Hall.

Not if he cares about his
good standing in the community.

Well, you're right
about his standing.

He won't be sitting down
for a week.

Sally?

Aw!

John.

How do you feel?

How did I get here?

You have young Stevie
to thank for that.

He found you wandering about
in an alley

down in the Tenderloin.

You were missing
your trousers.

Christ.

Don't worry.
It can happen to the best of us.

Can I get something
a little stronger, please?

What's all this?
What's going on?

We need someplace
where the walls have no ears.

It will be
a gathering point,

a place where revelations

may slip through.
Revelations of what?

Well, let's start with what
you did last night.

You went down
to new Paresis Hall.

Stevie told us
that much.

I-I met...Sally.

They were friends,
the two of them.

Gloria -- Giorgio was
well-liked, she said.

Especially by
the wealthier clients.

That may be the reason
the police were

pressuring the Santorelli family
to keep quiet.

The rich will always
choose dead children

over social scandal.

What else?

Honestly, I-I can recall
very little.

It's not what you think!

What do we think?

You think I --

I told you!

I don't remember!

It is my honor and my privilege
to present these brave men

with the Meritorious
Service Medal.

Their honesty and devotion
to duty

make them examples
to every member

of the New York
Police Department,

as well as to every citizen.

Captain Connor,
at long last,

the city has policemen
it can be proud of.

You think sticking medals
in roundsmen

with nary a hair
on their ball sack

is gonna earn the respect
of the department?

You want to give out medals,
Commissioner,

I know men who are
deserving.

Sir.

Commissioner?
A photograph, please?

Captain Connor...
please join us.

Well done.

My father loves to shoot,

but we're never allowed to touch
a gun unless he's there.

Can you shoot?

My father taught me
when I was just about your age.

Did your mother object?

She died long before.

Keep up the good work.

They were friends,
my father and yours.

Is that how you got
the job, then?

I'd like to think not.

Is that you, John?

Morning, Gran.

When you didn't come home
last night,

I called your father,
and --

I should have let you know
my whereabouts.

I'm sorry.

You're irresponsible, John,
but you aren't cruel.

Had you been
drinking again?

I'm merely seeing myself
through a rough patch.

Oh?

You and your
rough patches.

You need to meet
a nice girl.

Marry her.

Have little Moores.

I am in a position
to introduce you

to the right young lady.

Oh!

Loathsome machine.

Quite a maze.

And our killer has
to be found somewhere

in the midst of it.

Ancient cultures
believed fingerprints

revealed the secrets
of the soul.

Just like palmistry.

As scientists, what does
it tell us, gentlemen?

Nothing for now,
but if we find a second print,

it may tell us whether
it belongs to the same man.

What about this spot here?

It's only a partial print.

Some of the friction ridges
won't show up.

Here.

And over here.

They could be cuts
or abrasions.

Belonging to a manual laborer,
perhaps.

Or some skin disease.

We need a clearer print to do
a proper analysis.

What about
the Santorelli boy?

Could the killer have
left prints

on his body or clothing?

With the amount of blood
he shed,

it's highly likely.

We have
his fingerprint.

We know the kind of knife
he uses.

I need you to go to the morgue
to check the body.

You! You were here
this morning.

Out!
That wasn't me!

You know the rules!
Out!

I do wish he had
stayed in Washington.

His return to the city
has brought nothing

but acrimony
to its inhabitants.

Who would that be,
Mr. Tuthill?

Roosevelt.

Closing down the saloons
on Sunday.

Who the hell
does he think he is?

I'd call him a man thirsty
for reform.

A bunch of hooey
is what I say.

This won't take long,
Mr. Tuthill.

Let me see --
Santorelli, Giorgio.

Here we are.

Now...

Well, I'll be damned.

Sara: The body
of the Santorelli child

has been taken
from the morgue.

Dr. Kreizler,
this is evidence

of corruption within
the police department.

Indeed.

I've convinced
Commissioner Roosevelt

that he now must trust you
more than his own men.

The unwillingness
to pursue the killer

on the part of the police
only highlights

Mr. Roosevelt's isolation
within the department.

They don't have the appetite
to approach matters

from this new perspective
of yours --

the "why" rather than
the "what."

Every new thinker is
at first condemned

by those for whom change
is far more terrifying

than a murderer
of children.

We are quite alone
in searching for this killer.

But I imagine that will suit you
well enough --

to be quite alone.

Your appearance would suggest
a social engagement.

I have a Vassar reunion.

Quite frankly, I'd prefer
to continue working

on the Santorelli case.

Because you require answers,

or you wish to keep
the world at bay?

Goodnight,
Dr. Kreizler.

Someone is the murderer,
and if you've been winked at,

it means you've been killed
and you're out of the game.

The object is
to catch the murderer

before he winks at you.

Are we all ready?

Are we two the only old maids
in the entire class?

Please, Miss Howard.

Speak for yourself.

Sara...

meet Milton.

Milton, Sara's my old
college roommate.

Pleased to meet you.

Sara works for
the police department.

Oh.

My uncle is a policeman
in Poughkeepsie.

He says it's
challenging work.

Yes, I suppose
it can be.

You must wait by the punch bowl
when you're dead.

I've been dying to tell you
I was engaged,

but I was afraid
you wouldn't approve.

Why should
I not prove?

If that's...
what you want.

I only want
what any girl wants.

And here's something else.

We've done it.

Oh?

You'll know what I'm talking
about one day.

Oh, but I'm being
presumptuous.

Perhaps
you've got a beau.

Well...

there is someone,
but it's only just begun.

Who is it?

Somebody at
the police department?

Oh, God, no.

He's, um...

He's a doctor.

I used to play bridge
with your father.

I regretted profiting
on his misplays, of course,

but he insisted
on wagering.

He was a most proficient
loser, Mrs. Bell.

There's no denying that.

And how is your father?

Oh, he's very well,
thank you.

We seldom speak --
my father and I.

I wrote him a note

when your poor brother
was drowned.

I am terribly frightened
of the sea.

It is so unpredictable.

The water was innocent,
Madeline.

It wasn't rough seas so much
as an unsteady sailor.

It's Caroline.

Laszlo!

I remembered something.

He never left the room
that night.

Sally said they waited for her,
but when he didn't come out,

they broke the lock
and found it empty!

Who never left
what room?

Giorgio, the brothel.

There was a window --
I saw it from across the street.

It's too high to jump.
There was no fire escape.

But Sally said that even though
Giorgio didn't have wings,

he flew away.

He also said Giorgio
had a rich client

who made a pet of him

and was there
the night he was killed.

And this client...

did you discover a name?

No.

But he has a silver smile.

A silver smile?

A man who has the power
of flight,

who can disappear at will.

These incoherent ramblings,

distractions that
show us nothing

of the nature of the man,
of -- of what he desires,

of -- of how he behaves.

I must talk
to the boy myself.

That's him.

Here! You!

Boy!

Come here!

Oh, no, no.
You remember me.

And I'm quite certain
you remember

the contents
of my billfold!

Let go of me,

or I'll scream!
Don't mind my friend.

All we want is to speak
with you.

I already told your friend
everything.

Giorgio disappeared,

and I didn't see him
with anyone.

Either you're lying,

or there was a hidden panel
in the room --

the kind you boys use
to rob clients.

You clients rob yourselves
when you walk through that door.

Tell me, Sally --

Why do you work out here
on the streets tonight,

not at Paresis Hall?

In the brothel, we have
to pay most of what we earn

to Kelly and Biff.

In return for what?

Protection from
rough stuff.

Do your clients
always expect you

to dress as girls?

We do things real girls
don't do.

When you work out here,

how do you know which ones
won't hurt you?

When you've been working in this
business as long as I have,

you know who to trust.

Thank you, Sally.
You have been a great help.

See you around.

But we still don't know

how he vanished
from that room.

Forget for a moment
how he vanished,

but why.

Was he forced,
or did he go of his own accord?

We've always assumed
he was killed,

then left on the bridge.

What if he was alive
when he was arrived there?

But why would he willingly go
to his death?

Because he went
with someone he trusted.

Thank you, Cyrus.

Night, sir.

Please,
sit down.

There is nothing in these books
that gives me an insight

into what it means
to take another life.

Do you remember what I said

when I testified
at your trial?

Yes, sir. I do.
Every word.

I told the jury that,
when you saw that woman beaten,

it brought back
the memories

of how your own mother
was killed.

That set off
an uncontrollable rage in you.

I had the theory
at the time.

Did you not agree?

I would agree to anything

that would keep that rope
from 'round my neck.

I mean...

God created life,
but God also created murder.

And if you're trying
to figure out a reason why,

you're gonna
drive yourself mad.

Is that all?

Please, doctor, don't.

Tell me.

You want to know what it
feels like to murder a man?

'Cause I remember
every moment.

I remember the blood.

I remember the broken teeth.

I remember the feeling

of that warm flesh of his neck
in my hand.

Yeah.

And you know something else,
doctor --

something I ain't never
told nobody?

The thing
I remember the most

is the feeling of pleasure
that it gave me.

There's blood on your shirt,
doctor.

It's ink.

I'm afraid
I've ruined it.

Dr. Kreizler!

There's been
another one.

Stevie, take that
calash around back.

What is this place?

It's the old
immigration station.

They're turning it
into an aquarium.

A roundsman from the precinct
has already been here.

There's
not a lot of time.

Where is the body?

All the doors were locked.
There's no way in or out.

I checked.

And the locker here --
No keys are missing.

I've already instructed
the dispatcher at headquarters

to hold back the information
for one hour.

If you can hold it back
for one hour,

you can hold it for three.
Laszlo...

I do not believe this argument
helps your cause --

our cause.

The Commissioner has already
compromised himself...

Captain! Sir!

Roundsman Barclay,
can't you see I'm busy?

Yes, sir.

Mrs. Lamb's
boarding house, $18.

Sir
Holy mother of God, Barclay.

You were not awarded a medal
for being irritating, were you?

No, sir.

I'm just wondering
why you're still here.

Where should I be?

There's a murder down
the Battery got called in.

Who took it?

Barclay: Grady
was on the desk.

Who's gone and died now?

It's another boy whore.

Why wasn't I told?

Grady told
the commissioner,

and then the commissioner left
with them two sheeny detectives.

-Raise the horses!
-Yes, sir.

-Doyle, get the men.
-Yes, sir!

Bloody hell!

Come on!

Jesus,
Mary, and Joseph.

-Doyle!
-Sir?

Summon Byrnes.

He's already here, sir.

Man: Come on, men!
Over here! Come on!

Men! Let's see
some movement!

I see bad news
travels fast.

Why can't this fiend do his work
at a more reasonable hour?

Let's go, let's go!

Move it out!

Get out the way!

The man is appointed!

As a favor.

And now he acts as if he's
a 30-year veteran of the force!

He'll be caught with his willy
in the ringer this time, Chief.

Impeding
a murder investigation,

and a particularly
salacious one at that.

I've tipped the boys off
already.

Roosevelt

From stalwart reformer
to a torchbearer of corruption.

The papers will eat that up
with a spoon.

Man: Can you tell us what's
going on up there, commissioner?

Word has it,
it's another boy's been killed.

I'd like to know where

you get your information from,
Mr. Steffens.

You and your colleagues
seem to be

one step ahead of the police
in the matter.

So it's true, then?

Stevie! Get yourself
around front, boy.

If you see the police,
you hightail inside.

You let me know, okay?!
Let me know!
Okay!

Hightail it, boy!
Okay!

I can feel serrations

on the zygomatic bone
around both eyes

as well as
the supraorbital ridge.

Identical to what we found
with the Zweig boy.

Probably used the same knife
to take the eyes of both boys.

The same hand at work.

Careful where you step.

I'm sorry you had to see
such a thing.

I've seen death before,
but never like that.

I fail to see a way
he might have gotten up here.

Or down, for that matter.

The Zweig children --
They were found in a water tank.

Up on a roof.

That's what Kreizler said.

And Aaron Morton --
the paper stated his body

was hidden
on the Brooklyn Bridge.

Heights
He's attracted to heights.

A roof-top water tank,
two bridges, and now...

Yes! Yes, that's good.

What else do the details
of the crime suggest to you?

Might water play a role,
as well?

Yes.

Water seems important.

Perhaps...
a view of water.

The Zweigs were hidden.
The Morton boy, too.

These last two, however,
were left in plain sight.

He's no longer hiding
his victims.

He's moved on.
He evolved.

Evolved to what?

Have you determined

what might have been
the cause of death?

Lucius: There is
bruising to the neck,

front and back,
which indicates strangulation.

I see no defensive wounds.

You're not suggesting
he didn't put up a fight.

Maybe not.

I come here willingly

with someone I believe
I can trust.

And even as I'm being strangled,
I don't struggle,

because asphyxiation is
an expected part of the act.

What kind of act?

A sexual act.

Look here --
a finger mark.

Do you think it can be captured
with a photograph?

I'm afraid we're unable
to reproduce something so small,

Dr. Kreizler,
not without sufficient light.

But we must try.

That fingerprint could
prove invaluable.

Watch out!
Out of my way!

Do you see a pattern developing
with the number of boys killed?

Excuse me, gentlemen.

Sir!

Okay, lads!
Everybody out!

Line up and look sharp!

Come on!

Move your bloody asses!

Now, lads. File up!

The police --
They're here!

One more.
Lucius: We need more light.

If we could only wait
for daylight.

Laszlo, we must go!
We have to go now.

Roosevelt will
be held accountable

if you're found here!

Laszlo, please.
Come on.

-Sergeant.
-Commissioner.

Captain Connor, good thing
you've finally arrived.

Why wasn't I informed
about this?

The investigation is well
in hand, captain.

The Isaacsons are
already present.

Your men are to assist them
in every possible way.

Young Commissioner
Roosevelt...

are you well?

Steffens: For a man who
is retired, Chief,

we're certainly seeing
a lot of you.

Once a servant of the people,
always a servant of the people.

We need to secure
these premises, Commissioner.

Of course, Captain.

Do your duty.

Okay, you heard the captain.

It's about time!

Cyrus: Come on!
Come on, you! Come on!

Kreizler: Forensic science is
no use to us without more time.

You must make Roosevelt
understa--

What are you doing here?

I gave no such instruction
for you to come here.

Have Cyrus take you.

Thank you, Mary.

We've been up all night,
Laszlo.

I would prefer
the opportunity

to sleep
and collect my thoughts.

While the impression is fresh,
we must take advantage.

I assure you,
the impression of a poor boy

slaughtered like an animal
will remain fresh,

if not indelible.

Yes.

It is slaughter.

They have been led
to slaughter.

Those last few moments must have
been terrorizing.

Is the child's terror essential
to the killer's experience?

Laszlo, please.

Only on the assumption
that there's some meaning

to his actions.
Yes.

Certainly, a beggar
is motivated

to steal a piece of bread
because he's hungry.

But why does our killer
do what he does?

We all must be held accountable,
regardless of our misfortunes.

I'm not speaking about
accountability.

I'm speaking about empathy,
about understanding.

Understanding?

The man murders children
for pleasure.

This might help you
to put yourself in his place.

The very notion fills me
with loathing.

I am quite sure a book
will not change my mind.

Then ask yourself
why you seek

the companionship
of strangers.

'Cause you enjoy it?
Or are you salving a wound?

Your broken engagement,

your father's disapproval,
your brother's death.

Whatever I'm doing,
I'm not butchering children!

This fixation on boys --

perhaps he's reliving
a physical or emotional trauma.

Miss Howard...

how did you cope
with your father's suicide?

Sara, that does not require
a response.

John indulges himself
with drink.

What do you do?

Kreizler,
that's quite enough!

Miss Howard, if she wants
to be of aid here,

must confront her feelings,
because we all, in some manner,

protect ourselves from
psychological and emotional pain

by taking action to craft
fantasies of revenge,

of power,
of sexual gratification.

So, what is it,
Miss Howard?

What is your opiate?

This is insufferable.

Come on, Sara.
We don't have to listen to this.

Go on, then.

Both of you.

And come back when you're able
to look inside yourselves.

Damn superiority.

We're not free
to ask questions,

but he's free to go mucking
around in our personal lives.

He asked about your father.
I simply told him the truth.

It was very personal,
wasn't it?

Hm.

But I'm afraid what he said
might be right.

Even if it is,
it -- it does not excuse

his impertinence.

Tell me about Mary.

That was more than
reprimanding a servant.

Oh, Mary.

She was taken in by Kreizler
when she was still quite young.

Dare I ask why?

She burned her father
to death.

You're not serious.

On the contrary.

It took her several attempts
to set him alight.

He wants to shield her
from this,

but it was more than that.

He was embarrassed to show
his concern in front of us.

It caused him
to become angry.

My God.

You're beginning to sound
just like him.

Am I?

I'm afraid
the both of us are.

You can be quite amusing
when you want to be, John.