The Alienist (2018): Season 1, Episode 4 - These Bloody Thoughts - full transcript

There was a young street
urchin killed up on the bridge.

Mrs. Van Bergen: Does this have
something to do with Willem?

Why would he willingly
go to his death?

Because he went with
someone he trusted.

What was his name,
the one with the silver smile?

Heights, he's attracted
to heights.

Ask yourself why you seek
the companionship

of strangers.

Ms. Howard, how did you cope
with your father's suicide?

Kreizler,
that's quite enough!

Are you not satisfied
with my progress, doctor,



that you had
to check up on me?

I'm here today
as your pupil, madam.

I didn't know
you had the imagination.

Please.

He's a foreman
at the brewery.

Quite used
to giving orders.

In here,
he prefers taking them.

I've moved on from torturing
helpless creatures.

I need your insight
into someone.

Someone whose behavior you may
be more familiar with than I.

And what is his or her
particular predilection?

Inflicting pain.

You see these
butterflies?

Beneath their beautiful
wings is a whole array



of instruments used
to inflict agony during coitus.

The connection between
pain and pleasure

is far more common
than you think.

The person I'm speaking of
is certainly not common.

For one thing, I suspect he's
aroused by the sight of blood.

If I counted the number
of times I've brought

a prick to attention
by drawing a drop of blood --

I'm not talking about
a drop of blood,

rather the act of
mutilation and stabbing.

The mind is the most erotic
organ of the body, doctor.

Isn't that your domain?

In my experience,
the man who enjoys

defiling women is usually
dominated in his daily life,

while the man who is being
beaten is probably a bully.

Take yourself.

With all your intelligence,
you're most likely aroused

by someone for whom that
intelligence means nothing.

Is that what he's
looking for in his victims?

The opposite?

Of all the stories I told you
when I was your patient,

which ones wormed their way
into your mind,

kept you up at night?

Oh, come, doctor.

I don't believe you were
completely unmoved.

I found your accounts
of men's vulnerabilities

in particular
interesting.

My "accounts of men's
vulnerabilities"?

I recognized my own weakness,
and it gave me pleasure.

Then there's your answer.

If your friend
enjoys inflicting wounds,

there's a good chance
he has wounds of his own.

The cripple in him is looking
for the cripple in another.

Forgive me, madam.

Thank you
for your help.

Commissioner Roosevelt!

He's here.

-Hyah!
-Commissioner Roosevelt!

-Sir, sir!
-Commissioner Roosevelt.

Mr. Roosevelt!

Have you anything to
say about the fact

the dead boys
were all immigrants?

Riis: There's rumors
that you interfered

with the investigation
by your own police department?

Man: Commissioner, can you
be trusted to protect the poor,

or just the elite?

Is it true the dead boy
was dressed as a girl?

This is the second one,
isn't it, sir?

-Stay back!
-Get back!

The people
deserve to know!

Just a moment.
I'll connect you.

Might I have a word with
the Commissioner, Miss Howard?

Commissioner.

Captain Connor
would like a word.

You might want to stay
for this, Miss Howard.

Sir, I just wanted
to share a new piece

of evidence that's
come to light.

It concerns these
terrible boy-whore --

excuse me --
child murders.

Took me a moment to know
what I was looking at.

Thought maybe it was a lady's
pocketbook or something.

But, uh, then I opened it up,
and I seen these pictures.

Little dead boys.

It was then that I noticed
these here initials.

J.S.M.

Can't figure it out
for the life of me.

I thought maybe you'd get
a team of your best detectives

to work on it straight away.

Maybe them smart Jewish boys
could have a go.

Morning, Commissioner.
Miss Howard.

Here, I found
another one.

How far down do they go?

Um...

It appears they go
all the way to the ground.

What do you think
made these?

Lucius.

It's a piton.

It fits.

It would appear our killer
is a climber.

Miss Howard?

Hello.

I'm looking
for the Doctor.

He's not
at the institute.

Uh, no, ma'am.

He's off in
once his, uh...

trances.

Dr. Kreizler.

Dr. Kreizler.

Miss Howard?

The commissioner wanted me
to give you this.

It's John's drawing kit.

Where did he --
Captain Connor.

Moore said
nothing about this.

He must have lost it
at Castle Garden that night.

Won't you sit down?

I was sent on an errand,
no more.

Miss Howard?

I wonder if you've given
any more thought

to our last conversation?

I don't believe I have it
in me to kill a child.

You might
surprise yourself.

Please, sit down.

Do you see
that woman there?

-Yes.
-She's from a good family.

She was soon married and quickly
gave birth to a boy,

and a year later, a girl.

If the purpose of this story
is to annoy me,

then you've succeeded.

The purpose is to
make the point

she's quite similar
to you.

With the not-so-subtle
distinction being

that she's married
and has children.

She had children.

It was six months after
the birth of her daughter,

in a seemingly
inexplicable act,

that the young woman
saw fit to submerge

both her children in a bathtub
until they were drowned.

Owing to the wealth
and influence of her family,

she was spared from being sent
to prison or an institution.

However, instead
of proper treatment,

she now walks the park daily,
pushing an empty perambulator.

I can find no empathy
for a mother who would take

the life
of her own children.

But you understand
the expectations

that our society
bestows on women --

to marry, to have children,

to smile when you feel
incapable of smiling.

If you can empathize
with that, you know better

than most that
that poor young woman

with an empty baby carriage
did not form herself.

Rather, society formed her.

You say you cannot
see the world

from the perspective of
a child killer

because you could
never kill a child.

I believe we all possess
the raw material required

to commit horrible acts.

We just need the right
or wrong combination of events

to make the raw material
combustible.

I'm afraid
I must be on my way.

Good day.

* She had a baby,
she named him Tiny Tim *

* She put him in the bathtub
to see if he could swim *

* He drank up all the water,
he ate up all the soap *

* He tried to eat the bathtub

* But it wouldn't
go down his throat *

Hey, kid!

-Hey, it's my turn.
-No, it's my turn!

Let's not fight.

What?

Welcome to
The Golden Rule.

The Commissioner
shut it down

as soon as we found
the boy's identity.

It's disheartening
to think they'd live

in squalor like this.

Oy, can't you read?

We're closed.

-We're here on police business.
-Let me see your badges.

Perhaps you'd like to see
the inside of 300 Mulberry?

You know, I've told
you people all I know.

The dead kid was
sold to me by his father

to pay off a gambling debt.

He's just another
kid off the boat.

From where, I don't know.

He was from Syria.

His name
was Ali ibn-Ghazi.

Is there a room
with outside access?

One with windows?

This is a basement.

You do know what
a basement is, don't you?

Detective Sergeant?

Marcus:
Did the boy use this room?

Ann: They all use it.

Mr. Moore!
Our man was here, all right.

We found similar evidence
at Castle Gardens.

Hemp strands. From a rope,
I'd surmise.

I don't see any
piton holes, but...

looks like he tied to this base
and went down the shaft.

Up high, he can act with the
confidence of the devil himself.

Not the devil.

God.

He's a saint.

Who are you?

They call me
Bernadette.

What's your real name?

Joseph.

Joseph.
What are you doing here?

Well, I used
to work downstairs.

You ever see anybody
on that roof over there?

Just the pigeon man.

I'm gonna go downstairs and see
what else I can find out.

You said
somebody's a saint.

Who?

A customer.

Fatima called him that.

Who's Fatima?

Ali.

Ali ibn-Ghazi.

We were friends.

That is, until she...

Did you ever
see this saint?

See his teeth?

Were they silver?

I never seen
any of him, but...

I know he's real.
Fatima said so.

Why did you
call him a saint?

'Cause he said he was
gonna take her away

to live up in a castle.

A castle in the sky,
she said.

Hold still.

If you ever see this man,

or someone with a silver smile,

don't go with him.

Trust me, Joseph.
Come see me.

I don't know where this
saint is, but he sure as hell

doesn't use wings to get
up and down these buildings.

On the house.

You best not let
Roosevelt catch you

drinking your lunch,
Captain.

He'll have
you badge for it.

Pious prick.

So, tell me,
what do you want to done

about this society pervert?

Nothing.

Yet.

Just keep an eye on him.

Easy enough.

It's that mother
I don't trust.

If she can't find a place
to stash him

where he can't cut up kids,

someone's gonna have
to do it for her.

There's only one thing
I hate more than a sodomite.

It's a rich sodomite.

Good afternoon,
Mrs. Van Bergen.

Yes, Mr. Byrnes?

There's been
another incident.

I wouldn't know.

Another boy's
been murdered.

There's concern
among certain circles.

I think it necessary
that arrangements be made.

In the best interest
of your son, of course.

I'm not certain
what you mean.

Given his history
and his inclinations,

it would be wise
if the police were unable

to question him
thoroughly in this matter.

Mrs. Van Bergen?

I'm not asking.

You're such a brute!
Stop it!

You asked for me again?

What's wrong
with your hands?

Would you like to go
somewhere else tonight?

I think I should
like to spoil you.

We're not supposed
to leave.

We do a lot
we're not supposed to do.

Kreizler: I've read of your
case, and I asked my colleagues

at Bellevue if I might
conduct an interview.

I'd like to better understand
what motivates you.

Who are you anyway?

I'm an alienist.

How does it feel when you're
engaged in the act itself?

Have you tried
to stop yourself?

I thought I could.

I even promised my parents,
but the feeling

always comes back,
and I have to do it again.

I'm curious,

the one you left
on your neighbor's porch,

the one you cut up,

what made you
decide to do that?

Mr. Hoobler is a liar.

He said it was
a Chinaman snatching up

the dogs in the neighborhood
'cause Chinamen eat dogs.

He said he'd been there
and saw it with his own eyes.

But you were
the one killing them.

I said I was sorry!

I even wrote letters
to their owners

and asked them
to forgive me.

Your mother wrote
those letters.

Do you not understand why some
of them want you punished?

Charles?

Charles!

I asked you a question.

They can go out
and get a new one.

They're just stupid dogs --
stupid, stupid dogs.

Boys, will you stop that now?

I said stop.

**

Ezra, stop that.

They're all
restless today.

It must be
the full moon.

Certainly it has nothing to do
with the moon, Helen.

I'm sorry your parents
didn't come this week, Ezra.

Shall we write them
a letter?

Or we can kick
the ball together.

Let's pretend
it's someone special.

Who would you
choose it to be?

Mother.

I'm sorry, Ezra,
I didn't hear you.

-My mother.
-Are you sure?

-My mother.
-Shout it.

-My mother!
-Very well.

Let's kick the stuffing
out of her.

-My mother!
-That's good, Ezra.

Once again.

My mother!

Very good, Ezra.

Man: Whoa. Whoa.

Mary?

Cyrus?

Mary. Mary.

Look, it's under the table.

Oh!

Grab it!

That's why you can't
leave the back door open.

Okay.

Ah, Mr. Moore,
how are you, sir?

-Is the doctor home?
-Last I saw, he was off

to the park
with Miss Howard.

I can see you're upset by
something more meaningful

than a runaway chicken.

I'm afraid the good doctor's
callous nature can sometimes

upset the ones who
care about him the most.

I have an idea, Mary.

If Kreizler and Sara
can enjoy some respite together,

so can we.

Put on your best dress.
I'm taking you out.

* Forward, sister women

* Onward ever more

* Bondage is behind you

Apparently,
it's the latest rage.

Everyone's talking about it.

I'm not quite sure what
Mr. Edison has come up with now.

Maybe we should take a look.

Watch out!
You're all going to get wet!

Colt double-action
of .32 caliber,

six shots,
and 4-inch barrel.

Commissioner, I wanted
to let you know I've done

what you asked and delivered
the drawing kit to Dr. Kreizler.

Good. Although I feel
pity for poor John.

-Thank you, sir.
-Kreizler can be merciless

when things
don't go his way.

I'm well aware
he is most determined

to prove his point even if
it's at the expense of others.

Excuse me, sir, but may I ask
what happened between you?

I'm under the impression
you've an unsettled past.

One time I ever managed
to throw that man on his heels,

it was in college.

He was so angry,
he challenged me to a duel.

I chose fists.

In the gymnasium,
before all our classmates,

we stripped to our waists.

The whole room fell silent
when they saw his arm.

Looks like a broken wing
held tight to his body.

I couldn't do it.

You wouldn't fight him?

Everyone in that room was
bothered by his disadvantage.

Everyone but him.

Kreizler: Mary?

Mary!

Mary!

Hm.

Hello, Laszlo.

Mary, you must tell me
when you're going out.

Where have you been?

To see Edison's Vitascope.

You took Mary?

Actually, I came here
looking for you,

but you were with Sara.

I have something for you.

Why didn't you tell me
you'd lost it?

I wasn't entirely aware
it had been lost.

Either you knew it
or you didn't.

I believe you're jealous.

Can I ask you
to button my boots?

I have news on the boy
killed at Castle Garden.

I met a friend of his,
a young lad named Joseph,

who told me the victim
met a "saint" who promised

to take him to a castle
in the sky.

You were asking me
if I was jealous just now.

Tell me, were you jealous

when Julia left you
for another man?

Would you care to rub
any more salt in that wound?

I'm not asking you
for sport, John.

Of course I was jealous.

And has that jealousy
become part of your

sexual ritual when you
sleep with prostitutes?

I don't understand.

Yes, you do.

The other boot.

The moment you met her,
or when she abandoned you?

When she betrayed me.

A sense of shame
affects me somehow.

Brings you pleasure
and pain?

What does this have to do
with our killer, Laszlo?

He's eroticizing
a past trauma.

The act of murder mirrors
something that was done to him.

But this is clever talk.

We won't find him
by dissecting our own minds.

Nor shall we find him by looking
for men with silver smiles.

Chasing clues will mean
he's always a step ahead of us.

We must see what's
behind the clues.

If you're so convinced
of your theories,

go and speak
to a dentist.

Why must you push away
those who care for you?

To bring you
pleasure or pain?

The question you should
be asking is not why

I push you away
but why you stay.

Button your own boots.

Cahill: Okay, spit.

Spit.

Ulysses,
stop that a moment.

Mr. Moore?

I didn't see your name in
the appointment book. Do you --

My teeth are quite fine,
thank you,

but I do have
a question.

Have you ever encountered
a silver smile?

A what?

I'm looking for
what might cause someone

to have a silver smile?

What did he say?

He said mercury salts.

-For what purpose?

He said, "One night with Venus,
a lifetime of Mercury."

Thank you.

You know there's people
gossiping, you with that girl.

Just because she didn't
grow up in a shtetl

doesn't make her
any less of a Jew.

Besides, doesn't
the Torah say desire

is no more a sin
than hunger or thirst?

If you'd ever bothered
to read the Torah,

you'd know it says
no such thing.

It says there are impulses
we have to control.

That's what makes men
different than beasts.

Well, I suppose I fall
somewhere between the two.

Syphilis!

I beg your pardon?

He was treated
for syphilis.

It's what gave his teeth
the silver color.

Cases of congenital syphilis
can disfigure teeth.

I've never heard of it
discoloring them.

I spoke
to a dentist, Laszlo.

Facts, figures, along with
numerous suppositions.

Pieces of a puzzle
that right now lack form

match no psychological
outline.

What we are missing, John,
is not how he kills, but why.

Most importantly,
when will he kill again?

Mama.

Mama!

Mama!

Wait. Wait!

-Hello, John.
-Laszlo.

I haven't been here in years.
I see it's not changed.

The same as yesterday,
today, and forever.

So, tell me your
purpose in meeting?

I've not asked you here.
You asked me.

John, I received the message
at the institute

that you wished to see me.

I was directed
to come here.

But you called
my grandmother's house?

You spoke
to her yourself.

Good evening, gentlemen.

How you've come to be here,
Detective Sergeants?

We took a trolly.

I mean, who has asked you
to present yourselves?

You did.

And how did I do that?

You sent us a telegram.

Did you not send it?

You are here.

It's remarkable, isn't it?

-This is taken.
-What is remarkable,

Miss Howard?
That you're here, all of you.

It's as if you've
anticipated the moment.

Mrs. Santorelli and her son

brought this to me
at police headquarters.

I'd only just read it when
I got your message, Doctor.

My message
was to meet here?

Yes.

I'm sorry. I should have been
more careful about handling it.

I have to admit,
holding it in my hand

gave me a certain exhilaration
that I wasn't expecting.

I felt I could almost hear
his voice in my head

while reading the words.

Did you come directly
from police headquarters?

I got your message and took
a hansom straight away.

Why?

Yes, why?

Why wasn't killing
the boy enough?

Why must you send
a letter, as well?

I want to inflict pain,
and I won't be satisfied

unless I can see the suffering
that I'm causing.

He was watching
the Santorellis.

Yes. I can see her agony.

I can hear her cries.

I watch her,
and it leads me to...

...you.

Moore: Easy, Laszlo.

I follow you,
with the letter in your hand

from Mulberry Street
to Brubacher's,

where you sit down to share
this horrid property

with your colleagues
who've already been assembled

at my direction.

You mean,
he asked me to come?

He asked all of us.

He's watching us.

"My dear Mrs. Santorelli...

I don't know as it is you
what is the source

of the vile LIES I read
in the newspapers

or if the police
are behind it

and the reporters
are part of their scheme.

But I figger it might be you,
and I take this occashun

to straten you out.

In some parts of this world,
such as where dirty immigrants

like yourself come from,
it is often that human flesh

is eaten regular
as other food is so scarce

and people would
starve without it.

Of course it is usuly
children what is eaten

as they are tenderest
and best tasting,

especially the ass
of a small child.

And then these people that
eat it come here to America,

dirtier than a Red Injun.

On February 19th,
I seen your boy

parading himself
outside the church

with dirt and paint
on his face.

I decided to wait
and saw him several times

before one night I took him
away from THAT PLACE.

Saucy boy, I already
knew I must eat him.

So we went straight
to the bridge,

and I trussed him
and did him quick.

I collected his eyes
and took his ass,

and it fed me for a week,
roasted with onions and carrots.

But I never had him,
though I could have.

And he would have
liked me to.

He died unspoiled by me,
and the papers ought to say so."

Evening, girls.

Which one of you is up
for a little fun?