Millennium · Season 1
Tell me what you want.
I want to see you dance on the blood-dimmed tide. The ceremony of innocence is drowned. This is the second death. The abominable and the fornicators - this is the second death. You'll have your part in the lake - the great plague - the maritime city. You'll have your part in the lake which burns with fire and brimstone.
The killer is confused about his sexuality. He feels guilt, quite possibly from his mother. So he goes to peep shows to try to feel something toward women but all he feels is anger - anger that fuels his psychosis, that distorts and twists his view of reality.
Twists it to fit some screwy French poetry?
The killer doesn't see the world like everyone else.
How does he see it?
Differently.
Wait a second. You say this guy is angry at women, that he cruises boys but then he kills this John Doe we found burned in the forest. How does that work?
He's very confused.
Undoubtedly.
His way of dealing with it is by fulfilling a prophecy.
I don't buy it.
Uh, it's a good story but I've got to agree. Evidence just doesn't support it.
I was approached by a group of men who helped me understand the nature of my facility... my gift.
This Millennium Group. They really believe all that stuff? Nostradamus and Revelations? The destruction of the world?
They believe we can't just sit back and hope for a happy ending.
Tell me how you know. Why are you so sure? You see it, or something.
It's complicated, Bletch.
What do you see?
I see what the killer sees.
What, like a psychic?
No. I put myself in his head. I become the thing we fear the most.
How?
I become capability. I become the horror--what we know we can become only in our heart of darkness. It's my gift. It's my curse. It's why I retired.
I can handle imposition, Frank. What I can't handle is secrecy.
I don't keep secrets, Catherine. I'll tell you anything you want.
You think you're protecting me but you make it worse, Frank. You can't shut the world out for me. You can't ask me to pretend that I don't know what you do.
Everyone pretends. We all make believe. These men I help catch... make us.
We're raising a daughter, Frank. The real world starts to seep in. You can't stop it.
It seems that the old biblical concept of the devil's influence has lost any currency.
I just think the language has changed. I think science and psychology have given us a clearer idea of why people commit evil acts. I see it everyday, abused kids become abusive adults.
So the true source of evil is us.
You mean, are we all capable of it?
Or is there something out there - a force or a presence - waiting until it can create another murder, another rape, another holocaust.
I think it's something that everyone who looks deeply at life wonders.
What would you tell a child? What would I tell Jordan?
Maybe you should just tell her good-night.
What you described in there last night... the face of the beast...
I saw it, the day I arrived.
I've seen the face of evil, Frank. I've looked into its eyes, seen it staring back at me. The face has always been a man's face... a human face. I've always believed that evil is born in a cold heart and a weak mind.
I have too.
Frank went back to work because he had to. It's who he is. Sometimes I think of Frank as the catcher in the rye... standing at the edge of the cliff trying to save the world... but he can't change anything. All he can do is catch these horrible men before they kill again. And that's why I can never let him think that Jordan and I aren't perfectly safe in this perfect house and perfect world that he's tried to give us... Because I know, if he ever thought differently... next time he'd never be able to leave.
There is a deliberate error in the Great Pyramid in Giza... an architectural anomaly that some prophets have cited as an error in our calculation of the true calendar year. Some believe it sets the date of the apocalypse in 1998.
Plan your investment strategy accordingly.
He sends the photos to you, Frank. The envelope has your name on it. What's the object of terrorism?
Terror.
That's all he wants at this point.
Then he's a success...
He needed one lens replaced -- the left lens?
Well, that I don't remember. But what I do remember is that he was getting all weirded out.
Weirded how?
I guess his glasses got a little lost in the shuffle, so I asked him for a service slip number and he gets all sweaty, and his eyes got real weird. So I went back, I asked the technicians, maybe they had seen them. And I guess they were in the tray right behind me but all the trays are marked with the customer's name on it. And he starts going: 'I have a name! I have a name!'
I thought it was the guy. We all did.
What if it was, James? Is bouncing the subject's head off the hood of the car going to do anything to change all the other murders that will occur today?
Come on, Frank! Some guy cuts your wife and your daughter into eight pieces and you just stand there and you read him his rights?!
He hasn't killed our wives or our families and he's not going to. If you make every one of these personal, you'll go insane and that's from having been there, James.
I get so far into the heads of the killers and the victims.
You haven't got there at all.
Don't you tell me where I am!
You put them in your head.
I keep reliving... what it's like to be cut in half... or four... or eight.
This isn't about you, James! The whole thing... what's going on out here... it's about us! Me, you... the killer and the victim.
I can't help but take this personally. Another person is going to die, horribly. Because I s-... we screwed up. I-... we did all this for nothing.
No, we didn't. We handed out 30 pins from the hospital charity to be placed here. There's 31. We wanted one taken, but one was left. He was here.
I don't know, Catherine. Maybe it's because T.C.'s been taken out of my everyday life. Or... he's two now and he's becoming a person, you know? But I can't... these murderers... before they were a... fascinating, psychological, societal puzzle. Most I could even feel sympathy for them because of their horrible lives. But now... when I walk into a crime scene, all I see is my little boy's face superimposed on the victim. And... and these... killers can't be simply cases or psychological anomalies anymore. They're just... monsters. Just monsters.
They play well together.
Yeah. It's great to watch them, huh? They have no idea. Things we see... things we know are out there. I hope I'm not screwing him up... I never ever dreamed at that perfect moment that... my time with him would be regulated by petitions, attorney retainers, orders of the court... that mother, father and son would become nothing more than a case number... that as a father, I risk adding nothing to his life. I could become nothing but... face covered in gray tape.
When I read Dostoevsky there was a passage, something like: 'There's nothing more sad than a life that ends and no one knows or cares.' Hair today, gone tomorrow. The subject is angry that his life will go unnoticed... that he will have left nothing. The hatred of himself is directed toward the world which has held him back because it objectified him... reduced him, reduced us all to universal bar codes. We are animals in a caged shelter, controlled by dog catchers. The gray tape makes the victims look like how he feels -- faceless -- a dead letter lost at the post office. He's killed before... when he was young... most likely a female prostitute, after an early setback... a girlfriend, a job. He sought out a woman that wouldn't turn him away. The solicitation increased his feelings of nothingness and so he killed her before sex. My guess? He was never caught. He got away with it. Subject has felt guilt ever since, angered at a world that should have punished him but didn't. The murder, however, was the most significant event in his life. He's returned to this place, to the event. He wants nothing more than to be stopped. But he will do everything in his control to remain significant.
What's the matter, honey?
I had a bad dream.
Oh... come on... Everybody has bad dreams.
Why?
These quotes come from Wikiquote's Millennium pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.
