[GRAMOPHONE STATIC]
[UPBEAT 50s MUSIC PLAYS]
[INTENSE MUSIC PLAYS]
[MUFFLED POLICE OPERATOR]
[POLICE SIRENS]
[MUFFLED POLICE RADIO]
[MELODIC MUSIC PLAYS]
... the body parts and season 'em like chicken he'd mask the smell
and be able to feed it to the coyotes in the yard without anybody even noticing.
And did it work?
Dumb son of a bitch over-seasoned it.
And it smelled fantastic, according to the neighbors.
But the animals they wouldn't go near. It's too much salt for coyotes.
Sorry to keep you waiting so long.
You'll need those.
Thanks.
I missed an intriguing story.
Just people being people.
What kind of people are you hanging around?
The worst kind.
How may I assist you, gentlemen?
Oh, I'm no gentleman.
Not according to the ex-wives anyway.
How about you?
Are you a gentleman, sir?
Never before noon.
Well, lucky me, it's afternoon.
All right, Miss Goode.
You can call me Anna.
There's no need to be fancy here.
I respect that.
Anna.
I'm Detective Marshall.
I know. We've met before.
We have. Flattered you remembered.
Oh, I wouldn't forget your face.
Detective Marshall.
Isn't that a little like Sergeant Major?
Admiral General?
Inspector Constable.
A marshal marshal.
That that would be something to aspire to. Oh, that's very funny. Anna,
this is Special Agent Savage, on loan to us from the Federal Bureau.
And to what do I owe the honor of this pairing of law enforcement prowess?
Special Agent and I were just hoping you could answer just a few questions for us.
It would appear I have no choice.
Am I under arrest?
No, ma'am.
No, you're just here for questioning.
Handcuffs for questioning.
And we would like to ask you a few questions
about an incident that took place six weeks ago.
It was a holiday party.
There was an altercation.
One man hospitalized, 13 witnesses
that have already verified the details of this event.
This ring a bell? - Bell has been rung.
Well, I'm just hoping
you can provide some clarity for me so we can, just shut the book on this.
13 witnesses and you're still lacking clarity?
Well, it's like, seeing Bigfoot on a camping trip.
You know, one person swears up and down it was the real thing.
Another sure it was a moose.
And the third person just saw nothing at all.
I recognized you back when we met.
That so.
You were in the papers last year.
Here I thought no one reads the papers anymore.
That woman who kidnaped those children and fed them insects
and made them use litter boxes.
You're the one who caught her.
You're the hero who saved the kids.
Most of them.
They called you the bloodhound.
That woman.
She killed herself in front of you.
She did.
That must have been very disappointing.
What makes you say that?
Because you spent all that time trying to find her and save the kids.
And she never faced justice.
Okay.
I would so much rather talk about you Anna.
Hmm... asking me about a fight at a house
party seems below your pay grade.
Fortunately for my soul, not every case I work on is so extreme.
Anna, we would like- Sitting across from Detective Marshall.
One can't help the haunting feeling that he figured you out
long before you ever sat down.
As though his talent for hunting animals
were fueled by a secret ability to, at least in a sense, become one.
And perhaps that is his great strength.
For despite being in the hands of the police before him,
you feel that nothing is safe.
That sounds like a poem.
Did she write a poem about you, Detective?
No. Special agent.
That's from an article they wrote about me in the papers.
They wrote an article about you?
You memorized that, huh? - I memorize everything.
No one ever writes about me...
I have an eidetic memory.
A photographic memory.
Okay, so what, it's like the saying on the TV?
Like, you can see textbooks from grade school when you close your eyes?
I don't have to close my eyes.
Oh, that's pretty cool, Miss Goode.
Thank you, Mr. Savage.
Special Agent.
Yeah he didn't go to
years of FBI school to be called Mr..
Is the FBI also curious about a fight at a house party?
I didn't say it was a fight.
Oh, he said it was an altercation.
They sent a man to the hospital. Is there a difference?
Can you tell us what you saw?
You, on the other hand, I know nothing of.
No articles about you. - No.
Very mysterious.
Special Agent... - John.
John Savage?
Yes.
Special Agent John T Savage.
What's the 'T' stand for?
'The'. - I ate civilization.
It poisoned me.
I was defiled, and then I ate my own wickedness.
John The Savage.
Brave new world indeed.
Indeed.
The detective over here didn't get your little joke, I'm afraid.
See, that's what happens when you sleep through high school
English, Marshall. - No, I just I didn't see the movie.
Oh the TV show?
All right, all right.
I love this connection here coming together across the table.
All right. But can we just go back to my questions, please?
Wouldn't that be great?
You feel that? Somebody needs to Alpha.
So what can I answer for you, Detective,
that none of your 12 other witnesses could?
The evening of the fight.
Whose house were you at?
I was at the house of a woman named Beth and her husband, Jacob.
You mean Jacob Levine?
How do you know Jacob?
Through his wife. - Beth.
Beth. - Okay.
How long you known the couple?
Beth and I attend the same church.
I would see her at events and functions.
I've known her about five years.
And the husband attend services with her? - No.
She tell you why?
It's not my place to disclose matters of a private nature regarding
Beth's life.
You notice any problems between them?
Anything that registered to you as tension in their marriage maybe?
It's really not my place to say.
But there was something?
You're not betraying her trust.
We're not asking what she told you.
I'm just asking what you observed.
They're often terse with each other.
Terse?
Haven't you and one of your ex-wives ever been in public
minutes after a fight? You know. Terse.
She tell you what they argued about?
I can stamp it on my forehead if it will help you, Detective.
Okay.
It's so noble of you to be so protective of your friend's privacy.
But guess what?
She wasn't quite as protective of yours I'm afraid.
So.
You're at the party. Beth and Jacob's.
The event's winding down. Half the guests have cleared out.
Would you say that's correct?
Wasn't in charge of keeping the head count.
Do you recall what time you first heard a commotion?
No.
Around 11 would you say?
I do not recall. - Bullshit.
With your photographic memory, you don't remember?
Eidetic.
And alcohol works the same way on everyone, Detective.
So you heard the commotion?
I heard raised voices over the music.
Did you recognize those voices?
Not at first. - Okay but eventually?
Eventually I heard Beth's voice.
And what was she saying?
"It's not what you think."
That's an interesting choice of words.
Do you have a context for why she said that?
Why do you think she said that?
Was it, in fact, what he thought?
What happened next?
Jacob and the other man got their fists involved.
Because Jacob believed the other man was having an affair with his wife?
Yes.
Well, was Beth indeed having an affair
that you're aware of?
She's not going to answer that.
It's a betrayal of her friend's trust.
I knew we had a connection.
But I can answer it, Miss. Goode.
She was indeed having an affair.
Hot and heavy one too.
Then why ask me?
Because we want to know if you knew. - Yes.
And how'd it make you feel?
Like I hope he gave her everything Jacob never could.
Did you witness Jacob beating
the man into unconsciousness?
Break his nose, jaw, orbital sockets and two teeth through his tongue.
No. - No?
I was tending to Beth, trying to keep her out of harm's way.
Did you perceive Beth was in harm's way?
One Sunday, their oldest came to church with a black eye,
and Beth had some bruising around her wrists.
Did he strike her when he was done with--
What do you mean by what you just said?
You said Beth didn't protect my privacy the way I did hers.
Well, Anna.
Beth is pretty clear
you had no kind feelings towards her husband.
He hit my friend and his children.
How was I supposed to feel about that? - So you're mad at him?
Are you not? - Did you confront Jacob?
I'd like to make a request.
Skip to what you really want to ask me.
What do you think it is we want to ask you, Miss Goode?
Call me Anna. - No.
I'm going to call you John The.
Call me whatever you want
just answer the question.
Jacob Levine disappeared
a couple of weeks after that fight.
And then a few days ago, a piece of him
showed up several states over.
An important piece.
Which is why you're here,
if I were to venture a guess.
Crimes across state borders become federal jurisdiction.
Do they not?
I'm here
because you want to ask me one of two questions.
Do I know who killed him?
Or...
Did I kill him?
Jacob was a monstrously abusive man
who hit his wife and his children.
The world is a better place without him in it.
And I have shed no tears over what
may have happened to him. But I didn't
end his life.
Jacob was six foot three
and outweighed me by about 150 pounds.
How is someone like me supposed to do something like that, I ask you.
Subdue a man that large and dismember him?
People can do pretty amazing things when properly motivated.
That's very progressive of you, John The.
Or you had a much stronger male accomplice.
And that's very sexist of you, Marshall.
But do you gentlemen know what motivates me more
than taking revenge on my friends abusive husband?
What's that?
Literally anything.
Literally anything?
My blood sugar is crashing.
What happens if your blood sugar crashes?
Oh, you have a medical emergency on your hands.
We wouldn't want that.
Can I have something to drink?
No, we have to ask you a few more questions
How urgent are we talking here?
All right.
What can I get you?
You want a juice? Coffee, extra cream?
Hot chocolate.
You want hot chocolate?
Every office coffee machine pre-2000
makes the same terrible metallic tasting hot chocolate.
I love it.
Saw one in your hallway out there, I'd like that please.
Biggest size you've got.
Not for me thanks.
Look just don't crash before I get back, all right?
No promises.
We're not done.
I don't think he trusts me.
Do you think he should?
Well, I'm very trustworthy. Go ahead.
Ask me anything.
As appealing as it is to get to know all about you
Miss Goode. I think we should wait to talk until the detective returns.
How very by the book of you.
It's not being recorded.
Why wait?
Besides, neither of you believe a single word I'm saying.
Have I not been truthful?
I wouldn't say you haven't been truthful.
You have something on me.
Otherwise, I would not have been brought in here in handcuffs.
I've a story I'd like to share with you, if that's okay.
Who doesn't love stories?
Eight years ago, there was a man living a few states away from here named Miles.
Miles was a pretty unassuming fellow,
40s, a little overweight, software engineer, decent money.
Pretty much a dweeb.
One day, Miles disappears without a trace.
Even God was looking down, asking,
"Where the hell did that guy go?"
God was?
But Miles didn't stay hidden long.
A month after disappearing,
a 13 year old boy's riding his bike
along a riverbank in Ohio.
He's trying to impress a pretty girl
by showing her how in-tune he is with nature.
They stop off at a clearing because
he wants to put moves on her.
Maybe cop himself a feel.
When what do they find?
A severed arm
that has floated down the river
and got caught in the banks.
I'll bet he never did get to cop that feel.
Over the next few weeks, a leg
turns up in Michigan, another
in Illinois.
A torso in Kentucky.
A penis in Indiana.
And then finally they pick up his head
in a field in Pennsylvania.
The only thing they never found was his heart.
The examiners who studied the body parts realized that Miles
had been kept alive
through at least a good portion of those amputations.
He lived for days as he was slowly carved to pieces, driven from place to place.
He even survived losing his penis in Indiana.
Every man's worst nightmare, I assume.
I mean... Indiana.
The examiners were particularly interested in how they did this.
I mean, it would take serious
medical attention to keep somebody alive through a process like that.
But when I looked at those filings...
That's not what stood out to me.
And what stood out to you, John Savage?
The cruelty.
There's a level of evil in a crime of that nature that justifies explanation.
Comprehension.
Everything has an explanation.
Just may not always be the one you want.
That level of cruelty, the person behind it,
they need to be stopped.
They need to be taken off the streets at all cost.
You're a crusader, Special Agent.
I hope you find your man.
There's just one more interesting thing about Miles,
Miss Goode.
What's that?
Like Jacob Levine,
you also knew Miles personally.
And tell me, Miss Goode,
because my mind stumbles
under the weight of the probability.
In your estimation, what are the odds of the same woman
knowing two different men who suffer the same grisly fate so many years apart?
Unless, of course,
she's the cause of that fate.
You're right.
Odds are slim.
I didn't find my man, Miss Goode.
I found my woman.
You murdered Jacob Levine.
And eight years ago, you murdered Miles to.
Want to know something else interesting?
Are you familiar with a man named Donald Donaghy?
He disappeared in 1961.
I can't say that I have.
William Connell disappeared in 1955.
No.
Harrison James Healy, vanished 1949.
Are you just going to recite missing persons to me all day?
Oh no, John The.
They're dead.
And I killed all of them,
along with Jacob and Miles.
You see, you dig deep enough, you're going to find a lot more severed
limbs and penises.
But don't hold back now, Special Agent.
Don't you want to know how I did it?
Cause her license says she's 35, but she doesn't look a day over 28.
How could she have killed a man in 1949?
Miss Goode.
We both know that you were not alive in 1949.
So my guess is that this is your first move to try
to get a lighter sentence on an insanity play.
Oh, I'm very, very sane.
Fit to stand trial,
the judge will tell you. But I won't be there.
And where will you be? I'm not sure yet.
So just while I have my facts straight.
You are confessing to the murders of Jacob Levine, Miles McQuistan,
and then somehow, three other men spanning back 80 years.
Yes.
Anyone else you murdered while we're confessing to the outlandish?
Oh, yes.
Do you have their names,
or do they start to get a little foggy when you get back to the 1700s?
I remember everyone's name and where I buried every body part.
Even the ones from the 1700s.
Of course. Eidetic memory.
You don't believe me?
What gave me away?
I can tell you how I did it.
No.
No?
I don't have time for bullshit.
I am not your lawyer.
I'm not the judge.
I'm just the guy that's going to bring you in.
So go sell your crazy somewhere else, Miss Goode.
But I bet if you knew my entire story, you would care.
I promise you, I won't.
Haven't you ever wanted to put yourself
in the shoes of someone on this side of the table?
That's Marshall specialty.
I just follow the breadcrumbs.
And yet...
I want to tell you everything.
Actually...
I can do more than tell you.
I can show.
[MUSIC INTENSIFIES]
[JOHN] I think you set the record for the longest
hot chocolate run in history.
Well I had to go to the third goddamn floor
to make this happen for you.
There you go. What happened to her?
Hey, Anna. Wake up.
I don't know, she started talking about missing persons
from other cases.
Anna. Lift your head up.
You think this was the medical emergency she was telling us about?
If her blood sugar crashes.
That would be very inconvenient. Anna, come on.
We need you. We need you. Wake up. Wake up!
Hey, hey, hey.
Lift that head. Lift that pretty head.
There you go. There you go.
[ANNA MUMBLING]
Huh?
[SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC]
Woah! Hey, Anna.
Calm down.
Calm down. All right. Now just sit back down.
Hey hey hey hey!
Settle down, settle down.
Let's get straight in the rules right now.
We had a nice thing going, right? Yeah.
You will answer the questions, and you will sit back down,
or I will put you back in those cuffs, and I will restrain you.
Do you understand? Sit.
You're crashing.
Drink your hot chocolate.
I'm not Anna.
You're not Anna?
What do you mean you're not Anna?
Yeah.
Tell us what you mean by that.
Lawyer.
Excuse me?
I want a lawyer.
You're not under arrest. - Then I'm free to go.
You're not free to go.
Then I am as good as arrested.
Any half - decent defense attorney
will argue suppression of
anything else I say.
And when.
Or you two can get out of here and get me a lawyer.
You sure about that?
I'm not going to repeat myself.
All right.
We will be right back.
Pull yourself together.
Hey, do not trash my interrogation room
or I will trash your hot chocolate.
You got that?
And we wouldn't
want that, would we?
Huh? No we wouldn't.
Special Agent.
Queen of Hearts.
Queen of Hearts...
What are you thinking?
Uh...
Tired.
I want to know what you're thinking right now.
Tired...
Tired.
That's what your body is feeling.
I don't give a shit about that.
I want to know what you're thinking.
I don't know.
That's not good enough.
Do you know what your assignment here is?
My assignment.
My code word.
Protect my code word.
That's absolutely wrong.
Your assignment is to think.
Unspool your thoughts.
Apply facts.
Victory!
Reason.
If I tell you to think about your mother's house.
My mother? - Walking up to her front door...
Something you've surely done a million times.
What are you thinking?
Uh...
Comfort.
If you tell me one more feeling,
this exercise will end and you will fail with prejudice.
Do you understand?
Good.
You walk up to your mother's house.
What do you think?
Red.
Red what?
Red door.
Take me inside the house.
Think. What's inside your mother's home?
Floorboards...
Squeaking.
What else?
Tell me. I want sights and sounds.
Be specific.
My dad's
recliner.
Oh, it's faded,
musty
inside.
The left.
That's very good.
And if I tell you that I visited your mother's house.
Walked through the red door,
stepped on the squeaky floorboards.
And when your father turned.
I shot through his musty recliner.
And then I slit your mother's throat.
What are you doing?
What are you doing right now?
My mother.
My father.
They're worthless.
See me!
If there were fire, and they couldn't find a retreat.
I wouldn't piss on them.
But not to you.
To you
they're just one more thing that'll make you stop thinking
and start feeling.
How am I supposed to not feel?
What is this, Savage?
Is this not torture?
Sleep deprived for three days.
Standing upright day and night
with only water.
And even then, just enough so you don't die.
What makes this torture?
Guess you're trying to break me.
You're trying to break me.
Are you broken?
Hm?
At the beginning of this exercise, you were given a code word.
When you give up that code word, this exercise will end.
You've reached your limit.
You can tell me the code word.
Fuck you!
That's not the code word.
Fuck me.
Breaking torture is not a zero sum game.
The misconception is that it's all or nothing.
You may not have shared your code with me, but you have already assured me
that you will.
I know it as much as I know my wife is
fucking the pool boy every Wednesday.
Do you know how I know? You've told me.
You keep telling me.
Unable to hide what makes you weak.
I know you're going to break.
Reason is your salvation.
Feelings will haunt you.
You feel too much.
How do I not feel?
Open your eyes.
Look around.
What do you see?
Open your eyes
and tell me what's in this room.
What do you see?
Tell me. Right now.
I don't know.
Tell me what's in this room.
Light. - Yes. What else?
My hands. - Yes.
My cuffs. - Give me everything.
What else do you see? - I don't know what I see.
There's nothing in the room.
If it's an empty room that doesn't mean anything.
What do your eyes see?
What do I see?
What do you see?
What do you smell?
My sweat. - Yes. Yes. Keep going.
I don't know. Mildew.
What do you hear?
Your...
Voice.
I hear your voice.
I hear footsteps.
Yes. What else?
The air.
Take all of that.
Take everything you just did.
What you hear, what you smell, what you see.
Do it all in a fraction of a second.
If I tell you that I shot your father in the back and slit your mother's throat.
Do everything we just did in the blink of an eye.
And if you could do that, if you're very disciplined.
The race between logic and emotion can be won by reason.
If reason is victorious, you become present.
And here is where you remain in control.
Nothing they do to your body will break you.
They'll make the physical pain worse.
But thought, reason...
presence.
If you do those things, you might suffer.
You might die.
But you'll never lose yourself.
Do you understand?
Yes. Yes, sir.
Then recount for me.
What was the first card that I threw down?
First card that you threw down?
Tell me.
[THUNDER RUMBLING]
Queen of Hearts.
We all settled?
Hello? I'd like--
Where's my lawyer?
Your attorney's on the way.
Just don't worry about that. I want to talk to you about Jacob.
I'm not answering any more questions without my lawyer.
Well, you have a right not to answer, but I can certainly ask.
Sit down.
Sit. Down.
[KISSING NOISE]
Good.
When was the last time you saw Jacob, Anna?
Hey. The last time you saw Jacob.
When was it?
Answer me, Anna! - I don't have to answer your questions.
Legally speaking, no, but you're going to talk.
I could ask you questions.
If it floats your boat. - [JOHN] She doesn't have a boat.
I'd like to speak to
Special Agent Savage alone.
Is that so?
Can I ask why you want to speak to Special Agent Savage alone?
Private matter.
No. I'm afraid that's out of the question.
Why not? - Why not?
Because this is my investigation.
This is my interrogation room, and I make the rules.
There's a body chopped up and spread across multiple states.
This is a federal case.
I'd like to speak to the federal agent in charge.
He's not in charge- In private.
I'm willing to hear her out.
No.
But I'd be happy to discuss whatever it is you two wish to discuss together right now.
But if she wants to talk to me in private- No!
Okay.
Have we all overcome our nonsense now?
Good. Few more questions for you. Why don't you answer us?
A thought.
What is going on? Are you crashing?
Drink your hot chocolate.
Reason.
Sound. Reason.
Open your eyes.
What do you see?
Let's play a game.
For every question of yours that I answer,
you answer one of mine.
No lawyer needed. No questions off-limits.
How's that sound? - Great. Fine. I'll go first.
When was the last time you saw Jacob?
The last time I spoke to Jacob Levine was the day
I murdered him.
How-- sorry.
My hearing isn't as good as it once was.
Did you just confess to Jacob Levine's murder Anna?
Yes I did.
Bravo for listening, Marshall.
You understand a confession is
admissable in a court of law?
Of course I do.
Play my game.
Why did you murder him?
Mm-mm.
I answered yours.
Now you answer mine.
Fine. What?
I'd like to ask Agent Savage a question.
I'm not playing.
Yes you are, Savage. Just play her stupid game.
It's just a stupid game.
Fine.
What color is the boathouse in Quantico?
There is no boathouse
in Quantico.
And that's the question that De Niro asks to flush out the fake in Ronin.
Big Ronin fan?
Or just a very good memory?
Is that really the question you wanted to ask me?
Fine. Start with a simple one.
Which field office are you from?
Why do you want to know that?
I'm curious.
I know a lot about you, Detective.
I know nothing about the Special Agent.
Which field office are you from?
And you see Anna...
That could be seen as an
attempt to intimidate a law enforcement officer.
He's got a point.
Stop asking personal questions
or we're going to stop playing your little game.
Do you want to know details about Jacob Levine's death or not?
Yeah I do, but I don't understand your fixation with Agent Savage.
I mean, what is he-- Is he better looking than me or something?
Slightly, yes, - Yes.
No, no, no you're not.
No he's not. How about me? I'm very interesting.
What do you to know about me? Ask me anything. Sure.
Let's talk about you.
What do you know about Special Agent Savage?
All right.
What are you getting at here, huh? What's going on?
What's going on? - I just want to play my game.
I answered your question.
I murdered Jacob Levine.
I chopped him up into pieces, and I spread him over multiple states.
I'm willing to tell you a lot more, but for now,
I want to know about the person sitting to your left.
I guess I just don't understand the fascination with the person to my left.
No offense.
And yet, some taken.
I have questions that only Agent Savage can answer.
Well, guess what, Anna?
I'm not going anywhere.
So why don't you just cut the shit
or we can all just sit here together and talk about the weather or,
or the latest fashion trends huh? I hear blue is the latest black.
And I hear dead is the new 80.
Tut, tut, tut, tut.
What's it going to be?
I just picked her up.
Bring her in now.
She ask why?
I told her I was just for questioning.
She mouthed off to the uniforms.
That all she did?
What do you expect her to whip out an AK and start shooting?
No.
Okay.
You know,
actually hey, after everything you told me about
her, I'm surprised she came along so easily.
I had six units parked around the corner
ready to create hell if she caused any trouble.
She wasn't gonna cause any trouble. - Oh, yeah?
Why you think that?
What makes you so sure?
A feeling.
A feeling?
- Something about this woman.
Confident, she doesn't run. She just
hides in plain sight. - Anna Goode.
You know, we questioned her when Levine first disappeared.
She didn't ping on any radars then.
No, she wouldn't.
That's not her MO.
Well, she's gotta know if we're bringing her in
we've got something on her, huh?
Maybe.
You know, you really got to clean this mirror.
It's filthy.
Look.
I interviewed her. All right?
And? - And.
It was ten minutes.
I talked to her for ten minutes inside that church
lobby that her and the wife attended services.
I looked her straight in the eye, I didn't see a thing.
You're not psychic, Detective.
Remind me where you're from again?
Omaha division, Des Moines.
It's a long way from here.
See 'cause if you were from our town
you'd know that they put me on the cases
when there's a vile streak.
Because I see things that other guys can't see or don't want to.
I sniff out the truth in people.
I'm sorry. Am I boring you? - Excuse me.
Yeah.
You're not excused because guess what?
I'm talking to you.
You can't be expected to understand what I'm saying
if you're not even looking at me in the face. There you go.
I'm the bloodhound.
Okay?
I'm not messing around with purse-snatchers
or kids who shoot up
liquor stores with BB guns.
I'm talking about the kind of evil that decays the soul.
With all due respect, Detective, it sounds a lot like your ego talking.
One more time with that.
If you want to bring the bad guys to justice,
and you've got to follow the evidence
wherever it leads and not get in your own way--
You can't talk to me like that, Mr. Savage. - It's not about you--
That's Special Agent Savage. - Not in my town, in my precinct,
in my interrogation room!
Listen, I think
you're a very good law enforcement officer with a knack for catching the guilty.
I don't care what you think. You don't condescend to me.
We both want the same thing here.
Yeah. What's that?
For a dangerous person to be taken off the streets.
Yeah.
We do both want that.
You didn't miss anything when you talked to her last time.
Because you didn't know that Jacob Levine was dead.
Right, I know.
He was just a missing person. - Exactly.
Now you know more. - Yeah, I do.
So let's get this bitch.
Anna.
You interviewed me once before.
When Jacob first disappeared, we spoke at the church.
We did.
You're such a bloodhound as your reputation would suggest.
How come you didn't figure me out then?
We didn't know Jacob was dead.
He was only a missing person at that point.
Oh, but you suspected, Detective,
whether you admit it or not.
A man disappears after beating his wife's lover unconscious.
Those stories don't usually have happy endings.
Now you sit across from me.
You look me in the eye, and you missed it completely.
There's a stain on your badge, Detective.
Trying to get under my skin, Anna?
Just a curious observer sighting his--
her disappointment
that the hero cop she's read so much about in the local papers
could fail so spectacularly
at the one thing he's most well known for.
What are you after, Anna?
No. She's right.
I missed it, and it was staring me right in the face.
In the eye, in fact.
Were you trying to get caught?
Perhaps. Perhaps not.
Either way, you failed.
She's trying to get in your head.
I know she is Special Agent. Shut up.
Why did you kill Jacob?
Mm-mm.
Still haven't answered my question.
How come you didn't figure out it was me?
Because I didn't understand the full extent of the crime.
That's why.
Sure, Marshall.
Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.
Come on, Detective.
And that you failed. You fumbled.
You screwed up.
I sit across from you.
Clear as a bell. Guilty as hell.
And you missed it.
And it's been eating you up, hasn't it?
It's been eating you up ever since the Special Agent over here
walked into your town,
your precinct, your interrogation room
with my name on a little piece of paper.
That's enough.
What pisses you off more, Marshall?
The fact that I got by you.
Or the fact that the Special Agent here,
he showed you up without even having to try--
Don't fall for it, Detective.
What do you think
the local papers are going to say about you on this next case, Detective?
Oh, you see what you did now Anna,
you really made him mad.
Shut your fucking mouth.
Well, that was unexpected.
Is that your plan?
Just keep throwing matches until something burns down?
What did you do to me.
Me?
Do to you? Me?
Now, in my mind's eye...
Once you were alone, I picture that you immediately reached
for your dick and lamented its absence.
Or start fondling yourself furiously.
Tell me what you did to me.
I think it's pretty clear what I did.
You became me and I became you.
Obviously.
Well, obviously!
My feet are so much bigger.
Walking is different.
And not just because of the feet
by the way.
Hips are not as flexible as they once were.
Is that age or...
an old injury?
Stop that.
Hm?
Stop that.
I took a pee standing up.
It was so easy.
I can't wait to try it again.
Switch us back.
Oh, you're not as smart as I thought you were Special Agent.
Are you?
You know,
when I was in the bathroom in the mirror,
I took a good look at what you've been working with.
You got decent muscle tone but
no six-pack, huh?
You spend more time at a desk than you used to.
And your, uh, military tattoos.
They tell me that you've seen some things, but your hands...
They don't have any calluses.
So it's been a while since you fired your weapon, hasn't it?
And you've had
training, haven't you, Special Agent?
Probably training on how to survive under duress.
It's the only way to explain how you didn't completely have
a nervous breakdown after waking up in the skin of another person.
Is that military training standard for the army,
or were you some kind of a special ops?
Either way.
You're a very interesting case.
This is going to be
a lot of fun.
I've been through every scenario
for how this is possible.
and I've got it narrowed down to two.
Either this is a hallucination induced by some drug.
Please. Give me some more credit than that.
Or this is completely real.
Yes.
I'd settle on the latter.
How?
Because I'm very special.
Special Agent.
Even more special than you.
So what's the play here, John?
I see what you're trying to do and turn the Detective against both of us.
But then what?
Are you going to tell him the truth?
And how would you do that without sounding totally insane? Or...
you accept the reality of your situation and go to prison in my place.
Now, those can't be the only two options open to you.
You know, people often
misuse the word dilemma.
They think it means a difficult decision.
But that's not what a dilemma actually is.
A dilemma is when you have to decide between two
very shitty options.
I think this is the ultimate dilemma
John The Savage. Don't you?
I can help you, Miss Goode.
I don't think so.
I can get you off the hook for all the crimes you've committed.
Really?
Every last one.
You'd do that for me?
If you switch us back,
I'll pick apart the legal rationale for keeping you here
like only someone in my position can.
If you work with me...
You trust me.
You'll walk out of here before dinner.
Don't overplay your hand, Special Agent Savage.
It's embarrassing.
See, I'm already going to walk out of here
as you catch a ride back to
where did you say you were from again?
Atlanta field office.
That's strange because
your badge says Des Moines.
You've got nothing over from me, John.
I will waltz out of here as you.
And Detective Marshall will be none the wiser.
Kinky.
Who are you?
Someone who's been around long enough to know more than you.
What do you think is going to happen
when I turn him against you?
Nothing.
Because they're cops and cops don't go after other cops.
You sure about that?
Because he looks pretty volatile to me.
He certainly hates you enough to go after you.
Don't you mean he hates you?
Give me my body back. - No.
Then I'm going to make sure you learn a very painful lesson about having balls.
What's that?
What it's like to have him in a vise.
Oohh...
you know, that would have been the best line if right at that moment
Marshall walked in the door in a vise.
Boom! Perfect.
I guess it just shows that life doesn't always go
the way we planned, does it?
[DOOR OPENS]
Okay. Your lawyer's here, Anna.
This man is not my lawyer.
I don't care, he is now.
I care. Sir, you are free to go.
I'm sorry you drove down here for no reason.
You think this is a game, Anna?
You want a different lawyer
you can petition the judge.
Fine.
Counselor? - Yes.
Donald Donaghy Donald Donaghy is the name of my lawyer.
So if you will be so kind as to go contact him.
You can both represent me, and you'll both be paid.
Donald Donaghy. You ever heard of him?
No.
Oh, you will.
Now, I can't remeber his
phone number off the top of my head,
but I do know that it ends in 1961.
1961.
Do you have that, counselor?
Yes.
Okay.
Thank you.
You are one master time waster, Anna.
I get what I want.
Yeah, well, so do I.
Where were we?
That'll be you failing all over the upholstery.
Right. Yes.
About that.
Your question.
Why didn't I catch you when we first met?
Let's try a different question.
Sorry. You don't get to change your mind.
It's a gentleman's game.
There are no gentlemen here, remember?
Right.
Well, I'm gonna answer your question anyway,
because you know why I didn't catch you when we first met, Anna?
Because your soul is so twisted and so wicked
that you can't even see the rot when you're standing next to it.
That level of depravity is just so sick-- to cut a man limb from limb.
Your soul is so black.
I guess I just looked right through it.
You're a good liar, though, Anna, aren't you?
You lied to a lot of people for a long time.
Oh, longer than you know, Detective.
Well. My question now.
Why did you kill Jacob?
I'm not sure.
Why did we kill him,
Special Agent Savage?
Anna.
Are you implying Special Agent Savage
had something to do with Jacob's murder?
That is exactly what I'm saying, Marshall.
Bravo for listening.
Okay, we're not going to get
any more out of her, so she's just going to lie and op--
Sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down.
Why?
So that a woman who just confessed to murder
can rope me in as an imaginary accomplice?
No, because I do not know you.
And since you've arrived, you've had two different personalities.
And I don't trust anyone in this room right now.
Why would I come all the way out here
and show my face just to implicate myself in a murder?
I don't know.
It's interesting because it doesn't make one
buttery-nut of sense to me.
I think he deserves to know the truth.
So what are you going to do? You going to arrest me?
Well, that would work wonders for your reputation.
Yeah. Imagine that.
I can't wait to see the follow up article.
Bloodhound mistakenly arrests federal agent in an act of blazing incompetence.
Gets fired- Just stop talking right now.
Justice Department investigates- Stop talking!
Let me ask you something, Detective. Look into her eyes.
What do you see?
You said it yourself.
This is a woman whose soul is so black that she would take a man
who she knew and cut him to pieces
and do it again and again.
What do you see?
[KNOCKING]
You son of a bitch!
Not now.
I looked up the attorney she wants--
Still not now.
Actually, sir.
Yeah?
[DOOR OPENS]
Did he find Donald Donaghy?
Donald Donaghy is not a practicing attorney in this state or any other state.
But he is,
however, a man who disappeared without a trace in 1961.
But you knew that already, didn't you?
It would seem I did.
What do you make of that?
Does this disappearance have something to do with Jacob's murder Anna?
Or are you confessing
to somehow being involved in a murder that took place 60 years ago?
Because I would love to know how that makes sense.
Wouldn't that be strange?
1961 I wasn't even born yet, so it couldn't have been me.
Unless I had an accomplice.
Unless I've always had accomplices.
Maybe this thing goes much deeper
and is much more complicated than just a one woman act.
What do you make of that, Marshall?
I think you have an overactive imagination and a compulsion to deflect attention
away from yourself.
How about it, Detective?
Do you want to know more?
Because this is really where you're going to want to put handcuffs
on Special Agent Savage over here.
And listen closely to what I have to say.
Are you telling me right now
that you are a part of a larger crime ring dating back decades?
Wouldn't that be the story of the century?
A horrific string of murders dating back years and years.
Missing persons cases never solved.
Bigger than the masses.
A satanic cult murder ring that was never caught.
And now, today, you, Detective Marshall,
you blow the lid off the entire thing.
Countless cold cases finally solved.
Countless families finally given closure.
Now that
would get you more
than just a write up in the local paper.
That'll get you a proper Hollywood movie
with your choice of A-list actors
begging to play you.
Okay, Anna.
Give me the names of your accomplices.
Of course.
That starts with John T Savage, FBI agent.
Omaha division, Des Moines, RA.
Savage?
Yes.
Watch her.
Where are you going?
Don't worry about it.
[DOOR OPENS]
What the hell are you doing?
What I goddamn said I was going to do.
You're out of your mind.
On the contrary, it would appear my mind is the only thing left of me.
So both of us going to prison for the rest of our lives.
That sounds like a good idea to you?
No, Anna,
what sounds like a good idea to me is getting my
damn body back.
How bout you be you and I'll be me.
Well, John The, I'm afraid this is where I have some bad news for you.
What?
There is no going back.
Well you did this.
You can undo it.
You'd think so, wouldn't you?
But the truth is, it takes a tremendous amount of effort.
And so, for the time being, at least, I can't do it.
How long a while?
Probably around the time of your sentencing hearing.
Months?
Years.
Years, honey, before I can do it again.
I probably should have led off with that.
You're lying.
I wish I was.
Handsome.
So, what is your grand
plan, John The Savage?
Because right now?
you're doing a commendable job
of sending us both to prison for life.
Hey, maybe we can be pen pals.
Call it whatever you want to.
If you don't switch us back right now,
I'm going to make sure Marshall comes down on you so hard.
You're going to regret every goddamn choice you made to get here.
I'm going to regret
every choice I've ever made? - Yeah.
Oh, really? - Mhm.
It's so cute
you think you can scare me.
Oh. You're nervous.
I can see it in your face.
Let me tell you about
the choice I've had to make.
See, once upon a time a group of men, just like you
and just like Marshall, came to my door,
broke it down, dragged me out
and arrested me.
And they put me on trial
in front of some kangaroo court
and a long-haired magistrate.
I remember
looking at the dirt under his fingernails
while he sentenced me to death.
And they tied me to a stake,
and they burned me.
At least they would have,
if it weren't for the little girl whose body I took right before.
[DISTANT SCREAMING]
As I was being dragged through the crowds,
my hand accidentally touched hers.
See, she died a brutal death
that made no sense to her.
Screaming her innocence the entire time
until the smoke choked out her voice at least.
Up until that point,
I had never done anything wrong.
But that didn't matter to these men.
I stood there
watching them burn my body,
listening to everyone cheer.
[DISTANT CHEERING]
I sacrificed that little girl.
But it wasn't my choice.
Did teach me something, though.
In this world.
We all do what we have to
in order to survive.
If you think you or Marshall
could ever do anything that scares me
even a little,
just know the cruelest,
worst thing you can possibly imagine,
is just an inconvenience to me.
Stubbed toe.
Righteous men of the law
don't scare me anymore,
John Savage.
But they should scare you.
Why?
[DOOR OPENS]
[INTENSE MUSIC PLAYS]
You.
There.
Are you serious?
I'll give you two choices, Special Agent.
You can move there on your own, or I can move you.
Good.
Okay.
You. Anna.
You have got my undivided attention.
[POLICE SIRENS]
[MARSHALL] Hasn't been your day has it, Gretchen?
No.
[MARSHALL] How are your wrists?
Those cuffs hurting you a little bit?
A bit.
[MARSHALL] Oh, I wish I had a trick to make them more comfortable, but
I don't.
I'm Detective Marshall.
I've been investigating the disappearance of the Caldwell children.
Well, officer, you found them.
Detective, please.
And, yeah, it would seem I did.
Gretchen, I have a few questions I want to ask you
before this van takes you away to County.
Is that all right with you?
That's all right with me. Good. They're taking me to County.
Good.
They're taking me to County?
A guy I work with went to County for a year.
I heard that place isn't so bad.
Yeah. What was your friend in for?
I don't remember.
Is it true?
What?
County's okay?
I guess depends who you ask.
Like anything in life. Individual mileage may vary.
Yeah, probably depends on who you make friends with too.
My coworker was...
Outgoing and made fast friends with everyone.
Now, the reason for your incarceration has some bearing on how you're regarded
How's the little one?
I tried to clean her wounds.
How is she? - She didn't make it, Gretchen.
Oh.
Was it the infection?
She was dead while you were cleaning her.
Dead for two days.
You didn't notice?
I thought she was faking.
After the first day
I thought that maybe she was dead but...
She faked a lot.
But she was really good at faking.
She wasn't faking.
She was very loud.
She's...
Oh, gonna be quieter now.
Do you have some food?
You're not getting any food.
Her name was Ingrid.
Are you happy Ingrid's dead?
I don't know if I'm happy.
What kind of question is that?
If I'm being honest--
Please be fucking honest.
I don't care.
You understand what's happening right now, Gretchen?
Yes, I understand. - Tell me.
I'm under arrest for what I did to those kids.
And what did you do to those kids?
I abducted them from their parents.
I chrained them up in my basement.
I took turns burning them, beating them,
pouring hot oil on them, making them...
Make them soil themselves, that sort of thing.
You understand that's torture?
What you did to those children, right?
That's torture.
Yes, officer. I understand.
Detective!
I'm a curious guy, Gretchen.
So I hope you're going to indulge me right now.
But why did you do that to those kids?
Did you think they deserved it
for some reason?
I kept seeing them around.
I really-- I really, only wanted to take...
one. See what it would feel like.
But when the opportunity
presented itself, they were all in the car. So.
So you took all of them?
I didn't need that many but it
gave me time to try things.
What was the end game here, Gretchen?
How did you see this all playing out, hm?
I figured that...
eventually I would...
get bored.
Have to decide what to do with them.
And I thought that I might have to kill them but
my yard isn't very big and...
I wouldn't be very good at disposing of bodies.
Even kids. Digging in my yard's
difficult, my shovel isn't sharp.
Then I thought that I'd just tell them I was taking them home.
Drive into the woods. Tie them to the trees.
Burn the forest.
Burn the forest?
But then you and your officers showed up.
So I guess I don't really have to worry about that.
Sort of a relief, really.
What do you think's going to happen to you, Gretchen?
I'm confessing to everything.
Yeah. - So...
As a formality, you'll appoint me
a court attorney who will just agree with
with whatever the D.A. says,
and maybe I'll get the death penalty.
I don't really know.
Does that scare you?
Suppose it does.
Do you know what form of the death penalty they might give me?
Like, will I get,
lethal injection or the electric chair?
I have read that
lethal injection drugs are actually not very reliable.
And more often than not, there's problems
when they administer them.
So I think that my preference would probably be
the electric chair.
I read that in cases of
electric chair execution,
the victim is usually brain dead
before they can feel any pain from the voltage.
Is that what you think you deserve, Gretchen?
Yeah,
absolutely, Officer.
After what I did to those kids, I can't continue to be a free woman.
No one would feel safe standing in line
with me at the grocery store.
Yeah.
Gretchen.
Have you heard of the insanity plea?
Yeah.
But I'm not insane.
See.
It's really, really, really difficult to prove you're insane, right?
But it's even more difficult to act insane when you're not.
And I've seen it.
With people that come
into my interrogation room, right?
And let the cameras roll, and they're sitting there by themselves.
And you can see them, right? They're looking around.
They're plotting, they're rocking back and forth, drooling on themselves.
And I like to give it a big, long second before I unlock the door.
Really, really take my time.
And you can see them milking it on camera.
We come in, we start talking, and they start hitting themselves in the face.
You know?
One guy pissed his pants right in front of me.
I know.
It's funny, huh?
Yeah, but see the problem with all that
Gretchen, is just...
That's not what insane actually looks like.
Ask any half-skilled dimwit
who's been around a legitimately insane person for five seconds.
They'll tell you.
Actual insanity
is someone with no sense of self-preservation.
Actual insanity,
Gretchen,
is someone who will sit in the back of a police van
and without being under any form of duress,
just spill the beans with no worry about what's going to happen to them.
No worry about their well-being.
No worry about legal ramifications for their words or actions.
Actual insanity,
Gretchen, is someone who's done something
so fucking evil and they're totally unbothered by it.
Okay.
Officer.
Detective. - I'm not insane.
You are.
You think I'm insane?
And you're not going to prison. You're not going to death row.
They're going to lock you up in a hospital.
And if you get some real do-gooder attorney
who knows his case history,
he'll get you a sympathetic treatment, despite what you've done.
And you, Gretchen, you sick fuck,
are going to be locked away in a hospital.
Because you need care.
I do need care.
Yeah, you probably do.
That's what I'm saying.
You're right, Detective, I probably
could really benefit from some serious psychiatric help.
Yeah, exactly. - Exactly.
Gretchen, oh boy, I am hoping you could help me out.
Because there's what you did, and there's what you deserve.
And then there's the system we're dealing with.
It's warm.
You know this is what you deserve, don't you, Gretchen?
My arm hurts.
You're a fucking monster, Gretchen.
And the only measure of comfort
I have, the only measure of comfort these kids will ever have,
is knowing that the last thing you'll see in this life is me.
And the first thing you'll see in the next will be Hell.
Medic!
Help!
She had a razor blade!
Help!
Help, medic!
Medic! She had a razor blade!
Help!
You know, I just went
to go look at the footage from the cameras.
I was pretty damn curious what you two have been talking about while I was gone.
You know, being your errand bitch, getting your hot chocolate.
Damndest thing, Anna.
The cameras haven't been recording a single second since we brought you in.
Pretty strange, huh?
That's unfortunate.
I don't suppose you've had someone monitoring through the two way.
Oh, ordinarily, there would be an officer on the other side of that glass.
Yeah, but ever since you came in, had a couple guys call in sick.
We had four simultaneous calls that brought everyone
from our tiny little precinct out into the field.
And because Special Agent Savage here was my backup,
they felt pretty goddamn good leaving me here on my own.
What are the odds?
What are the odds, indeed?
Something very fucking strange is happening right
now, and I want to know what it is. It's time to talk.
The woman sitting in this chair killed
Jacob Levine, Miles McQuestan, Donald Donaghy and countless others.
But despite appearances,
I am not the woman sitting in this chair.
My name is Jonathan Theodore Savage.
Special Agent, FBI, Omaha Division, Des Moines, R.A..
Badge number 69910.
My supervisor's name is William Dunlow.
Before the FBI
I was in the second Brigade Combat Team,
First Armored Division, United States Army, stationed out of Fort Bliss.
After the military, I completed my graduate degree
in criminology at the University of Maryland.
I am unmarried and I live alone in a single storey home
on 19th Place, Southeast.
You and I first spoke two days ago, Detective Marshall, when we discovered
fingerprint evidence on a severed limb that tied to your missing persons case
and a woman named Anna Goode.
Using methods that defy reason,
logic or conventional science,
Anna Goode has found a way to transfer her
consciousness into my body and mine into hers.
Since you went out to retrieve hot chocolate,
every word we've spoken has been under these conditions.
And while I do not expect you to believe what I am saying,
due to the unique nature of the situation,
every fact I've told you is verifiable.
Every fact you've told me is verifiable.
But could also be discovered with enough research.
Maybe.
But as we both know, Detective, not easily.
You understand that I need something more to go on.
Yesterday, when we spoke on the phone, you were driving and having issues
with the police lights in your car.
In an attempt to connect with you,
I told you a similar story from my own past.
Personal experience in my early days in the FBI.
Do you recall that story, Detective?
Yes.
Well, so do I.
That couldn't have been researched.
Every word I'm saying is true, Marshall.
Anything you'd like to add?
Special Agent?
Yes.
Only that she is clearly a sociopath, a pathological liar,
and every single thing she just told you could have been discovered,
including the phone call. I mean, you said it yourself.
She's full of parlor tricks.
She's only mildly more convincing than a carnival fortune teller.
And if you believe her, Detective Marshall,
God help you.
You're a good cop, Marshall.
You'll figure out the truth.
Manipulative,
massaging words spoken by an expert.
You know why I'm having a hard time believing any of this right?
Because it is breathtaking
absurdity bordering on magic.
No.
No, because since you two came into this room,
the only thing that's been constant is the shifting sands.
I mean, you, Anna.
At first, you just deny any wrongdoing at all. Right?
You say anything is more interesting to you than murder, but then all of a sudden,
you confessed to murder.
Then you want to play a game, try to get under my skin, piss me off.
Then Special Agent Savage is in on it with you.
And then. Now this.
I mean, come on. How much to believe any of this is true?
Your erratic behavior
tells me everything I need to know, Anna.
Your stories are very convincing.
But you, my dear, are not.
I'm sorry that your attempt to frame me as your accomplice failed.
Better luck next time.
My confession is inadmissible.
Excuse me?
You heard me.
Your cameras aren't working.
No one's monitoring through that mirror, which I repeat,
you really should clean.
It's my word against yours.
Two cops.
One with a reputation to uphold,
looking to pin a crime on someone.
And another federal agent with questionable involvement.
If you let Special Agent Savage
walk out of here, you are letting a serial murderer,
a creature with no remorse, no humanity,
free to do it again and again.
It will be a thousand times worse than standing across
from her in a church lobby and not realizing she's guilty.
You will have blood directly on your hands, Marshall.
And meanwhile, I will exploit every fact
and fissure in this case, as only someone with my knowledge can.
Reasonable doubt.
You think you're fucking smart, huh Anna?
Guess what?
You're not.
So if you're done sharing this useful information with us,
I think the time has come.
You know what time that is?
Anna Goode.
You are under arrest for the murder of Miles McQuestan and Jacob Levine.
Put your hands down on the table, face down where I can see them.
Any sudden movements or outbursts that trouble me
I will put you down right here, right now.
What are you waiting for?
Put your hands on the table right now where I can see them.
Are you talking to me?
Yes, I'm talking to you. Here you go. Handcuffs.
Put your hands on the table.
Detective, this- I'm going to give you the count of three.
One.
Ohh this is--
Two. - This is, this is...
Or I will shoot your fucking head off.
Hurry up! - I'm doing it!
Have you lost your mind?
I don't know, maybe I have.
Good girl.
Oh, you are going to lose your job for this one, Marshall.
Even better you're going to go to jail for this.
A federal officer in handcuffs. Are you kidding me?
I don't believe I will, Anna.
My name is Special Agent-- - Stop the bullshit.
No it's not.
How did you know, Detective? - I don't know.
I don't know a thing right now.
It's pretty fucking weird what's going on?
Telling me a thing like this?
That's why you're both in handcuffs right now.
This has been one confusing shit pile of a goddamn fucking day, I'll tell you that.
You telling me you swapped bodies?
You're in him. He's in--
What's going on? I don't know.
but ever since you guys walked in this room,
you've been acting a lot fucking different.
So I think something's going on with you two.
You're colluding on something, and until we figure it out.
We are just going to sit down right here.
The story I told you last night.
Why don't you ask her for it?
If she doesn't know it, there's your proof.
I'm not playing these games with you anymore.
You, a detective whose ego has gotten so out of control
you put a federal agent in handcuffs.
And you, Anna, who is mounting
the most desperate attempt at an insanity plea that I've ever seen.
She's not insane.
I've seen insane. Why don't you tell me the story?
No.
Why? - Because she can't.
Is that why?
Because I'm not playing along with this delusion.
And point that gun away from me.
Come on, Special Agent.
Anna here, right, has done a fantastic job of sowing chaos.
You can clear all that up in about thirty seconds
if you just tell me that stupid story
you told me last night. Go ahead. Right now.
You happy?
I'll be happier when I get my body back.
Nothing.
It was my first week in the field.
I was driving my old piece of shit
Honda Civic headed to a raid.
They gave me one of those sirens that attaches to your visor.
Except mine fell off when I swerved on the freeway.
Hit me in the eye.
Tried reattaching it.
Didn't work.
So I'm holding the siren up with one hand.
I've got the other on the steering wheel.
One eye swelled shut.
Doing 80 on the freeway.
I get pulled over by a traffic cop
who made me late to my very first raid with the FBI.
I didn't get a speeding ticket, but I did get a black eye.
And for the rest of my first year, I had other
agents gluing shit to my car so it wouldn't fall off.
That was the story.
Who are you?
More than you're prepared to deal with, Detective.
What is she, Special Agent?
I don't know.
She claims she was alive during...
sounded like Salem.
The witch trials.
I am as God
made me. - Made me.
How's that sentiment feel
for your tiny little minds, gentlemen?
No gentlemen here.
No more secrets, Anna.
These are really uncomfortable. Ugh.
Don't care.
So, what do you want to know?
Did I kill Jacob Levine?
Are we still on that? You know I did.
I went to his house
while no one else was around.
And using means unique to me.
I got him to follow me into my car.
What is "means"? Some kind of voodoo dark magic bullshit?
I promised him a blowie.
By the way.
Bother to learn a thing or two about voodoo
it's very misrepresented in your culture.
It's nothing like what you people think it is.
Good hot chocolate.
Thank you.
The magic came later, after he got into the car.
How did he die?
As painfully as I can make it.
What are you, some kind of vigilante, Anna?
Because if so, the punishment sure did not fit the crime.
He was a jealous guy who had anger issues, who beat his wife's lover in a fight.
He did not deserve what you did to him.
What about Miles?
Anna, why'd you kill him?
Yeah Miles didn't actually do anything wrong.
He was a really sweet guy.
He de-bugged my computer and everything.
I just needed to take someone.
So I chose a guy
nobody would miss.
If Miles was innocent, why kill him?
You get some kind of nourishment from these people you kill?
No you're thinking about vampires.
I can't believe
I have to tell you this Special Agent but...
vampires don't really exist.
You cut them up into pieces. Why?
Why do that?
Why do this ritual?
It's just our way.
It's what I was taught.
So my mom did it.
That's basically what ritual is, right?
It's learned behavior for the sake of behavior.
It's just who we are.
It's who we have to be.
Are there more of you?
None that I've ever found.
Good.
Must be lonely.
No.
Everything's out on the table now.
There's nothing else for you to gain with this.
Put everything back the way it was.
We've been over this, haven't we
Special Agent?
She keeps telling me
she can't put us back in our own bodies.
Put everything back, Anna.
There's no point to whatever this game is anymore.
Well, if it were a game, I would agree.
But this is very, very real.
This is you now, Agent Savage.
I keep telling you, once I do a shift, I can't do another one again
for a long, long time.
So. What's the play here?
I can't wait to see how you write this up in the paperwork.
We'll figure it out, detective.
Please unlock my cuffs.
Detective Marshall.
Please take the handcuffs off.
He's not going to do that, John.
Marshall.
Take them off.
He can't.
There's no court of law in the world that will accept what's happened here.
There's no witnesses to our little chamber play.
There's no videos recording any of this.
Detective Marshall doesn't have any choice.
You're in the skin of a guilty party.
Prints from those fingers are all over the body,
and there is not a lawyer or a judge who will see it any differently.
You can't lock me up.
I haven't done anything wrong.
That's true.
You're a victim.
Pure and simple.
But?
But who'd believe it?
We'll convince them.
Just like I convinced you.
Marshall, you know the truth here.
You know what happened.
You're going to send me away?
You want to tell me that to my face?
Better a thousand innocent men get locked up
than one guilty man go free.
Isn't that right? - Shut up!
Detective Marshall.
Look me in the eye and tell me
that you will send me to prison for her crimes.
It's the only choice. Special agent.
You know that.
The system wouldn't have it any other way.
Nor would his pride.
What happens to her?
She goes away.
As an accomplice.
You can't do this, Marshall.
What choice does he have?
Don't do this.
This isn't justice.
Marshall.
We can convince people of what happened here.
It's the right thing to do.
I would do it for you.
He isn't you, John.
For what it's worth,
Special Agent,
I am sorry.
You fucking call me by my name.
If you two can see your way to working this out.
Go right ahead.
Otherwise, I'm preparing the paperwork that will lead to Special Agent Savage's
arrest as an accomplice to Anna Goode
for the murders of Jacob and Miles.
Sorry.
That's the only thing that makes sense to me and any court would be the same.
Marshall!
I'm sorry, John.
If she's telling the truth, it's over.
And if it makes you feel better, you kill her.
You're already going away.
You may as well make yourself feel a lot better about it.
I'll remind you that I am now in a much taller, much stronger body
and you weigh 115 pounds soaking wet
so do us both a favor
and don't try anything.
He can't do this.
Of course he can.
He has to.
It's not right.
I told you you should be afraid of him.
But if it makes you feel any better,
I was sure once I took your body, you become a whiny, hysterical mess.
And Marshall would have to toss you in a cell just to cool you off.
It's nice to know that
people can still surprise me.
You really can't put me back, can you?
No.
I'm going to die
in this body for your crimes.
It's nothing personal.
You're going away too.
For a bit.
But eventually you'll just
become someone else?
It is a nice skill to have.
Has its advantages.
Survival?
We all have to survive, John.
That story you told me
about the young girl
at the stake.
I still remember
every single moment of her death
and the faces of my executioners.
Lawmen.
All of them.
Fidelio.
Am I supposed to know what that means?
That was my code word.
You guessed that I'd been trained to withstand torture.
But the training exercise was trying
to get me to give up a code word.
It was
"fidelio".
What?
Do you know what that means?
It's from that weird sex movie with Tom Cruise.
I believe it was the password he uses to get into the orgy.
No, that's not it.
I mean, that-- that is it.
But that's not all of it.
Fidelio was an opera written by Beethoven about a woman
who dresses up as a man to break her husband out of prison.
Did you give it up?
No.
Hm.
That's a shame. You did now.
Yeah.
Shame.
I don't want to go to jail.
I don't want to die.
Neither did I.
Take your hand away before I break it.
Well, first, you don't have the strength.
And second. Why?
Because I don't feel like being comforted by the freak of nature who put me here.
I guess I can understand that, but...
What if I told you?
You don't have to die.
That there was a way out of this.
What way?
Fidelio.
[UPBEAT 50s MUSIC PLAYS]
[MUFFLED RADIO]
Alex!
Mateo! Alex!
Come here.
Whose money is this?
Do you know where I found it?
No.
In your pants.
You know, not every boy
is so lucky to get pocket money.
I know, I'm sorry.
Come here.
Okay. You guys are good boys.
Go play.
Oh. You're early.
Short line at the market.
Hey, I got that little dress pattern you wanted.
Hey, can you do me a favor?
Mhm?
Can you take these boys inside with you?
I'll be right in.
I just need to finish the laundry.
Boys, go inside with Aunt Laura.
I'm really for.
I'm so sorry.
I didn't mean to startle you.
Can I help you?
I appear to be lost.
I was making my way toward Cherry Road when I got turned around.
I was wondering if it wouldn't be too much trouble if I could ask for directions.
Mom?
You have a beautiful family.
Very kind.
Would you be able to point me toward Cherry Road?
I'm so sorry. I don't know where Cherry Road is
I'm afraid.
Oh.
Do you have an address perhaps?
A crossroad?
County road 11.
County road 11?
You're going to want to go back down this road.
And then make a left on Lake Drive.
And then keep driving for about 20 miles or so.
And then you'll see County Road 11.
And which way would I go once I find it?
I'm not sure.
I'm sorry.
Like I said, I don't know where Cherry Road is.
That's right.
Um...
Is there anything else I can help you with?
I don't mean to be rude.
I just I just have a lot more chores that I need to get done.
Well, actually, yes,
there is just one more thing.
Oh. You're awake.
Well, that was fast.
Don't scream.
I can't stand the screaming.
What?
Who?
You know, you really weren't supposed to wake up just yet.
You're supposed to be asleep for a little while longer.
I'll be long gone.
And then you all could just sort this out later.
But now that you are awake, you really only have yourself to blame.
You're me.
I know.
I am now.
But don't worry.
I'm not here to hurt your family.
I don't want that.
I just wanted your body.
I know it's hard.
And I wish I could make it easier for you, I really do.
But it just is what it is, sweetheart.
So I'm going to leave now.
Just know that the more you try to tell people what happened,
the more likely it is they'll lobotomized you.
So. Better just run.
Be another missing person
Bye now.
No, no, don't do this to me.
Oh, but I already did.
I have a family.
And I'm not here to hurt them.
Do it to someone else!
I can't.
But you can.
What?
I needed a body.
Your body.
And now that I have it, I can't give it back.
I'm sorry, but there is something you can still do to help yourself.
I don't understand.
You...
have a choice now.
You see this body that you're in?
I was in her for about 30 years.
And in that 30 years,
she didn't age much.
But now I'm out of it.
It's probably going to age very quickly and be dead soon.
Which means you'll be dead soon.
However, because I was in this body for so long.
There's still some of my specialness in it.
What?
You can do to someone else
what I just did to you.
You have to do it fast.
I can't.
Do you want to be with your children?
Yes!
You don't have a choice.
Okay.
Won't work on me.
Good try though.
You're thinking along the right lines.
I don't--
I don't understand.
I know.
Who else can I be?
Find a host.
Do it soon.
Wish yourself into their body.
And if you do it fast enough
and wish hard enough,
you just might survive.
There's no one else around.
What am I supposed to do?
Your sister's inside.
I can't.
I can't do that to my sister.
Want to watch your boys grow up?
Then you don't have a choice.
Goodbye.
Mary.
Quite contrary.
Where are you?
Mary?
I'm sorry.
Mom?
Coming!
I can take over someone else.
My power stays with the body for a little while.
That's not going to work on me.
Everyone always tries that first.
Nice try, though.
Who is it going to work on?
Marshall.
Mhm.
You're insane.
Am I?
I will not perpetuate your cycle of violence,
suffering and misery by taking over someone else's body.
This ends here. - And what will that get you?
Hm?
Tell me.
What will the world gain from your
noble and heroic sacrifice, hm?
You'll still rot away in prison.
Protesting until the moment they flip the switch.
About how you're trapped in the body of another woman.
Your protests will soon be
an afterthought
in some liberal law students thesis about the morality of the death penalty.
Meanwhile, my life goes on.
Or you can choose to live.
I can never live with myself.
But you wouldn't live.
That's your problem.
You spend your whole life
thinking that everything's black and white,
resisting the people who tell you that there are shades of gray.
But the truth is, you're all wrong.
It's not just the black and the white in the shades of gray in between.
What you're missing is all the colors of the spectrum.
The rainbow.
Colors that you can't even see.
So the only way to survive in this world is to bring misery to others?
That's your position?
I mean that's a little reductive, but essentially.
Every other animal in the food chain gets it.
Why can't you?
Because we can choose to be better.
Or you can choose to live
and not deny the most fundamental instinct innate in every creature on earth.
I chose not to die for someone else's reasons.
I did that once.
For what?
For who I was.
Never again.
If I were you,
I would consider whether you were dying for your reason
or someone else's.
[DOOR OPENS]
Think about it.
Savage.
That still you?
It is.
That's a shame.
All right.
This right here outlines additional findings implicating a conspiracy between
Anna Good and John Savage in the deaths of Jacob Levine and Miles McQuestan.
You fabricated evidence.
Well.
Given the explanation of
what the fuck just happened here, I think I didn't really have any
choice, did I?
Anna.
You are the most unique specimen I've ever seen in my entire fucking life.
On one hand, I'm fascinated by you, and I want to know more.
But on the other hand, I am disgusted.
I feel like I'm in a haunted house,
and I need to get the hell out of here and back to civilization.
Aww, thank you.
I put a special note in your file
that you're going to be in solitary confinement as long as you live.
In addition, you will only be joining in the proceedings
via video conference.
I'm going to make sure that you are on a straitjacket,
and when you get transported,
you will be guided by prods no less than five feet in length.
If you think I'm going to risk
you ever touching another human soul again, you are wrong.
I don't know how long your kind lives,
but I promise you this you're going to die in that body.
Special Agent Savage.
It is unfortunate that it ends like this.
But you understand this is the only way justice can be served.
However, because you are a fellow law enforcement officer
and you have served your country in war.
I'm prepared to offer you another way out.
What way out?
If you lunge for my weapon,
I will execute you on the spot.
[SAFETY CLICKS]
Mercy kill.
It's all I got, Savage.
Lunge for my weapon. Make it look convincing.
I'm gonna make it as quick and painless as I can.
This is justice, Special Agent.
You don't deserve the life of horror.
Being trapped inside the body of a guilty woman, being subjected to brutality
in prison.
Lunge for my weapon.
There's nothing else to think about. Come on.
I'm sorry, Anna.
Couldn't live with myself.
Well, I guess now you won't have to.
I know you're going to break.
Time is now.
Precinct is empty. It's not going to be that way for much longer.
Our window is closing.
Come on.
Give me a minute.
You don't have a minute!
What are you doing right now?
Feelings will haunt you.
This is the only choice. This is the right choice.
Get out of your head!
Come on, let's do this. Jump at me! Come on!
How it ends.
This is how it ends.
You see me?
Don't scramble for my weapon. I will miss your vital organs.
You come at me in a slow, steady pace.
I will aim for the top of your head first, followed by center mass.
How do I not feel?
I'm sorry.
Open your eyes.
Because of her actions, your reputation will be forever tarnished.
But please know,
I will always know the truth.
If reason is victorious, you become present.
I don't care about my reputation.
And here is where you remain in control.
Well, good.
Now or never.
But thought. Reason.
Presence.
If you do these things,
you might suffer.
You might die.
But you'll never lose yourself.
Do you understand?
One more thing I'd like to say.
What?
Thank you.
Detective.
See you around, John The.
Take care of that body till I get it back.
We'll see.
Look at that.
What?
A spectrum.