Previously, on Hannibal
You entered into a devil's bargain with Jack Crawford.
You know what looking at this does.
Am I your psychiatrist, or are we simply having conversations?
I don't want to get in the middle of you and Jack.
I like you as a buffer.
Graham likes you.
Because I want to be his friend, and I am.
Well, it seems a shame not to take advantage.
This is my friend Tobias.
I hate being this neurotic.
If you weren't neurotic, Franklyn, you would be something much worse.
Whatever the Ripper was doing, it worked.
(Animal whining outside)
(Animal growling outside)
[ Cello playing "Minuet in G Major" by Petzold ]
These strings are harder to bow than the regular ones.
You have to learn how to bow authentic strings to better bow strings how they're made today.
I should learn to play the easier strings first, then the harder ones.
No, you shouldn't.
Are they really made from cat guts?
(Playing "Minuet in G Major"
(Cello music continuing)
(Cello music fading out)
(Playing "Minuet in G Major"
If it wasn't a coyote, the coyotes probably got it.
Probably got it even if it was a coyote.
You're not expecting to find it alive, are you?
We'll be lucky to find a paw.
So, you invited me over to help you collect animal parts?
I invited you over on the off chance we do find it alive.
It's hard for me to wrangle a wounded animal by myself.
Did you think it was a date?
Honestly, it never crossed my mind.
You just don't seem like you date.
Oh. Too broken to date?
You're not broken.
What's your excuse?
For not dating?
Why are you assuming I don't date?
Seems like something for somebody else.
I'm sure I'll become that somebody someday, but right now I think too much.
So, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna try to think less, or are you just gonna wait till it happens naturally?
I haven't thought about it.
Are you seeing anything?
Uh, no, actually.
I'm not even seeing any tracks.
I mean, except for the ones we made.
Please, come in.
I have a lot of respect for you.
Since we can't be friends, or... you're not comfortable with that, I found myself looking at my friends through your eyes, imagining what your diagnosis might be.
So you become the psychoanalyst?
I become you.
Who are you psychoanalyzing?
My friend Tobias.
I... Googled "psychopaths", went down the checklist, and I was a little surprised to see how many boxes I had checked.
Why were you so curious to Google?
He's been saying very dark things and then saying, "just kidding!" A lot.
It started to seem kind of crazy.
Psychopaths are not crazy.
They're fully aware of what they do and the consequences of those actions.
Would you diagnose someone like Tobias as a psychopath?
Or, uh, are you supposed to diagnose other people
in front of me? Do you... would you rather just talk about me?
Not at all.
Are you bored with me?
This is your hour, Franklyn.
We will talk about whatever you would like to talk about.
I'd like to talk about Tobias. Perhaps you can help me analyze him.
I'm not analyzing your friend; I'm analyzing your perception of him.
It may help you know yourself better. You could be projecting onto him what you consider to be your flaws.
Does that mean that I'm a psychopath?
You're not a psychopath, although you may be attracted to them.
The victim is Douglas Wilson, a member of the Baltimore Metropolitan Orchestra's brass section...
A trombone player.
He was killed shortly after his last performance.
Blunt force trauma to the back of the head.
His killer brought him here to... put on a show.
Will, is it me, or is it becoming easier for you to look?
I tell myself...
It's purely an intellectual exercise.
Well, in the narrow view of forensics, that's exactly what it is.
That's not any easier, Jack.
I shake it off, keep on looking.
You shake it off. Get to work.
We'll come back in when you're ready for us.
(Ambient hum growing in volume)
I open his throat from the outside to open the trachea and expose the vocal chords.
I open his throat from the inside using the neck of a cello.
Powder on the wound.
Rosin from the bow.
I wanted to play him.
I wanted to create a sound.
This... is my design.
(Man clapping slowly)
I worry that I've made Franklyn feel powerless.
He wants to be my friend.
His obsession with me is interfering with his progress.
I'm considering referring him to another doctor.
Referrals can be complicated.
I referred you to another psychiatrist.
I'm more tenacious than Franklyn.
Why were you so tenacious?
I feel protective of you. You support me
as a colleague and psychiatrist, and as a human being.
I want to be supportive of you... after what happened.
I'm not the only psychiatrist who's ever been attacked by a patient.
I hesitated to even bring up the subject of an obsessive patient because of your traumatic experience.
I'm your psychiatrist; you're not mine.
Jimmy: Played him like a fiddle.
Along with rosin powder, we found sodium carbonate, sulfur dioxide, lye, and olive oil in the wounds.
What is the deal with the olive oil?
Sure wasn't making salad.
He removed anything non-muscular or fatty from around the vocal folds.
The chords themselves were treated with a sulfur dioxide solution.
The sulfur dioxide had the effect of hardening the vocal chords.
Made them easier to play.
Had to open you up to get a decent sound out of you.
Bev: You pick it up and can't play it, he'll put you down and play you.
Brian: He took the time to whiten the vocal chords before playing them.
It's not about whitening them; It was about, um, increasing elasticity.
He treated the vocal chords the same way you treat catgut string.
Yes, I played the violin.
This takes a steady hand.
He's killed before.
No, not like this.
This is a skilled musician trying a new instrument.
Among the first musical instruments were flutes carved from human bone.
This murder was a performance.
Every life is a piece of music.
Like music, we are finite events, unique arrangements, sometimes harmonious, sometimes dissonant.
Sometimes not worth hearing again.
He's a poet and a psychopath.
And a craftsman.
He was shrinking and tanning the vocal chords.
Like turning iron wire into musical steel string.
Was there olive oil?
Whatever sound he was trying to produce, it was an authentic one.
Olive oil hasn't been used in the production of catgut for over a century.
It was said to increase the life of the strings and create a sweeter, more melodic sound.
No, I hear what he was playing behind my eyes when I close them.
What do you see behind closed eyes?
Um... I see myself.
You said the killer was performing.
Who was he performing for?
I don't know. Um...
Patron of the arts? A fellow musician? Or...
It's a serenade.
No, this isn't how he kills. Normally, he doesn't kill for an audience.
And you believe he risked getting caught for a serenade?
I believe... he wants to show someone how well he plays.
Do you remember
when I said Tobias was saying very dark things?
I made note of it.
Well, he said that he wanted to cut someone's throat and play it like a violin.
They found somebody whose throat was cut and played like a violin.
So you think Tobias killed that man at the symphony?
I don't know.
If I do, do I have to report it?
Do you have a reason not to?
What if I'm wrong?
What if you're right?
I'm always wrong.
I don't know. Why would he say something like that to me?
Why do you think?
'Cause he knows I'd tell you.
(Cello playing stops.)
You're Franklyn's therapist, Dr. Lecter.
Nice to see you again.
Is it Tobias?
Your strings are all gut.
I also carry steel and polymer strings, if you prefer.
I prefer gut.
Harps strung with gut still make music after 2,000 years.
(He plucks a string.)
I didn't hear you ring the bell.
I didn't want you to stop playing.
Was it an original composition?
Something I've been writing.
Can't impose traditional composition on an instrument that's inherently free form.
What instrument would that be?
It can generate any pitch throughout its range...
Even those between conventional notes.
And so can a violin, or a trombone.
It seems we are both comfortable playing between conventional notes.
I hear the symphony's looking for a new trombonist.
Altogether horrible what happened.
It's an unfortunate way to leave the symphony, yes, but I can't help thinking the orchestra will be better for it.
At least the brass section.
What brings you here looking for gut?
My harpsichord needs new strings. It's making an awful noise.
Perhaps you could help.
(Quiet scratching nearby)
(Loud, rapid scratching)
(Scratching and chattering)
What kind of animal was it?
It might've been a raccoon.
Well, by the time I knocked a hole in the chimney, it climbed out the top.
Well, at least it got out.
What are you doing out?
I thought I'd come over, make some noise, shoo away any predators at your door.
It looks like you're making plenty of noise all by yourself.
You avoided being in a room alone with me essentially since I met you.
You were smooth about it.
Evidently not smooth enough.
And now you're making house calls?
Just a drive-by on my way home.
Since you're not my patient.
You have to stop thinking so much.
I can stop the thinking if we're not...
But if we're...
The way that I am in relationships...
Not that this is a relationship; it's just a kiss.
A great kiss.
But I... the way that I am isn't compatible with the way that...
The way I am.
I wouldn't be good for you.
You wouldn't be good for me, and I wouldn't be able to stop analyzing, because I have this professional curiosity about you and...
I am not your patient.
If I were my patient, my advice to me... would be: don't do this.
I have to follow my own advice.
I'm gonna go ahead and go now.
(Cello sonata music playing)
A late harvest Vidal from Linden.
Oh, Virginia. I thought it was French.
The Virginia wine revolution is upon us.
I apologize for being so blunt, Tobias, but I have to ask.
Did you kill that trombonist?
Do you really have to ask?
No. Just changing the subject.
Franklyn gave you my message.
The murder is being investigated by the FBI.
They're going to find you.
You want to get caught?
I want them to try.
They may investigate me because I own a string shop.
They'll send men to investigate, and I'll kill them.
Then I'll find Franklyn and kill him.
Then I would disappear.
Don't kill Franklyn.
I've been looking forward to it.
I was going to kill you.
Of course you were.
Lean animals yield the toughest gut.
What stopped you from wanting to kill me?
Or have you stopped?
I stopped after I followed you one night. Out of town.
To a lonely road.
To a bus yard.
You're reckless, Tobias.
I'm not going to tell anyone what I saw you do and do well.
So my recklessness doesn't concern you.
It concerns me because you won't be drawing attention just to yourself.
I could use a friend.
Someone who can understand me.
Who thinks like I do and can see the world and the people in it the way I do.
I know exactly how you feel.
But I don't want to be your friend.
Then why did you invite me here for dinner?
Wasn't just to restring your harpsichord.
I was going to kill you.
I didn't poison you, Tobias.
I wouldn't do that to the food.
Well, I kissed Alana Bloom.
Well, come in.
You have a guest?
A colleague. You just missed him.
Didn't finish his dinner.
An urgent call of some sort. He had to leave suddenly.
This benefits you, because I have dessert for two.
Tell me, what was Alana's reaction?
She said she wouldn't be good for me, and I wouldn't be good for her.
I don't disagree.
She would feel an obligation to her field of study to observe you, and you would resent her for it.
Wondering then why you kissed her, and felt compelled to drive an hour in the snow to tell me about it.
Well, I wanted to kiss her since I met her. She's very kissable.
You waited a long time, which suggests you were kissing her for a reason, in addition to wanting to.
I heard an animal trapped in my chimney.
Broke through the wall to get it out.
Didn't find anything inside.
Alana showed up, she looked at me...
I... maybe her face changed.
I don't know.
But, um, she knew.
What did she know, Will?
There was no animal in the chimney.
It was only in my head.
I get headaches.
I am hearing things.
I feel unstable.
That's why you kissed her.
A clutch for balance.
You said yourself what you do is not good for you.
Well, unfortunately, I am good for it.
Are you still hearing this killer's serenade behind your eyes?
Well, it's our song.
I hesitate telling you this, as it borders on a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality.
A patient told me today he suspects a friend of his may be involved with the murder at the symphony.
Um... what did he say about his friend?
He owns a music store in Baltimore, specializing in string instruments.
Perhaps you should interview him.
For the first time in a long while, I see a possibility of friendship.
Is there someone new in your life?
I met a man much like myself.
Same hobbies, same worldviews, but I'm not interested in being his friend. I'm curious about him, and that got me curious about friendship.
Whose friendship are you considering?
Oddly enough, a colleague and a patient, not unlike how I'm a colleague and a patient of yours.
We've discussed him before.
He's nothing like me.
We see the world in different ways, yet he can assume my point of view.
By profiling the criminally insane.
As good a demonstration as any.
I find it reassuring.
It's nice when someone sees us, Hannibal.
Or has the ability to see us.
It requires trust.
Trust is difficult for you.
You've helped me to better understand what I want in a friendship, and what I don't.
Someone worthy of your friendship.
You spend a lot of time building walls, Hannibal.
It's natural to want to see if someone is clever enough to climb over them.
JSB's Suite No.1.
Special agent Will Graham with the FBI.
Are you the owner?
Yes. Tobias Budge.
I'm just showing one of my students out. Can I have a moment?
What can I help you with?
We're investigating the death of Douglas Wilson. He was...
That's right. Did you know him?
I was aware of him.
Baltimore is a small town, and the cultural arts community is an even smaller one.
Well, that's why we're here, Mr. Budge.
I hear someone cut his throat and tried to play it with a bow.
Why do you say "try"?
The strings have to be treated.
You can't just open somebody up and draw a bow across their innards and expect to produce a sound.
The vocal chords were chemically treated, uh, similar to how catgut string is treated.
We kept those details out of the press.
Looking for someone who knows how to manufacture gut strings?
Anybody leap to mind?
Mine are imported from Italy.
Best catgut is.
The string section of the Baltimore Metropolitan Orchestra refuses to play anything else.
A richer, darker sound.
Allows music to say what words can't.
(Tires screeching) (Crash)
(Shrieking and moaning)
(Car horn honking)
Didn't you hear that?
I didn't hear anything.
Excuse me a minute.
Sorry about that.
I need ERT at Chordophone Strings, downtown Baltimore.
I can count on two hands the number of times I've been dumped by a psychiatrist. I'm sorry, Franklyn, but I think you should see another doctor.
You're giving me a referral?
Yes, I am.
You were a referral!
I am also a part of the problem.
You focus too much on your therapist, and not enough on your therapy.
You lost respect for me because I wouldn't report Tobias, didn't you? Tobias: Report Tobias for what?
I came to say goodbye, Franklyn.
What do you mean, goodbye?
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God, is that your blood? I just killed two men.
The police came to question me about the murder.
Ok... you have to give yourself up right now.
This plane is going down.
Let it have a controlled descent.
We can get you back up in the air again.
There's rehabilitation for everyone.
Franklyn, I want you to leave now.
Stay right where you are, Franklyn.
You've done a horrible thing, and... I know... that you wish to God that you didn't.
But you did.
And there's nothing you can do to change that.
Only thing you can change is your future.
No? You're probably scared.
You probably feel like you're all alone.
I'm not alone.
That's right. You're not alone.
Nothing has happened in our relationship that you and I can't...
I was looking forward to that.
I saved you the trouble.
(Tobias yelling in pain)
[ Goldberg Variations: "Aria"
by J.S. Bach ]
(Keyboard music fading out)
I was worried you were dead.
Tobias Budge killed two Baltimore police officers, nearly killed an FBI special agent, and after all of that, his first stop is here, at your office.
He came to kill my patient.
Your patient. Is that who Budge was serenading?
I don't know.
Franklyn knew more than he was telling me. He told Mr. Budge that he didn't have to kill anymore.
And then he broke Franklyn's neck, and then he attacked me.
You killed him?
Could Franklyn have been involved in whatever Budge was doing?
I thought this was a simple matter of poor choice in friends.
This doesn't feel simple to me.
I feel like I've... dragged you into my world.
I got here on my own.
But I appreciate the company.
I'm going to start seeing patients again.
It's strange, thinking about going back to daily practice.
Well, it's good you stepped away.
Even if it was only for a few days.
Patients will sit where Franklyn died.
I will sit where I almost died, and I will offer therapy.
It's easy to understand why you retired after you were attacked.
Will you ever feel comfortable returning to psychiatric work?
This is psychiatric work.
One patient isn't a practice.
I can't help feeling responsible for what happened to Franklyn.
Every person has an intrinsic responsibility for their own life, Hannibal.
No one else can take on that responsibility.
Not even you.
Did you take responsibility when you were attacked by your patient?
But I don't take responsibility for his death.
Nor should you.