01x01 - Aperitif

(sound muted)

(soft ambient pulse)

(Sound returns.)

(siren in the distance)

(sound muted)

(soft ambient pulse)

(Sound returns.)

(insects chirping)

(house alarm)

Will: I shoot Mr. Marlow twice, severing jugulars and carotids with near-surgical precision. He will die watching me take what is his away from him. This is my design.

(house alarm)

(woman whimpering frantically)

Will: I shoot Mrs. Marlow expertly through the neck. This is not a fatal wound. The bullet misses every artery. She is paralyzed before it leaves her body. Which doesn't mean she can't feel pain. It just means she can't do anything about it. This is my design.

(house alarm)

(Alarm stops.)

(phone ringing on other end)

(keypad beeps)

Security: This is DDX Security. Who am I speaking with?

Will: I need the incident report for the home security company. This was recorded as a false alarm. There was a false alarm last week. He tapped their phone.

Yeah.

Officer: It's been tapped.

Will: He recorded Mrs. Marlow's conversation with the security company.

Security: This is DDX Security. Who am I speaking with?

Mrs. Marlow's Voice Record: Theresa Marlow.

Security: Can you please confirm your password for security purposes?

Mrs. Marlow's Voice Record: Tea kettle.

Security: Thank you, Mrs. Marlow. We detected a front-door alarm.

Mrs. Marlow's Voice Record: Yeah, sorry about that.

Security: Is there anyone in the house with you at this time, Mrs. Marlow?

Mrs. Marlow's Voice Record: I'm just here with my husband.

Security: Do you require any further assistance?

Mrs. Marlow's Voice Record: No. Thank you so much for calling.

Will: And this is when it gets truly horrifying for Mrs. Marlow.


Will: Everyone has thought about killing someone, one way or another, be it your own hand or the hand of God. Now think about killing Mrs. Marlow. Why did she deserve this? Tell me your design. Tell me who you are.

Jack: Mr. Graham. Special Agent Jack Crawford. I head the Behavioral Science Unit.

Will: We've met.

Jack: Yes. We had a disagreement when we opened up the museum.

Will: I disagreed with what you named it.

Jack: The, uh, Evil Minds Research Museum.

Will: It's a little hammy, Jack.

Jack: I see you've hitched your horse to a teaching post, and I also understand it's difficult for you to be social.

Will: Well, I'm just talking at them. I'm not listening to them. It's not social.

Jack: I see. May I? Where do you fall on the spectrum?

Will: My horse is hitched to a post that is closer to Asperger's and autistics than narcissists and sociopaths.

Jack: But you can empathize with narcissists - and sociopaths.

Will: I can empathize with anybody. It's less to do with a personality disorder than an active imagination.

Jack: Um can I borrow your imagination?


Jack: Eight girls abducted from eight different Minnesota campuses, all in the last eight months.

Will: I thought there were seven.

Jack: There were.

Will: When did you tag the eighth?

Jack: About three minutes before I walked into your lecture hall.

Will: You're calling them abductions because you don't have any bodies?

Jack: No bodies, no parts of bodies, nothing that comes out of bodies. Nothing.

Will: Then those girls weren't taken from where you think they were taken.

Jack: Then where were they taken from?

Will: I don't know. Someplace else.


Jack: All of them abducted on a Friday so they wouldn't have to be reported missing until Monday. Now, however he's covering his tracks, he needs a weekend to do it.

Will: Number eight?

Jack: Elise Nichols. St. Cloud State on the Mississippi. Disappeared on Friday. Was supposed to house sit for her parents over the weekend, feed the cat. She never made it home.

Will: Yeah, one through seven are dead, don't you think? He's not keeping them around. He got himself a new one.

Jack: So we focus on Elise Nichols.

Will: They're all very, um Mall of America. That's a lot of wind-chafed skin.

Jack: Same hair colour, same eye colour. Roughly the same age. Same height, same weight. So what is it about all of these girls?

Will: It's not about all of these girls. It's just about one of them. He's like Willy Wonka. Every girl he takes is a candy bar, and hidden in amongst all of those candy bars is the one true intended victim, which, if we follow through on our metaphor, is your golden ticket.

Jack: So, is he warming up for his golden ticket, or just reliving whatever it is he did to her?

Will: The golden ticket wouldn't be the first taken, and she wouldn't be the last. He would, um, hide how special she was. I mean, I would. Wouldn't you?

Jack: I want you to get closer to this.

Will: No. You have Heimlich at Harvard and Bloom at Georgetown. They do the same thing I do.

Jack: That's not exactly true, is it? You have a very specific way of thinking about things.

Will: Has there been a lot of discussion about the, uh, specific way - I think?

Jack: You make jumps you can't explain, Will.

Will: No, no. The evidence explains.

Jack: Then help me find some evidences.

Will: That may require me to be sociable.


Mr. Nichols (echoing voice): She could've gone off by herself. She she was a very interior young woman. She didn't like living in her dorm. I could see how the pressure of school might have gotten to her. She likes trains. Maybe she just got on a train and-

Mrs. Nichols: ... She looks like the other girls.

Jack: Yes, she fits the profile.

Mr. Nichols: Could Elise still be alive?

Jack: We simply have no way of knowing.

Will: How's the cat?

Mrs. Nichols: What?

Will: How's your cat? Elise was supposed to feed it. Was the cat weird when you came home? It must've been hungry. It didn't eat all weekend.

Mr. Nichols: I... I didn't notice.

Jack: Could you give us a moment, please?


Will (whispering): He took her from here. She got on a train, she came home, she fed the cat. He took her.

Jack: The Nichols' house is a crime scene. I need ERT immediately. I want Zeller, Katz, and Jimmy Price. Yes, and a photographer.

Mr. Nichols: Why is it now a crime scene?

Will: Can I see your daughter's room?

Mr. Nichols: Polices were ther this morning...

Will: No-I'll get that. Mr. Nichols, please put your hands in your pockets and avoid touching anything.

Mr. Nichols: But we've been in and out of here all day.

Will: You can hold the cat, if it's easier.

Mr. Nichols: Elise-

Will: I need you to leave the room.


Jack: When you're ready to talk, you talk. If you don't feel like it, you don't talk. We'll be downstairs. You let me know when you're ready for us to come in.

(siren)

(soft ambient pulse)

Beverly: You're Will Graham.

Will: You're not supposed to be in here.

Beverly: You wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity. I found antler velvet in two of the wounds. You, uh, not real FBI?

Will: I'm a special investigator.

Beverly: Never been an FBI agent?

Will: Um strict - screening procedures.

Beverly: Detects instability You unstable?

Jack: Now, you know you're not supposed to be in here.

Beverly: I found antler velvet in two of the wounds, like she was gored. I was looking for velvet in the other wounds - but I was interrupted.

Brian: Hold on, excuse me. Look, deer and elk pin their prey, OK? They put all their weight into their antlers, try and suffocate a victim. That's how they would kill, like, a fox or a coyote.

Jack: All right, Elise Nichols was strangled, suffocated, her ribs are broken.

Will: Antler velvet is rich in nutrients. It actually promotes healing. He may have put it in there on purpose.

Jack: You think he was trying to heal her?

Will: He wanted to undo as much as he could given that he'd already killed her.

Jack: He put her back where he found her.

Will: Whatever he did to the others, he couldn't do it to her.

Jack: Is this his golden ticket?

Will: No. This is an apology. Does anyone have any aspirin?


Will: Hello. Hey! ... Hey! Hey. Hey. Come on. Come on. Hey. Hey, come here. Hey. Winston, this is everybody. Everybody, this is Winston. (barking) Tss! Tss! That's right.

(heartbeat)

Jack: What are you doing in here?

Will: I enjoy the smell of urinal cake.

Jack: Me too. We need to talk. USE THE LADIES' ROOM! You respect my judgment, Will? Mm-hmm.

Will: Yes.

Jack: Good, because we will stand a better chance of catching this guy with you in the saddle.

Will: Yeah, I'm in the saddle. I'm just, um, confused which direction I'm pointing. I don't know this kind of psychopath. I've never read about him. I don't even know if he's a psychopath. He's not insensitive. He's not shallow.

Jack: You know something about him; otherwise, you wouldn't have said, "This is an apology". What is he apologizing for?

Will: He couldn't honour her. He feels bad.

Jack: Well, feeling bad defeats the purpose of being a psychopath, doesn't it?

Will: Yes! It does.

Jack: Then what kind of crazy is he?!

Will: He couldn't show her he loved her, so he put her corpse back where he killed it. Whatever crazy that is.

Jack: You think he loves these girls?

Will: He loves one of them. A-And, yes, I think by association he has some form of love for the others.

Jack: There was no semen, there was no saliva. Elise Nichols died a virgin. She stayed that way.

Will: That's not how he's loving them. He wouldn't disrespect them that way! He doesn't want these girls to suffer. He kills them quickly and to his thinking, with mercy.

Jack: Sensitive psychopath. Risked getting caught so he could tuck Elise Nichols back into bed.

Will: He has to take the next girl soon 'cause he knows he's gonna get caught. One way or the other.


Beverly: I got you.


Jack: Graham likes you. Doesn't think you'll run any mind games on him.

Alana: I don't. I'm as honest with him as I'd be with a patient.

Jack: You've been observing him while you've been guest lecturing here at the academy, yes?

Alana: I've never been in a room alone with Will.

Jack: Why not?

Alana: Because I want to be his friend, and I am.

Jack: Ah, it seems a shame not to take advantage snd academically speaking.

Alana: You already asked me to do a study on him, Jack. I said no. And anything scholarly on Will Graham would have to be published posthumously.

Jack: So, you've never been alone with him because you have a professional curiosity about him. (Jack chuckles.)

Alana: Normally I wouldn't even broach this, but what do you think one of Will's strongest drives is?

Jack: Fear.

Alana: Mm-hmm.

Jack: Will Graham deals with huge amounts of fear. It comes with his imagination.

Alana: It's the price of imagination.

Jack: Alana, I wouldn't put him out there if I didn't think I could cover him. All right, if I didn't think I could cover him 80%.

Alana: I wouldn't put him out there.

Jack: He's out there. I need him out there. Should he get too close, I need you to make sure he's not out there alone.

Alana: Promise me something, Jack. Don't let him get too close.

Jack: He won't ... get too close.


Jimmy (sighing): OK. Tried her skin for prints of course nothing. We did get a hand spread off her neck.

Beverly: Report say anything about nails?

Brian: Fingernails were smudged when we took the scrapings. The scrapings were from her own palms when she scratched them. She never scratched him.

Beverly: Piece of metal is all we got.

Will: We should be looking at plumbers, steamfitters, tool workers.


Brian: Other injuries were probably but not conclusively post-mortem. So not gored.

Beverly: She has lots of piercings that look like they were caused by deer antlers. I didn't say the deer was responsible for putting them there.

Will: She was mounted on them. Like hooks. She may have been bled.

Brian: Her liver was removed.

Jimmy: See that? He took it out, and then - yep, he put it back in.

Brian: Huh.

Jimmy: Why would he cut it out if he's just gonna sew it back in again?

Will: Something wrong with the meat?

Brian: She has liver cancer.

Will: He's, um he's eating them.



(crying)

Franklin: Please... Thank you. I hate being this neurotic.

Hannibal: If you weren't neurotic, Franklyn, you would be something much worse. Our brain is designed to experience anxiety in short bursts, not the prolonged duress yours has seemed to enjoy. That's why you feel as though a lion were on the verge of devouring you. Franklyn...

(crying)

Franklin: Yes.

Hannibal: You have to convince yourself the lion is not in the room. When it is, I assure you, you will know.

Jack: Dr. Lecter. I'm, uh, Special Ag-

Hannibal: I hate to be discourteous, but this is a private exit for my patients.

Jack: Oh, Dr. Lecter. Sorry. Um, I'm, uh, Special Agent Jack Crawford, FBI. May I come in?

Hannibal: You may wait in the waiting room. Franklyn, I'll see you next week.

Franklin: Yes.

Hannibal: Unless, of course, this is about him.

Jack: No, this is all about you.


Hannibal: Please, come in. So, may I ask how this is all about me?

Jack: You can ask, but I may have to ask you a few questions first. You expecting another patient?

Hannibal: We're all alone.

Jack: Oh, good. No secretary?

Hannibal: Was predispositioned to romantic whims. Followed her heart to the United Kingdom. (Jack chuckles.) Sad to see her go.

Jack: Wow. Are these yours, Doctor?

Hannibal: Among the first. My boarding school in Paris when I was a boy.

Jack: The amount of detail is incredible.

Hannibal: I learned very early a scalpel cuts better points than a pencil sharpener.

Jack: Well, now I understand why your drawings earned you an internship at Johns Hopkins.

Hannibal: I'm beginning to suspect you're investigating me, - Agent Crawford.

Jack (Chuckling): No, no. No, you were referred to me by Alana Bloom in the psychology department Georgetown.

Hannibal: Most psychology departments are filled with personality deficients. Dr. Bloom would be the exception.

Jack: Yes, she would. Yes, she would. Well, she told me that you mentored her during her residency at Johns Hopkins.

Hannibal: I learned as much from her as she did from me.

Jack: Yes, but she also showed me, uh, your paper. "Evolutionary" uh, "Evolutionary Origins of Social Exclusion"?

Hannibal: Yes.

Jack: Very interesting. Very interesting. Even for a layman.

Hannibal: A layman?

Jack: Yeah.

Hannibal: So many learned fellows going about in the halls of Behavioral Science - at the FBI, and you consider yourself a layman.

Jack: I do when I'm in your company, doctor. Um, I need you to help me with a psychological profile.


Hannibal: Tell me, then, how many confessions?

Jack: Twelve dozen, the last time I checked. None of them had any details until this morning. And then they all had details. Some genius in Duluth PD took a photograph of Elise Nichols' body with his cell phone, shared it with his friends, and then Freddy Lounds posted it on Tattlecrime.com.

Will: Tasteless.

Hannibal: Do you have trouble with taste?

Will: My thoughts are often not tasty.

Hannibal: Nor mine. No effective barriers.

Will: I build forts.

Hannibal: Associations come quickly.

Will: So do forts.

Hannibal: Not fond of eye contact, are you?

Will: Eyes are distracting you see too much, you don't see enough. And-And it's hard to focus when you're thinking, um, "Oh, those whites are really white", or, "He must have hepatitis", or, "Oh, is that a burst "vein?" So, yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible. Jack?

Jack: Yes?

Hannibal: I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love.

Will: Whose profile are you working on? Whose profile is he working on?

Hannibal: I'm sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can't shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off.

Will: Please, don't psychoanalyze me. You won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed.

Jack: Will.

Will: Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture on psychoanalyzing.

Jack: Maybe we shouldn't poke him like that, Doctor. Perhaps a less, uh, direct approach.

Hannibal: What he has is pure empathy. He can assume your point of view, or mine, and maybe some other points of view that scare him. It's an uncomfortable gift, Jack.

Jack: Hum.

Hannibal: Perception's a tool that's pointed on both ends. This cannibal you have him getting to know I think I can help good Will see his face.


Jack: Stag head was reported stolen last night, about a mile from here.

Will: Just the head?

Jack: Minneapolis Homicide's already made a statement. They're calling him the Minnesota Shrike.

Will: Like the bird?

Jimmy: Shrike's a perching bird. Impales mice and lizards on thorny branches and barbed wire. Rips their organs right out of their bodies, puts them in a little birdie pantry, and eats them later.

Jack: I can't tell whether it's sloppy - or shrewd.

Will: He wanted her found this way. It's... it's petulant. I almost feel like he's mocking her. Or he's mocking us.

Jack: Where did all his love go?

Will: Whoever tucked Elise Nichols into bed didn't paint this picture.

Brian: He took her lungs. I'm pretty sure she was alive when he cut 'em out.

Will: Our cannibal loves women. He doesn't want to destroy them. He wants to consume them, to keep some part of them inside. This girl's killer thought that she was a pig.

Jack: You think this was a copycat?

Will: The cannibal who killed Elise Nichols had a place to do it and no interest in in field kabuki. So, he has a house, or two, or a-a cabin something with an antler room. He has a daughter. The same age as the other girls. Same-same hair colour, same eye colour, same height, same weight. She's an only child. She's leaving home. He can't stand the thought of losing her. She's his golden ticket.

Jack: What about the copycat?

Will: You know, an intelligent psychopath, particularly a sadist, is very hard to catch. There's no traceable motive, there'll be no patterns. He may never kill this way again. Have Dr. Lecter draw up a psychological profile. You seemed very impressed with his opinion.


(knocking on door)

(blankets shuffling)

(footsteps)

Hannibal: Good morning, Will. May I come in?

Will: Where's Crawford?

Hannibal: Deposed in court. The adventure will be yours and mine today. May I come in?


Hannibal: I'm very careful about what I put into my body, which means I end up preparing most meals myself. A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage.

Will: Mm, it's delicious. Thank you.

Hannibal: My pleasure.


Hannibal: I would apologize for my analytical ambush, but I know I will soon be apologizing again and you'll tire of that eventually, so I have to consider using apologies sparingly.

Will: Just keep it professional.

Hannibal: Or we could socialize, like adults. God forbid we become friendly.

Will: I don't find you that interesting.

Hannibal: You will.


Hannibal: Agent Crawford tells me you have a knack for the monsters.

Will: I don't think the Shrike killed that girl in the field.

Hannibal: The devil is in the details. What didn't your copycat do to the girl in the field? What gave it away?

Will: Everything. It's like he had to show me a negative so that I could see the positive. That crime scene was practically gift-wrapped.

Hannibal: The mathematics of human behaviour all those ugly variables. Some bad math with this Shrike fellow, huh? Are you reconstructing his fantasies?

Will: Heh.

Hannibal: What kind of problems? Does he have?

Will: Uh, he has a few.

Hannibal: You ever have any problems, Will?

Will: No.

Hannibal: Of course you don't. You and I are just alike problem-free. Nothing about us to feel horrible about. You know, Will? I think Uncle Jack sees you as a fragile little teacup. The finest China, used for only special guests.

Will (laughing): How do you see me?

Hannibal: The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by. Finish your breakfast.


Will: What are you smiling at?

Hannibal: Peeking behind the curtain. I'm just curious how the FBI goes about its business when it's not kicking in doors.

Will: You're lucky we're not doing house-to-house interviews. We found a little piece of metal in Elise Nichols' clothes a shred from a pipe threader.

Hannibal: There must be hundreds of construction sites all over Minnesota.

Will: A certain kind of metal, certain kind of pipe, certain kind of pipe coating, so we're checking all the construction sites that use that kind of pipe.

Hannibal: What are we looking for?

Will: At this stage, anything really. But mostly, anything peculiar.


Woman: Two fellas from the FBI. They goin' through the drawers now. Mm-hmm. Puttin' papers in file boxes. Yes, they are takin' things. No. Well, they didn't say- Yes, they can. What did you say your names were?

Will: Jimmyt Jacob Hobbs?

Woman: He's one of our pipe threaders. Those are all the resignation letters. Plumbers' Union requires 'em whenever members finish a job. (whispering) I'll call you back.

Will: Uh, does Mr. Hobbs have a daughter?

Woman: Might have.

Will: Eighteen or 19, wind-chafed, uh, plain but pretty. She'd have auburn hair, about this tall.

Woman: Maybe. I don't know. I don't keep company with these people.

Hannibal: What is it about Jimmyt Jacob Hobbs you find so peculiar?

Will: He left a phone number, no address.

Hannibal: And therefore he has something to hide?

Will: The others all left addresses. Do you have an address for Mr. Hobbs?


Will: I got it.


Abagail: Hello? Just a second. Dad! It's for you!

Mr. Hobbs: Who is this?

Abagail: Caller ID said it was blocked.

Mr. Hobbs: Hello?

Hannibal: Mr. Jimmyt Jacob Hobbs?

Mr. Hobbs: Yeah.

Hannibal: You don't know me and I suspect we'll never meet. This is a courtesy call. Listen very carefully. Are you listening?

Mr. Hobbs: Yes.

Hannibal: They know.

(birds singing)

(rattling)

Mrs. Hobbs: Ah ah!


Will: Jimmyt Jacob Hobbs! FBI!

(girl whimpering)

(gunshot)

No, no, no.

Mr. Hobbs: See? See?

(girl coughing and gasping)

Will: No! No! No!


Alana: Biting in lesser assaults and bar fights, child abuse. Emergency room personnel may be very helpful that way. If they have any memories of bad bites, no matter who was bitten or h-

Jack: Where's Graham?

Alana: You said he wouldn't get too close.