01x01 - Pilot

Tonight's the night.

And it's going to happen again and again-- has to happen.

Nice night.

Miami is a great town. I love the Cuban food.

Pork sandwiches-- my favorite.

But I'm hungry for something different now.

There he is-- Mike Donovan.

He's the one.

You're mine now, so do exactly as I say.

What do you want?

I want you to be quiet.

Now drive.

Turn here.

You have to listen...

Do what I say.



Uh, yes.

No, no!

It's horrible, isn't it? Isn't it?


Open your eyes and look at what you did!

Look or I'll cut your eyelids right off your face.

It took me a long time to get these little boys clean.

One of them had been in the ground so long he was falling apart.

I pulled him out in bits and pieces.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is--

Stop! That never helped anybody.

Please, you can have anything.

That's good. Beg. Did these little boys beg?

I couldn't help myself. I couldn't. I--

Please, you have to understand...

Trust me, I definitely understand.

See, I can't help myself, either.

Children, I could never do that. Not like you.

Never, ever kids.


I have standards.

Soon you'll be packed into a few...

...neatly wrapped hefties in my own small corner of the world.

It'll be a neater, happier place.

I don't know what made me the way I am, but whatever it was left a hollow place inside.

People fake a lot of human interactions, but I feel like I fake them all, and I fake them very well.


Ahoy, there, captain! Any big marlin out there today?

And that's my burden, I guess.

But I don't blame my foster parents for that.

Harry and Doris Morgan did a wonderful job raising me.

But they're both dead now.

I didn't kill them...


You're different, aren't you, Dexter?

What do you mean, pop?

The Billups say Buddy disappeared.

I found the grave, son.

That dog was a noisy little creep, Dad.

He was barking all night, and mom couldn't sleep.

And she's very, very sick, and that lousy dog was yapping at every leaf that blew down the sidewalk!

There were a lot of bones in there, Dexter, and not just Buddy's.

Hola, Dexter!

Blood-- sometimes it sets my teeth on edge.

Other times, it helps me control the chaos.

The code of Harry, my foster father, is satisfied.

And so am I.

Harry was a great cop here in Miami.

He taught me how to think like one, taught me how to cover my tracks.

I'm a very neat monster.

Dexter, are you there?

Okay, Dex, please, as soon as you get in, I'm at a crime scene by the shithole the Seven Seas motel, and I need you here. Okay?

Dex? Please...

Pretty f*cking please with cheese on top.

That's my foul-mouthed foster sister, Debra.

She has a big heart but won't let anyone see it.

She's the only person in the world who loves me.

I think that's nice.

I don't have feelings about anything, but if I could have feelings at all, I'd have them for Deb.

There's something strange and disarming about looking at a homicide scene in the daylight of Miami.

It makes the most grotesque killings look staged, like you're in a new and daring section of Disney World--

Dahmer Land*.

You better be a cop.

No. Forensics.


Hey, what's up?

Jeez, Deb...

Where the hell do you keep your gun?

They found another hooker, in the pool.


Chopped up in bits and pieces.

That's the third one in 5 months.

Third? You mean there's a--

A serial killer, that's right.

The other 2 were in Broward, chopped up just like this one.

Any suspects?

Wish I knew.

I'm on Vice, so Laguerta sent me to my room and told me to stay out of sight.

God forbids she listens to what you have to say.

Tell me about it.

How does someone so dumb get so much power?

She knows how to play the game. You could take a lesson.

In what, ass-kissing?


I just want to catch this guy before he kills another one of my girls.

You can't get so emotionally invested.

You always say that.

So did Dad.

Yeah, but he also said, "go after what you want."

I want out of Vice and into Homicide.

What can I do to help?

You get these hunches, you know, with these types of murders.

Only sometimes.

Well, see if you get one this time.

And can I bounce some ideas off of you later?

You know I always get smarter when I'm talking to you.

You just need a little more confidence.

All right, I'll take a look.

In the meantime, avoid Laguerta and talk to Captain Matthews.

He and Dad were tight. Maybe he'll put you on the case.

You're making me smarter already, see?

And keep the s*x suit on when you talk to the Captain.

It'll help your cause.

That's a nice haircut, Masuoka.

Saw your sister.

Damn, looking hot.

Yeah, she should.

It's hot as hell out here.

So... Why are you here?

It's a crime scene.


But you do blood spatter.


So?... There's no blood here.

What was that?

Yeah. There's no blood in or on or near the body at all. It's the weirdest thing you ever saw.

Hey, Angel, let's show him.

No blood.

No sticky, hot, messy, awful blood. No blood at all.

Why hadn't I thought of that? No blood.

What a beautiful idea!

How is he doing? How does the killer get rid of the blood?

It's hard to say. The body's in good shape.

She got a nice ass, too.

Head is over there, if you want to take a look.

This is unique.

No sh1t.

And no prints, either.

I've never seen such clean, dry, neat-looking dead flesh.


Very clean.

Yeah, but he didn't finish. No terminó.

It looks pretty completo to me, Angel.

No, no. Look.

He cut the leg in four pieces, almost like using a ruler.

But this leg is in three pieces.

Now, look, he started to make a fourth cut but stopped.

It's possible he got interrupted.

Laguerta's looking for a witness, working on the motel porter back there.

God help him.

No blood.

I can't think. I have to get out of here.

Dex, ¿dónde va? Where are you going?

Hey, no blood... No trabajo.

I wish she'd stop that. It's one of those mating rituals which I really don't understand.

But that bloodless body-- this guy may have exceeded my own abilities.

Morning, Dex.


Hey, Dex.

Hey, Sue. Dan.

How are the families?

Good. You?

See you at the next bloodbath?

Never miss a party.


Salt of the earth, these people, and they work hard.

But with the solve rate for murders at about 20%, Miami is a great place for me, a great place for me to hone my craft.

Viva Miami.


I like your other outfit better.

You're a sick b*st*rd. Guess what.

s*x suit worked. Captain put me on the case.

Laguerta wasn't happy, but she needs to get laid.

I guess. So congrats!

So you got any ideas yet?


Well, start working on your mental autopsy 'cause I could use your theories. And thanks for the f*cking doughnut.

I got to go.


You keeping your fingernails clean?

Never leave home without my rubber gloves.

Good boy.

So, anything new?

One of these days you're gonna tell me.

I already told you.

Blood spatter doesn't take up all my time.

I like doing it. Maybe I can help out. It fills my nights.

You have a morbid sense of fun.

That's probably true.

You should find a pretty girl.

I found you.

Charming like your father. Just don't get me fired.

Then who would I bring doughnuts to?

Angel, ¿una más?


De nada.

Just like me...

Empty inside.

Where the hell you been?

Crime scene.

What about these?

The hotel cokehead murders, this dealer and the girl?

Well, this hallmark-looking couple didn't die by the hands of a professional.

No, this is child's play. Messy work--

All that blood on the walls looks like a finger painting.

You give me the f*cking creeps, you know that, Dexter?

Yeah, I know. Sorry about that.

f*ck you.


Is there something I can do?

You can give me a f*cking analysis on the blood spatter on this killings.

You think I'm here to invite you to my nephew's bris?

I didn't know you were Jewish.

Shut the f*ck up and write your report already.

Don't even know why I need you.

Grab a crayon, psycho, and scribble this down.

Rival dealer came in. Two scumbags slashed to hell, dealer stole the drugs.

Wham, bam, done. And I don't give a sh1t what you say because that's what happened and that's who I'm looking for.

Hey, we are looking for a motherfucking thief dealer.

You got it?

Okay. Sure.

I guess. But I should get over there.

Then get over there already, you f*cking weirdo.

I need it quick.

I'm on it, sergeant.

The only real question I have is why, in a building full of cops, all supposedly with a keen insight into the human soul, is Doakes the only one who gets the creeps from me?

So this killer used a sword?


Probably a very sharp knife.

Look at the blood spatter. Look at the patterns.

It tells a story.

You see this big pond of blood right there?

That's from the initial stab.

The male victim was standing right here, and the killer plunged his knife into the shoulder, severing the carotid artery, and-- blpph Notice the long, thick, heavy drips?

Yeah, nice.

Now, over here, you have nice, clean sprays of blood, that can only happen when you're holding something light and moving quick-- nice, sharp slices through the body.

No splashes, no drips. Clean and easy.

This guy knew how to use a blade.

So we're looking for a sushi chef.

Yeah, sushi chef is possible.

Wouldn't be my first choice, but, hey, you never know.

Now what?

Now I eat!

The problem with eating and driving, which I love to do, is not being able to employ the 10:00-2:00 hand position on the wheel.

It's a matter of public safety.

But there's always a sacrifice.

This guy, Jamie Jaworski.

Six months ago, I think he fell in love with a pretty brunette, Mrs. Jane Saunders--

A sweet mother of two married to a successful banker--

All living a pleasant life until she, unfortunately, disappeared, leaving the kids emotionally devastated forever.

The cops arrested my favorite valet, but his lawyer got him off on a faulty search warrant.

It's a good thing I don't bother with them.

Animals don't like me, especially dogs.

I don't think they approve of what I sometimes do to their masters.

That dog recognizes me as easily as I can recognize Jaworski or any other killer.

Interesting taste in literature.

His needs are evolving, turning violent.

He's on the fast track.

Have you ever wanted to kill anything else?

You know, something bigger than a dog?


Like a person?

Yeah, but no one in particular.

Why didn't you?

I thought you and mom wouldn't like it.

Come here.

Friday night. Date night in Miami.

Every night is a date night in Miami, and everyone's having s*x.

But for me, s*x never enters into it.

I don't understand s*x.

Not that I have anything against women, and I certainly have an appropriate sensibility about men, but when it comes to the actual act of s*x, it's always just seemed so... undignified.

But I have to play the game.

And after years of trying to look normal, I think I met the right woman for me.

Deb saved her life on a domestic-dispute call, introduced us, and we've been dating for six months now.

She's perfect because Rita is, in her own way, as damaged as me.

I'm running late. I'll just be a sec.

I have to change.


Hi, Dexter.

May I say that you look lovely this evening?


Master Cody, handsome as ever. High five.

Do the space shuttle.

Vanilla... Chocolate, and strawberry.

No coffee?

Which one do you think melts faster?


Rita's ex-hubby, the crack addict, repeatedly raped her, knocked her around.

Ever since then, she's been completely uninterested in s*x.

That works for me.

Will you be back?

Of course I'll be back.

I meant Dexter.

You'll be asleep.

No, I won't.

Then I'll stop in and we'll all play cards.

Texas Hold 'em?

Give mommy a kiss.



Needless to say, I have some unusual habits, yet all these socially acceptable people can't wait to pick up hammers and publicly smash their food to bits.

Normal people are so hostile... But not her.

Where are we going?

They might need me.

Just stay right there. I'll be right back.

Son of a whore.


Talking about this hijo de puta, this asshole killer, this maricón savage who makes us work on a Friday night.

Only Mondays through Thursdays-- that's what I always say.

Of course, coño, be reasonable. Who wants to work on a Friday night?

I have my needs.

So, ¿cómo estás? What are you doing here?

I was in the neighborhood. I'm on a date.

A date? Nice.

Same guy, same pattern.

Bone dry. No blood again. Pero mira esto.

There's some small differences in the cuts this time.

Over here-- rough, almost emotion.

Then over here, not so much.

And then over here-- clean.

Muy bien.

Yeah, nice. But look at this.

All bone.

The killer flayed the skin, the flesh, completely off.

Now, why would he do that?

He's experimenting.

He's trying to find the right way.

Is he experimenting with the head, too?

What do you mean?

La bestia left her tits and took her f*cking head.

I don't find anyone around here.

And God only knows what he's doing with it.

He's certainly raising the bar. Damn!

This guy is good.

Will they catch him soon?

I doubt it.

The killer is an artist.

What do you mean?

His technique... is incredible.

I'm sorry. I don't think I want to.

I mean, I'm-- I'm not ready.

Damn it, Dexter.

What have I done now?

And why can't I get that neat stack of body parts out of my head?

No blood.

Why did I touch her that way?

I need to get back to my work.

Jaworski's website, "scream-bitch-scream"-- the mother of all rape sites.

That's it. He's definitely the one.

Now it's just a matter of time before he becomes a drop of blood in my glass-slide collection.

But I have to wait.

I have to be careful and follow the code of Harry.

Hey, Dad.

I can explain.

You and I had an understanding.

Whenever you get an urge, you come to me, you tell me, and we deal with it together.

I do tell you, Dad.

The hell you do!

There's blood on this knife.

Animals. I find animals, that's all.

Are you sure? Are you telling me the truth?


I thought we had this under control.

You still don't remember anything from before, you know, before we took you in?


Is that why I have these urges?

What happened changed something inside you.

It got into you too early.

I'm afraid your urge to kill is only gonna get stronger.

You're saying I'll be like this forever.

You're a good kid, Dex. You are.

Otherwise, it would have been a lot worse than animals.

Okay? We can't stop this.

But maybe...

We can do something to channel it.

Use it for good.

How could it ever be good?

Son, there are people out there who do really bad things.

Terrible people. And the police can't catch them all.

Do you understand what I'm saying?

You're saying they deserve it.

That's right.

But, of course, you have to learn how to spot them, how to cover your tracks.

But I can teach you.


It's okay, Dex.

You can't help what happened to you, but you can make the best of it.

Remember this forever-- you are my son, you are not alone, and you are loved.


Preparation is vital.

No detail can be overlooked.

And the ritual is intoxicating.

Duct tape...

Rubber sheets...

Necessary tools of the trade.

You can't bullshit me, Dex. Help me out.

Laguerta has me interviewing hookers.

It's a waste of time.

Deb, if he was interrupted... Think.

Jesus Christ, right.

Because then how do you have time to wrap all the pieces?

She's dumber than the boat people. Throw her a f*cking raft.

But now we have a fourth body, and the cuts were different.

And that's telling us a story. The ritual is changing.

He's looking for some kind of inspiration and not finding it.

So he keeps doing it until he gets it right.

I could be wrong.

So how the hell was your date with Rita last night?


You should try it sometime. You need a life.

Well, find me a guy I can trust. I need a transfer to Homicide, bro, then we'll see about a life.

I understand that.

It certainly would sound better for the kids to say, "mommy's on Homicide."

Don't make me hit you.

Come on.

Then we could talk about more little Morgans, nephews and nieces.

What's wrong with that?

You sound like mom.

I just-- tell me what you know about cell crystallization.

What do you mean?

I heard the coroner say it last night.

He was talking about that dead... headless chick.

You got that look in your eye.

I was there before you, and I noticed this body looked different than the other ones.

The pieces were cold.

But meat-packing cold.

Is that what cell crystallization means?

My god, why didn't I think of that? It's beautiful.

Dex. What are you thinking?

Sorry. That makes sense.


It slows the flow of blood.

Why the hell is that important?

It's just a feeling.

That's not good enough.

I got to show Laguerta and her boys. They're making fun of me.

They're saying the only way I can close a case is on my back.

I got to get out of Vice. Dex, please, you got to--

Refrigerated truck.

What the f*ck are you talking about?

A refrigerated truck.

He wants a cold environment to slow the flow of blood, clean and mobile so he can dump the garbage afterwards.

So I'm looking for a refrigerated truck now?

Probably a stolen one.

You think there are a lot of stolen trucks out there?

Are you nuts? In Miami?

Choir... kids... Just do something.

Just find my husband.

Ma'am, the detectives are looking into everything.

I'm pretty sure I covered all my tracks.

What do you care about that woman?

I don't. I was just--

You like when women cry? You like that?

What's your thing, psycho?

I was just heading to the briefing room.

You got no call to be in there, so flee.

Lieutenant, this f*cking guy doesn't belong.

I'm still waiting for his spatter report on the cokehead murders-- Go do that.

It's okay. I don't want to upset anybody.

He can stay. I'd like your input, and we'll discuss your case after the meeting.

How about we get started?

¿Encontráste algo?

Nada todavía.

Hazme un favor y quítate la gorra.


You ready?

I'm gonna shame this bitch.

Just state your case clean and easy. You'll be the hero.

Okay, settle down.

Now, has anyone tracked down that witness?

Come on, people. Someone needs to find something here.

Lieutenant Laguerta?

Officer Morgan.

I didn't recognize you with your clothes on.

I have an idea, something in a different direction.

An idea?

Well, please, share it with us.

Cell crystallization.

Excuse me?

A little more confidence, please.

On the last victim, I'd like to check and see if any refrigerated trucks have been stolen in the last... week or so.

Refrigerated trucks like ice-cream trucks?

No, not ice-cream trucks.

A refrigerated vehicle that could cause that kind of tissue damage, a refrigerated truck that's...

...mobile so he'll be harder to catch, a refrigerated truck that might give us a lead.

That's very interesting, very creative.

Let's keep looking for the witness, okay?

We know that he or she is out there. The forensic evidence, the interrupted cut proves that there was an eyewitness.

Now, somebody out there saw something, so let's concentrate on finding that person, okay?


Just keep talking to all your hookers.

That's all for today.

What the f*ck was I supposed to say? The only reason I'm in here is because the captain said they had to let me in.

But he didn't say they had to listen to you.

Well, right again.

So say adiós to my career. I'm gonna die a meter maid.

Stop it. Deb, there's another way. Find the truck.

Excuse me, Dexter... My office, please.

What the hell?

What the f*ck?

Are you boning her?


Oh, my god!

Deb, wait.

Shut up.

It had nothing to do with drugs.

L.T., this is a waste of our damn time.

I think sergeant Doakes is right.

I read the other reports, all the other forensic analysis.

Everyone agrees the cokehead murders had nothing to do with cocaine.

It was a crime of passion.

The murderer came to kill the woman, not the dealer.

He did him quick and got him out of the way.

But he sure as hell took his sweet time slicing up that lady, and you don't do that unless you have a close, personal relationship with someone. Probably an ex-boyfriend.

That's who I'd look for.


It's a bit of a push, but, sergeant, you should check it out.

I'm watching you, m*therf*cker.

Jaworski's been coming here for weeks-- likes to steal all the copper plumbing.

There's good money in that.

No security guards-- that's good.



What do you mean?

I think you know what I mean.

No. Oh, god.

Talk to me about Jane Saunders.

Okay. I did her.


In a movie-- snuff film.

But I'm not sorry.

Of course not.

No, I'm not sorry, either.


Hey. I'm-- I'm sorry.

I mean, I'm sorry about the other night, but... look, Dex, I really, really need to see you.

So can you-- can you come by later, you know, just for, like, a little while?

I mean, I'm really--

All right. What are you doing now?

I'm just finishing up a little project, but I'll come by later.

Okay, bye.

All in all, it was a good night.

One less amateur filmmaker polluting the internet.

No way!

Give us a minute.

Hanging in there?

This will teach me to tailgate.

Let's go over this again.

I'm all yours.

So all the ice trucks in Miami-- bit of a coincidence, don't you think?

Sure, during business hours.

But this time of night, a truck like that sticks out.

And you followed it.

That's right.

You never saw the driver?

Just high beams and a flying head.

So then he must have already had the head with him in the front seat.

That's weird. Why would he keep it there?

I don't know, so he could use a carpool lane?

It just seems odd. Your sister has this ice-truck theory, and then here you are to back it up.

She's good, lieutenant. You should give her a chance.

You know, you should call me Maria.

But I'll tell you who's good-- you are.

Doakes picked up the killer in the cokehead murders.

You were right. It was her boyfriend.

Of course, Doakes still hates you.

Of course.

Tell me, Dexter, how did you get to be so smart?

Lots of sleep.

Is it okay if I fill out that report tomorrow?

Sure thing. You're tired.

Good night, lieutenant.

I'll catch you later.

Dex. It's been a while.

I'm sorry.

I was worried.

I didn't know what to do. I called in sick.

I mean...

Are you okay?

Yeah, I'm fine. I was just--

I'm sorry. There was another... You know.

Look... The kids slept over next door.


Would you like to come in?



I don't want to lose you, Dex.

Okay, sure.

And... well... I want you.

I mean...

Okay. Thanks.

You're welcome.

Do you mind?


It could be the kids.

Better get it, then.



Cody, stop crying, sweetie.

All right. I'll come get you.

Cody just threw up all over Colleen's couch.

I got to go get him.

Tell me we're okay.

Better than.


Go be a good mom.

Okay, that was close.

I'll admit, making out with Rita was...


But if I don't keep a lid on this, it could be the end of us.

I suppose I should be upset, even feel violated, but I'm not.


In fact, I think this is a friendly message, kind of like, "Hey, want to play?"

And, yes, I want to play.

I really, really do.