Hannibal s01e04 Episode Script

Previously on Hannibal… Gareth Jacob Hobbs didn't kill Cassie Boyle.
–I know.
–Dad, it's for you.
I believe the as yet unidentified caller was our copycat killer.
I wanna go home.
You do this a lot? Go places and think about killing.
Too often.
I didn't kill that girl.
This isn't self-defense, Abigail.
You butchered him.
You're the one who called the house.
I'll keep your secret.
And I'll keep yours.
Sometimes… at night I leave the lights on in my little house.
And… walk across the flat fields When I look back from a distance, the house is like a boat on the sea.
It's really the only time I feel safe.
You stood in the breathing silence of Gareth Jacob Hobbs' home, the very spaces he moved through.
Tell me Will… Did they speak to you? With noise and clarity.
You could sense his madness, like a bloodhound… I tried so hard to know Gareth Jacob Hobbs.
To see him.
Gareth Jacob Hobbs, FBI! Past the slides and viles, beyond the lines of the police report, between the pixels of all those printed faces of sad dead girls.
See.
How did you feel seeing Marissa Shore, impaled in his antler room? Guilty.
Because you couldn't save her.
Because I felt like I killed her… I got so close to him.
Sometimes… I felt like we were doing the same things at different times of day… like I was eating… or showering or sleeping at the same time he was.
Even after he was dead? Even after he was dead.
Like… you were becoming him.
I know who I am.
I'm not Gareth Jacob Hobbs, Doctor Lecter.
Table has been set.
Family dinner.
I wasn't invited.
I take my seat at the head of the table.
My seat.
My place setting next to Mrs Turner.
I am the guest of honor.
Nobody has taken a bite of their dinner.
If you don't eat your growing foods, you won't get any dessert.
No one leaves the table.
All afraid to move, even the little ones behave themselves.
I brought my own family to this home invasion.
Controlling the Turners with threats of violence threats that turn to action.
The Turner family is executed simultaneously.
With the exception of Mrs Turner who dies last.
This is my design.
I shoot Mrs Turner.
What do you see Will? Family values.
Whose family values? Alright, Karen and Roger Turner, childhood sweethearts.
Owned a successful real estate business.
Pillars of the community, three children.
Minus one.
Uh, a son… Jesse.
Disappeared last year.
Last confirmed sighting had him boarding an RV… at a rest stop on Route 47.
Possible runaway, probable abduction.
–Or both.
When misery rains, it pours.
False faces in family portraits.
Layers and layers of lies, betrayed by… a sad glint in the child's eyes.
Norman Rockwell with a bullet.
Alright, any signs of forced entry? No broken windows or torn screens.
All sealed up tight.
–Yeah, they probably rang the front door.
I got bulletholes on the upper sections of the wall, and again over here.
Pull the slugs for ballistics.
They aren't frangible, shouldn't be a problem.
Elevated termination points match for the scene with these bodies.
Angular cranial impact, coupled with… acute exit wounds, conical spray.
Shooter went low to high, probably crouching.
When was Jesse abducted? Uh, a little over a year ago.
I can hide what happened to me.
All I need is a scarf to pass.
Hiding what happened to you defeats the purpose of being here.
Sharing will help normalize.
I'm not normal… not anymore.
What happened to you isn't normal.
Some of these women aren't even sharing.
They speak in “little girl voices”, telling everyone what was done to them without saying a word about it.
Certain traumas can arrest vocal development.
And victims can sometimes broadcast victimhood involuntarily.
Not me.
That's not necessarily true.
Your victimhood has a high profile.
I'm a celebrity victim.
Someone here asked me if I kept my stained clothes.
How did that make you feel? Like I wanted to go home.
But I don't have a home anymore, do I? You will.
You will, I'll help you find it.
Abigail, I'd like you to give the support group another chance.
Support groups are sucking the life out of me.
Well, isolation can suck just as much.
You have to find someone to relate to in this experience.
Hi.
–Do you have an appointment? –Do you have a beer? Interesting day with Abigail? Yeah, with grief work.
Trauma, intervention.
It's all on course.
I think she might be wrestling with a low grade depression.
She? Nothing wrong with a little self medication… right, Doctor? Professional neutrality be damned.
It's so hard to watch a bright young girl go so adrift.
Perhaps it's time Abigail is released from clinical treatment.
Released where? Back into the wild? Spending each day immersed in tragedy may be doing more harm than good.
She should be out in the world.
Finding her footing, giving her the confidence to move forward.
Abigail is in no condition to tackle her real world issues.
Where's she gonna live? –I'm not suggesting abandonment.
Hannibal, this is a girl who was very attached to her parents.
You stepping in as a surrogate, would only be a crutch.
I think Abigail needs to figure things out for herself in a safe… clinical environment.
And that will give her the confidence to move forward.
I defer to the passion of my esteemed colleague.
Passion's good.
Gets blood pumping.
I'm glad we didn't have guns in my house.
Would have shot my sisters just to get them out of the bathroom.
I liked having a big family.
My parents gave me a gift, a twin.
Who wouldn't want two of me? Let me guess… only child.
Why do you say that? Because family friction is usually a catalyst for personality development.
I was the oldest so… all the friction rolled downhill.
Yes, all the attention and responsibility is heaped on firstborn children.
Prepares them for… success in the future.
My babysister got away with murder.
She had them all fooled.
I thought middles were the problem.
Middle's the sweet spot.
Always trying to figure out where they fit in.
They can be great… politicians.
Or lousy ones.
All the victims have defensive wounds except for Mrs Turner.
There's forgiveness.
What kind of victim forgives their killer at the moment of death? A mother.
–Tell me about your mother.
–Some lazy psychiatry, Doctor Lecter.
Low hanging fruit.
I suspect that fruit is on a high branch.
Very difficult to reach.
–So is my mother.
Never knew her.
–An interesting place to start.
Tell me about your mother, let's start there.
Both my parents died when I was very young.
The proverbial orphan until I was adopted by my Uncle Robertos when I was 16.
You have orphan in common with Abigail Hobbs.
I think you'll discover that you and I have a great deal in common with Abigail.
She's already demonstrated an aptitude for the psychological.
There's something so foreign about family… like an ill-fitting suit.
I never connected to the concept.
You created a family for yourself.
I've only connected a family of strays, and thank you for feeding them while I was away.
I was referring to Abigail.
Tell me about the Turner family, were they affluent, well to do? They lived like they had money.
–Did your family have money, Will? –We were poor.
I followed my father from the boatyards of… Biloxi and Greenville, to lakeboats on Eerie.
Always the new boy at school, always the stranger.
Always.
What grudge was Mrs Turner's killer harboring against her? Motherhood.
Not motherhood.
A perversion of it.
A modified Boudin Noir from Ali Bab's Gastronomie Pratique.
You promised to deliver your wife to my dinner table.
Well we'll have to polish up our act, we can't have you diagnosing our marital problems all in one fell swoop.
What am I about to put in my mouth? –Rabbit.
–He should have hopped faster.
–Yes, he should have.
But, fortunately for us, he did not.
–Mmm mmm.
Our friend Will seems haunted today.
We don't know what nightmares lie coiled beneath Will's pillow.
Children killing other children is… not that unfamiliar a notion to Will.
He still suspects Abigail Hobbs in her father's crimes.
Perhaps the nightmare under Will's pillow… is that he was wrong about her.
Children transport us to our childhoods.
Will may feel the tug of life before the FBI, before you.
Simpler times in boatyards with dad.
That life is an anchor streamed behind him in heavy weather.
He needs an anchor, Jack.
One pair of size 6 sneakers from the Turner house.
The tread on left indicates uneven leg length.
–Is that unusual? –Mmm, not in a 12 year old.
Growth plates all out of whack.
Got one foot that's bigger, one leg that's longer, puberty in full effect.
How did Jesse Turner turn out? No one has seen him in over a year.
I extrapolated the present height and weight from abduction stats.
Even with the usual growth spurts between eleven and twelve, he'd be four and a half feet, eighty pounds tops.
God's gift to trace analysts.
Greasy fingerprints all over these things.
No matches but they're gorgeous.
Isolated seven pairs of shoe prints.
Filtered out the Turners' including Jesse's, so we're down to three unsubs, sneakers are sizes seven three and a half, and a boy's eleven.
The lost boy's.
I think I found one of them.
Most of the time in sexual assaults, the bite mark has a livid spot at the center, a “suck bruise.
” In some cases it does not.
For some killers biting may be a fighting pattern, as much as a sexual behaviour.
–Ok, class dismissed.
Everyone out! What did I just say?! Let's go! You're making it difficult to provide an education, Jack.
We found a match to a set of prints we pulled from the Turner home.
They belong to a thirteen year old boy from Reston, Virginia.
His name is Connor Frist.
–Another kid? –Another missing kid.
Vanished ten months ago, case was never solved.
–How many kids in the Frist family? –Three, just like the Turner family.
We're ready to go when you are, and you're ready to go now so, let's go.
You're expecting a crime scene.
Mr Frist and the children killed first, saving Mrs Frist for last.
Same as the Turners.
–Not exactly the same.
Something went wrong.
Not a single present under the tree for Mrs Frist.
He took her presents, he took her motherhood.
Shooting her once wasn't enough.
The first bullet, travels beneath her scalp… to its final resting place, base of her neck.
And it still didn't kill her.
Hydrostatic shock of shell hitting skull would have caused brain damage.
–Her body went into convulsions.
–He shot her again.
Put her out of her misery, different gun.
So, someone else shot Connor's mom.
So who is our additional corpse in the fireplace? I'd say Connor Frist.
He'd been prepped to shoot his mother, not watch her suffer.
Connor couldn't put his panic back in the bottle.
So he got shot too.
Whoever shot him… disowned him.
Don't be sad about Connor.
I guess I couldn't make him understand.
The family you're born into isn't really family.
Cause they're just people you didn't choose.
You have to make family, that's what we're doing, we're making our family.
What happened to your family? We're her family.
I meant… your other family.
The family you think is family, is just a stepping stone to real family.
Are you feeling ok, sweetie pie? He's fine.
You should be excited to go home.
Even if it is to say goodbye, 'cause we're your family now, Christopher.
You can only have one family.
Ever heard of Willard Wigan? He's this artist that does micro sculptures.
Like, putting the Obamas in the eye of a needle.
He's so focused that he can work between beats of his heart.
I guess archers do the same thing, right? Hmm? What are you looking at? Both these kids are small, underweight for their age.
You think there's a connection? I'm thinking possible ADHD diagnosis for both boys.
Ritalin, Focalin, any medication containing Methylphenidate can affect appetite and slow long-term growth in kids.
Another thing about Willard Wigan… he had a lonely childhood.
He used his tiny sculptures as an escape.
Who's Willard Wigan? Price got a hit on the ballistics matching program he's been running on the two family murders.
The bullet that put Mrs Frist out of her misery matches three used in a murder in Bangor, Maine a year ago.
Mother of a thirteen year old boy shot to death with her own gun.
Thirteen year old milk carton material.
C.
J Lincoln disappeared six months before his mother's murder.
He hasn't been seen since.
He has none of the characteristics of a sadist or a sociopath.
Right, no shoplifting, no malicious destruction of property.
No assault, no battery.
He was kind to animals, for God's sake.
Firearm says we are looking at Peter Pan to our lost boys.
But it takes a sophisticated level of manipulation to convince young boys to kill their families in cold blood.
Kindness to animals doesn't suggest that particular kind of sophistication.
Well, he's older, he's been out in the world.
Maybe he picked up a few things.
There you go.
Thank you so much.
Oh honey… Oh geez… Are you feeling OK, honey? You have a fever? You don't feel warm.
–Here you go, ma'am.
Oh thank you.
He hasn't done this before.
I'll pay for the napkins.
–Don't worry about it.
Oh honey, oh gee, whiz… I'm so embarrassed.
But you shouldn't feel embarrassed, this happens with little bladders, right? Right? Good evening, Will.
Please come in.
Has Christmas come early? Or late? –Was for Abigail.
–Was? I thought better of it, I wasn't thinking straight, I was upset when I bought it.
Maybe still am.
–What is it? –A magnifying glass.
Fly tying gear.
Teaching her how to fish.
Her father taught her how to hunt.
–That's why I thought better of it.
–Feeling paternal, Will? –Aren't you? Yes.
Our good friend Doctor Bloom has advised against taking too personal an interest in Abigail's welfare.
Tell me why are you so angry? I'm angry about those boys, I'm angry because I know when I find them, I can't help them.
I can't, I can't give them back what they just gave away.
Family.
Yeah.
We call them “The lost boys.
” Abigail's lost too.
And perhaps it's our responsibility… yours and mine to help her find her way.
I don't think I'm allowed to leave, after I climbed the fence.
I've made arrangements.
You could say I'm… one of your guardians.
–Where are we going? –Home.
My home.
I thought you might enjoy if I cooked for you.
I'll have you back before bedtime.
–Can't I spend the night? I don't like sleeping here, I have bad dreams.
–You have to sleep in your own bed.
–This isn't my bed.
Tell me about your bad dreams.
I had one where… Marissa was sending me picture texts.
Like crime scene photos of Nicholas Boyle.
Gutted.
–How you left him.
Even though she's dead, I'm afraid that Marissa's gonna tell everyone I killed him and they'll think I'm just like my dad.
Sorry.
Can't really talk about this, in group.
You don't have that luxury, Abigail.
I just have to get used to lying.
You only have to lie about one thing.
And when you're with me you don't have to lie about anything.
In the dream I wonder how I could live with myself.
Knowing what I did.
And when you're awake? When I'm awake, I know I can live with myself.
And I'll just get used to what I did.
Does that make me a sociopath? –No.
It makes you a survivor.
It's important to know when it's time to turn the page.
Have you thought about applying for schools? My dad killed girls at all the schools I applied to.
–Perhaps that can wait then.
–I wanna work for the FBI.
I would certainly feel safer if you were in the FBI… protecting my interests.
They wouldn't let me though, would they? Because of what my dad did.
Only if they believe that's in your nature too.
Nature versus nurture.
You're not your father's daughter, not anymore.
What if it weren't so painful anymore, to think of him? –My dad? –Yes.
Have you ever tried Psilocybin? –Mushrooms? That's what's in the tea? –Yes.
There are those psychiatrists who believe that altered states could be used to access traumatic memories.
I have all the access to traumatic memories I need.
Unlimited access.
Which is why we need to supplement them with positive associations.
No more bad dreams, Abigail.
–You want me to do drugs? –I want you to do this drug.
With my supervision it's quite safe.
Do you trust me? Bangor, Maine.
Stamford, Connecticut.
And recently Reston, Virginia.
This places each of the murders approximately five hundred miles from the one before it.
–Right.
You're trying to establish a geographical pattern, when the murders were weeks apart.
Other patterns too: our shooters are minors middle children from traditional affluent families.
We know they're moving South, so that means we wanna cover the border of North Carolina and Georgia.
We need to get files on every missing boy within two hundred miles of North Carolina.
–There's a pattern, less to do with geography than psychology.
What kind of kid does this? And what kind of kid follows a kid who does this? There's no indication that these kids came from abusive families.
No, no, no.
Capture bonding.
A passive psychological response to a new master has been an essential survival tool for a million years.
You bond with your captor, you survive.
You don't… you're breakfast.
Just like we talked about.
Doctor Bloom said this was okay? Not at all.
We often have a difference of opinion.
–More secrets for us.
–Well.
You and I will have many secrets.
Infusing Psilosybin into the bloodstream before psychotherapy… can illicit a positive, even spiritual experience for patients.
Psychological trauma is an affliction of the powerless.
I want to give you your power back.
I don't feel so good.
That feeling will pass.
Allow it to wash over you, through you.
Let me be your guide.
You're making breakfast for dinner? High life eggs.
A chef in Spain called Muro claimed he invented it in the 19th century.
Taste, is not only biochemical… it's also psychological.
Sausage and eggs was the last meal I was having with my parents.
I know.
It's also the first meal you're having with me.
Without the interference of a leader, these kids would never consider violent action.
Our missing kid is a boy.
A paradox in the midst of a normal family: he's an outsider who doesn't look like one.
He'd have a vocation.
Something inventive or mechanical.
Here's one.
Family moved from Biloxi to Charleston to Fayetteville in the last three years.
He won a junior high award for his work on pretty sophisticated computer circuitry.
Why do you think these kids are susceptible to C.
J Lincoln? 'Cause our boy may have a brother, but their ages or their interests keep them apart, so he's a brother without a brother.
Brothers looking for a mother.
They're killing the mothers last.
Yeah.
It's not just C.
J Lincoln.
There's an adult with some… formative sway.
It's a woman, a mother figure I think.
And she's looking to form a family.
A family can have a contagion effect on some people.
Influences them to adopt… similar behaviors and attitudes.
Whoever this woman is, she wants these children… to burst with love for her.
But… she has to erase their family to do that.
So she abducts them.
Convinces them no one can love them as much as she does, and then makes damn sure of it.
A security camera in… a convenient store in Alexandria, Virginia caught footage of one Chris O'Halloran this morning, he was with an unidentified woman.
–Where's this kid's parents? –Fayetteville, North Carolina.
–Christopher? –Hi, mom.
Oh, my God.
Chris.
No, no, no.
Down! Down on the ground right now! Chris, wait.
Don't shoot.
It's OK.
You're home now, put the gun down, Christopher.
Shoot him, Christopher.
Christopher.
Please.
Can I go home now? Well, I don't think you're gonna go home for a long time.
You came here to kill your family, that's all anybody knows.
It may be all that anyone ever believes.
I wasn't gonna do it.
Well, you're gonna have to talk to a lot of people about it.
And those people are gonna try and help you understand what you were really trying to do.
She told me… that they weren't my family… that we had to make our own family.
Do you have a family? I don't have any children, no.
Then you don't know what it's like.
Can I talk to my mom? My real mom.
In a little while.
But first I need you to talk to me.
As someone who makes such a big deal about common courtesy, I'm a little taken aback.
Slash a lot taken aback, that you would take my patient… my patient… out of the hospital without my permission.
And I'm not a professional scold… but don't put me in this position ever again.
I'm sorry.
Rude! Hannibal shockingly rude! You have every right to be upset with me.
I overstepped my bounds.
–Where is she? –She's in the dining room.
And, Alana… you were right.
Often am.
Have to be more specific.
She wasn't ready to leave the hospital, she… experienced a bit of anxiety so I gave her a sedative.
–Sedative? What did you give her? –I only gave her half a Valium, but she may be a little hazy.
–Hi, Doctor Bloom.
–Hello, Abigail.
You were expecting me? Please.
You hungry? Hannibal made breakfast for dinner.
I could eat.
What is it? Abigail.
What do you see? I see family.
Hello.
Think it's too late for us to have kids? It is for me.
Sub by GeirDM; sync, edits by tzot; corrections by snowman