Dexter

Previously on Dexter...

I've come to believe

that the killer could be one of my former patients.

He sent both packages to you.

Maybe he doesn't know how to find me.

- Yet. - Well, I need to get to him

before he gets to me.

- I've got my eye on Joey Quinn. - Quinn?

There's no way he can pass that sergeant exam.

He'll pass.

I stuck my neck out on the line for you.

You'd better not fuck this up.

Lieutenant Morgan?

- Is there a problem, officer? - Well, yes.

You're in a car, drunk, with an open container.

- Quinn. - Why did she call you?

She's a friend. I couldn't say no.

I mean, come on, you used to fuck her.

There is nothing going on between me and Deb.

I want to know if there was anything unusual

about my father's death.

He killed himself, Dexter.

Harry walked in on what he created,

and he couldn't live with himself.

Trust me when I say that there's a place in this world

for your son.

I told you, you're perfect.

How can you still say that

when you know what I've done to Deb?

I shot the wrong person in that trailer.

Your sister just confessed to killing LaGuerta.

What?

I'm telling the whole fucking truth!

There's nothing you can do to stop me!

- Deb, please. - Stop--!

I thought I could fix this, but you're right--I can't.

I just keep making her worse.

Do you really think you can help her?

Yes.

Stop!

Do it, Debra. Shoot him.

- - This is not who you are.

- You are a good cop. -

You're a good person.

You're not like him.

Put him down!

It's true.

Everything she said.

You're a good person.

It's okay. Do what you gotta do.

Dex...

Tell me what you saw.

I don't want to talk about it.

Debra, I brought you here so we can begin to strip away

the power this place holds over you.

Talking about it's not gonna change anything.

Neither is continuing to repress what happened here.

I'm not repressing shit.

And I sure as shit don't need you to remind me

about what happened here.

You know, Dexter's need to kill was born

in a container much like this one,

and he's been trapped inside its walls ever since.

As a psychopath, he will never be able to break free.

But you can,

by reliving the events of that night over and over--

I killed him.

I shot Dexter instead of LaGuerta.

That's what I saw.

Now, unless you're gonna fucking handcuff me again,

I'd really like to go.

When you shot Dexter, how did that make you feel?

Better. Worse. I don't fuckin' know.

What does--what does it even matter?

I mean, LaGuerta is still dead.

- What else could you have done? - Arrested him.

Splendid, now your brother is on death row. Go on.

- We could have run. - Only to eventually be caught.

You go to jail, Dexter gets the death penalty again.

Debra, you've become so obsessed with the life you've taken,

you've forgotten the life you saved.

Of course you're fucking defending him.

You fucking created him.

You're using him to track a serial killer.

This isn't about Dexter or me.

This is about you getting better.

Maybe I don't fucking want to get better.

I don't believe that.

Why the fuck should I even trust you?

Why the motherfuck do you even care?

Are you upset?

Yes, I am.

Good.

At least you're no longer avoiding your feelings.

We're done for now.

For today.

There are countless ways to inflict

physical trauma on the human body,

and sometimes the deadliest wounds

are the ones we barely see.

They run deep,

like the ones I've inflicted on Deb.

What are we looking at?

Well, most of the blows are to her face.

There's some bruising around the neck.

It doesn't look like there was much of a struggle.

No signs of a break-in.

Yeah, given the lack of defensive wounds

and the close proximity of her attacker,

I'd say you're looking for someone she knew

- we have a name? - Norma Rivera.

Landlord said she lived here by herself.

Just got off the phone with the vic's employer.

She was a housekeeper in Biscayne Bay.

- Nice zip code. - Yeah, um...

they all said she had an ex

in and out of her life, Roberto Sagastume.

Me and Miller can swing by his place.

He had a record.

It's good to see you taking the initiative,

like any good sergeant should.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Yo...

You got my test back?

You nailed it, bro.

Now wipe that stupid grin off your face before Miller sees it.

Yeah--no, I've just never been this happy

to get back a positive test, you know?

What does my sister see in you?

Half-pint. Before I forget,

there was this little hottie asking for you

back at the station earlier.

And you seem surprised, why?

Said she'd come by later.

They always come back for more.

Hey. Any word on Deb?

Yeah, Dr. Vogel says she's still day-to-day.

Let her know I was thinking about her.

I will.

She's gonna be okay.

Opening shop. A run.

Caffeine. All morning routines.

But lately, mine consists of coming here,

waiting for the woman I left my sister with

to do what I couldn't-- make Deb whole again.

- Thank you. - How is she?

Well, you still remain the focal point

of your sister's pain.

- I want to see her. - No, I think it's better

you continue to keep your distance for now.

It's been almost a week.

Dexter, I am still not sure

if your sister has hit rock bottom yet.

What is it?

I just want you to prepare for the possibility

that Debra may never be able to have you back in her life.

No.

I won't... just let her go.

So, have you had better luck with our killer?

I crossed off three more former patients from your book.

Who's next on the list?

- Chapter seven. - A.J. Yates.

I'll check back in once I check him out.

A.J. Yates.

According to Vogel's book, he attacked a classmate

with a chair at 12.

Institutionalized at 15.

Seems Vogel tried to channel his violent tendencies,

but he was beyond her help.

Eventually, he was transferred to another hospital.

Now Yates seems to be a productive member of society.

He's a bundler-- cable, phone, Internet.

But I need to know if murder is part of the package.

There's nothing here.

Nothing in Vogel's notes about brain surgery.

His scar.

Is that the mark of one of her "unconventional methods"?

Thanks for letting me use the treadmill.

Better you than me.

I'm not much for running in place.

Is that your shrink way of saying that I have been?

Is it? Care for some tea?

How about something stronger?

Come on, I just ran four miles.

What's one beer?

The drinks and the drugs were keeping you numb,

making the symptoms of your PTSD worse.

Ass off the table.

How long are you expecting me to stay here?

I see a lot of your father in you.

Harry wrestled with the same doubts regarding Dexter.

You're not as alone as you might think.

Honestly, I don't see what the problem is.

He had everything laid out on his bedroom floor.

Dexter saw in the paper

how this guy got off on a technicality,

so he was stalking him, vetting him.

Even found a kill room