Prodigal Son

Malcolm?

Malcolm, listen to me.

I want you to remember something, okay?

You're...

You're my son...

and I love you.

I will always love you.

Because we're the same.

Get him out of here.

Tonight, the serial killer known as The Surgeon

may finally be behind bars.

The NYPD arrested Dr. Martin Whitly...

...In connection to at least 23 murders.

Neighbors say their relief is mixed with shock

that one of New York's most prominent families

may have produced a monster.

Our suspect's in there, Special Agent.

They're amazing.

The cicadas.

That noise protects them.

Mimics a predator's own sounds.

Her killer feels safe when he hears it.

Special Agent, Claude Springer is in there.

He's got hostages.

Great, let's go get him.

Move! Clear!

Dad...

can I ask you something?

Well, yes, of course, Malcolm.

Why did you Kill all those people?

Uh...

That...

Uh, well...

I'm not sure I know the answer...

if there even is one.

But...

I have some time on my hands.

Maybe we can figure it out...

together.

They call you a monster.

On TV, the kids at school...

Are you?

Oh, no, my boy.

There's no such thing as monsters.

Agent Bright, what's your 20?

This is Bright, I found the hostages. They're alive.

Whoa, hey, Claude.

-How'd you find me? -Short version?

Oh, your victims.

Their skin was smooth, untouched, identical...

and it hit me you chose them the way a butcher would,

someone who was raised in a slaughterhouse.

You were sent here when you were, what, 11?

A ward of the state?

This is where you were made.

I was "made"?

No one's born broken.

Someone breaks us.

How?

If you put the gun down, I can tell you.

That's good.

I did it.

I got him!

He put it down!

No, no, no, he did not.

-You murdered him. - I just killed a serial killer.

I'm a damn hero!

A cold-blooded hero.

Hey, don't you get it twisted.

I just saved your life, son.

I am not your son.

I get it. You don't punch a sheriff.

Even if it's not an official rule, it's definitely unspoken.

It's both.

Special Agent Bright, this report is damning.

You ignored protocol, intimidated everyone who said no to you,

and pissed off every cop between here and Tennessee.

Well, all in all, that's, like, four good cops, so...

We have sign-off from DOJ. You're fired.

What?

I found Claude Springer. I saved those people.

I'm sorry, Bright.

We're afraid you might suffer from certain psychotic inclinations

not unlike your father's.

Your complex PTSD, the narcissistic tendencies.

I mean, you ran into that slaughterhouse with zero regard for your own safety.

Just so you know, The Surgeon,

he's not a psychopath, he's a predatory sociopath.

Not that you should know the difference, it's only your job!

Next time you call someone crazy...

ask for their gun first.

Dahmer, Gein, Kemper. I just keep coming back to the thought,

"What if psychopathy is not a disease?

What if it's a kind of genius?"

Genius?

Come on, Dahmer wasn't that smart.

His fridge was so packed with body parts that

he didn't even have room for groceries.

Those were the groceries.

I should get going.

It's so much fun to talk shop.

You know, I cherish these sessions.

I'm intrigued by the criminal mind.

Oh, please. We talk about murder the way most people talk about sports.

It's more than that.

I see the tremors are back.

It's nothing.

You know, I once had a patient who had a psychogenic tremor.

What do you have to tell me?

I applied to Quantico.

The FBI?

And you think they'll trust you?

Your father's a serial killer.

What I'm saying is...

this is over.

Over?

No.

No, I need you.

You're my only connection to the world out there.

I'll be cut off. Please, please, please, Malcolm, no.

Don't do... This is not what I want!

Maybe that's a good thing!

You can't leave me.

This is wrong.

I haven't seen you in ten years.

This isn't real.

I left you.

I walked out of here.

I won't let you go.

Remember...

we're the same.

I can see clearly now The rain is gone

Morning, sunshine.

Sleep well?

I can see all obstacles in my way

“I'm willing to let go and trust myself."

“I'm willing to let go and trust myself."

All right, good one.

They fired you... because of Dad?

I mean, it's not fair.

You haven't seen him in years.

Ains, I'm fine.

Honestly.

Are you having nightmares?

You know, I'm lucky...

I was only five when Dad was arrested.

I don't really remember it, but...

I remember you...

telling me everything was gonna be okay even when you knew it wasn't.

Hey.

This is a good thing.

A fresh start. Forget about the FBI and all of those serial killers.

Right. So you're saying I should take a break from murder?

Yes, exactly.

Oh, here. Hold this.

It's probably just work. I got a report on a thing.

-Oh? Another Ainsley Whitly exclusive? -No.

Just some white-collar crap.

Remember...

you're taking a break.

Thanks, Ains.

Bright!

Gil?

What are you doing here?

Heard you were back, city boy.

You know, it's not nice to sneak home and not tell your friends.

Oh, | have friends??

I missed you, too, kid.

What's the matter? You got that spooked puppy-dog look going on.

Uh...

No, just some white-collar crap.

My sister just lied to me.

Her autonomic tells always give her away.

A reporter lying? I can't believe it.

She didn't want me to know she was covering a murder.

Which, if she has a murder important enough to cover--

Then I've got a murder important enough to track down your crazy ass.

I need a profiler.

Come on.

You know the FBI fired me, right?

Good thing I'm NYPD.

I told you you weren't an FBI guy.

When are you gonna learn to listen to me?

Well, let's just not mention, um...

That your dad's a serial killer?

Don't worry. My lips are sealed.

Victim's name is Vanessa Hobbs. Mayor's office keeps calling.

We got a VIC on our hands.

Very important cadaver.

Medical examiner did a drive-by. Here's what I got.

I'll take that. Thank you.

Dani Powell, this is Malcolm Bright.

Psychologist, forensic profiler, acquired taste.

Gil, housekeeper found the body this morning.

Vanessa Hobbs was 43, unmarried and rich.

Just my type.

-So, you're a necrophiliac? -What? No.

Who's this guy?

JT, Bright. Bright, JT. You're not gonna like each other.

Good to know. Excuse me.