The Alienist

Does this have something to do with Willem?

Why would he willingly go to his death?

Because he went with someone he trusted.

What was his name, the one with the silver smile?

Heights, he's attracted to heights.

Ask yourself why you seek the companionship

of strangers.

Ms. Howard, how did you cope with your father's suicide?

Kreizler, that's quite enough!

Are you not satisfied with my progress, doctor,

that you had to check up on me?

I'm here today as your pupil, madam.

I didn't know you had the imagination.

Please.

He's a foreman at the brewery.

Quite used to giving orders.

In here, he prefers taking them.

I've moved on from torturing helpless creatures.

I need your insight into someone.

Someone whose behavior you may be more familiar with than I.

And what is his or her particular predilection?

Inflicting pain.

You see these butterflies?

Beneath their beautiful wings is a whole array

of instruments used to inflict agony during coitus.

The connection between pain and pleasure

is far more common than you think.

The person I'm speaking of is certainly not common.

For one thing, I suspect he's aroused by the sight of blood.

If I counted the number of times I've brought

a prick to attention by drawing a drop of blood...

I'm not talking about a drop of blood,

rather the act of mutilation and stabbing.

The mind is the most erotic organ of the body, doctor.

Isn't that your domain?

In my experience, the man who enjoys

defiling women is usually dominated in his daily life,

while the man who is being beaten is probably a bully.

Take yourself.

With all your intelligence, you're most likely aroused

by someone for whom that intelligence means nothing.

Is that what he's looking for in his victims?

The opposite?

Of all the stories I told you when I was your patient,

which ones wormed their way into your mind,

kept you up at night?

Oh, come, doctor.

I don't believe you were completely unmoved.

I found your accounts of men's vulnerabilities

in particular interesting.

My "accounts of men's vulnerabilities"?

I recognized my own weakness, and it gave me pleasure.

Then there's your answer.

If your friend enjoys inflicting wounds,

there's a good chance he has wounds of his own.

The cripple in him is looking for the cripple in another.

Forgive me, madam.

Thank you for your help.

Commissioner Roosevelt!

He's here.

- Hyah! - Commissioner Roosevelt!

- Sir, sir! - Commissioner Roosevelt.

Mr. Roosevelt!

Have you anything to say about the fact

the dead boys were all immigrants?

There's rumors that you interfered

with the investigation by your own police department?

Commissioner, can you be trusted to protect the poor,

or just the elite?

Is it true the dead boy was dressed as a girl?

This is the second one, isn't it, sir?

- Stay back! - Get back!

The people deserve to know!

Just a moment. I'll connect you.

Might I have a word with the Commissioner, Miss Howard?

Commissioner.

Captain Connor would like a word.

You might want to stay for this, Miss Howard.

Sir, I just wanted to share a new piece

of evidence that's come to light.

It concerns these terrible boy-whore...

excuse me... child murders.

Took me a moment to know what I was looking at.

Thought maybe it was a lady's pocketbook or something.

But, uh, then I opened it up, and I seen these pictures.

Little dead boys.

It was then that I noticed these here initials.

J.S.M.

Can't figure it out for the life of me.

I thought maybe you'd get a team of your best detectives

to work on it straight away.

Maybe them smart Jewish boys could have a go.

Morning, Commissioner. Miss Howard.

Here, I found another one.

How far down do they go?

Um...

It appears they go all the way to the ground.

What do you think made these?

Lucius.

It's a piton.

It fits.

It would appear our killer is a climber.

Miss Howard?

Hello.

I'm looking for the Doctor.

He's not at the institute.

Uh, no, ma'am.

He's off in once his, uh...

trances.

Dr. Kreizler.

Dr. Kreizler.

Miss Howard?

The commissioner wanted me to give you this.

It's John's drawing kit.

Where did he... Captain Connor.

Moore said nothing about this.

He must have lost it at Castle Garden that night.

Won't you sit down?

I was sent on an errand, no more.

Miss Howard?

I wonder if you've given any more thought

to our last conversation?

I don't believe I have it in me to kill a child.

You might surprise yourself.

Please, sit down.

Do you see that woman there?

- Yes. - She's from a good family.

She was soon married and quickly gave birth to a boy,

and a year later, a girl.

If the purpose of this story is to annoy me,

then you've succeeded.

The purpose is to make the point

she's quite similar to you.

With the not-so-subtle distinction being

that she's married and has children.

She had children.

It was six months after the birth of her daughter,

in a seemingly inexplicable act,

that the young woman saw fit to submerge

both her children in a bathtub until they were drowned.

Owing to the wealth and influence of her family,

she was spared from being sent to prison or an institution.

However, instead of proper treatment,

she now walks the park daily, pushing an empty perambulator.

I can find no empathy for a mother who would take

the life of her own children.

But you understand the expectations

that our society bestows on women...

to marry, to have children,

to smile when you feel incapable of smiling.

If you can empathize with that, you know better

than most that that poor young woman

with an empty baby carriage did not form herself.

Rather, society formed her.

You say you cannot see the world

from the perspective of a child killer

because you could never kill a child.

I believe we all possess the raw material required

to commit horrible acts.

We just need the right or wrong combination of events

to make the raw material combustible.

I'm afraid I must be on my way.

Good day.

Hey, kid!

- Hey, it's my turn. - No, it's my turn!

Let's not fight.

What?

Welcome to The Golden Rule.

The Commissioner shut it down

as soon as we found the boy's identity.

It's disheartening to think they'd live

in squalor like this.

Oy, can't you read?

We're closed.

- We're here on police business. - Let me see your badges.

Perhaps you'd like to see the inside of 300 Mulberry?

You know, I've told you people all I know.

The dead kid was sold to me by his father

to pay off a gambling debt.

He's just another kid off the boat.

From where, I don't know.

He was from Syria.

His name was Ali ibn-Ghazi.

Is there a room with outside access?

One with windows?

This is a basement.

You do know what a basement is, don't you?

Detective Sergeant?

Did the boy use this room?

They all use it.

Mr. Moore! Our man was here, all right.

We found similar evidence at Castle Gardens.

Hemp strands. From a rope, I'd surmise.

I don't see any piton holes, but...

looks like he tied to this base and went down the shaft.

Up high, he can act with the confidence of the devil himself.

Not the devil.

God.

He's a saint.

Who are you?