Previously on Dexter...
Tonight's the night.
And it's going to happen again and again...
Has to happen.
There he is.
He's the one.
You're mine now, so do exactly as I say.
- You better be a cop. - No. Forensics.
There is no blood near the body. It's the weirdest thing you ever saw.
I've never seen such clean, dry, neat-looking dead flesh.
How does the killer get rid of the blood?
One of these days, you're gonna tell me.
I told you blood spatter doesn't take up all my time.
- How was your date with Rita last night? - Great.
She's perfect because Rita is,
in her own way, as damaged as me.
Open your eyes and look at what you did!
- Please, you have to understand. - Trust me. I definitely understand.
- Hello? - What are you doing now?
Just finishing up a project, but I'll come by later.
- They found another hooker. - Another?
The third one in five months.
- Third? You mean there's a... - A serial killer, right.
There are people out there who do really bad things.
Learn how to spot them. I can teach you.
The killer flayed the skin, the flesh, completely off. Now, why would he do that?
He's experimenting to find the right way.
He's certainly raising the bar. Damn, this guy is good.
The killer is an artist.
You give me the fucking creeps, you know that?
Yeah, I know. Sorry about that.
But now we have a fourth body, and the cuts were different.
That's telling us a story. The ritual is changing.
I'd like to check and see if any refrigerated trucks
have been stolen in the last week or so.
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.
I think this is a friendly message.
"Hey, wanna play?"
And, yes, I wanna play. I really, really do.
I dream.
I dream I'm floating on the surface of my own life,
watching it unfold, observing it.
I'm the outsider, looking in.
Yeah!
Oh, you want to play, man? Come on!
In the water!
Look at them. They can laugh and play.
It comes so easily for them.
Even though I'm not one of them,
even though sometimes I can really be a monster...
today, I'm just...
a sea monster.
Soon enough, I'll have to go back to doing what I do...
so I make a point of enjoying days like this when I have them.
Just a second.
The ice-truck killer left me a gruesome souvenir.
Explaining it could be kind of...
awkward.
- Hey. - Bagels, brother. Let me in.
Could it be more depressing in here?
Got anything to drink? It's hot as hell out there.
OJ?
With ice.
So, how you doing?
I'm fine.
Yeah, things are fine.
Breakfast, which I already had, was fine, but you know me, I'm always hungry.
So, what's up, hotshot?
All right, get this.
Lieutenant's looking for that refrigerated truck
in every swamp, glade, and chop shop from here to the Keys.
But the way I see it...
that whackjob truck driver threw a severed head at your car.
It's not as if he's shy.
You think he hid the truck in plain sight, wanting it to be found?
I could answer that if LaGuerta didn't have me back with my hookers.
- That truck is your ticket into Homicide. - Tell me about it.
Just because LaGuerta has you looking for hookers on her time
- doesn't mean you can't look for the truck... - On my time.
- What's with these? - I've got court.
Why is it we never talk brother-sister stuff?
Our dad was a cop. You're a cop. I work for the cops.
For us, this is brother-sister stuff.
Brings out your eyes.
First he throws a severed head at me,
then he leaves me these doll parts,
like pieces of a puzzle.
I like puzzles.
But there's nothing more frustrating than putting a puzzle together
and finding that it still doesn't make sense.
Please state your name and occupation.
My name is Dexter Morgan, and I'm a forensics specialist
in blood-spatter analysis for the Miami Metro Police Department.
And how long have you been doing blood-spatter analysis?
Almost 12 years.
You've been involved in quite a few cases.
2,103.
Give or take.
No, 2,103.
Then it's safe to say blood is your life.
Safe to say.
Unlike the other guys down at the station,
I love coming to court to rub shoulders with the good people of the Sunshine State...
and Sasquatch.
In a courthouse, everyone's on their best behavior...
like they're being watched.
And they are.
Some people would look at this family and see only tragedy and heartbreak.
But I see so much more than that.
I'll do this, OK?
I see opportunity.
Alexander Pryce finished his homework, kissed his mom, went out for a jog.
He told her he'd be back in time to take out the trash cans. Just another night, until...
until the defendant not only struck him with his car, but fled the scene,
leaving Alexander Pryce alone and dying for hours
before his body was found the next morning.
From heinous to unspeakable.
The people will prove that not only did Mr. Chambers
strike and kill Alexander Pryce,
but did so while once again under the influence of alcohol.
Happy birthday, Alex!
- Thank you. - Rip right into it.
What?
Yeah. Hope it's money.
Yeah, you wish.
Thanks, guys. It's like 80 degrees out.
But next year at this time, we're coming to visit you at Harvard.
- It's everything I've ever wanted for you. - Thanks, Dad.
All right, enough corniness.
I see their pain.
On some level, I even understand their pain.
I just can't feel their pain.
It's a matter of time before we see how far Matt Chambers' crocodile tears get him.
But until then...
a little of my favorite tropical fruit.
The perfect driving food next to a pulled-pork sandwich.
Also, I can keep my energy up for the day job.
Detective!
Did we get an ID?
First on scene pulled the wallet. We're still waiting.
Hello, Dex.
Our boss - Lieutenant LaGuerta.
In keeping with her total sense of entitlement, she has this attraction to me.
And I thought I was creepy.
Given the skin rupture and the secondary spatter, distance had to be a 50, 60ft drop.
The eastbound's only 40ft.
It's not high enough for this kind of damage.
Best guess, originating point is the westbound causeway.
Hey! Get me a team on the westbound causeway!
She's good.
Angel, look at this.
I think there's something in his mouth.
Medic!
Ah, it's just a death rattle. He's gonzo.
You better check out my friend, too. No telling what this guy might have had.
This is what he had.
Call me crazy, Angel, but I think this is human flesh.
Hooked up with Sean last night.
The cable guy Sean?
Oh, God, no.
He smelled like cheese.
- So the mechanic Sean? - Yep.
He came over.
We opened a bottle of pinot grig'.
We finished a bottle of pinot grig'.
Before I knew it, we were...
Stop that.
- You don't want to hear this, do you? - No.
But if you two are getting serious, I'd love to meet him.
Why don't you and Sean the mechanic
join me and Rita the girlfriend for dinner tomorrow night?
Why? So you can tell me later he's not good enough for your little sister?
Don't. You're the one who was going on about brother-and-sister stuff.
That becomes brother-and-sister double-dating? What goes on in your head?
Come on. It'll be fun.
All right, we'll go, but I'm not promising we'll have fun.
Not now.
What crawled up his ass?
He hates lab rats.
Well, here's a headline... It's lab rats that make us cops look good.
OK, listen up.
We just got an ID on the body from under the causeway.
His name is Ricky Simmons.
He was a cop.
- Let me ask you something. - Yeah.
When we were partners, you used every excuse in the book
to get out of making a next-of-kin notification.
I knew Ricky from the department softball team. He was a good guy, a good cop.
It's the least I could do.
Motherfucker!
Call it in!
3H-77 to dispatch. We need EMT and police backup now.
I'll check the house.
Kara, it's me. It's James.
You're OK.
Hey, it's me.
It's OK.
This is so fucked-up, man.
Going after a cop's family...
- Who would do such a thing? - That's why we're here.
But it's still fucked-up.
They say Ricky Simmons was under deep cover in Carlos Guerrero's family.
All right. Thanks.
He'd been working the gig for ten months and everything was good.
But this, going after his wife...
Guerrero's crossing a whole new line.
Now he's gone and pissed off the entire Miami Police Department.
- Is there any word on the wife? - She should be in surgery by now.
There's an inconsistency somewhere.
- And that would be? - I'm not sure,
but it's the answer to a question we haven't thought of yet.
Look.
- Whose is it? - Probably hers.
Ricky Simmons, her husband, last number dialed.
I got it.
Good work, Angel.
- Well, actually, it was Dexter. - Sergeant?
98, 99, 100!
Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new world record!
Stop it!
Can't stop. Must tickle.
Got to hear the magic word!
I have your magic word right here - chocolate chip.
- Cookies! - Homemade.
OK, you guys, take your cookies into the bedroom.
- Two each. - But you never let us eat in our bedroom.
Well, I want some alone time with Dexter.
- Are you gonna kiss him? - Actually, yes.
Cool.
Gross!
Cookie?
I wuv cookies.
You're snarfing them down like the cookie monster.
No, this isn't snarfing. This is eating with enthusiasm.
Tell me about your day.
I had court, you know, the blood thing.
And then a crime scene and more blood.
- I don't know how you do it. - Well, blood is...
My life.
my job.
Lately, the thing that surprises me most about Rita
is how much I like being with her.
But whenever that happens with a woman,
when I feel comfortable with her, it all goes wrong.
That's why I think it's best to take it one step at a time.
Hey, you know, Deb has been all over me for us to get together with her new boyfriend.
You think you can get a baby-sitter some night?
You mean an actual grown-up meal?
I'd love that. Pick a date.
I pick you.
And I pick my sister to chaperone.
Sister.
So, Miami's the haystack,
and the ice truck's the needle, right?
OK.
Then brother, I just found the fucking needle.
How did you find it?
I put the word out with patrol, the hide-in-plain-sight thing.
Juan Pierre flagged this one and called me.
This is a busy street. Anyone see the driver?
The restaurant manager said it was here when he opened. Is this the one you saw?
I feel like a kid at his own surprise party. This is the same truck.
It's hard to say. It all happened so fast.
Let's go on a nonforensic-geek limb here and say that it is. Why is it still running?
It keeps the back compartment refrigerated.
Holy shit, they're fucking fingertips.
Clean slices, no blood.
My guess is he drained the body entirely before these cuts were made.
How did he do that? Some kind of pump?
No.
I had Forensics do a work-up on our last victim.
Our guy's old school.
He hoists the body up, severs the jugular.
The heart does all the work.
It's the most effective method, really.
Fucking butcher.
There are 206 bones in the human body.
He could have left any one of them.
But he gave us exactly what we need to identify the victim,
like he's leaving a trail of bread crumbs.
Who made the find?
Officer Morgan.
Harry's daughter?
Must be in the genes, her and her brother.
This truck's a good get. It's their first solid lead.
I encourage all my officers to think outside the box.
Well, nice work, Lieutenant.
I got the Deputy Mayor.
Congratulate Morgan for me.
Another beautiful Miami day,
mutilated corpses with the chance of afternoon showers.
Chalk one up for Miami Metro, eh, ma'am?
Last time I checked, Morgan, I'm the lieutenant,
which means my officers keep me apprised at all times on all things.
You pull a stunt like that again, it won't matter who your father was.
OK?
Dude, is this blood?
It's chocolate. It's on your shirt, too.
It's a new shirt.
- What is taking so long? - It's a big truck.
They won't find anything, not even a tic tac.
He's thought all this through.
I know I would.
- Your famous hunches telling you anything? - Ice-cold.
You're a goddamn riot. This fucking guy's toying with us.
Deb's right. This truck's not another piece of the puzzle.
They are.
Watching ice melt. This is fun.
Stand closer, Morgan, and I'll melt your heart.
I think he's got a crush on you, Dex.
Yo, I was talking to Morgan the sister. Vince Masuka only swings one way.
Yeah, from vine to vine.
Enough.
I'm glad to see the sexual harassment seminar really paid off.
This is seriously fucked-up, my friends.
Why go to all this trouble?
What's this sick son of a bitch trying to tell us?
Not "us". Me.
My freezer, the painted doll's fingernails...
I think he's trying to impress me.
And it's working.
What, a man can't call his wife three times in one day?
Kiss my baby and tell her, "Daddy be home para la cena."
I'm getting another call.
Yeah, te amo.
Batista.
I'll be there in two minutes.
She's still in surgery.
The doctors are hopeful.
Ice-truck killer returns, dead undercover cop.
It's a typical day in the neighborhood.
You got to hear this.
Ricky, where the fuck are you?
I'm gonna try for the back door.
Oh, fuck, he saw me!
Oh, please don't hurt me!
Lieutenant. National database kicked back the DNA match.
Norberto Cervantes.
Let me see that.
- Get down! - Police! Put your hands up! Police!
- Get them down! - Down!
Put your fucking hands up! Put your hands up!
- Is that necessary? - It's a dangerous world, Guerrero.
Yes, and one can't be too careful, Detective.
Yes, I-I've had alc...
Problems with alcohol in the past. I never tried to hide that.
But...
you heard from my AA sponsor.
I've been sober for over a year now, so...
Look, I... I'm not disputing that it was my car...
that hit Mr. Pryce.
But...
I reported it stolen hours before the accident.
Men like Matt Chambers know how to pull on the invisible mask of sympathy,
even empathy,
and otherwise right-thinking people don't stand a chance.
I knew it.
"Not guilty."
Matt Chambers may have found a way to beat the system...
but so have I.
Ricky, where the fuck are you?
Oh, fuck, he saw me!
Oh, please don't hurt me!
The way we see it, you're in on the kill of Ricky Simmons,
but that's not enough for you or for Guerrero.
Ricky is dead?
- That saddens me. - Shut the fuck up!
Wait, you're not implying that Ricky Simmons was a cop, are you?
I'm truly disappointed.
Not only do I have a dead cop,
someone broke in his house and shot his wife.
Word out in the world, Sergeant...
Simmons's wife was fucking around.
Maybe he tried to kill the bitch himself,
and felt so bad about it, he committed suicide.
A cop murder-suicide.
It's a health crisis for you guys, ain't it?
You think it's a fucking coincidence your ass is in here?
We got you on the causeway the morning Ricky Simmons died!
- Bullshit. - We don't deal in bullshit.
We deal in good police work.
And good science.
You must have been a motherfucker at cat's cradle.
I never played it.
OK, Kara Simmons was shot while she was running. Her phone call tells us that.
She was running towards the back door. There. She turns.
The shooter sees her. She's shot high on the chest.
It spins her around, spraying blood on the walls there and there.
She loses her cellphone.
She struggles to the coffee table, the couch, and then she finally falls back there.
She never got this far.
It's not her blood.
Angel, meet our shooter.
DNA of Cervantes' flesh in Ricky Simmons' mouth.
DNA from a rogue drop of blood we found at the Simmons' house.
Tell me you're sure about this.
100 per cent.
That puts Cervantes at both crime scenes.
- Let's nail his coffin and ship it. - Hang on, Sergeant.
We get him to roll over on Guerrero, and we own them both.
You're talking about throwing him a deal? Then what, he walks?
If he does, we pick him up on other charges. If he gets us Guerrero, it's win-win.
Gets us Guerrero? We can't catch the guy, he's un-fucking-touchable!
Come on, Lieutenant. We already got a win.
It's not about your win.
It's about the big picture.
I've seen this before.
Whenever a cop is killed,
it's like everyone's life has been stopped in mid-sentence.
Davey Sanchez was a fearless and dedicated cop.
Davey Sanchez was a son, a husband and a father.
Davey Sanchez was my partner.
Davey Sanchez was my hero.
That was great.
What, Dad?
Ever since Davey was killed, my world feels out of control.
How do you fix it?
Two ways, I guess...
Honor Davey's memory...
and catch the bastard who did this to him.
It's not about vengeance.
It's not about retaliation...
or balancing the books.
It's about something deep inside.
My father had more than his share of pain,
but he didn't deal with it the way most people do.
Happy hour. Now, there's a misnomer.
I'll have what he's having.
Wise choice.
You celebrating?
Something like that.
Hey, have we met?
I doubt it. I just moved down here.
I needed a new start.
- Girlfriend or boyfriend? - Ex-wife.
She said I drank too much.
Hence the "ex" part.
- Fuck her. - Man, she was all over me to change,
like she never done anything wrong in her life...
- besides marrying me. - We all make mistakes.
Unfortunately, mine usually involve lawyers.
God! Damn it!
I thought I was the only one who hated the Hurricanes.
- I take it you didn't grow up in Miami. - No, I've had to move around some.
Say no more.
But home is where my ass is.
I'm getting mine out of town.
Enjoy Miami.
Remember, there's nothing a new city can't cure.
- You got that right. - Hey, thanks, buddy.
Next one's on me.
- You sure you're good to drive? - Been a lot worse.
I sure hope he doesn't go out there and kill himself.
That would be... tragic.
Matt Chambers is accused of committing a crime in Florida.
He was arrested in Florida and he's being tried in Florida.
So the good people of Florida only went as far as validating their own assumptions
that Matt Chambers is a Florida bad guy.
"Nothing a new city can't cure."
My father taught me one thing above all others - to be sure.
And I am.
Matt Chambers, Miami is your last stop.
If God is in the details, and if I believed in God,
then he's in this room with me.
I just wish he'd brought an extension cord.
It's James.
We're gonna get the bastard who did this to you.
This guy is just toying with us and LaGuerta's too fucking dumb to see it.
Deb was saying that this psycho guy cut off that chick's fingertips.
Man, that's got to suck, right?
Guerrero taking home lobsters to boil alive.
That's not his style.
He usually leaves the killing to someone else.
So, how long have you two been going out?
A couple weeks, I guess.
Deb never mentioned how you met.
Well, she brought her car into my shop, and...
- You have your own place? - No, but I wish I did.
Someday, huh?
Dex, enough with the inquisition.
No, it's all right.
If I had a sister with legs like yours, I'd be checking out the dude she was seeing, too.
Is this guy a keeper or what?
Come on. I'll get you another drink.
Are you guys good?
Yep.
Seems like a nice guy.
They could barely keep their hands off each other.
I can kill a man, dismember his body,
and be home in time for Letterman.
But knowing what to say when my girlfriend's feeling insecure...
I'm totally lost.
Off your ass, Cervantes. Hands behind your back.
Walk backwards and assume the position.
Step away.
Exit the cell.
Where are we going?
The call came down. They want you moved to a more secure block.
You think the call to take care of me came down from the warden?
Who the fuck do you think the warden listens to?
Get used to it.
This is from Mr. Guerrero.
New claims for US unemployment benefits fell unexpectedly 273,000 last week,
pushing the four-week average claim to the lowest level in nearly six years.
Initial claims for state jobless aid fell 11,000 in the week just ended.
Every time a woman tries to do this to me, it...
tickles.
Still, it's not entirely unpleasant.
What?
The kids.
Oh, they sleep through thunderstorms.
I'm sorry.
Tell me.
I can't do this.
That's OK.
I'm OK.
We have an elephant in the room, and its name is "sex."
Tell me about it.
Hey, as far as I'm concerned, it can just stay in the corner
and mind its own damn business.
It's easier said than done.
Yeah.
But it needs to be right...
for both of us.
Or it won't be right for either of us.
I don't want that. Do you?
No.
You know...
I can't believe I found the one good, truly decent man left on the planet.
was found dead in a basement hallway of the Miami Metro jail.
Norberto Cervantes was a known associate of reputed drug lord Carlos Guerrero.
Speculation is that another inmate
is responsible for the mayhem here tonight.
Notice how the skin is gloving around the joints?
- And that is important because? - A sure sign of postmortem severance,
meaning the victim was already dead when she was relieved of her fingertips.
Why the different nail polishes? What is this guy thinking?
He's thinking, "Tag, Dexter, you're it."
I don't know. Do you have an ID?
- Sherry Taylor, another hooker. - At least he's consistent.
Yeah.
Killing young women that have to sell their bodies just to survive...
or feed their kids.
My sister puts up a front so the world won't see how vulnerable she is.
Me, I put up a front so the world won't see how vulnerable I'm not.
I don't care who these fingertips belong to,
only what my new friend out there is trying to say.
Morgan. The captain wants you.
Her.
You wanted to see me, sir?
Lieutenant LaGuerta has something she wants to tell you.
Officer Morgan, you've shown tremendous initiative these last few days.
Because of you, we were able to track down that ice truck,
and we now have an ID on the latest victim.
The captain believes you should be reassigned from Vice to Homicide.
And I concur. Congratulations.
You're a good cop, like your old man.
Thank you, sir!
- Thank you so much. - I see a detective shield in your future.
I won't let you down, sir.
I hope you know what you're doing.
I promoted you, didn't I?
Now find me this ice-truck son of a bitch.
- OK? - OK.
OK.
Burning the oil?
I clocked out.
Why are you going at this so hard?
Someone comes after one of us, he comes after all of us.
I know that look, Maria. You got something to say, just say it.
I just got off the phone with the hospital.
Kara Simmons suffered massive heart failure 30 minutes ago.
I got to be there.
James, she died.
Was Cervantes right?
Was Kara sleeping with someone other than Ricky?
Was it you?
- What the fuck were you thinking? - What the fuck business is it of yours?
My cops, my precinct, my business!
Kara was gonna ask Ricky for a divorce as soon as he came off undercover.
She didn't want to...
She didn't want to hurt him when he was on the case.
If I go by the book, I take you off the case.
Fuck the book.
- There's nobody more motivated to get... - Revenge?
Justice.
Take point on Guerrero.
Thanks.
In slaughterhouses, they stun the animals before butchering them.
It's the humane thing to do.
Those animals...
they're the lucky ones.
"Brother, meet me at Loco's Crab Shack.
"Totally important. Do not let me down. Deb."
Gone to rest his weary head.
The good news is he'll still be here
when I come back for our own personal happy hour.
God, these are so good.
Not as good as your good news.
My little sister's all growed-up and transferred to Homicide.
And the best part...
LaGuerta had to say the actual words.
- I thought her head would explode. - I'm really proud of you.
You had my back the whole way, and I appreciate it.
I mean that. You're the best.
And that's why I wanted to share this moment with you.
So, Sean was busy?
It turns out there's another woman.
Who?
Me.
Sean the mechanic is married?
Imagine me picking the wrong guy, huh?
And you and he are...
So over.
I dumped his married ass.
I just wish I could get into a healthy relationship like you and Rita,
without the drama and the tension and the uncertainty.
Yeah, I'm a lucky guy.
Jesus, Dad, it's called being on time! Did you ever hear of it?
I was having a bad day.
- The captain and I had a discussion. - Well, maybe you sh...
Wait. What kind of bad day?
It's about the guy who killed Davey, isn't it?
The judge said the bust wasn't righteous and let him walk.
Bad guy kills a cop and nothing happens?
That's not fair.
Life's not fair, Dexter.
Can't anyone do anything?
Can't you do something?
No, not now.
So what, then?
The world just keeps spinning out of control?
No.
The world can always be set right again.
Bad guy kills a cop, and nothing happens?
Not anymore.
Be back in a sec.
- I'm running the gamut here emotion-wise. - Nature calls.
All the planning, the making sure...
does it go away because I have a chance
to rid the world of a cop-killer and balance the books?
Do I just ignore everything my father taught me about how to do this right,
about how to stay safe so I can do it again?
Yep.
I don't give a shit about your goddamn problems.
I gave you a job. You take care of it.
What the fuck you looking at?
Happy birthday, Alex!
But next year at this time...
It's you.
And you.
Thanks, Dad.
All right, enough corniness.
We meet again...
for the last time.
I didn't do anyth... anything.
Some people believe that.
The problem is, I don't.
But it's true. I was... I was set up.
By whom?
That... that family.
They needed someone to blame. It's a natural thing to do when you're grieving.
So then none of this is your fault?
I swear.
OK! OK! OK! No!
OK. OK. Stop.
All right.
OK, OK.
It...
It was me, only it wasn't me.
It was the booze.
It takes me over.
That's a point of view to which I'm not entirely unsympathetic.
Neither you nor I is in complete control of our destinies.
Although, at the moment, it would seem I have the upper hand.
Really, I'm so sorry.
You've done this too many times to be sorry.
Carlos Guerrero has chosen to live in a dangerous world.
That's his truth.
My truth is that world doesn't need me to balance its books.
Matt Chambers, welcome to your last change of address.
You'll like it here.
You and your neighbors have so much in common.
The worst thing about finally putting together a puzzle
is finding there are missing pieces.
He came back and left nothing behind but a message,
"Come find me."
And I will.
There are no secrets in life...
just hidden truths that lie beneath the surface.