( heart pounding )
( sighs )
( heartbeat continues )
( steady breathing )
( heartbeat quickens )
We have an ID on this one?
Mark Herlan, 39.
A single medium-caliber r*fle round to the chest.
Any witnesses?
Lady gardening, mom with her kid.
Neither one heard the sh*t.
I'm pulling some uniforms to canvass the neighborhood, to see if we can get a lock on where the sh*t came from.
I don't think that's going to be necessary.
These numbers -- size of the wound, angle of entry, position of the body -- they already tell you what you need to know.
See, ballistic trajectories are fundamentally simple.
They're the result of only two physical forces: vertical and horizontal velocity.
Calculating trajectories with precision requires taking into account many variables: wind speed and direction, atmospheric pressure, temperature, humidity, inclination of g*n, density of the projectile.
So I've done some rough calculations of trajectory models based on the b*llet's angle of impact, wind speed and direction.
I approximate that our sn*per fired from right around here.
This spot here. See? Uh-huh.
Actually, it was more like here.
Ah, Agent Edgerton.
Bureau told you I was coming?
Yeah. I'm the one who requested you. Thanks for coming.
He's a sn*per instructor from Quantico.
Needed a different perspective.
What makes you think he fired from your location?
Well, your location assumes he's a good sh*t.
I say he's just an okay sh*t who got lucky.
What kind of empirical evidence are you basing that assumption on?
300-yard plink, and he goes for center mass, torso sh*t.
Good sn*per bothers to get this close, it's to spread a man's brains across the sidewalk.
Oh, yeah, and, uh, there's this, too.
See how the grass is b*rned from the muzzle flash?
This waffling in the dirt?
Right. Like he used something for support, right?
Yeah, I'm thinking a duffel or his jacket.
But yours was a good guess, too.
Wasn't a guess; it was more of an estimate.
Anything else?
Yeah, he's gonna do it again.
How do you know that?
Thing about sn*pers?
We love it.
And that's not a guess, either; it's a fact.
We all use math every day... to predict weather... to tell time...
( echoes ): to handle money...
Math is more than formulas and equations.
It's logic.
Math is more than formulas and equations.
It's rationality.
It's using your mind to solve the biggest mysteries we know.
DON: Okay, let me have your attention, please.
Listen up... LAPD is running a parallel task force with full information sharing.
So no theory goes unchecked, right?
No tip ignored.
Four killings... What they have in common: single sh*ts fired from mid-caliber r*fles at a distance of 200 yards or greater.
What they don't have in common are the victims.
We have a real-estate broker, a housewife, a high school student and a mailman.
Now the locations vary, the times of day vary. Every...
Ballistics confirms that the four b*ll*ts came from four different r*fles.
Four sh*ts, four kills... that kind of skill suggests a possible m*llitary background.
What it suggests is that he knows his limitations enough to remain within them.
This is Special Agent Edgerton from Quantico, and he doesn't think our sh**t is especially skilled.
Your housewife there caught a 7.62 x 39 round.
He could've found a Russian SKS to do that job for less than a hundred bucks.
Or maybe he's using a Blaser R93; that particular w*apon has interchangeable barrels in 17 different calibers.
So he could be swapping barrels after every k*ll, which would change the ballistic fingerprint, right?
Be a pretty cheap way to avoid being linked to all of your murders.
LAPD Canvass turned up a FedEx driver.
He remembers seeing a green Jeep parked in the field around the time of the sh**ting.
AMITA: Apparently there's large performance differentials between same-caliber b*ll*ts from different manufacturers.
Based on what?
Lead composition, gunpowder packing...
Just what I need: more variables.
( knocking on door )
Oh...
Some assistance in my brazen att*ck on the Lorenz invariance?
No, drag coefficient models.
Drag co... drag on what?
b*ll*ts.
b*ll*ts as in ballistic trajectories defined by the Einstein Equivalence Principle, related to the Lorenz frame?
As in, b*ll*ts that k*ll people.
Oh.
There seems to be some disagreements over the sn*per's expertise.
LARRY: I'd say the public's decided on the question.
I have an aunt who lives two blocks from the first sh**ting.
She's afraid to go out on her front lawn now.
Why don't you tell your aunt that statistically she has a better chance of being mauled by a bear.
Actually, statistics would favor the bear being mauled by my aunt, but...
( chuckles )
This fear, this extends beyond the reach of statistics, Charles.
No, this is about arbitrary, inescapable death.
No, times like these, you just wind up speculating on paths not taken, jobs left undone.
Larry, I...
I'm trying to get those equations done for you as soon as I can...
No, no no. At that moment, I was actually thinking of a far more prosaic legacy.
Someone to carry on the Fleinhardt standard.
I didn't know you wanted kids, Larry.
Well... children are wormholes.
Wormholes?
Yeah.
They're portals into the unreachable future and unattainable past.
No, as things stand now, they exist only in the theoretical realm, so...
Well, I can see where you might have some trouble selling a woman on the idea of "carrying your wormhole."
( chuckles )
I accessed traffic cameras for a ten-block radius where the mailman got hit.
Good. Found this.
Take a look.
Jeep is registered to one Wayne Osborne.
Rap sheet goes back to Idaho.
as*ault, drug possession, weapons violations.
Yeah, check this out. Affiliations with the Green Lightning white supremacist group.
They're on the A*F watch list for illegal arms dealings.
Yeah, Mr. Osbourne sounds like a good candidate.
FBI! Warrant!
FBI! FBI!
Hands on the table!
FBI!
FBI!
Hands on the table!
Clear!
Clear back here.
Clear here! He's not here, Don.
All right, where's Osborne?
Out. Out where?
Some friends. I don't know.
Look, let me tell you something.
If you don't want to face the death penalty with your boyfriend, you better think harder and think fast.
He took my pick-up about two hours ago.
But I swear, I don't know where he went.
What color's the pick-up? It's blue.
Get the plates.
Notify LAPD and every agency.
My guess is he's out there trolling for more victims.
DAVID: Don.
Take a look.
Oh, yeah.
You know, Stan Carter's working for the LA Parks Department now.
Oh, yeah, I remember him. Stan. Stan the Man.
He used to work with you on the city planning board, right?
Yeah. Yeah.
He's looking for a part-time consultant.
And since you two are in and out all the time, I figured I... ( cell phone rings )
Hold on a second.
Hello?
Okay. All right, yeah.
I'll be right there. Sure.
They're pretty sure it's the sn*per again.
David's picking me up out front on the way to the scene.
The scene? What scene?
You mean the crime scene?
Exposure to actual events helps my statistical modeling.
I know, but it's the exposure that I'm worried about.
Come on, there's a crazy guy out there still sh**ting people.
Now what if he returns to the scene of the crime, you know, like those arsonists do?
He hasn't. No, not yet.
Dad, there are a dozen FBI agents and police officers at these scenes.
I mean, if I were in any real danger, Don wouldn't let me go.
You know that.
Don't worry.
Felt like someone hit me in the shoulder with a hammer.
Then Steve saw the blood, and everyone started screaming.
Neither one of you saw where the sh*t came from?
Do you remember seeing a blue pick-up at any point?
I'm sorry, I...
There must have been 50 people coming out of the theater.
Why me? It's okay.
You're going to be okay.
Thank you.
She's right. Why her?
Maybe Osborne's playing out a power trip, choosing his victims arbitrarily.
Maybe it's a political statement.
No, domestic terrorism usually involves a public statement.
He has been conspicuously silent.
Yeah, I don't think he's gonna stay silent.
Come on.
EDGERTON: Hello there, Professor.
Still figuring the angles?
What I'm figuring is the reason why he missed.
This sh*t is way closer than any of the others.
Well, closer doesn't mean easier.
He ran a higher risk of being seen here.
Well, that wouldn't affect the sh*t itself, though, would it?
Forget about the math for a second.
Just look.
Try to think like he does.
Invisibility is a sn*per's greatest strength.
If he starts to worry about losing it, his heart rate increases.
If he doesn't know how to handle it, his breathing rhythm gets thrown off.
Breathing rhythm?
You've really never fired a g*n?
I don't really believe in them.
Believe in them? It's not like they're ghosts.
Obviously, that's not what I meant.
So you don't take into account sweat getting into his eyes or his hands cramping up or adrenaline twitching the barrel?
That's the difference between an expert marksman and a guy who aims at white meat and goes home with a wing.
A woman got sh*t today... not some animal.
I see.
So when I regard her as a technical problem, I'm a sick bastard, but when you plug her in to an equation, you're a scientist?
It just seems like it's all some kind of sport to you.
It's my job to put my head inside the mind of a k*ller.
Your brother's, too.
You coming?
The pattern of these sh**t doesn't work with my existing equations.
So change the equations.
You know, I'm starting to think my whole approach is wrong, like there's a design in there somewhere but not usually where we look for it.
Hey.
Don just picked up Osborne.
Where? Los Feliz.
What about a w*apon?
Preliminary ballistics matches his r*fle to the mailman's slaying.
Doesn't fit, though. What's wrong?
Osborne spent the entire afternoon in a bar.
A dozen witnesses. Well, that's not possible, because this happened, like, less than three hours ago.
Unless Osborne isn't the sh**t.
We've got two sn*pers.
I don't recognize the authority of the federal government.
TERRY: Well, the federal government sure recognizes you.
We have you cold for the m*rder of Mark Herlan.
Ballistics, tire tracks, foot molds.
Herlan was a sl*ve of the federal welfare system disguised as civil service.
Whatever happened to him, whoever k*lled him, they were doing society a favor.
TERRY: The new girlfriend in your trailer filled us in.
You sh*t Herlan because he was about to marry your ex.
Don't... move.
This was a personal k*lling for you.
You wanted revenge.
You know, it was almost clever.
Your buddies in Green Lightning start a terror campaign, sh**ting people at random -- you decide to piggyback.
You think the Green Lightning is behind these sh**t?
DAVID: When we start bringing your pals in, we think it's gonna be a race to see who can cut a deal the fastest.
You're first man in, Wayne.
My advice would be to take advantage of it.
An act of terrorism carries a federal death penalty.
Or maybe you haven't heard of Timothy McVeigh.
( laughs ): You know... you people... you really have to start talking to each other.
( laughing )
Osborne's been an A*F informant against his supremacist buddies for over six months.
Well, thanks, A*F, for the information sharing, and there goes our conspiracy theory.
He also has an alibi for every other sh**ting.
I'll go tell Charlie.
I mean, maybe he can find the pattern if he gets rid of the Osborne sh**ting.
LARRY: You know, I have had almost no attendance at my morning classes.
It's like everyone's afraid to set foot outside.
Not everybody.
Yeah.
In times like these, an empty house is not a home.
Evaluating my immediate prospects for a conventional nuclear family, I've just now begun to consider adoption.
How long have you been considering it?
Three days.
Give it a few more days.
Yeah. Yeah.
So what, you found a pattern yet?
More like a pattern of patternlessness.
Hey, there's an interesting metaphysical notion.
Well, perhaps a human element remains to be inserted.
( groans )
You sound like this, uh, Agent Edgerton guy.
He's a sn*per instructor that Don brought in from Quantico, he thinks I should be out sh**ting r*fles.
Well, why aren't you?
It's a poor allocation of my time.
In the time it takes to sh**t X number of r*fles, I can access ten or 20 or a hundred times that amount of data.
No, no, no, no -- there's data and there's hands-on experience.
These are two different beasts.
That's why you've got blackboards and laboratories.
You study the universe, and you've never been to outer space.
Yeah, but if I had the opportunity, do you think for a moment I'd hesitate?
BROADCASTER: ...in the wake of a fatal sh**ting yesterday, bringing the total to six victims the LA sn*per has m*rder*d.
The LAPD and the FBI are urging residents to avoid unnecessary outdoor activity and to report any suspicious activity...
( broadcast stops )
DAVID: Reminds me of snow days back home.
School shuts down, everybody stays home.
Except nobody's having any fun.
Yeah.
I called my ex-husband this morning.
Yeah? Yeah.
No real reason -- the thought just occurred to me, what if I never got another chance to talk to him?
How'd that go?
We got in a fight.
( laughs )
People have a greater chance of getting into a car accident, you know.
That doesn't keep us home.
Because it's a danger we've already assimilated into our daily lives.
The sn*per's something new.
It's random, malicious.
A b*llet that can come from anywhere, take anyone, you know?
Wow. Yeah.
( sight clicking, barrel pumping, sh*t f*ring)
Thanks for bringing lunch all the way down here.
Come on, this way. Oh.
Well, you know, the drive was a pleasure.
Traffic on the 10 has never been thinner since, uh, well, since it's been the 10.
Yeah, it's like all L.A.'s in lockdown, huh? A little eerie.
Right in here. Yeah.
So, how, uh... how are you and Charlie managing this case?
Well, I mean, he's frustrated; I'm frustrated.
I mean, we're having a rough time on this.
Is that why he's been running out of the house late at night?
We got an agent on him all the time.
I mean, I know he's been helping you out and that he comes down to your office a lot, and I-I think that's great.
But... but now you got him going out on crime scenes...
I mean, there's this guy sh**ting people out there.
Dad, you really think I would put Charlie in danger?
No. You know what I really think?
What? I think you have to understand that Charlie can never say no to you.
I mean... I mean, all you have to do is to ask him something, and he's there for you.
Yeah, and I'm there for him.
( sighs )
Look, he's not a cop.
Now, come on, I mean, he's better off with chalk in his hand than a g*n.
You got to stop this.
He is a grown man, and he's capable of...
Who still seeks the approval of his older brother, whether his older brother likes it or not.
( phone rings ) Excuse me.
Eppes.
Yeah. Right. I'll meet you downstairs.
Got to go. Another sh**ting.
Oh, my God.
Yeah. I promise I won't call Charlie till we roll the tanks out.
And I want you to stay here until I call you, okay?
All right, thanks for the sandwich.
DAVID: Thank you, Tom.
John Doe, late 40s early 50s.
Homeless, from the looks of it.
No place to hide.
Maybe he hadn't heard the news yet.
This place is usually packed around this time of day.
EDGERTON: Well, the mailman m*rder, I wasn't impressed.
This is one I am.
Why?
What you just said -- the street is usually crowded, and yet with no one around he was able to conceal himself, get off a k*ll sh*t and then get out undetected.
You know, Charlie and I disagreed about the proficiency of some of the sh**t.
I'm thinking now maybe I'm the one who was wrong.
AMITA: What are we looking at?
CHARLIE: A nonfunctioning algorithm based on seven sn*per att*cks, all presumably part of a pattern.
But you can't find the pattern?
I can't define the pattern; I know it's there.
sh**ting number four was a copycat.
The mailman k*lled by Wayne Osborne.
Right.
I removed it from the calculation, which should have brought me closer to the answer.
Well, it makes sense.
Get rid of the corrupt data to improve the fit.
But instead of improving the fit, it's as if the bad data were clarifying some new pattern.
Which, by definition, wouldn't make it bad data.
Here are the sh**t, graphed according to a function of time, method, victim and ballistic characteristics.
Now, when I added dimensions -- location, time of day -- and took slices, the points remained truly random.
However, when I eliminated dimensions and broke it down to a graph of a simple function of time...
...as you can see, the beginning of an exponential curve.
The sn*per att*cks are increasing in frequency.
The logical conclusion. Except... this... is Wayne Osborne sh**ting Mark Herlan, which we know is a copycat m*rder.
So I took it out of my calculations.
However, when I put it back in, it fell perfectly on the line.
So that's either a stunning coincidence or evidence of a different pattern.
I don't believe you have one serial sn*per and one copycat.
You have an epidemic of copycat sn*pers.
Wait a minute, h-hold on.
Uh, is that even possible?
TERRY: Viral behavior.
Malcolm Gladwell's notion of a Tipping Point.
Ideas and trends, what's in, what's not -- it's really just human behavior spreading infectiously.
Like a virus. Uh-huh.
Like a virus. That's right.
Oh, consider a neighborhood where all the houses are painted white.
And one day, one guy decides to paint his house blue.
The next day his neighbor walks by, sees that color and says, "Hey, I like that color --- I'm gonna paint my house blue."
And let's say that influences two more people each time.
Now, even if people get sick of the color blue and decide to repaint their houses white, the blue trend will still grow.
And now you have an epidemic of houses being painted blue faster than they're being repainted white.
Wayne Osborne wants to k*ll his ex-wife's new fiancé.
Last week he would have stabbed him, he would have run him over with a car.
Right, but he watches the news, sees that people are being k*lled with hunting r*fles.
DAVID: And because the K*llers haven't been caught, he thinks it's a good idea.
TERRY: Each sn*per att*ck is bigger news, influencing more people.
DON: Who all own hunting r*fles, and just need something to go over the edge.
EDGERTON: Are you seriously comparing these sh**t to what, some kind of fad?
One that's growing.
DON: Okay, we got a whole new approach.
We're not looking for one sh**t.
We're looking for seven different perpetrators that have committed seven different crimes.
They were not targets of a serial sn*per.
Instead, one was the victim of g*ng conflict...
...another, a thrill k*lling...
...a neighbor k*lled because he didn't return a lawnmower...
So we're issuing press releases explaining the separate arrests as isolated, distinct incidents that have nothing to do with a serial sn*per.
Hopefully, that'll cool people out and get things back to normal around here.
What?
Something's incomplete.
Charlie, no. You just got to be patient, all right?
I mean, between us and LAPD, we've already solved four of th-the seven cases.
Make that four out of nine.
Number eight was sh*t getting out of his car at a gas station in Glendale.
Nine found in his own pool.
Oh, come on.
It's getting away from us.
It's moving faster than we can even stop it.
Your theory works.
We're breaking the cases by attacking them individually.
Let's just continue to do that.
All we've established is that one person could not have committed all these crimes on the board, but that doesn't mean that some of these sh**t weren't committed by the same hand.
What? Now you're saying you think some of them were done by the same person?
That's right, and as long as that k*ller's out there, you can solve as many of these sh**t as you want, you're not gonna break the viral behavior.
'Cause we really don't know which ones were definitively done by a serial sn*per and which ones weren't?
It's got to be the first two, because, well, because like any virus, there's always an initial carrier.
A sn*per Zero.
I need to learn how to sh**t a r*fle.
Look, just give me a second, would you?
Okay.
Y-you gotta teach me. Why?
Because of what Edgerton said? No, you don't.
You don't have to prove yourself to anyone, okay?
Please, just do what you do. It has nothing to do with that.
I'm telling you, Edgerton was right.
Well, he was a little right.
Okay, the weight of the g*n, the noise of the sh*t, the effects of the recoil -- there's no way I have of understanding that because I don't know what it is to sh**t a g*n.
Exactly, which is why I brought him in to begin with.
Don't you see, man?
I'm reducing these acts to abstract expressions, but I don't really know what I'm dealing with.
I don't really understand anything about g*ns and v*olence, not the way you do.
Edgerton said it was your job to get in the mind of a sh**t.
Well, maybe it's my job to understand his mechanics.
All right, look, but you got to do me a favor and not say a word to Dad, okay?
I mean, the guy already thinks I'm going to wind up getting you k*lled.
Oh. The Ruy Lopez opening.
I see I'm dealing with a classicist here.
Look, I warned you I was a little rusty.
My game is also a little undeveloped.
You know, I had to stop playing with Charlie when he was eight years old.
Yeah, more precociousness in the biography of Professor Charles Eppes.
Yeah, you know, among mathematicians, isn't that just such a cliché, the playing chess?
I didn't mind losing.
It was that bored expression on his face, like he was playing out of courtesy.
That's what got to me.
Oh, yeah? Well, try Scrabble.
He's a horrible speller.
Really? Oh, he's horrible.
I didn't know that.
You know quite a bit about my son.
I don't know.
I know he's been a delight.
You know, observing him all these years.
You know, a star pupil's ascension to such extraordinary heights...
I mean, yeah, that's perhaps the most... rewarding aspect of being a teacher.
Come on, we both know you've been a lot more than just a teacher to Charlie.
Well, thank you for saying that.
By the way, uh... you're now in check.
Oh, you distracted me.
( chuckling )
( g*nsh*t )
You're flinching.
You're closing your eyes, anticipating a loud noise.
It's a loud noise.
It's a perfectly natural physiological response to what I'm doing.
Charlie, that's not gonna help you hit the target.
( sighs )
Look... What?
You fired the r*fle. How about we get out of here? Come on.
No. I need to learn this.
Come on.
All right.
We'll try what's called an empty-lung technique.
You breathe naturally, you aim, but you don't fire.
Okay? So line it up, aim.
You're gonna exhale, and count to three before you inhale.
On two, you squeeze the trigger.
Right? Just like I told you.
Just tease it.
( sh*t fires )
Huh. That's pretty good.
Look at that. Yeah.
Ah. Adrenal response.
It's a paper target.
It's a little different with a real person.
Well, maybe not for sn*per Zero.
That's a pretty good sh*t, though, isn't it?
Not bad. I think you had a little beginner's luck there.
Beginner's luck is non-empiric.
It's counter-intuitive.
Yeah? First time I played golf, I parred four on the front nine, so...
That's just a function of the "regression to the mean."
According to you, our sn*per or sn*pers have shown no exceptional amount of skill.
There was one sh**ting that showed proficiency.
The homeless guy.
Yeah, but he was k*lled by the two frat boys.
Working together gave them a clear advantage.
Yeah, so that explains the increased skill level in that one case.
But yet...
Yet five of the sh**t have resulted in a fatal wound from one single sh*t. How do you explain that?
A little ability, a lot of luck.
You know what? You're actually exactly right.
I told Don. It's called "regression to the mean."
All right.
I am an exceptional basketball player, but let's say for the sake of this argument that I'm, that I'm not.
Yeah. I think I could argue that side a little better, Charlie.
Let's say I can only hit half of my sh*ts.
I am... one for three.
Whoa.
Okay, I'm four for six.
Right? I've went from a .333 average to a .666 average in three sh*ts.
Now, if I just kept sh**ting baskets all day long, eventually my hits and misses will average out to about .500.
Right, we have hot and cold streaks, but over time you're gonna find your level.
That's right.
Now, if I plotted my sh*ts on a graph, it would be a vertical graph.
I plotted the sh**t again, this time assigning scores to each sh**ting, based on the difficulty of each sh*t and its result.
The higher up on the graph, the greater the proficiency of the sh**t.
Four of the sh**t rise above the others on the graph.
Four people sh*t by the same man.
So we just have to find the common denominator of all four and we find sn*per Zero.
And we break the epidemic.
TERRY: Maybe you go to the same dry cleaners, use the same mechanic.
No. None of them look familiar.
No?
The news said this was just a random thing.
That may very well be.
We're just not leaving any possibility unexplored.
Steve insisted on coming with me today.
I think he's afraid to let me out of his sight.
As bad as it's been for us, what it must be like for the families that lost someone.
Yeah.
Thanks for coming down.
Hey. SINCLAIR: Hey.
All four sh**t happened in front of commercial locations, right?
Right.
Real estate office, gas station, grocery store, movie theater, so I'm searching employee lists, past and present.
Okay. Any matches, let me know.
You got it. You got anything?
No, but I'm going to do a hand search for any common points.
Good.
What is it, Charlie?
What are we missing?
Something still isn't right.
I can't figure it out.
The photos.
The photos? Yeah.
These are all pictures of where the victim was hit.
But that's not the whole scene, right?
The crime starts where the b*llet was sh*t.
Where are the pictures of the sn*per's position?
You're suggesting that the commonality is in the sn*per's selection of his site rather than his target?
Exactly.
Yeah, I considered that, but if he is a trained sn*per any site he chose would have to take into account the availability of targets as well.
Meaning that I agree that each of these locations has good hide selections, adequate camouflage, excellent escape routes, but what good would that be unless he was assured of access to prey?
The paths of the victim and sh**t would have to intersect in both time and space within a suitable environment.
I mean, the pace of these sh**t, the scarcity of people on the street as a result of all this media coverage, he wouldn't have had time to accurately choose these sites and know that he had both cover and targets.
Unless he was already familiar with the locations.
Right?
An abandoned building across from a movie theater, across from a restaurant, a gas station, and an empty house.
So we're saying he doesn't know who he's going to sh**t, but he does know where he's going to sh**t from.
The victims are random.
It was his position that was pre-selected.
That explains why my analyses haven't found any patterns in victim selection or location.
We just found former employee Nathan Crane.
He worked at both the gas station and the restaurant.
Well, that's two sites. I'll take that.
DAVID: Mrs. Crane, do you know where we can find your son?
No. Nathan and I haven't talked since I asked him to leave.
That was a few weeks ago.
Packed his van and left.
Is this him? Yes.
He was in the service until a year ago.
Nathan loved the Army.
Growing up without a father, he never had that kind of structure and discipline before.
Do you know why he left the Army?
He wasn't very specific.
He just came home one day and said it didn't work out.
You said that you asked Nathan to move out.
He had a tough time holding down a job.
He'd find something and there's a problem with the boss or a coworker and he quits.
He had bad luck that way.
And then there's my boyfriend.
The two of them just couldn't get along.
Even at my age, I'm entitled to have a life, aren't I?
Yes, indeed.
He applied for and was rejected from the Army sn*per School at Fort Benning.
Subsequent Bad Conduct discharge for "inability to conform to the requirements of m*llitary life."
He's a good marksman, though.
Crane did drywall in the building across from the movie theater.
He was also fired from a landscaping company that worked the empty house.
Okay, let's get an APB out on his van, and that photo to everybody:
LAPD... Sheriff's Department... I got it.
Psychological profile fits like a glove; rejected by the Army, a surrogate father, returns home to be rejected by the mother.
His instructor noted that he was impulsive on the range.
Also fits. These killings are expressions of juvenile power fantasies.
Okay, but why do you think he goes back to the job sites?
He's revisiting the scenes of his failures and converting them to successes by k*lling.
So you have any sense where he would go next?
Well, so far, he hasn't visited the same site twice, either by guile or because he's "conquered" each one.
My guess is, he'll move on to the next failed job and he'll move on quickly.
From a pure sniping point of view, I like these two.
All right, let's see.
He was a janitor at the Banitek Tower... and a sheet metal punch at the Southmore factory.
Easy access, high windows, target-rich environments.
David, why don't you take Southmore.
We're gonna take the office park.
Notify LAPD. I want backup at both locations: marked cars, SWAT, air units...
Helicopters? You trying to scare him away?
No, we're just going to make sure he doesn't sh**t anyone else, that's for sure.
Don!
Looks like it, huh?
Yep.
All right, you take the middle doors.
Got it.
That's it.
Foxtrot One.
Foxtrot One, go ahead.
We got a postive I.D. on suspect's vehicle at Banitek Towers.
Direct all units to Banitek Towers.
Roger that.
You know, we should start clearing people out of here.
Let's just get everybody out.
FBI Unit Foxtrot Two.
Foxtrot Two, I copy your location.
Banitek Towers. We have an air unit en route, ETA two minutes, over.
We need to notify Security in the building to keep everyone inside.
Roger that. Excuse me!
We need you to get inside the building, please.
Agent Eppes, Lieutenant Douglas.
Your teams are where?
Blue Team and Red Team are about eight minutes out, sir.
All right, as soon at they get here, I want a team on each of these roofs, right?
Right there, right there.
Roger that. I'll make it happen. Pass these out.
We're looking for a male, white in his 20s, okay?
I want you two to take this building.
Start on the top floor and work your way down every apartment.
You two, the same thing, this building.
You start on the bottom of this one, work your way up.
You on this one, work your way up.
( helicopter approaching )
David Sinclair, yeah.
( sh*t fires ) Charlie, get down!
What?
Charlie, get down!
Charlie, stay down! ( g*nsh*t )
( g*nsh*t )
MAN: Get a team up there, now!
sh**t is down. Repeat! sh**t is down!
You all right? Yeah.
The sh**t's down. Is he okay?
What, are you crazy?
You could have got yourself k*lled.
I was just... working on some probabilities as to where I thought Crane might position himself.
Actually, he was pretty close.
I want to get you out of here.
Are you all right?
I'm sorry.
It's all right. It's just next time, use a phone.
Okay?
Hey, Dad, you're painting, huh?
Staining.
Your brother, the homeowner, it's his idea.
Hey, look, I was thinking about what you said the other day when you came by for lunch.
I think you're right.
Wow.
As delighted as I am to hear those words come out of the mouths of either of my sons the fact is I wasn't.
Your brother's his own man.
I mean, if Charlie wants to run off and do slightly dangerous things, then I'll just have to learn to live with it.
Same as I did with you.
You told him?
Yeah, about the g*n range.
The g*n range. That you sh*t a r*fle.
He sh*t a r*fle, did a great job. I fired the r*fle.
Yeah. See? I'm perfectly fine.
I didn't fall off the ladder, I didn't collapse.
I certainly hope you got that out of your system now.
Definitely.
What color paint are you using?
No, no, it's not paint. Stain.
You can't paint a Craftsman house.
See, they're historically protected.
Well, even if everyone else paints their houses blue, Charlie?
Not even.
Here, I'll help you.