The Watcher

The Watcher [2000]

Dead, I'm the one

exterminating son

Slipping through the trees

strangling the breeze

Dead, I'm the sky

watching angels cry

As they slowly turn

conquering the worm

Dead I'm the pool

spreading from the fool

Weakened want you need

Nowhere as you bleed

Dead I'm the rat

Feast upon the cat

Tender is the fur

Dying as you purr

It's never quite that easy.

You go through the door, and they're

never just sitting there waiting for you...

with a welcoming smile

on their face.

Best you can do

is hope they f*** up...

and do what you can

to be there when they do.

And then blame yourself

for the killings?

Oh, no. I blame

the a**hole who did them.

This man's whole life

is about killing.

He studies it.

He knows forensics.

He understands

police procedure.

He prepares methodically so as to not

to leave any evidence at the scene.

After he picks his target,

he'll watch her for weeks.

He'll study every detail

of her routine-

When she comes home.

When she goes to sleep.

In the morning

before the sun comes up,

he can walk

right up next to her.

Even though the sun's still down,

no one perceives it as night.

Women who are careful at midnight, walk

around half-naked seven hours later.

Finally,

he'll pick a day.

Takes a kit of tools

and props-

duct tape, handcuffs, a weapon-

whatever he needs.

He'll let himself in.

That night,

she'll get home.

Go about her business,

unaware that he's in the house.

Oh... this is good.

Shall we dance?

No, don't play

hard to get.

This will be fun.

Shh.

Shh. It's over.

It's all right.

Shh.

I said, "Shut... up. "

When she passes out...

from fear or pain,

he'll revive her

over and over again to-

Um-

What were you

going to say?

Time's up.

Joel.

Why did you turn

away from me?

Why was it so hard

for you to accept?

'Cause you know

I did it for you.

You came so close to me

that night.

I remember clearly what I felt when I heard

your footsteps following behind me.

Pride.

I thought it would keep us

together forever.

For me,

it was our finest moment.

I can still see the flames.

Oh!

Sh*t.

What the f***?

Oh, f***!

I didn't see anything.

- Wanda, you wanna run that in to Sarge?

- Right on it.

Hey, I'm Detective Mackie.

Welcome to my crime scene.

Can I help you find anything?

I'm just going home.

I live upstairs.

Did you not happen to notice that yellow

police tape marked "Do Not Cross"?

If you're done with that,

I'll just take it and go home.

Do you know this woman?

No, I've never seen her.

What happened? Is she dead?

Oh, I haven't made

any reference to homicide.

Why would you hasten

to such a conclusion?

Well, you got half the block

taped off, and you got what,

about a dozen cops in there,

f***in' up your crime scene?

It just doesn't seem like

someone boosting stereos to me.

Look here. Give me a call

if you think of anything.

All right?

- Hello. Yeah, this is Hollis.

- Hello.

This is Campbell.

I'm the guy- We met last night.

Yeah, Joel Campbell. Our ex-F.B.I.

friend from apartment 805.

We did a little checking on you after you

after you left. What can I do for you?

I can hardly- Are you busy? It sounds

like you're in the middle of something.

Yeah, some genius jacked a Honda

a couple blocks ago. That's an '86.

- What, do you want me to call you back?

- No.

When did she die, the girl?

Monday night.

Three days ago. Why?

- 'Cause I know who did it.

- And how might you know that?

He mailed me a picture

of her still alive.

I got it three days ago-

Monday morning.

Hold on a minute, Campbell.

Tan honda's on the run.

Okay. Sorry to keep you.

Now... you wanna meet me

back at my office? All right.

Is it your custom to open your mail

four days after you get it?

Nope. Sometimes

it takes up to two weeks.

Well,

this would appear...

to answer any questions we had whether

these two cases were related.

Goodness gracious.

Nothin' like a good serial killing

to kick off the holiday season.

Right in here.

- Gimme a minute in that room.

- Okay, Lieutenant.

We got him sending

his pictures in the mail.

Campbell, hell, we oughta get Bob

Barker in on this son of a b*tch.

It's a damn game show.

His last alias was

David Allen Griffin.

I worked the case for three and

a half years in Los Angeles.

We attributed at least

What's he doing in Chicago?

I assume he's still strangling

young women with piano wire.

All the victims were left

partially unclothed,

and all the swabs

came back negative.

Exactly.

No touchy, no feely.

Have you ever seen this guy?

No. No one's ever seen him.

Well, then we can't necessarily

conclude it's the same fella, can we?

Come on. He sent me

f***in' pictures.

Shoved the vic right up my ass

in my own f***ing building.

- Sorry.

- It's quite all right.

You looked adorable.

This film stock says

it's for exterior sunshine,

but... how does it handle

in fluorescence?

Uh, I'm sorry. I have no idea

what you're talking about.

I just work here.

- You do film processing here.

- Uh, yeah, one hour.

- Do you mind?

- Sure.

- What are you doing?

- I'm going to test it out.

I'm gonna shoot some pictures,

and you're going to

process them for me.

Perfect.

Yeah, chief of Chicago P.D.

already called.

Not surprising, I suppose,

they're inviting us in on this.

They're setting up a joint

task force as we speak.

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