Good girl.
Come on, girl.
Jumping at your own shadow.
Good girl.
- Hey. Shh. - (Horse whinnies)
Shh. Peter?
Honey?
(horses whinny and stamp)
Queenie.
Oh, my God, what happened?
(phone rings out)
- (man) Hello? - Peter.
(horses whinny in distress)
(Siren)
- Mr Black? I'm Sheriff Falkner. - Oh, it's good to finally meet you.
Sorry to flag you down on the road. Must have just missed you at your motel.
You took your flight before getting my fax?
I read your fax. Felt I should come anyway.
- Mr Black. - Frank.
Frank. This really doesn't warrant concern from you and your group. The woman's fine.
The woman that was assaulted, Mrs Dumont, I think she's lucky to be alive.
Like I told you, she startled some freak.
He knocked her down, he ran away.
Granted, there've been other horse attacks in the area...
21.
- 21? - Five in this county, counting this one.
16 in the surrounding counties in the last two and a half years.
I'd like to have a look at the crime scene.
- Mr Black, he killed an animal. - This time.
My work normally begins with dead bodies. Multiples of dead bodies.
I came here because I think we have a chance
to stop this killing before it starts.
You're witnessing the birth of a psychosexual killer.
As soon as I got the call I came running down.
This is where I found Sally. She had a bruise on her forehead.
I thought she was dead. It scared the hell outta me until she blinked her eyes.
- She doesn't remember writing that. - Because she didn't write it.
What does she remember?
She remembers seeing his boots in the next stall.
- What kind of boots? - Gumboots.
Did you check the blood?
- It's being done now. - What else did your wife tell you?
She... she led her horse in,
she put it in the stall, she unsaddled it, and then she heard something.
This is where she found Queenie. The horse wasn't dead yet.
This is where she saw him.
- You've taken samples? - We're waiting for results.
- What kind of samples? - Blood, semen.
What the hell does that mean? What are you saying?
- He killed the horse, it aroused him. - Oh, my God.
Take it easy, Pete. We don't know if that's true.
The killer stood in here. He watched Sally attend to her horse.
She saw him.
You have a very brave wife, Mr Dumont.
She didn't panic.
She made herself walk from here to the phone.
Frank. So she's on the phone, he's standing there.
He knows she's alone, helpless. He knocks her down and runs away? I mean...
If this is the guy you think he is, why didn't he do more?
Maybe he was scared.
Was anything missing? Stolen?
There's a bridle missing. It was Phaeton's, Sally's horse.
- He took it. - Why? What would he want with that?
He fantasises using it on her.
You listen to me. People may get up for that
kind of thing in Los Angeles or San Francisco
or wherever you come from, but not around here.
Now, I don't care who the hell you are, FBI or whatever,
I'm telling you right now you are not talking to my wife!
We don't need to talk to her.
Come on.
(Frank) Excuse me.
- Whoa. - Can I help you?
I didn't mean to startle him. My name is Frank Black.
I'm Claudia Vaughn. I saw you before with the sheriff.
You're the veterinarian?
I'd like to ask you a few questions. About horses.
Well, it's a pity you can't talk to the horses themselves, huh?
Maybe you can tell me about the other attacks.
You know about them?
It's not barbed wire or some damn coyote like everybody around here wants to think.
I know. He always attacks mares.
No, not just attacks. At least a dozen horses have been killed that I know of.
He kills here. The jugular.
Yes.
- Do you want to catch him, Mr Black? - I hope so.
But if Sally Dumont hadn't been attacked, you wouldn't be here right now, would you?
The red dots represent attacks on horses over
the past 29 months. Five in this county alone.
We've tracked the attacks of the past two years.
The photos were for insurance purposes, not for forensics, but the MO was identical.
- Shouldn't the ASPCA be dealing with this? - Stay with us, boys.
No of fence, but this is a hell of a fuss over a misdemeanour.
Would you prefer to wait until he's killed someone?
The man we're looking for is in his early twenties to mid-thirties.
His work in the area allows him to travel unnoticed.
Well, you had a couple of things right. "Help" was written in human blood,
there was a fingerprint, no matches, but it definitely wasn't Sally Dumont's.
And they found semen in the stall next to where the horse was killed.
For a brief moment he had something he's never had before.
Not a horse, but a woman in his power.
The possibility excited him, terrified him.
That's why he wrote the word "help", meaning "help me".
We've learnt from past experience that a close call expands his sexual fantasy.
His only source of feeling alive is his urge for sexual pleasure.
His paraphilia has now defined it. It intoxicates and terrifies him.
He's standing at an abyss and he's hesitating.
There will be another attack. Sooner than they think. He's vulnerable now.
He's unstable and in tremendous pain. He hasn't felt the joys yet of what he's done.
God help us when he does.
There's only one thing to do. I have to talk to him. Reach him on a personal level.
It's risky. Could validate him. Give him a sense of empowerment.
He's empowering himself now. We can't wait for the escalation.
We gotta make contact with him now. It's the precise moment.
He's tormented. He feels revulsion toward himself and his acts.
Bu! The revulsion he's now feeling will diminish. The cooling-cl? Stage will end.
The killer will be thinking, rationalising.
He'll be learning to accept himself and his need.
His anger and resentment will build up again
until he has no choice but to act out his fantasies.
But by then he will be much harder to catch.
Because he will have had time to refine not just how he kills
but also how he escapes detection.
(man) Hear about that horse freak?
Says here the guy's feeling "disgust and remorse".
- It's even got an "800" number for him. - Yeah. 1-800-PONYRIDE.
(laughter)
Man says he knows what he's going through.
I know what he's going through. Sheep, cows, horses...
(all laugh)
Sounds like this guy's got a lot of your qualities, Little Fats.
Sumbitch is just lonely, that's his problem.
Hey, Willie! What do you reckon this guy's problem is?
- Well, he's a perv, ain't he? - I guess you'd know, Willie!
(woman) Williston Sheriff's Office. Hello?
Hello?
(Pig squeals)
(squeals get louder)
Hey!
What the hell are you doing?
The driver of the hog hauler's beaten to death.
Couple of cowboys dragged him off into the woods, kicked the life out of him
then took a knife to him. That's nothing new.
Friday night at Little Fats'. Three or four times
a year this parking lot becomes a killing field.
They're not satisfied with just killing the driver, they attack the hogs too.
- You say they used a knife? - Yeah, they cut a bit of flesh out of him.
That's the only thing that doesn't figure.
They got a knife but they beat the poor bastard to death.
These tracks move back and forward between here,
the truck, and the woods where the driver was dragged.
We got three sets - work boots matching the ones the driver was wearing,
pair of cowboy boots and something with a flatter sole, the tread all worn down.
- Sally's attacker wore boots. - Gumboots.
You think this is him? The tracks say we got two killers.
He could've incapacitated the driver and changed.
With no disrespect here, gentlemen, it was a man that was killed, not a woman.
- These are hogs, not horses. - I think it's the same man.
He didn't plan this attack. He killed the
driver out of rage, not sexual gratification.
He's gone over the edge. He had a helpless human lying there.
He didn't cut his throat, he kicked him to death. Why?
The driver wasn't a woman, he was the wrong gender.
And something else is missing. No horses.
It's part of the ritual, he just didn't know it until now.
He's learnt how to kill. He's still working on how to enjoy his kill.
He's gonna keep on trying.
This guy, he's some kinda freak out on the highway.
He ain't a regular. What am I supposed to do, huh?
You get a lot of people on the highway?
Sure we do. Truckers, hunters, tourists...
The bar's used by both locals and long haulers.
He was here. I think he was about to call or he did call.
I'll have the phones checked for prints and calls made.
- Excuse me. - Mm-hm?
Can I buy you a cup of coffee?
Thanks.
I read that interview you did.
Sounds like you feel sorry for him.
I feel sorry for Sally Dumont and the man that died here tonight.
I'm just working to find out why he does it.
Why he kills horses?
Normally, I would say that they were used as a proxy for someone he hates:
mother or father, an abusive, controlling figure.
Normally, huh?
I just don't think that that's the case here.
I think the horses are an end in themselves. Why do you think he does it?
Well, for a lot of girls, their first love was a horse.
You're saying he's jealous? That the horses cut him off from women?
From sexual intimacy?
- Were any of the dead horses drugged? - No.
Why?
They stand there and let him do this.
They could really damage him. They could kill him with a single kick.
But they just stand there.
It's because they're reared to trust in man.
I've seen horses trapped in the killing box at the slaughterhouse.
They can smell the blood and the death of the animal that was in before them,
but, despite that, they trust in man.
Their executioner's standing above them with a bolt gun,
they look to him for help and he fires a steel bolt straight into their heads.
I know why they stand still for him.
That slice of flesh he cut from the driver, what was it like?
The doc said it was a deep cut, real precise.
He's using a stun gun.
That's how he incapacitates them.
It's how he knocked out Sally and the driver.
And why he cut the slice out.
It'd leave subcutaneous bruising. He's covering his tracks.
He knows where the jugular is and how to cut it.
He works in a slaughterhouse. That's where we'll find him.
Yeah. Good girl, huh?
Good girl.
OK.
- You scared me. - I'm sorry.
I was just dropping off some stuff.
Mr Burke around?
I haven't seen him.
I was watching you ride. You looked happy.
I'm always happy when I'm riding my girl. Aren't I, girl? Yeah.
- You kissed it. You kissed the horse. - She's a great horse, isn't she?
How you doing, Willie?
I'm holding on.
- I gotta go. - You take care.
(woman) Bet you're hungry, aren't you?
(breathes heavily)
A man can't fight what he is.
Three, four, five slaughterhouses in the state,
not counting the unlicensed back yard places.
We're checking them out now. I called in help from Minot and Dickinson.
Jeff? We did a check on the bar phone like you asked.
There was a call from the bar to the "800" number we put up. The caller hung up.
There's something else. We had 16 other calls, 15 of them loonies, and this one.
(woman) Williston County hotline. Sheriff's Department.
- (Willie) I wanna talk to Frank Black. - He's not in right now.
Would you like to leave a message?
You tell me to call and there's no one home? Is that my fault?
If you're as smart as you say you are, if you
know my mind, then tell me, Frank: where to?
What next?
(dialling tone)
He did it. He killed again.
Her name is Mary Ann Wright. She arranged with the farmer to keep her horse here.
He called it in an hour ago.
We found this on her body.
We'll get it tested.
Frank!
- How was this horse killed? - Just like the others.
Bled to death. No mutilation.
He had her for that. Before he killed her, before he bled her, he strung her up.
He wanted it to be like a slaughterhouse. He did to this woman what he does at work.
(Falkner) And there's this.
There are splashes of blood all around here.
We found pieces of Mary Ann's clothing thrown about.
He got it right this time. He was celebrating.
Mr Black? Call for you. I patched it through from the office.
- Hello? - (Willie) Do you know how good I feel?
Who is this?
What next, right? Tell me, does it get any better than this?
I know you feel rotten right now, wish you
could wake up and find this never happened.
Whatever humanity kept you from doing this before,
whatever good... better listen to it now.
All gone, Frank. All gone.
You wouldn't be calling me if it were.
You got the power to stop this.
I know I've got the power!
It felt good what I did!
- Get anything? - First three digits.
Dammit.
How do you live like this?
You have a wife, don't you? Or do you just
wear that ring to make yourself seem normal?
I have a family.
Well, how do you explain to them what you do and what you see?
I don't.
- Where are they headed? - The slaughterhouse.
- Foals? - Yeah.
They're from the PMU farms. We're the only state that still has 'em.
- PMU? - Pregnant Mare's Urine.
It's rich in oestrogen, which is the main element in hormone replacement therapy.
It's also the most prescribed pharmaceutical in the US.
In North America, up to 80,000 mares are kept pregnant and their urine collected
so that women can stay healthier longer.
But when a mare gets pregnant she has a foal,
and the quickest way to make money off of
80,000 foals is to kill them and sell the meat.
The horses that were attacked, they were usually mares.
How many PMU farms are in this state?
As far as anybody can tell we've got about 15 farms in the west end of the state.
Many of them have shut down. There are four in our area.
Haverly, July '94, Redner, October '95,
Borgsen, December '94,
and Sandberg, January '95.
Forensics on the apron showed human sweat
- and horse urine, rich in oestrogen. - He could've worked on any of these farms.
He lived on one. Part of the ritual is wearing
clothes that bring him back to that time.
Growing up, his earliest memories would've
been horses held captive, foals slaughtered.
He'd have learned that that's how food was put on his table.
Farm closes, he loses his livelihood. He loses the means to gratify his impulses.
Frank, a lot of people work on these farms. They're decent, ordinary people.
I'm not talking about ordinary people, but about a man with a twisted mind.
First horse attack was in February '95. Which one closed nearest that?
Borgsen, December '94...
Sandberg was the nearest. January '95, a month before the first attack.
The phone call to you, Frank, came from prefix 774. That's this area.
Borgsen.
(officer) Clear!
Frank.
Pregnant. Looks like she could drop a foal any day now.
Careful.
Get Claudia Vaughn over here.
What was the name of Sally's horse?
Phaeton.
Here's her bridle. He's just started collecting trophies.
(phone rings)
Yes?
It's for you, Frank.
Hello?
- Looks like I need a new mare, don't it? - What do you want?
Well, I went through all that trouble and it wasn't good enough.
I mean, don't get me wrong, she was better than the horses. But it wasn't enough.
Where to now? What's next?
What's next? Is this gonna get worse?
I didn't say it was bad.
It was damn good. It just wasn't enough.
Maybe I need to see a doctor.
- Claudia Vaughn. - Her line's busy. We'll keep trying.
(officer) Clear!
Nothing.
Frank'?
"A horse misused upon the road calls to heaven for human blood."
Blake's Auguries of Innocence. That's where he's taken her.
- His heaven, her hell. - Any results on the slaughterhouses?
- No, we're still checking. - Where do they slaughter horses?
(grinding and squeaking)
It's from in there.
(horse whinnies)
Are you all right?
(Peter) Frank?!
Call an ambulance! Frank?!
Deputy Maxwell to base. We got a man down in the slaughterhouse.
Request ambulance.
Come on.
(horse whinnies)
Ever see a bolt gun work, Frank?
That'|| make your eyes water, won't it? You're wrong about me.
You think I'm a loner, a loser, but I'm not.
I've got friends. Ask anybody around here.
I'm a great guy. They'll all tell you.
What's one more horse? What's one more human
being on the Earth? It's all just meat.
Some meat's useful, some meat ain't.
Once you figure that out, that's when you leave your mark on this world, Frank.
You don't even rate a footnote.
You're gonna be a joke for a couple of weeks in Little Fats'.
You ain't gonna know cos you'll be hanging from a hook.
(horse whinnies)
You leaving?
Another monster, I suppose, huh?
- You ride? - Yeah.
I thought so.
Visiontext Subtitles: Katherine Appleby
(child) I made this!
ENGLISH SDH