(DOG BARKS) Wallander.

MAN: Thought they would have sent a police car.

Lights.

Flashing.

There was an accident on the Svarte Road.

Cars with lights are all taken.

She's out there.

You see her?

Oi!

Mind my bloody crop!

(GIRL WHIMPERS) WALLANDER: Hello?!

WALLANDER: Hello?!

It's all right, I just want to talk!

It's all right.

Please.

Hello?

Yes.

Police.

Really, it's all right.

Just want to talk.

It's okay.

Police!

Just... Just want to... (SHE SOBS) No, no, no, no!

Stop!

Stop!

Stop!

Stop!

Stop!

♪ Tram wires ♪ Across northern skies ♪ Cut my blue heart in two ♪ My knuckles bleed ♪ Down a tattered street ♪ On a door that shouldn't be ♪ In front of me ♪ What do we do with the farmer?

Get him to the hospital.

He's gone into shock.

He's no good to us here.

There's a trail leading through the rape to the barn.

Must've got the petrol there.

Let's check the barn.

See if we can find any trace of her in there, find out what was she doing here.

Someone must be missing her.

This was round her neck.

Initials "DMS".

We'll need it for ID.

She was... trembling.

She was... She was terrified.

What of?

Me.

Show me the tracks.

(DOORBELL CHIMES) Ruth?

-Oh.

-Hi, Dad!

Hi.

Come in, come in.

God, this place is squalid!

Dad, forget it.

Give us a hug.

How's Mum?

Yeah, fine.

(BELL CLANGS REPEATEDLY) What have you got him, then?

Who?

Granddad.

I've got him some mittens.

They're really cool.

He can still paint with them on, see?

Remember when I went out with Lukas?

He used to play the bass wearing these things!

You haven't even thought about it, have you?

Just because he's got Gertrude now doesn't mean you can dismiss him from your mind.

Well, I've got till Sunday.

I'll nip out tomorrow.

(MOBILE CHIMES AND VIBRATES) God, Dad, you are such complete crap sometimes, you know?

Yeah.

DMS was 163 cm high, never broken a bone, good teeth.

Probably only 15.

What could drive her to do that?

What that girl did was a completely unnatural act.

Everything in her mind and body would have been screaming against it.

15?

It's like these kids who self-harm now.

What was that boy you told me about earlier?

Seven-year-old.

Tried to cut his thumb off.

We had a five-year-old in recently - tried to put his own eyes out.

At least that's what it looked like.

What kind of a world are we leaving a 15-year-old girl that she would burn herself to death?

(CHIRRUPING) GIRL: Get off!

TV: But the world watches us for the new way.

And now we've fallen by the wayside, like everyone else.

We opened up our society, and our prime minister was assassinated coming home from the cinema, so, yes, you could argue that instead of the world joining us, we joined the world.

Which is, of course, not to say that everything we sought to achieve has failed.

I think the world now recognizes that Sweden stands for a little more than just Bjorn Borg, Abba, and skinny-dipping in mountain lakes.

(MAN CHUCKLES) A perfect cue for me to bring in my final guest... (GULLS CRY) I keep seeing her face.

The way she looked at me.

Well, maybe she thought you were someone else.

You know?

DMS.

The Crime Bureau have a database for abbreviations and acronyms, haven't they?

Yeah, but I wouldn't want to be the schmuck who has to trawl through that lot.

For three letters?

God.

Oh, right.

It's me, isn't it?

(HUBBUB) Kurt?

(TELEPHONES RING) A small axe, I'd say.

Single blow.

Almost split his skull in two.

-Dead before he hit the ground.

-It's messy.

Yes, it's too messy.

The axe was sharp, a clean hit.

But look here.

There's a lump of skin missing.

There's been another cut.

With a knife, I'd say.

Quite crude.

Scalped?

What's going on?

Was he robbed?

His wallet's in his pocket.

He was still wearing his watch.

What about the house?

There's no obvious disturbance.

Oh, the press didn't hang about, did they?

WALLANDER: Christ.

HOLGERSSON: Celebrity.

Ex-politician.

This is going to be massive.

It's okay.

I'll take them.

Just give them the basics, yeah?

We'll... leave the scalping for now.

Whatever you want.

Tell me what you need.

Outside help, backup-- just let me know.

This is in your hands, Kurt.

Right, you go and pester Nyberg.

We need a time of death, even if it's a guess.

I'll do the house.

HOLGERSSON: Ladies and gentlemen... (WIND HOWLS) We opened up our society, and our prime minister was assassinated...

Which is, of course, not to say that everything we sought to achieve has failed... (FLICKING SWITCH) Wetterstedt was always phoning about people pestering him on HIS beach.

But one guy, we did come out to.

A real old piss-head, said he was a reporter.

Old friend from the past?

Just sat on the beach with a bottle of vodka, staring up at the house.

Reporter...

So he said.

Name?

There wasn't a reason to take his name, done nothing wrong.

Wetterstedt got pretty antsy about him.

The old guy just laughed.

His name might be in the book.

Magnusson.

Lars Magnusson.

Thanks.

WALLANDER: You know about Wetterstedt?

So where were you last night?

You think I could kill anyone?

Look at me.

There are reports of you hanging around...the house, the beach.

Sure.

I hang around.

A pair of eyes.

You can't arrest people for looking, can you?

Not yet, anyway.

He finished you, didn't he?

My first editor taught me there are two kinds of reporters.

The ones who dig for the truth and the ones who try to bury it.

And Wetterstedt always had enough of the second kind to keep his back covered.

So what did you dig up?

Whores, mostly.

He used to have a girl delivered each week to some secret bolt-hole.

Fine!

We're all grown-ups.

But then one of them reported him for, er...assault.

Said she'd had her feet slashed, with a razor.

She had the scars.

It all added up.

But...hey!

This guy was the Minister of Justice.

He was the face of the government, the good guy.

Everyone loved him.

So... they paid off the girl.

What about the police?

(SNORTS) What about the police?

It wasn't just the girls, though.

Wetterstedt thought he was cultured.

Art.

He liked to be seen among the wealthy collectors.

We think he was scalped.

Scalped?

Jesus!

Some...bizarre kind of trophy, I suppose.

-Maybe.

-Yeah.

Maybe not.

It can also be a sacrifice.

Isn't that in the legend?

The Indian brave offers up the scalp as a gift to free another soul.

A soul that has been violated.

The warrior.

The brave.

(REPORTERS CLAMOUR) Any questions, ladies and gentlemen?

What is the reason behind this attack?

Well, I can tell you that we have ruled out the possibility of robbery.

It appears that this brutal attack is motiveless.

(REPORTERS SHOUT) (TV OFF) I don't think it was motiveless.

If Magnusson's right, Wetterstedt had enemies all over the place.

Was there anything more from forensics?

Garden light bulb covered in prints.

Someone very careless or someone without previous who knows he's not traceable.

(DOOR OPENS) Done it.

The whole database.

The pendant, the letters.

DMS?

And?

2,014 permutations for what those letters might mean.

Names, companies, websites... Let's... Let's give it to Interpol as well.

And Europol, or whatever it is they're calling themselves now.

Sure.

And let's get a photograph of that pendant in the newspaper.

Someone must be missing that girl.

Right.

What?

Look, I was just wondering...

This Wetterstedt thing, I mean...

They're saying the guy was scalped.

I mean, this is big time.

So?

Well, this girl, it's obviously a suicide, and that's, you know, tragic and sad and everything, but if no crime has been committed, couldn't I work with the rest of you...?

15-year-old girl burns herself to death.

You don't think that's a crime?

I suppose...if you put it like that, yeah.

Well, how would you put it?

(TELEPHONE RINGS) (DOOR CLOSES) Hi.

-Linda?

-Hi.

Oh, you've eaten.

(CHUCKLES) I waited.

-It looks good.

-It was.

TV: ...Still pouring in this afternoon to the former Minister of Justice... You should have called.

I did.

I didn't get a message.

I didn't leave one.

So are you on this Wetterstedt thing?

Look, I know we said we might get over to see Granddad today, but, er...

I went round to see him.

He's not great, Dad.

He was shut in his studio, scratching away at those canvases.

Gertrude says not to worry, but I don't think he's well.

We'll definitely get over tomorrow, I'll make some time somehow, and we'll give him a treat.

It's like you just ignore him sometimes.

He is your dad!

-It's not that simple.

-Yeah, tell me about it.

(DANCE MUSIC PLAYS) (MUSIC, CHATTER) TV: I can tell you that we have ruled out the possibility of robbery.

It appears that this brutal attack... -Darling, people are missing you.

-Hm.

I'm afraid I'm not able to disclose that...

The girl's arrived, the one you wanted to talk to.

I'll be right out.

...but police have so far not released further details of the killing... (MAN LAUGHS, GIRL WHOOPS) GIRL: It's an honor to be here.

MAN: The pleasure is all mine.

Perhaps we can meet at the gallery tomorrow.

It's a pleasure to be able to represent a young artist with your talent.

(SHE GIGGLES) So...see you tomorrow.

Thank you.

I'm just going to...

I'll be in in a minute.

(MOBILE CHIMES AND VIBRATES) MAN: Kurt?

Yeah.

See you down there.

Yeah.

Okay.

(RADIO CHATTER, CAMERA SHUTTERS CLICK) Same weapon, same wound.

Same scalping.

Just a bit tidier this time.

Kurt?

The wife and daughter are upstairs.

Have you any idea who might have done this?

-Do you think it could have been one of your guests?

-How should we know?

-What a stupid question!

-Erika.

Your husband was an art dealer, I believe.

Did he have any... business enemies you were aware of?

This is such a waste of time.

It's obvious what happened.

Some maniac came up through the garden and attacked him.

Get out there and start looking.

You people are just a total waste of space.

Mrs. Carlman?

Did your husband have any dealings with Gustav Wetterstedt, do you know?

None that I am aware of.

Thank you.

This connection between Carlman and Wetterstedt.

The art thing, it sounds a bit tenuous.

Well, it's all we've got at the moment.

The prosecutor's already been on.

We need to know what we're dealing with here, Kurt.

Is this a serial killing?

I don't know.

Maybe he was just after these two.

It was consecutive nights.

It was pre-planned, I'm pretty sure about that.

Maybe that was it.

The prosecutor is going to want to get a profiler in, you know that.

Kurt.

I've got her.

Dolores Maria Santana.

Where's she from?

The message was from the Dominican Republic, and it came via Madrid.

It seems her father reported her missing some time in November.

(SIGHS) Her father?

Well done.

Hi.

Hi, it's me.

LINDA: Are you okay?

I didn't hear you go out.

It was the middle of the night, I didn't wanna wake you.

(INHALES) Look, um... You want me to get Granddad a present for you?

(SIGHS) Has something else happened, Dad?

Okay, see you later.

No, it's j... (DIALLING TONE) (GROWLS) I think we've found something on Carlman.

He's done time.

He was accused of forging checks and receiving stolen paintings.

He was innocent of both.

And you're sure of that?

Gustav Wetterstedt was Minister of Justice at that time.

Are you sure that there was no connection between him and your husband?

Why would there be contact between a minor offender -and the Minister of Justice?

-Oh, come on!

Your husband wasn't just any minor offender.

He was already a wealthy man, he was a prominent man.

I don't know what it is you're trying to insinuate, Inspector.

And neither, I suspect, do you.

I'm sorry.

I'm very sorry to have bothered you.

These are very remarkable paintings.

Idiot!

You useless donkey!

-Erika!

-Useless, useless donkey!

Calm down.

(ERIKA SCREAMS) Calm down.

Calm down.

I understand, I understand.

Jesus.

(SNORING) Come on.

Come on.

Get up!

Come on!

Come on!

Come on.

Come on, wake up.

Come on.

Oh...!

Carlman was one of that circle.

Wetterstedt had a few under his wing.

He looked after Carlman when he got out of prison.

Cleaned up his name.

Was he involved with Wetterstedt and the girls he had?

-Was he involved with the girls?!

-Sure.

They all were.

Who else?

Names.

I never got to the bottom of it.

Okay.

What about the police?

You said they tidied up after Wetterstedt.

Who?

All of them?

Come on, I'm digging here!

Lars?!

Sandin.

Sandin?

Vice Squad.

Where do I find him now?

(SNORTS) Who knows?

Okay.

Thanks.

MAN OVER RADIO: Hang on, here we are.

Hugo Sandin.

Stockholm Vice Squad, retired 1987.

There's an address here.

Hassleholm.

Mr. Sandin, please.

Who shall I say?

A friend from the old days.

-One moment, please.

-Thank you.

MAN: Who is it?

-An old friend of yours.

-What?!

I don't know you.

Wallander, Ystad Police.

Ystad?

Someone lost their cat?

We can talk out here or I can come in.

You know about Gustav Wetterstedt and Arne Carlman?

Of course I know about them, it's everywhere.

You're not bothered?

Why should I be bothered?

It happens.

They were scalped.

Both of them.

What does that say to you?

Someone in Ystad finally found some balls.

What do you want with me?

You know what I want with you.

Wetterstedt and Carlman.

Girls, art fraud.

You tidied up after them.

Two murders and you're nowhere.

I'm here, and I want names.

Others involved with them.

If this maniac is working through a list, I need to know who's on it.

You think I might be?

Well, it depends what you did.

And how much someone might want to bury an axe in your skull.

Well, I'll tell you something... what was your name?

-Wallander.

-...Wallander.

I'm a patriot.

I love this country.

Openness, fairness, sexual liberation.

The social experiment.

Well, Wetterstedt was part of that and it was my job to keep him clean.

My job then, your job now.

It's what we do.

(CHUCKLES) You think I'm the bad guy?

Well, maybe one day, Wallander, your time will come.

And when it does, you'll realize you don't have the choice.

I was nothing.

The janitor, like you.

You wanna make a difference?

Join the Fire Brigade.

Thanks for your help.

Not at all.

Sandin, anything else you can get on him.

He'll have covered his tracks, but give it a go.

Kurt.

You just missed your daughter, she left this.

Didn't know it was your birthday.

It's not.

The profiler has just arrived - Mats Ekholm.

Obviously the axe and the scalpings are the elements of the case that stand out so far.

I believe scalpings usually signify... A trophy or a sacrifice.

We've done that.

Presumably you've contacted Native American societies and the like?

Nothing relevant.

Although some facets of the culture I find quite... What about the killer?

First impressions, what can you give us?

Two killings is not usually sufficient to establish anything like a definitive profile.

How many do you need?

I'm sure if we wait long enough... Two things occur immediately.

One, the killings were clearly premeditated, they follow almost identical patterns - executions, almost.

Two, the Native American motif.

People who find themselves in a psychic borderland often try to hide behind another person's identity, or transform themselves -into a mythological figure.

-Psychic... borderland?

Your killer appears to have crossed a psychological boundary.

Virtually anyone can commit murder or manslaughter without premeditation.

On the surface, he can live a completely normal life.

He has two identities that he controls utterly.

Fine.

So now we know that we're looking for someone who seems completely normal on the surface.

Very helpful.

Thank you, Mats.

That was really useful, I'm sure.

Does anyone have any questions?

Give him a chance.

Makes me feel about 108.

Nice suit, though.

CHILD: Mum!

-Wait by the car!

Wait by the car.

-Hurry up!

In you go.

(CHILD WHINES) Shh, shh, shh.

-(CHILD CHATTERS) -Wait there.

(TIRES SCREECH NEARBY) WOMAN: Good boy!

WOMAN: Shall we go and see Daddy?

(CHUCKLES) Yes, you've got Mummy's phone.

-Sorry I'm so late.

-It's fine.

I'm glad you could make it.

Hi, Dad.

LINDA: Hey.

Happy birthday.

You're late.

Yeah, I know, I... Well, I haven't missed tea, have I?

Got something for you.

What is it?

Why don't you open it?

I wasn't asking you.

Put it down.

Shall we get some tea, then?

Here you go.

(GERTRUDE CHUCKLES) Thank you.

Carlman!

Arne Carlman.

Art dealer.

What about him?

Crook, conman.

I heard about it on the radio.

Axe, good riddance.

(GERTRUDE LAUGHS) Oh!

So you knew him?

What color were his brains?

The color of money?

Oh!

Dad, Dad, Dad... You complain I take no interest in your work.

Someone puts an axe through Arne Carlman's skull.

Finally your work is interesting.

So what did you know about him?

Well...

I'm a witness!

He was a ...!

A shyster!

Someone re-designs his head?

Look no further than a painter.

Maybe I'm a suspect!

Hot!

Too hot!

Povel... Filthy muck burning my mouth!

-Granddad... -Hot ... burning my mouth!

Okay, Dad.

Dad?

Dad?

It's okay.

Grandpa?

GERTRUDE: It's nothing.

He just gets a bit worked up sometimes.

Are you sure?

-Are you okay?

-We're fine.

See you soon, okay?

GERTRUDE: He'll work for a couple of hours now.

-Goodbye, darling.

-Bye, Gertrude.

-See you.

-Thanks.

Bye.

I told you he was ill. Gertrude says not.

Birthdays!

-(MOBILE CHIMES) -Sorry.

Yes.

MAN ON PHONE: Down at the docks.

Axe and scalping, but look at the eyes.

Acid.

Both eyes burnt out.

Eyes, what the hell does that mean?

And where's that profiler?!

(EKHOLM RETCHES) Come on, I need help.

I can't just come up with solutions to please you.

-I need time to work this through.

-Haven't got time!

You must have an instinct, something.

Okay, well, he's more angry, isn't he?

He wants to hurt this guy, torture him.

The others were all killed with a single blow, so... ...this guy is more special in some way.

More... personal?

Maybe.

What about the eyes?

Maybe this guy witnessed something.

Maybe... Maybe the killer is taking revenge for something to do with his own eyes.

God, I don't know.

Yeah, well, you're doing great.

You've got some puke on your jacket, though.

-Kurt.

-Yeah?

There's something you should see.

The tide must be going out.

The van is registered to a Bjorn Fredman.

He was a fence.

He's done time.

Fencing what kind of stuff?

It doesn't specify.

He was also arrested for battery.

Yeah, I know him, if it's the same one.

Well.

Yeah.

He's a low-life.

Last time I heard of him, he'd laid into his wife, beat her up when she was pregnant.

Last address we have is in Tomelilla.

WALLANDER: When did you last see your husband?

Weeks ago.

We try not to have anything to do with him.

And you have other children, I believe.

Louise, my daughter.

She's away at the moment.

Is she?

Jens is still asleep.

(CHILD CRIES) Well, was asleep.

Shall I?

I'll do it.

(CHILD CONTINUES TO WAIL) You can ask me stuff.

The last time Dad was here, he picked a fight with a taxi driver outside.

Ended up hitting the guy with a monkey wrench.

The time before that, it was a neighbor's mother.

So he had enemies, then.

Anyone got a problem with him, he'd just hit them.

Did he hit you?

It was better when he left.

I suppose I should feel sad, shouldn't I?

I don't know.

How do you feel?

I'm not sure yet.

You got a dad?

You mean is he still around?

Yeah.

What's he like?

How long have you got?

What does he do?

He's a painter.

What, like a builder and decorator?

No.

Like an artist.

An artist, wow.

Why did you wanna be a policeman, then?

My dad's been asking himself that question for 25 years.

I couldn't paint, I suppose.

Got him down again.

Do you want some coffee?

Thanks.

There's just a few more things that we have to ask you, and then I'll leave you alone.

I'll get it.

Do you think I'm in shock?

Not being sad, do you... do you think that's shock?

Well, when all's said and done, he was your dad.

Doesn't always cut it, though, does it?

(MOBILE CHIMES) Yep.

HOGLUND: Erika Carlman's tried to top herself.

Christ.

Definite suicide attempt, she's in a coma.

I don't think it's the first time she's tried.

I saw cuts on her wrist when she hit me.

She hit you?

Her father's death was... Was she very close to him?

What do you mean?

Well, did they get on?

I can't see what that's got to do with you, Inspector.

In fact, I'm not quite sure what you're doing here.

If you don't mind, -I'd like to sit with my daughter.

-Of course.

See you back at the station.

(MOBILE CHIMES) Yeah?

Oh, God, no.

(KEYS RATTLE) (BOLT CLICKS) There you go, sir.

I thought I'd pay you a visit at work.

They said that you got into a fight?

At the supermarket?

It's going.

It's eating into me.

Dementia, senility... Alzheimer's!

Whatever they call it now.

You mean... Have you seen someone?

Have you been diagnosed?

When?

Does it matter?

What do you mean, does it matter?

Why didn't you say something?

Why?

Why?!

What did you think?

Did you think that you would martyr yourself to it?

That you could beat it?

Christ!

How long have you got?

Months!

I don't know!

What about... What about Gertrude, does she know?

I told her not to say anything.

You bloody tyrant!

You bloody old tyrant!

I'm so sorry, Dad.

I don't know what to do.

What can I do?

Nothing.

Well, there must be something.

Do you want to solve it?

Well, you can't!

It is what it is!

So, who did I hit?

I don't know what I'm saying, exactly.

But?

There was something about that painting, something sexual, yeah?

-Abuse?

-I don't know.

But the mother got really spiky when I asked about Erika and her father.

Fredman has a daughter, strangely absent... Wetterstedt?

-Young girls.

-Prostitutes.

It's not the same.

-Similar taste in art.

-There's no connection to Fredman.

Apart from the killer.

All the prints from each case are the same.

He leaves them everywhere.

Are you absolutely sure it's a he?

I can't see a woman landing those blows.

Even an abused woman?

There's something essentially male about the killings, their conception, their execution.

Well, is there a chance he's done now?

My instinct tells me not.

Oh.

Nyberg.

Can you come and have a look at this?

-What?

-It's a report from the lab.

Your father's ill, isn't he?

I saw him when they brought him in.

The raging, the confusion... Not much we can do.

Can't solve Alzheimer's.

Christ, I'm beginning to sound like him now.

I just... should have seen it.

There were enough signs.

-It's not your fault.

-I don't need bloody analyzing, okay?

-This is not for me to say... -Don't say it, then.

You seem to be... in crisis at the moment.

You recently split with your wife, you have a difficult relationship with your daughter, and now your father has Alzheimer's.

You're not getting...

Hang on, how the hell do you know that about my wife, my daughter?

The guys.

I hear them talking.

They're concerned for you.

Well, it's none of their business.

It's no one's business.

Christ, I don't know.

I keep thinking I could get out, get a small holding somewhere, you know, carrots...

Carrots?

You know, produce.

Pigs, maybe.

A couple of pigs.

Tell me about your wife.

It's a trial separation.

If one of us meets someone, we'll do the divorce, that's the deal.

She's seeing somebody.

And you didn't think she would?

You should go home.

I can't.

There's nothing more you can do tonight.

Where's your daughter?

Waiting.

Okay, Liljegren.

They call him "The Auditor".

He's from Bastad, but he's got houses all over.

And what did he do?

Playboy.

Financial scams.

Shell companies, money laundering...

So now we've got a former Minister of Justice, an art dealer and a white-collar crook.

And a wife-beating thug.

(CAMERA SHUTTERS CLICK) I need you to get your mum up.

I know it's early.

I'm sorry.

Has there been another one?

-Yeah.

It's important, I'm afraid.

-Okay.

(SIGHS) (LAUGHS) That's such a mess!

There's a cloth in the kitchen.

I'll get Mum up.

Thanks.

Is that your sister?

Yeah.

Louise, yeah?

And she's away?

Yeah, she went off.

Often does, you know?

Mates.

Well, what's to stay for?

She doesn't work?

No.

Oh, how's your old man?

-My dad?

-Yeah.

The artist.

He's fine, thanks.

He's... Actually, he's not well.

So... ...he's not fine, then?

Old age thing.

Look...I really need to ask your mum some questions about your dad.

What about him?

It would probably be better if I talked to her.

It's about his business.

She never had anything to do with his business.

Too scared of him.

Okay.

What about your sister?

Was she scared of him?

Well... Why do you keep asking stuff about my sister?

I have to ask stuff about everything.

What about your brother, Jens?

Well... Jens used to run out of the room whenever Dad came round.

He hit him when he was a baby.

He hit him?

Yeah.

And he cried.

Did he ever touch your sister?

What, hit her, you mean?

Hit her or... touch her in any other way?

Well...

These questions are weird.

Um... How should I know stuff like that?

No, I'm sorry.

You don't know where she is?

You don't know when she'll be back?

I told you.

Okay.

I'm going to need... a picture of her.

Can I take that one?

I've got a better one in my room.

Okay.

Can I use the bathroom?

Yeah.

It's down on your right.

There you go.

(CHILD CRIES NEARBY) Nice smile.

He wasn't around.

Hi.

He fell over, banged his head.

Ah, little fella, you been in the wars?

Come on, Jens, it's okay.

Shh, shh.

Come on, sweetie.

-It's okay, Mum, I'll take him.

-Thanks.

Come on.

-I'm sorry.

-It's okay.

Stefan's been great.

The pills belong to Louise Fredman.

See if you can find the doctor.

I'm sure that's some kind of serious anti-depressant.

Kurt, I've got some background on Liljegren.

Maybe it's nothing, but a couple of the uniform guys reckon he used to have these major league parties at his villa - all-nighters.

-They used to ship girls in.

-Prostitutes?

I suppose so.

Great.

Thank you.

See if we can get someone from one of those parties.

-One of the women, yeah?

-All right.

Kurt!

Erika Carlman has regained consciousness.

It started when I was a child... with him coming into my bedroom.

It's okay.

I was so frightened.

I had to look at that horrible painting every day.

What was in his head.

But I still loved him.

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH) How could I still love him?

What's wrong with me?

There's nothing wrong with you.

He was your father.

There's nothing wrong with you at all.

Is someone... ...taking revenge for these girls?

(MOBILE RINGS) Hello?

It's Svedberg.

He's found a prostitute from the Liljegren parties.

Okay.

(CHEERING) I think there's a market for virgins.

There usually is with these guys.

Feeds into some fantasy about them screwing their daughters.

Look, I just need some names, okay?

There were no names.

Well, did you recognize any of the faces, then?

Not my world.

Thanks.

You see this man?

Gustav Wetterstedt.

A couple of times.

(WHISTLE BLOWS, CHEERING) -(MOBILE RINGS) -Svedberg.

What about him?

What about him?

Bjorn Fredman.

Keep me out of this, please.

I have a young daughter.

I was told you just wanted help.

Yeah, it's okay, it's okay.

I'll look after you, I promise.

But I have to know, did you see this man?

Some sort of courier.

Brought the girls in from wherever.

I saw him hanging around.

But not in the parties.

Um, just one more.

Um, you see her?

I don't think so.

You don't think so?!

Maybe.

There were so many different girls.

A lot of them were foreign.

-I never asked questions.

-One more girl.

Short, dark skinned.

How old's your daughter?

13.

Right, well, this one was 15 years old and she wore this round her neck.

She burnt herself to death in front of me because she was so bloody scared and I think that you know what she was so scared of.

There was another man.

He was like the agent.

He was evil.

Evil.

Would you recognize him again if you saw him?

I will look after you, I promise.

I don't know.

Louise Fredman's doctor has got back to us.

She's been in the psychiatric unit at Lund Hospital Clinic for the last six months.

Can I talk to her?

No-one can.

In a state of prolonged trauma.

Hasn't spoken since she was admitted.

She was found wandering half-naked in a park, apparently.

Complete breakdown.

Why did you lie?

She can't help you.

-She can't help anyone.

-Her father's been murdered.

Good, good.

I'm glad that he's dead.

(CHILD CRIES) Are you gonna arrest me now?

(CHILD SCREAMS) STEFAN: Jens!

She doesn't speak, she doesn't listen.

(SCREAMING) STEFAN: Ow!

Jens, stop it!

(JENS SCREAMS) The doctor said that she's willing herself to die.

-Do you want Mum?

-Get off me!

Mum.

Mum?

Okay.

I know about your sister.

Why didn't you tell me?

Please, darling.

Jens, shh.

What happened to his eyes?

I thought he hurt his head.

I think you should leave us.

(JENS SCREAMS) -Shh.

-(SCREAMING CONTINUES) Right, look, please, Jens.

(MOBILE CHIMES AND VIBRATES) Yeah?

Kurt, we've got some information on Fredman coming through that I think you should see.

Kurt?

Fredman was arrested seven years ago, for assault, and the charges were dropped.

By Sandin.

There's the connection.

This was taken a few years ago.

Obviously, he'd be older now.

Is this the man you saw at the parties?

Kurt!

You need to do this properly.

Kurt!

You can't go there on your own.

Sandin's gone.

We're too late.

(DOOR SLAMS) Hello?

Police!

(WOMEN SCREAM) Please help.

(SOBBING) It's all right.

It's all right, I'm... (ENGINE REVS) Kurt!

Kurt!

(PULLS HANDBRAKE) MAN: Try not to worry.

Drink the water.

You're safe now.

Police.

That's it, try to keep warm.

WALLANDER: He was police.

But a murderer?

-Don't worry.

-Do you understand?

WOMAN: The boy with the eyes.

Bad bruising and cuts around his eyes.

His mother said he'd been stabbing himself with a fork.

The injuries were consistent with that, like he was trying to put his own eyes out.

I submitted the details to social services.

Fredman.

Jens Fredman.

-Oi!

-Where is he?

What are you doing?

Her diary.

It's all in here.

Fredman - her own father, for God's sake - pimped her out to Wetterstedt.

Sandin organized it like he organized Liljegren's parties - the girls from abroad.

Girls like Dolores.

Virgins.

-The eyes?

-Revenge for the little brother.

How could a kid of 15 do all this?

He's no ordinary kid.

-He's a warrior.

-What's he gonna do next?

Sandin.

You can't do that.

I'm your prisoner.

I'm in your custody.

You're responsible for me, Wallander.

You were police.

A 15-year-old girl burnt herself to death in front of me because I told her I was police.

She thought I was like you.

That maniac puts an axe through my skull, by God, you'll pay.

I'm willing to take that risk.

Go.

Side window.

(COCKS GUN) -Wallander!

Wallander!

-Stefan!

It's all right.

It's me.

Lower your guns, lower your guns.

Lower your guns, lower your guns.

It's all right, Stefan.

Give me the axe.

Oh, God, please.

I have to free her soul.

I have to punish them.

They'll be punished.

Please.

Give me the axe.

What would you do?

You think this man's life is worth more than mine?

More than my sister's?

No one deserves to die, Stefan.

No-one.

(HE WHIMPERS) Yes, they do.

WOMAN: Stefan... ...stay still.

He's okay.

(STEFAN GASPS FOR BREATH) Got to go.

Got to go and see Granddad.

-GERTRUDE: Is he all right?

-Hi.

Um... (DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES) Dad...

I can't do it any more, Dad.

I can't do it.

(HE SOBS) Any of it.

When you were a boy, you used to ask me... about my work... the painting.

"Why are they always the same, Dad?"

"Why don't you do something different?"

I could never explain.

You see... each morning, when I start, I think I'll do something else.

"This morning, I'll paint a seascape.

"This morning I'll do a still life, "maybe an abstract, just splash on the paint, see where it takes me."

And then I start, and every time, I paint the same thing.

The landscape.

Whatever I do, this is what comes out.

What you've got is your painting.

I may not like it, you may not like it, but it's yours.

You know what I'd like before I lose what's left of my mind?

I'd like to go to Rome.

I'd like that.

Look at the paintings, other people's paintings.

Can we do that?

Yeah.

Yes, Dad... we can do that.

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