[ Dings ]
[ Bell Dings ]
[ Metal Creaking ]
[ Gasping ]
[ Man Gasps ]
[ Screaming ]
[ Rattling ]
[ Screaming ]
[ Flashbulb Charging ]
Just a routine background check.
To the best of your knowledge, has Mr. Wisnowski ever used any illegal drugs?
Which illegal drugs?
Yeah, in the time that you worked with Ms. Ermentrout,
did you find her to be a trustworthy person?
Punctual, huh? Punctual is good.
No, no, ma'am. This is just a routine background check. Mister --
Mr. Garber is not in any legal trouble whatsoever.
Yeah. Okay. Thanks for your time.
Hey, Scully, if we get lucky, next time they'll let us clean toilet bowls.
- You ready to quit? - No.
That would make way too many people way too happy.
[ Rings ]
Scully.
I'm on my way.
I've been called into Kersh's office.Just me.
Just you?
Don't forget your toilet brush.
No. No, ma'am, not you.
[ Knock On Door ]
- Agent. - Sir.
Dana Scully, this is Agent Peyton Ritter with the bureau's New York office.
- Agent Ritter. - Hi.
Show her what you have.
Our office is currently updating its case filing system.
While I was involved in this project--
scanning old crime scene photographs into the computer--
I came across this.
"" Margareta Stoller, age 57, cause of death, an overdose of Nitraz.""
- Look at when they found her. - A neighbor called the police at 1 1 :1 4 p.m.
Right. So what's wrong with that picture?
Clock says it is 45 minutes earlier. Well, a clock can be wrong.
They certainly can, so I checked the Post from the following day.
These are straight from their photo files.
Hmm. Almost an hour and a half later.
Right. Two different negatives, same photographer.
The guy's name is Alfred Fellig. He's rattled around Manhattan for years.
Apparently a stringer for the wire services, an on - call guy for N. Y.P.D.
And you suspect this man Fellig?
You think that Mrs. Stoller wasn't a suicide?
Well, this guy's into taking pictures, right?
So I'm thinking, what if-- what if he poisons this woman...
and gets his jollies by snapping a few of her dead body,
then winds up back in the same apartment an hour later...
after Midtown North calls him over to do the job?
That's quite a theory.
Yeah, well, the thing is, he might have done it on more than one occasion.
Now, I sifted through probably 2,000 of his police photos.
Now, these three have measurable solar shadows.
- Since we know the location -- - You can tell the time of day by the shadows.
Right. And with it, these three are looking every bit as hinky.
You've got another suicide here, a heart attack...
and a very obvious murder for which another man was convicted.
- There's no consistent M.O. - There's no consistent anything.
I could sure use your help.
- Agent, step outside, please. - Sure.
I would say he has a promising career ahead of him.
So did you... at one time.
With your expertise in forensic pathology,
you would be a substantial asset to this investigation.
I know it'd provide more challenge to you than running background checks.
Agent Mulder and I will begin immediately.
Agent Mulder's a lost cause. I'm taking the chance you're not.
It's you and Ritter. Do not let me down.
[ Groaning ]
Ohh!
[ Flashbulb Charging ]
- Mulder. - Hmm?
- What are you doing? - Being nosy.
Eating my heart out. They're sending you on an X-File.
- It's not an X-File. - That's not what I'm reading.
I'm thinking murder by telekinesis, maybe a shamanistic death touch.
I'm thinking about the Muslim superstition...
that to photograph someone is to steal their soul.
Thank you. All very helpful.
So they're splitting us up, huh?
No. This is a onetime thing. Who told you that?
Obviously, if you do a good job, they're not going to stick you back here.
Right?
- Agent Scully, we're all set. - Peyton Ritter, this is Fox Mulder.
- It's a pleasure to meet you, Fox. - Pleasure to meet you, Peyton.
- We should get going. - Off to New York.
Alfred Fellig. What can you tell us about him?
What's to tell? He's one of about 1 0,000 people in town...
who have an official license to piss people off.
He sometimes doubles as a crime scene photographer for your precinct.
Yeah, he comes in, snaps a picture. Keeps to himself.
There's not much in the way of personal information there.
There's not supposed to be. It's just a yearly renewal form.
Would you happen to know when the original background check was done?
Here he is again. Yearly renewal dating back toJanuary 1 97 0,
but still no original.
I think I've got it.
1 964.
Whew. Old-timer.
- Anything interesting? - Maybe.
- What you doing? - Take a look at this.
1 996.
'87, '85, '73.
Guy's a regular Dick Clark.
I don't know what to tell you, Dana.
Other than the fact that this guy's always been a geezer,
this is looking like a dead end.
Help! Help!
Somebody call the police!
- Man, what do you want from me? Are you crazy? - [ Horn Honks ]
Please! Please help me! Please! Come on, lady! Please help me!
- Man, what do you want from me, man? No! - [ Switchblade Clicks Open ]
No! No! [ Screaming ]
[ Camera Clicks ]
[ Clicking Continues ]
[ Switchblade Clicks Open ]
[ Groans ]
[ Ritter ] Prints are Alfred Fellig's.
Positive match, right off his 1 964 background check.
I took the liberty of slipping them into the SAFIS database.
First thing this morning, boom! Up they came.
- You're thinking this is Fellig's work? - It's a lock.
The wound measurements match with the knife. He got sloppy in his old age.
- What's this? - A whole lot of blood.
Yeah, I got that.
- It's pretty clear he took a second victim. - Where's the second body?
- They found your boy. - Fellig? Where?
Home, watching T V . They're bringing him in now.
Yes!
Check. Check. January 4, 1 1 :36 a.m.
1 5th Precinct, Manhattan.
Agents present: Dana Scully and Peyton Ritter.
- Initial interview with... - [ Door Opens ]
Alfred Fellig.
Hello.
You're a photographer.
I've seen some of your work.
You specialize in some pretty dark subject matter.
You're around death a lot. It must fascinate you.
Am I boring you, Mr. Fellig?
Ask me a question already.
All right. I want to know how you always happen to be...
Johnny-on-the-spot every time somebody dies.
You're always there to take the picture. How does that happen?
I have a-- a nose for news.
Mr. Fellig, your fingerprints were found...
on a murder weapon at a crime scene.
Could you give us a full accounting of your activities last night?
The Bronx. I was on the job.
Saw some gibbon' stealing a kid's tennis shoes. He chased me.
- Ran off. - He ran off?
- Some unidentified murderer. - I guess I could identify him.
Your fingerprints were found on the knife.
- [ Grunts ] - How did they get there?
He left the knife behind.
I guess I touched it... briefly.
Why would you do that?
Were you injured, Mr. Fellig?
You seem to be in pain.
Were you attacked?
We found other blood at the crime scene,
and when we have it tested,
I'm wondering if we're going to learn that it's yours.
- I got cut some. - May we see?
May I help you?
Hey. Hey.
Take Mr. Fellig to get his blood drawn.
And photograph his back too.
Hey, I'm confused. I thought we were trying to bust this guy,
not look for reasons to let him go.
I thought we were looking for the truth.
[ Phone Line Ringing ]
- Scully. - Hi. My name is Fox Mulder.
We used to sit next to each other at the F.B.I.
- How's your X-File coming? - Mulder, it's not--
We haven't made much headway.
We arrested Alfred Fellig,
- and we just released him. - You can't hold him? What about the stabbing?
- How do you know about that? - I told you, I'm nosy. Why are you letting him go?
We were able to pull another set of prints off of the knife.
They belong to a convicted murderer by the name of Malcolm Wiggins.
That and the fact that Fellig's blood was found all over the crime scene...
tells me that his story checks out.
At least that particular story anyway.
But you still think Fellig's a murderer, huh?
I don't know what to think.
He's, uh, unusual.
As in he plugs up like a cork when you stab him?
- Where are you getting this stuff? - Well, young man Ritter...
has been sending progress reports to Kersh.
My computer may have inadvertently intercepted a few of those.
He's got nice things to say about you, though, mostly.
Why don't you let me do a little background check on Fellig for you?
- Mulder-- - Come on.
It's what I do now. I'm getting good at it.
I'm parked around the block.
Fellig's asleep. I haven't seen him move in over four hours.
Have a lovely evening.
[ Camera Clicking ]
[ Clicking Continues ]
- [ Knocking On Door] - Mr. Fellig, open up, please!
Explain this.
- What? - You took that photo an hour before police arrived.
You then purposely covered up that fact by photographing the scene again.
I don't think I remember that one.
You have, Mr. Fellig,
a long and uncanny history of being the first person at the scene of a death.
You also have a history of covering up that fact. Why?
Am I under arrest again?
Are you a murderer?
Well, then explain yourself, sir.
Because I promise you, until you do, you will not get a moment's peace.
You want to take a ride with me?
You come with me. I'll show you.
It's been an hour. Are we going to drive around all night?
Yeah. This is it.
This is what I do. Looking for the shot.
- What shot? - The shot.
Her.
She's about to die.
What are you talking about?
It could happen in the next minute, in the next hour.
But it'll happen. It's as plain as day.
Look, Mister--
Fellig, I don't know what you're planning,
but nobody here is going to die.
I'm not planning anything.
I'm just here to tell you what's gonna happen.
That that woman right there is going to be murdered?
I didn't say ""murdered.""
She's a smoker. She might die of lung cancer.
The "" how "" is always a surprise.
I just always know ""when.""
You want me to believe that?
[ Man ] Hey, what are you doin'out here, huh?
It's so cold out here. [ Continues, Indistinct ]
Get out of my face! Get off me!
[ Charging ]
Let go of me! Get out of here!
I've killed over that! Get out of here! Move it!
F.B.I.! Don't move!
- Damn! Where'd you come from? - Shut up!
- What? - Get down! Back up!
You're not such a big man now!
- That gun ain't mine, Red. - Yeah.
[ Mutters ]
- You all right? - I'm out of here.
[ Horn Honks ]
[ Brakes Hiss ]
Dana, what the hell is going on?
Assault and possession of an unregistered handgun.
- I'll be with you in a minute. - Why didn't you call me sooner?
I apologize.
What, you blew off the surveillance?
No offense, but the surveillance was blown before I got there.
Wait. You blew off the surveillance and took a little joyride with him?
I confronted Fellig.
I questioned him further about the deaths that he photographed.
- Is that okay with you? - What did he say?
He said that he can tell when people are about to die.
If New York passes a Good Samaritan law, we might nail him on that.
But other than that, I doubt we're going to get him for murder.
Wrong. Let me show you something.
They picked up Mr. Wiggins last night.
He says that it was Fellig who killed that kid in the alley, not him.
He said he happened along and had to fight for his life.
A convicted murderer half Fellig's age.
He said he would've come in on his own but was afraid we wouldn't have believed him.
He's right. Tell me, Ritter, did he have any help concocting that story?
Look, Fellig is a murderer.
Whether or not he did this specific one, I don't care.
Not if it buys me a few days in the box with him.
No judge is going to issue a warrant based on this.
I know the judge. We'll have it by noon.
You know, Kersh warned me about you.
- He did? - Yeah. You and your partner.
God knows his reputation precedes him, so I guess I should've seen this coming.
You muck up my case, and Kersh will hear about it. Are we clear, Dana?
- Scully. And we're done with this conversation. - [ Cell Phone Rings ]
[ Ringing Continues ]
- Yeah? - Hey, Scully, how's that X-File coming?
- Before you tell me that it's not an X-File-- - It is.
What happened?
Alfred Fellig seems to know an awful lot about death.
Oh, yeah? Well, that's not surprising, given that...
he's reached the ripe old age of 1 49.
- Excuse me? - I did a low-tech background check on him.
This stuff is so old that they don't even keep it on record on the computer.
Alfred Fellig doesn't exist before 1 964, but one Henry Strand does.
He applied for a press pass from theJersey City Police in 1 939 at the age of 53.
- His prints match Fellig's. - But, Mulder, there must be some kind of a mistake.
You think? Because this Henry Strand does not exist before 1 939.
However, one L.H. Rice...
is on record as having sat for the New York State civil service exam.
Now, the records don't show whether he passed or not.
But his thumbprint? Fellig's.
Want to know what L.H. Rice's birthday is?
April 4, 1 849.
I'm not good at math, but I'm figuring that's a lot of candles on the cake.
I have spent time with this man,
and he can't be more than 65 years old.
I think that's what he wants you to think.
Now, we're talking about a guy for whom the phrase...
""life in prison"" carries some seriously weighty connotations.
I think you should get to him before he vanishes and becomes someone else.
[ Horn Honks ]
[ Police Scanner Chatter ]
You are going to be arrested, Mr. Fellig, in two hours,
charged with murder.
And this time,you won't be able to just change your name.
I showed you what I do last night. I just take the pictures.
What you showed me was a contemptible lack of compassion...
for another human being.
You showed me that you profit off of people's deaths.
Now, why shouldn't you go to prison?
What, do you want me to cry for them?
You want me to make like I feel sorry for them?
I don't.
Lucky bastards.
- Every one of them. - Lucky?
I'm just there to get the shot.
I don't take those people. He does.
Who's he?
That's him. He's the one who takes them.
You're saying that this is a photograph of Death itself?
It's a glimpse. Just a glimpse.
It's closer than I've gotten in--
Well, I can't even count the years.
And this is the shot that you spoke of. This is...
- what you try and get. - Mm-hmm.
Mr. Fellig, I know that you know more about photography than I do,
but this is just a lens flare.
You're right. I do know more about photography than you do.
Okay, I mean--
For the sake of argument, why bother?
I mean, why-- Why take a picture of Death?
So I can look into his face... so I can die.
Pills don't work.
Razors, gas, bridges--
I can't tell you how many bridges I've jumped off of.
All I get is wet.
I got left behind.
I don't want to be here anymore.
I can't even remember a time when I did.
Uh--
This is--
This is all I know to do.
You know I don't believe you.
Yes, you do.
That's why you're here.
How is it you know when people are about to die?
Oh.
You chase it long enough, you pick it up.
Excuse me.
- Mulder. Hi. - Mulder, it's me.
Those other two names that you said that Fellig went by-- Strand and Rice?
Yeah. Henry Strand and L.H. Rice.
What about Louis Brady?
Uh, no, but there's a, there's like a big gap before 1 939.
[ Scully ] Will you check it out for me?
I'm sticking here to make sure he doesn't bolt.
Louis Brady, Mulder.
Tell me what you find out.
Mr. Fellig?
Oops. Excuse me. I have film out. Hold on a second.
[ Cell Phone Ringing ]
- Ritter. - Agent Ritter, it's Agent Mulder.
- Is Agent Scully with you? - No, she's not, nor do I seem to able to find her.
Me neither, and D.C. Cellular says her phone is turned off.
- What can I do for you, Agent? - Well, you can find her for me.
Listen, Agent Mulder, I'm on my way to arrest Alfred Fellig.
Good, because that's where I think she is.
And you were right. Fellig is a murderer.
Under the name of Louis Brady, he suffocated two patients in a Connecticut hospital.
He says he meant to catch up with Death.
One year into his prison sentence, he walked off a work detail.
The manhunt never officially ceased.
- When was this? - 1 929.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. When?
Look, Ritter, don't sweat the math. It's him.
Just get there and find Agent Scully.
All right. I'm on it.
You know, most people want to live forever.
Most people are idiots.
Which is one of the reasons I don't.
I think you're wrong.
How can you have too much life?
There's too much to learn, to experience.
Seventy-five years is enough.
Take my word for it.
You live forever, sooner or later...
you start to think about the big thing you're missing...
and that everybody else gets to find out about but you.
What about love?
What, does that last forever?
Forty years ago, I drove down to the city hall,
down to the Hall of Records.
Record archives, whatever they call it. I wanted to look up my wife.
It...
bothered me I couldn't remember her name.
Love lasts...
seventy-five years, if you're lucky.
You don't want to be around when it's gone.
Count your blessings.
Why are you this way?
I mean, if this is true,
give me something in the way of proof.
Help me find some science that I can hang this on.
It has nothing to do with science.
- Someone took my place. - Took your place?
I don't know her name.
I don't think I ever knew it.
I had yellow fever way the hell back then...
when it killed half of New York.
Washington Square Park was a common grave, they had so many bodies.
They'd bury them shallow.
They wrapped them in yellow sheets,
and the yellow sheets would stick up through the mud.
I was in a city-run contagion ward.
I was out of my head with fever, out of my mind,
then I saw him-- saw Death.
Wish I would've had a camera then.
At first, I...
just saw him out of the corner of my eye.
Then he got bolder and he started flitting around the room,
and he'd take this person and he'd take that person.
And I never saw his face. I didn't want to see his face.
I figured if I saw it, he'd take me too.
- But he didn't. - No.
There was a nurse.
She did the best she could.
Back then, medical science was--
They couldn't find their ass with both hands. They still can't.
But she did the best she could. She sat with me.
Held my hand.
I was on my deathbed, then he came for me.
I didn't look at him.
I closed my eyes and turned my head.
I didn't tell her not to look at him. I wanted her to look at him.
I wanted her to look at him instead of me.
And then I came to and the fever broke.
They were carrying her out wrapped up in a yellow sheet.
Since that time, I realized you got to be careful what you wish for.
I missed my chance.
- You're very lucky, you know that? - What do you mean?
Wait a minute.
Say what's on your mind. You mean lucky like the others?
You want me to believe that I'm about to die?
I just want to take the picture.
You took my picture. You took my picture last night. Is this why?
- No. That was different. - I'm not gonna die!
- [ Charging ] - Turn that off. - No.
Turn it off right now! Put it down!
There is nothing to be done for it.
You took my phone. Why?
- Please,just give me a chance. - What don't you want me to know?
He's coming. He's coming, and you should just make your peace.
Shut up!
[ Door Crashes Open ]
- He's here. - [ Flashbulb Charging ]
Agent?
Oh, God. Don't.
No, no, no, no, no.
Come on, come on. Damn it!
I'll get help. We need some help in here!
Do you see him?
Don't look.
Close your eyes.
You're a lucky man.
Coroner's report came back on Fellig.
Says he died of a single gunshot wound.
That's all it said.
Well, I, uh,
talked to your doctor, and he says you're doing great.
You're making the fastest recovery he's ever seen.
You know, Mulder, I don't even know how I entertained the thought.
People don't live forever.
No, I-I think he would have.
I just think that Death only looks for you...
once you seek its opposite.
[ Child ] I made this!