Previously on Babylon Berlin...
-Let's pack your bags and go home. -It's too late now.
I don't want to live in that stupid hotel where you suck up to that spiv.
"Those boys are fun. One was called Fritz Höckert,
-the other Otto." -They were using fake names.
Richard Pechtmann and Horst Kessler.
They are Benda's murderers.
If they know my name, they will get to you at some point.
-You didn't talk to anyone about this? -No.
-You're late. -Sorry, Rottenführer.
We're in a conference, don't you see?
But I have urgent new findings
-in the Betty Winter case. -Do we need to prevent a new crime?
No, I wanted--
No comment at the moment. We're still investigating.
Counselor, a photograph with your closest and most important staff.
-Do you believe in coincidence? -Not at all.
Interesting. Neither do I.
Maybe our faith in the infallibility of the records department is too unbroken.
TWO WEEKS EARLIER
Anyone here?
We're about to close.
Sit down.
-Pardon? -I said sit down.
As long as I don't know what you want from me, I'd rather stand, all right?
All right, I'll be brief.
I don't want to waste your time or mine.
My name is Leopold Ulrich, I'm the head of the Berlin police records department.
On September 21 of this year, that is, exactly three days ago,
the body of Felix Krempin, formerly working as a gaffer,
arrived at the Charité in Berlin for an autopsy.
A projectile was extracted from his head.
In such cases, it is my duty to identify the artifact.
State, make, age, and so on and so forth.
In brief, I determine all the data which can be classified.
It goes without saying that matching the data
with the prophylactic data set bank, which I myself have developed, is my field.
Everyone with priors is recorded and categorized.
I don't have to explain the procedure to you, you have experienced it yourself.
With you, it was dealing with stolen goods in eight instances
and 14 instances of fraud.
On this card, there is also a note about firearms.
This is where you come in, Mr. Bela Gosztony.
Gosztony.
The weapon I matched with the projectile found in Felix Krempin's head...
is registered to your name.
I have nothing to do with this.
Maybe not you directly, but your brother,
Mr. Sandor Gosztony.
Sandor.
Also has a record for numerous cases of fraud.
And, unlike you, for grievous bodily harm.
If I read this correctly, it was a knifing.
Killing me won't be of any use.
I have deposited the evidence I just mentioned in a safe
at police headquarters.
An envelope, to be opened in the case of my death,
is also in said safe, addressed to my assistant,
in the heavily secured rooms of police headquarters.
So at any moment in time, I could bust you both, like they say in your circles.
-What do you want, money? -No.
That's not why I'm here.
I want you to carry on.
With what?
With the sabotage of the film shoot?
No.
With the murders.
But...
Why?
Who?
That's up to you. I don't care.
I just want it to continue.
What a nut!
Why should we do that?
Because otherwise you'll be arrested in 30 minutes,
sentenced in four weeks,
and executed in about six months.
The evidence is overwhelming.
So, kill.
You'd best create a pattern. Then we can swap the coordinates of suspects at will.
A pattern.
Stick with the masquerade.
The hunt for the Phantom, that's a good story.
The city will hold its breath.
Moritz?
How's your injury?
I can't hear you.
Let me see.
I mustn't laugh so much.
And you always laugh so much.
A Fokker D-7.
-Udet, Göring, Richthofen. -Not Richthofen.
He was already dead when it was used.
Where is this from?
We've been handing it out.
In the schoolyard?
Have you read it?
No.
Can I borrow it?
Sure.
BE BRIEF!
MY BATTLE
Yes?
Yes, of course he's here.
Leave the boy alone, Helga. He's fine. And he likes it here.
Yes, Moritz stays with me. Final word.
Lieutenant.
I heard about Kessler. He was one of your men, right?
He was the second guy...
involved in the Benda affair.
The Bolsheviks are on our doorstep now.
But we'll get the guy.
I heard he left some evidence behind.
The only two men who were accessories to the Benda affair...
are either dead or missing.
Still no trace of Pechtmann?
I don't trust you.
Retired Colonel Wendt.
I don't trust you either.
Why should I?
If we don't keep each other in check, we should not be doing business anymore.
Soon we won't have to do business with the likes of you anymore.
Have you been able to question Horst Kessler's lover by now?
As you are a witness in this case, I'm bound by the law, Detective.
I'm not allowed to talk to you about this case.
Come on, Böhm.
The girl hasn't invented the deep dish.
But her statement points to the fact
that we might be dealing with a red-light district dispute.
-Kessler was a pimp? -We have a suspect.
I'm about to question a witness. That's all I'll say.
If you'll compare...
loop, arch, whorl. The same picture. Walter Weintraub.
And there is no doubt this knife is the crime weapon?
The blood on the blade is blood type AB.
That's Vera Lohmann's blood type.
Excuse me, but the perpetrator was wearing gloves.
So he can't leave any fingerprints, right?
-If the perpetrator really wore gloves-- -He did.
This explains the difficulty in recovering evidence.
The print was weak.
But unambiguous.
Correct, correct, but Weishaupt and I suspect that the handle was wiped.
But you can ascribe this knife to Walter Weintraub without a doubt?
Yes.
-OK, thank you. -We have expanded the search.
And increased.
We're checking doctors now.
...what he did.
Erich, please.
There. I don't give a shit.
Look what you did with your botched job.
Look at her!
Blind in her left eye and waterworks in the other one.
You stupid pig, you'll pay for this for sure.
Wrecking a woman's eyes.
Using a quack. How can you be so stupid?
Ilse, is that true?
-I don't know. -Look at her!
It's black in the left and blurred in the right.
You can bawl, but you'll pay, too.
Wrecking a mother's eyes and pretending nothing has happened? Stupid whore.
Young man, watch your language.
What do you want, you jerk?
-Is your wife blind or are you? -Erich, please.
-I'm negotiating. -Get out.
What?
Get out, now!
I want compensation, you hear?
I'll sue you!
You're bleeding.
Piss off!
I didn't want that, Lotte.
In order to avoid spectacles like this one, I'm against women in homicide.
Thank you.
I'm all right. I'll sit down.
You're welcome to use this space.
And you?
I need to go upstairs.
Pechtmann disappeared right after the lineup.
Kessler was shot in front of me.
-The maid was sentenced to death. -Rightfully so, yes.
Chief Constable...
It is obvious...
that all those involved are systematically eliminated.
By whom?
Who stands to gain here?
We both have our suspicions, but...
how do you want to prove Councilor Wendt is involved in these events, Rath?
By keeping the investigations going.
And by drawing Wendt out of his shell.
Thank you.
Madam, you said on the phone you have something I might be interested in.
May I know what it is?
My husband kept a diary.
Until recently, I found it impossible to read it.
The wounds of my grief were too fresh.
The... indiscretion seemed to be too great to me.
But after our last meeting...
and after the maid had been sentenced, I was able to bring myself to do it.
There is a page where he casually...
but clearly expresses his disgust at Zörgiebel's harshness
concerning the police action on May 1.
The entry makes it clear that there was an order to shoot after all.
Zörgiebel personally discussed it with every single officer in charge.
And afterwards, they made it out to be self-defense.
Yes.
Madam, would it be at all possible for me to borrow this?
With the exception of this passage,
I guarantee I'll keep this strictly confidential.
DR. K. HEESE EYE SPECIALIST
-Hello, Mrs. Schwarzbach. -Hello.
You have a letter.
I had it sent up to your room.
Thank you.
Dear Helga,
when the wick of this candle has gone out, my life light will no longer shine.
Allow me to turn to you one last time
to let you know how precious those few hours with you were to me.
My goal too high, my strength too weak.
As consolation, there were... the few hours we had together.
-I need to go to Liebenstein Castle. -Don't blame anyone for my death.
I wanted it, I alone.
I will wait for you in the netherworld if it exists.
Alfred.
You won't get far with this in court.
I don't know of any instance allowing a diary as evidence.
I'm not interested in a trial.
Either you resign of your own accord, Mr. Zörgiebel,
or the public will learn what August Benda has written.
The man who fell victim to an act of revenge for the police action on May 1.
You are the most impertinent man I have ever met.
Farewell... Mr. Zörgiebel.
-Oh, God. -Alfred.
-Get me salt. -What?
A lot of salt and a jug of water.
And a flexible tube and a funnel.
Alfred? Alfred, wake up.
That's good.
Evening.
There is more.
A lot more.
Let us know when you have new stuff.
Listen, Gereon, I have decided
to see my presence on that list as a veritable knighthood.
Indeed?
A Jew belongs in the coffeehouse, my revered grandfather used to say.
And 20 years later, his unworthy grandson Samuel Katelbach
becomes a member of a revolutionary cell
without his own doing and overnight, so to speak.
A group of democratic fighters who believe in this state.
And for that reason alone, the state declares them enemies of the state.
Please put the soup dishes there.
And I want to tell you another thing.
If you ever find the complete list,
you will see that it contains a few hundred names.
At least.
You know what? That's a good thing.
They can't gag a few hundred people just like that.
That's a lot of people. Even if they arrest or, God forbid, kill the odd one,
there are still a few hundred others left who can open their mouths.
Like you.
Gereon.
You're about to become part of that list, too. You just don't know it yet.
And I take my modest and tolerated presence in your household
as an assignment to tickle your democratic self-concept of yourself out of you.
So.
Hang on a minute.
Minutiae to the right.
Minutiae to the left.
Good evening.
Excuse me, Mr. Ulrich.
-I noticed something. -You did?
Yes. Here.
I think there's been a mistake.
These are Walter Weintraub's fingerprints which were found on the knife.
And those are Weintraub's prints from your databank, his right hand.
But look.
The friction ridge... the direction is wrong, isn't it?
-The minutiae point to the right. -Yes. Right hand.
Yes, but... the print is reversed.
The minutiae.
You're right. There must be a mix-up. I'll see to it right away.
-How-- how can they get mixed up? -What do you mean?
This looks more... like a deliberate forgery, Mr. Ulrich.
Who here could have do--
And... enjoy your meal.
The boy is in his room?
Master Moritz has not been seen today.
That'll be her.
Her?
Good evening, Mr. Rath. I'm here to see Mr. Katelbach. Is he in?
What are you doing here?
Charming as ever, Mr. Rath.
I'm sorry.
I was expecting someone else.
Come on in, please.
-Good evening. -Good evening, Mrs. Elisabeth.
What do we have here?
A little pancake soup for the nasty autumn wind.
What's in there?
That's-- that's goulash.
I see.
How was I to know that you'd bring food? I--
It's OK, Mr. Katelbach. You should take a look first.
Top box. You should be interested, too.
With best wishes from the Ministry of the Reichswehr.
How did you do that?
Good sources. It's the name of the game.
If you would be so kind to help me with my coat, I'll tell you.
Yes, of course.
Thank you.
You've set the table. How thoughtful.
And why is there sauerkraut in the goulash?
It's the Szegedin variation.
It's a speciality from my home country.
When it still included Hungary.
And you know how to do this?
If you give me some schnapps, we may actually be able to eat this.
This is Rath. I'm sorry, Mr. Gräf, we have work to do.
-Must be very important, Detective. -Indeed, it is.
-OK. Where shall we meet? -At headquarters. Right away.
You mentioned our connection. It wasn't long ago.
You said...
our souls gravitate to each other.
You said...
they intertwine like the strands of a braid.
How right you are.
Am I?
I know what it's like to be standing at the abyss in despair,
not knowing what to do.
Come.
Please.
Did you lock up?
Yes, I-- yes.
What are you doing here?
I forgot this.
And the light, too.
You know what?
If you're still working, I should be, too.
That's nice of you, but I'm done.
Mr. Ulrich,
it's not a problem.
Have a nice evening, Mr... Gräf.
Gräf.
Mr. Rath.
Develop the film and print it. Around 90 minutes?
-Yes. I'll let you know immediately. -I'll be in my office.
OK.
Miss Ritter?
Charlotte?
Hello?
Right, Detective, this won't take long now.
Your metabolism... stagnates,
your air passages contract.
In a few minutes, you'll be immobile.
The press will have to wait.
Ulrich!
Where is Charlotte?
She shares your fate, Detective.
The flippant little brat.
Where is Charlotte?
-Where is she? -She doesn't have much time left.
What's this supposed to be?
Secret Command Document?
Rearmament of the Reichswehr?
Mr. Ulrich!
What are you doing?
Go.
Turn right.
Ladies and gentlemen, this case is a prime example
of the public's misconception of the police's investigative work.
For years now, investigative successes are ascribed to those departments
which usually only have played the smallest and most insignificant part
in the solution of complex criminal mysteries and spectacular cases.
In order to halt these scandalous developments,
I decided some time ago to take on a secret experiment.
That's why you, gentlemen, are here today,
and I thank you all for attending in high numbers.
Thank you. Thanks very much.
The aim of this experiment...
is the unequivocal evidence
that the newest forensic methods,
in particular those of the police records department,
are at the forefront in terms of procuring reliable evidence
and successfully convicting perpetrators.
To put it in simpler terms,
without the police records department, Berlin's homicide department
would be a neglectable footnote in the history of the Berlin police.
That's enough.
Do you want me... to go?
All right, then...
Stop!
Don't go?
Where's Miss Ritter?
Detective, you are very useful evidence of the theory
that passion is capable of mobilizing superhuman strengths.
Where is she?
I'm no amateur.
I know how valuable a human pawn can be.
All the more so if, as in your case,
Detective, pronounced irrational affectations
impair the ability to act so significantly.
You're in love with the wench.
It's touching, but it makes you predictable.
Tell me where she is
or I'll shoot you.
No, you won't.
You will give me the time I still need here
to conclude my deliberations satisfactorily.
I will leave headquarters, and you will let me go in peace.
And then, from a secret place, I will tell you by telephone
where your assistant-- not very far from here, by the way-- can be found.
She is fighting against the collapse of her metabolism and the plunge into a coma.
Please excuse this brief interruption.
He's got to do it.
All right. Where was I?
Come. And hurry!
What happened?
So it was the aim of the experiment to make it clear
that the methods of the records department
can guide the path of the leading investigator
easily in the wrong and/or contradictory direction.
At the beginning of the experiment, there is an accident
which is not an accident.
The death of Betty Winter was very obviously not due to fate and coincidence.
Charlotte!
Charlotte.
Alarm! Hostage situation in the great hall.
Yes, hurry!
The state of the evidence at the crime scene is ambiguous
as the financiers of the film try to cover up evidence
which would point toward a crime.
But one witness noticed a mysterious man
in a black robe during the incident.
At first, the gaffer is the suspect.
However, he is eliminated before he can make an incriminating statement.
It was quick and easy for me personally
to identify and match the projectile with the crime weapon.
However, the responsible officers don't pay any attention to this revelation.
This is where the second, the new path of the investigation starts:
the experiment.
I meet with the Hungarian-born perpetrator and his participating brother.
These gentlemen wanted to get revenge
on the Armenian financier of the film for an old, brutal crime.
Their plan for revenge culminated in the killing of the female star
and the ensuing collapse of the film production.
Charlotte!
But shortly before the crime,
the hitherto willing accomplice, the gaffer, refuses to participate.
He didn't want to get involved in murder.
One of the Hungarian brothers steps in, driven by a blind desire for revenge,
and uses the striking black disguise for the very first time.
A pattern is born without the perpetrators being aware of it.
Stick with the masquerade. The hunt for the Phantom makes for a good story.
I consciously ignore any possible motive and order the two men
to commit another crime,
which will then insinuate a connection with the other crime at will.
Kill. You'd best create a pattern.
Then we can swap the coordinates of suspects at will.
To this end, I procure the identical model of a hunting knife
which belongs to a newly released inmate.
Soon afterwards, the knife is used to kill the witness,
a possible substitute for the dead main protagonist, in her dressing room.
A criminal assistant observes the perpetrator as he escapes,
unsuspecting of the fact
that this will add fuel to the plan to confuse the investigation.
Using bogus trinkets,
I now cast suspicion on the husband of Betty Winter,
who has a sufficient profile for a main suspect,
thanks to his behavioral problems.
In order to make the case even more astonishing,
a simple trick is used shortly afterwards
to direct suspicion to a new person,
namely the partner of the Armenian financier.
Together with the next victim, another film actress,
he finds a violent end.
Charlotte.
The self-proclaimed investigating elite of the homicide department
is by now helplessly groping in the dark,
so they deem it an adequate reason
to request the help of so-called criminal telepathy.
A cock-and-bull story!
An entire department, including its star ensemble, lacking any direction.
But they are still prepared to step in front of the press
and praise the fruits of their marginal contribution to finding the truth.
This is where they find peace in their confused, their futile,
their ridiculous actions.
Thank you.
One moment.
This glove is the evolution
of this mechanical hand from my personal laboratory.
With the help of a precise stamp of the fingerprints,
you have a glove which you can use to leave the traces of someone else.
Detective, you're just in time.
You can be a witness to how you yourself become a murderer.
The prints I will leave with this glove on this gun
will identify without a doubt you of all people, Mr. Rath,
as the perpetrator in the murder case of Ernst Gennat.
I found your secret chamber.
Miss Ritter is in medical care.
She is being taken to the police clinic as we speak.
You lost.
Do you understand what I'm saying?
You lost.
Wait! I'm not done yet.
I'm not done yet!
Thank you.
A man needs some luck.
And good police officers.
Thank you.
Gereon.
Careful.
Subtitle translation by Stephanie Geiges