We can't keep on doing this.
Remember, you called me before I called you.
I know, but it's been over a week and--
I can't. I'm not like this.
How convenient.
Why?
'Cause you could've sent me packing before coming to my house and bringing me
- to a damn parking lot to fuck, Lucas! - I'm leaving Clara.
I'm leaving Clara.
It's just you and me, Val.
It's always been you and me.
I love you.
Morning.
What's up? Morning.
Hey.
CRIME SECTION URGENT
"Publish this on the front page tomorrow,
or I'll kill someone's daughter every day until you do.
To prove my identity, I dumped Alma Álvarez's body
at the kilometer 27 marker, on the side of the Toluca highway.
She didn't die there. I had to kill her at the Juárez Hospital.
Alma had a beautiful birthmark on her left thigh.
That detail was never published."
Check that. Call forensics now.
"To all women in the city, I am your death.
My arrival is as unexpected as it is precise.
The police have done nothing but lie, so I decided to talk to you directly.
I hunt snakes.
I hunt them alone.
I walk the streets, guided by a compass that directs me,
that helps me choose. That leads me to you.
Walk with caution because when our eyes meet,
even if for a second, your death will be mine.
I'll see you soon."
Signed by The Tlalpan Undresser, 169.
- Check this. - Yes, sir.
Confirmed, boss.
- Shall I call the printer? - Do it.
We can't publish this.
- Why not? It's news. - We can't take orders from a madman.
Shut up.
- Boss, please. - Lucas, Lucas.
- Please! - Lucas!
Listen to me. If we don't publish this,
will you explain the decision to the parents of the next victims?
Call the printer.
Women will be terrified.
Maybe they should be.
THE UNDRESSER IN HIS OWN WORDS
You don't have to knock twice. Come in.
Are they awake?
- Not yet. - Okay.
Hi.
- Let's go. - Quiet.
I'll come down in a sec.
I don't know how long we'll be able to keep this up.
The kids will notice.
Yes.
Of course they'll notice. They're not stupid.
- Let me come back. - No. I don't want to pretend anymore.
Neither do I.
- Mom, the van is here. - I'm coming.
No. Let me.
- Stay here. - Okay.
Don't forget you have to go to Alex's school tomorrow.
Alex's school thing is tomorrow?
Yes, tomorrow. He told you last week and the week before.
The thing is, this week I have clients in town.
Just this week. They leave tomorrow and I have to be there.
All the other dads will be there.
- Dad, the van is leaving. - I'm coming.
I'm such an idiot.
- It's my fault. - And now,
- the man that takes... - I love you.
...the most talked about personalities straight to your homes.
- See you. - We give you
the man of the hour, Jacobo Zabludovsky.
Don Gregorio Cadenas welcomes us today at Lecumberri prison.
Don Gregorio, thank you for sharing your time with us this morning.
Please, call me Goyo.
LECUMBERRI PRISON
In your book you speak extensively about the horrors of this prison.
I've been here for 30 years
because the police decided I was an animal
that deserved to be caged for life.
I see you have a lot of clippings of The Undresser behind you.
Don't you think The Undresser is an animal?
No.
Animals don't have a reason.
They don't have an emotional motivation.
Speaking of motive, Don Goyo, what do you think the number 169 means?
The police claim it's a satanic symbol.
Not at all.
They're wrong, as usual.
The police have always been experts
at underestimating the people of this country.
When they talk about monsters, they create an image.
And people expect to see someone who is seven feet tall,
with claws, huge fangs.
Meanwhile, the real killer is out there.
Someone who looks no different from you or me.
Someone who goes unnoticed. Invisible.
POEMS
PHILOSOPHICAL SATIRE
I believe he worked with blown glass.
- You know, like figurines. - Really?
Who are you? I don't know you.
This is Martín, our neighbor.
Mario.
Mario kindly offered to fix the stove.
It would be my pleasure to help out.
The technician said it'd be 250 pesos. I could pay you the same.
No, honey. Don't insult him by paying him.
Let him take you out to dinner instead.
In that case, he'd be losing money for fixing the stove,
and the restaurant would come out ahead.
That doesn't make any sense.
She hasn't been on a date in-- I don't know how long.
Never.
I've never been on a date.
Then, I'd love to.
He'd love to.
No, thank you.
Goodbye.
What can I say, dear members of the press?
The publication of this letter was utterly irresponsible.
And the only thing that Lucas Otero achieved
was to give the spotlight to this animal.
But rest assured
that Detective Herrera
will find The Undresser and bring him to justice.
I, along with the entire country,
have the utmost confidence that you'll do it, Detective.
Please.
Murders of women have increased, Detective Herrera!
That prick Escobedo is washing his hands of the case.
He's throwing you under the bus.
And you're just standing around, doing nothing.
I'm doing the best I can, Commander.
Are you raising your voice at me?
No, sir.
I apologize.
You feel the pressure up to here, right?
Yes.
There's someone out there who knows something.
Do you know why they won't talk?
Because the entire city is scared of The Undresser.
Do you want that someone to talk?
Make sure they're more afraid of you than him.
No.
With all due respect, sir,
times have changed.
"All due respect", my ass.
Say that bullshit to every girl who crossed paths with that motherfucker.
Go tell them that!
Do you want my help or not?
I spent the whole night rereading the Bible, and it doesn't make any sense.
People kill in the name of religion every day.
It doesn't have to make sense.
- Put your feet down. - I know that.
It's the verse that makes no sense.
The Undresser's victims don't correspond
to any of the groups mentioned in Corinthians 1, 6:9.
The police are interpreting this to their benefit.
It's as Valentina says.
Holy moly.
The Bible has been interpreted in many ways
to justify all sorts of violence,
but this doesn't match.
So, if it's not from the Bible, what does 169 mean?
I don't know. A message.
Something he wants us to understand.
Put your feet down.
I brought you radios.
- Let's see. - So please, memorize the codes
and remember,
it's for official use only.
I can't believe the men upstairs
are finally giving us something other than that damn whistle.
They're not weapons, but it's a start.
- True. - What changed?
Why did they finally agree?
The truth is, they don't know about it,
but you need to be able to communicate.
And it's better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.
So you worry about us. That's sweet.
You're not letting him come back, are you?
No, but it's complicated.
It's not that complicated from where I'm standing.
Why don't you tell me about Lucas instead? How is he? Is he still with Clara?
Actually, he's kicking her out tonight.
Congratulations, you won.
Why can't you be happy for me?
I would be if I didn't know how this is going to end.
You'll get bored, he'll get hurt.
Isn't that Alejandro's friend?
- Jerónimo. - María.
What are you doing here?
- Do you have a minute? - Sure.
- Go ahead. I'll catch up. - Okay.
Come, please.
Is everything all right?
It's not.
Not really. I didn't want to come,
but I think you should know the truth about what's going on.
What's going on?
I saw Alejandro.
He's not focused at work, he won't talk,
he's living in a hotel room. He misses you, for Chrissake.
I'm sorry, Jerónimo. I don't have time for this.
I have work to do. Excuse me.
Listen.
He doesn't want to take legal action, but he has options.
What are you talking about?
- What's this? - A draft of a legal ruling
that would force you to quit your job and go back home.
What?
When the wife's job
damages the moral integrity of the family structure,
the law clearly states that the husband can force her to quit.
The courts of this country are on his side.
- He can't do that. - He can, you can't.
I like you, María.
Nobody wants it to come to this.
But you must come to your senses. This has gone out of control.
What's this bullshit?
You could refute that.
Being a cop doesn't damage the moral fabric of the family structure.
Looks like it doesn't matter whether it damages it or not.
What the husband says, goes.
According to the Civil Code, article 169...
- Holy shit. - What?
What is it?
Article 169 of the Civil Code.
What about it? Where is it?
"The husband may object to his wife engaging in work activities."
It can't be.
This can't be a coincidence.
Coincidences are connections that are yet to be seen.
Then, what does The Undresser want?
To punish his victims, maybe.
They all had jobs.
But none of them were married.
That's why he's the one punishing them.
169 is not about religion.
But why kill working women?
What do you mean he's dead?
He was found tied up inside his refrigerator.
No fucking way.
He had many aliases. Andrés López, Damián Ézija.
Eduardo Suárez doesn't ring a bell?
Here, he was Lalo Suárez.
- Really? - Mm-hmm.
There wasn't anything strange about him.
He kept a low profile. He did his job well.
I caught him a couple of times sneaking out through the back door to...
well, you know, with his lady.
I see.
Does she work here? Can I talk to her?
She used to.
I guess that's true love 'cause she left the same day he did.
Do you happen to have her file?
Yes, I have them right here, chief,
but they're confidential.
How confidential?
This was the second victim. Arantza Ruiz, stewardess.
Pilar Valdez, nurse.
Lucy Martínez, seamstress.
Nora Menéndez, cleaning worker.
Paola Machado, waitress.
And Alma Álvarez. Shoe store employee.
They all had jobs and they all wore uniforms.
We believe he keeps the uniforms as if they meant something to him.
Not a bad theory.
There have been cases where the killer keeps some of his victims' belongings.
Like trophies.
Exactly.
Protocol says we should act in the public interest.
We have to alert the people.
We're not gonna go and cause panic on the streets.
There's already panic on the streets, sir.
What happened when you alerted The Undresser
about the car with the white top?
Right.
It was torched right in front of the station,
and we lost our only lead to find him.
Let's not lose another one just like that.
The captain is right.
We can't share this until we have more information.
So, we do nothing?
There are lots of women with uniforms out there who could become victims.
Like us.
We also wear uniforms.
MEMORIES FROM CELL 23 G. CADENAS
What are you reading? Let's see.
Goyo Cadenas is right.
About what?
He said in an interview that the 169 wasn't satanic.
Goyo Cadenas killed and buried four women in his backyard, María.
I'm not sure he's the type of person you should be getting advice from.
What if he could help us find The Undresser?
How?
I need you to ask Lucas to get me some press credentials.
I don't get why someone would want to visit a man like him.
I'm writing an article about Mr. Cadenas' book.
Aren't there any better books to write about?
What the fuck is it with broads and their obsessions?
He has more mojo locked up in here than any guy out there.
Even married women come to visit him, just like you.
Right.
Press visits are five minutes. I'll let you know when your time's up.
Thank you.
Good afternoon, Mr. Cadenas.
My name is María.
I'm working on a story about The Undresser for the Independencia newspaper.
What kind of story?
Since we don't have much time,
I'd like to focus on what could drive someone to commit a crime.
I wrote down some questions.
María.
I love that name. María.
Every time I hear it, I think about María de los Ángeles González.
Your first victim, right?
This little note of yours has questions about her?
No.
Then you're off to a bad start.
To enter into the mind of an artist,
you must know his art.
Do you think The Tlalpan Undresser is an artist?
You're trying to talk about something
you know nothing about, do you?
If I...
in this moment...
cross this table and...
reach over to your side, I could break every bone in your neck.
You said the police were wrong about The Undresser's motives.
How did you know that?
If I don't feel guilty, am I guilty?
- Yes. - No, I don't think so.
Three minutes!
You're jealous!
He hates that I get visitors, especially women.
He wants me just for him.
What are the police not seeing?
How many victims has The Undresser killed?
Seven.
There you go.
And again. And again.
To the point of exhaustion.
Seven victims.
You have to be very good at it to not get caught,
don't you think?
I like the piano. I play the piano.
Did you know that?
No, I didn't.
We used to have a beautiful piano in the yard.
You have no idea how long it took me to learn--
Are you going to help me or not?
It took me years to learn to play it right.
You can't be perfect on your first try.
It must have been about four years ago.
There was a severe fire here, María,
and the piano was destroyed.
Could you believe the warden won't even bother bringing us another one?
Time's up!
I still have time.
- You haven't told me anything. - That's not true. You don't listen.
Your time is up.
Tell me something, please. Something useful.
I can tell you more, but I'll need something in exchange.
- What? - A piano.
A piano?
Then, I'll tell you everything you need.
I don't think I can get you a piano.
Then I don't think I can help you, Officer.
- Hi. - Hello.
Shall we?
Is everything okay?
My grandma wants me to go out to dinner with our neighbor.
She wants me to have a boyfriend.
All right.
It's so nice of her to worry about your love life, right?
What about you?
Do you want to?
I said no.
That's great, right?
I mean, we don't know her tastes in--
Don't you like your neighbor? Is he ugly?
Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?
Me?
Yes. Yeah, sure. Of course.
You can't go in.
Why? What happened?
I won't lie to the kids about us anymore.
How could you be so sweet this morning and then stab me in the back like that?
How could I-- What? What are you talking about?
Don't play innocent, Alejandro. You sent Jerónimo to threaten me.
Are you crazy?
You think I'd send-- I didn't send anybody, anywhere.
I don't believe you.
What did he-- Listen, what did he say to you? What?
Don't you see the only ones you'll hurt are the kids?
What did he do?
And you'd ask a judge to make me quit my job?
Make you quit your job? I didn't do that! I swear!
- Did you talk to Jerónimo or not? - Yes. I spoke with Jerónimo.
He came to see me at the hotel. María!
I don't care if every single law is on your side!
I don't care what I have to do.
- You're not listening to me. - I don't care!
If you insist on this, you'll lose me forever!
Are you listening? Listen, I didn't tell Jerónimo to do--
Actually, this weekend we'll talk to the kids and tell them we're separated.
María, please!
Due to yesterday's press conference,
the station is swamped, so today, you'll be answering the emergency lines
and speaking with any informant that comes into the station.
Okay, let's see.
I want all the messages sorted into three piles.
Pile one, with all the leads detectives should follow up on.
Recently disappeared women,
anyone who has seen or heard something related to 169.
Voyeurs, perverts and the like.
Cases unrelated to The Undresser go to pile number two.
And any nutcase or weirdo playing around, wasting our time, pile three.
Any questions?
Handle it.
Where's María?
Officer de la Torre will be late for personal reasons.
Don't you find your dads' jobs interesting?
Yes, Miss.
Morning. How are you?
Good morning, Mrs. de la Torre. Are you here with your husband?
I'm afraid not.
Something came up at work, but I'll take his place.
Right. That's fine, I guess.
Great.
For our next dad, let's welcome Mr. Capellini, Cassandra's dad.
He's a lawyer.
Good morning, children.
Good morning.
I'm Diego Capellini and I'm a lawyer.
Mexico City Police Department.
Forgive me, Officer. I'll put you through.
- Mexico City Police Department. - Mexico City Police Department.
You don't remember, ma'am?
Well, obviously we can't do anything. Do you realize how big this city is?
- Jerk! - Good morning.
It's the satanists gathering at La Viga Park
to listen to Devil-worshipping music.
Mexico City Police Department.
There's a man yelling obscenities to the women walking by.
My girlfriend thinks her stepfather is The Undresser.
She cries all the time, but this time it's too much.
What she needs is a new boyfriend.
Are you sure the smell is coming from his apartment?
Well, I'm not a pothead.
I think my butcher is The Undresser.
How do you know it's him?
He's weird and quiet, and he has long hair.
Having long hair doesn't make you a murderer, ma'am.
When did this happen?
Seven years ago.
He attacked my cousin, and he called women snakes.
Snakes? Like the letter in the newspaper.
My thoughts exactly.
He also said women shouldn't work.
One moment, please.
It's a solid lead.
It's useless. Pile number three.
Why? Because she didn't know his name?
Because first of all, she was probably a prostitute,
and that's not the victim profile of The Undresser.
Second, that was seven years ago, long before he started killing.
Pile number three.
And now, Alex's mom, Mrs. María de la Torre.
Thank you.
Hello, everyone.
My name is María.
I'm not only Alex's mom,
I'm also a police officer.
You know?
When I was your age, this was my greatest dream.
And as I grew older,
people started telling me that I had to put my dreams aside.
That I could only be a wife or a mother.
And I listened to them.
Until one day, life gave me a wake-up call.
A painful one.
Then I remembered who I was...
and who I wanted to become.
So, if any of you, boy or girl,
dream of becoming an astronaut, a firefighter,
a movie star or a police officer, do it.
Don't let anybody ever tell you you can't dream.
Do you know when I learned that?
On my last day of training as a police officer,
when, despite my fear,
I dared to jump out of a plane flying at 10,000 feet.
Any questions?
Were you scared to jump off the plane?
Very. But in the end...
Alex.
Yes?
I think your mom's cool.
Mom.
Thanks.
Good luck, mom.
Thank you.
María. María, over.
Yes? María here. Over.
Come. Ángeles found something.
I thought you'd say I was crazy
for thinking it was The Undresser.
It was a long time ago.
It doesn't matter how long ago it was.
On the phone, you didn't say
what your cousin, Alicia, did for a living.
No, I didn't.
It shouldn't matter how she paid the rent, should it?
You can tell us the truth, Laura.
We're not here to judge or arrest your cousin.
We're here to help you.
She worked on the streets.
Near Sullivan Ave.
He picked her up there.
He offered her a drink from a bottle, and she pretended to drink it.
That was very smart.
Maybe that's what saved her life.
He tied her hands with rope and put his hands around her neck...
...and told her women shouldn't work.
That's when she kicked him and managed to get out of the car,
and ran away with her hands tied.
She ran until she couldn't run anymore.
Do you know where we could find your cousin?
We need to talk to her.
I wouldn't know.
Some months later, she moved up north to Juárez.
So, a man who openly reveals his ideas to a prostitute
doesn't seem like the same thorough man who's never left a single print.
That's a very sensible remark.
It doesn't seem to be the same man.
I think it could be the same man.
Someone who can't play the piano can eventually become someone who can.
We should talk to Gerardo.
And tell him what?
That we followed a lead Lozano told us not to?
That we talked to somebody who's not a witness,
but the real witness is her cousin whom she hasn't seen in seven years?
Then let's look for solid evidence.
Because I'm tired of not feeling like a cop,
of having earned this uniform just to serve coffee,
of sneaking to investigate behind my brothers' backs, who don't talk to me,
and from my dad, who pretends I don't exist.
I think we should make ourselves known.
We need access to the unsolved cases files.
It's the only way to find other possible victims.
But those files are locked up.
This place is safe, especially for the kind of work you'll be doing.
The victims' acquaintances know something, and those fuckers are going to talk,
one way or another.
Aquileo Mata,
pool guard where Nora Menéndez used to work.
Victim number five.
Jorge Armando Pérez, paramedic.
He worked the same shift as Pilar Valdez, victim number two.
Take a look at the kitchen.
Bruno Argüelles, owner of the diner
where Paola Machado worked...
- Don Argüelles. Come with me. - ...Victim number six.
Félix Jimenez, textile factory manager where Lucía Martínez worked...
...Victim number three.
Gerardo's been out all day and isn't answering his radio.
Don't you know where he is?
No idea, Gabina. He left this morning with your brothers and Díaz.
- And none of them are answering? - No.
And there's nothing on the records about him or Gilberto.
That's weird.
Mm-hmm. It really is. If it helps, I gave Gerardo's pills to Lozano.
Maybe he'll take them to him.
Right. Thanks.
- Have a good evening. - Thanks, you too.
- I don't know. - How can you not know anything?
What did you do to her? What did you do to Paola Machado?
- Nothing! - Tell me, now!
Motherfucker!
Please, stop.
Tell me more.
What the fuck is this, Herrera?
What are you doing here, sir?
No. What are you doing here, asshole? You thought I wouldn't find out?
You said you wanted results, didn't you?
But not like this, asshole.
End your little game. That's a fucking order.
You said you trusted me.
Yes, I know, but--
You said... you fully trusted the institution you run
and its methods.
So if you're not going to fire me...
let me do my job.
I'm pushing the Andrés López case.
The police thought The Undresser killed him for his car,
but I felt there was something else.
Listen to this. He was working at a mannequin factory when he was killed.
There, he had a girlfriend who vanished the day of the murder.
I got her file and her photo right here, and guess what?
She was The Undresser's first victim, the one who was never ID'd.
What are you saying? That's huge.
Yes, I'm sure it has something to do with the mannequin factory.
Why? How do you figure?
I don't know, but I feel they knew each other.
Both the first stolen car that was used and the first victim came out of there.
I'll tell you everything later.
See you at home in an hour. Love you.
Hello?
Mother, how are you?
Everything's all right.
Could you stay a little longer with the kids?
Yeah, sure.
Why did you sell the piano?
Because nobody plays it.
But it's Alejandro's.
Yes, well, nevertheless, it took up too much space.
Thanks, Mom.
Take that!
Come on, asshole! Talk!
You're just going to breathe?
Why are you breathing? You like tasting blood?
Fucker.
- That's enough. That's enough. - What? Enough of what?
Enough of what?
- I fucked her, I fucked her. - Beto, stop.
Why did you keep it so secret?
Why didn't you say anything about your affair with Lucy?
Because I'm married.
I have children.
But I ended it. I was done with her.
- Uh-huh? - I didn't do anything else with her.
Why?
She got herself a boyfriend.
I heard her talking on the phone in the workshop the night she died.
They were making plans. They were going to meet.
Where?
At a bar or a restaurant. I don't know.
It was a place called The Paradise.
UNSOLVED CASES
Oh, my God!
You broke into my office. You went through my drawers.
And you stole my keys!
Forgive me.
I was just following your advice
about it being better to ask forgiveness than permission.
And I thought, if I found some evidence--
María, you have no limits.
People like you pay for it dearly around here.
So, go home and tell your husband that your adventure's over.
Don't come back tomorrow. You're fired.
Give me the keys. Now!
Victim number one wasn't the first victim of The Undresser.
María.
There might be many victims we don't know about.
Maybe he wasn't as careful with one of them and left evidence behind.
Give me proof. Do you have any?
No.
Goodbye.
You're such a fucking nuisance, Emilio. Unbelievable.
- Sorry, Mr. President. - Did you catch him?
That's precisely why I'm here.
What do you want?
The police are arresting and torturing people,
and my job is to change the police--
No. Your job was to change the image of the police.
Now your job is to catch The Undresser.
Do you know why I'm in this position?
Because when push came to shove, I did what I had to do.
What are you doing here?
I know you're afraid of using your real name in the report.
When you told us what happened,
I saw you rubbing your wrists
as if you were remembering something he did to you.
We both want the same thing,
that nobody else suffers what you suffered.
And for that, you must file a complaint using your real name.
That's the only way we can use it.
- I have a husband and a son. - Toño, dinner is ready.
They don't know about my past, and I don't want them to ever find out.
I wish I could help, but--
I understand.
But the police in this country only take two things seriously:
statements and evidence.
Wait here.
Of course.
- María? - Captain,
I have to show you something.
Excuse me.
Come in.
I need to calm down. Can I have a drink?
Yes.
If you've come to get your job back...
you're wasting your time.
What's that?
Evidence from a woman that was attacked seven years ago
by a man who said women were snakes and he'd kill them all.
But she managed to escape.
He tied her with this rope.
"Victim number one was not The Undresser's first victim."
He practiced.
So it seems.
Am I still fired?
Not today.
Do you know what the greatest quality in a detective is?
What?
Not letting go.
And do you know what their greatest flaw is?
The same?
Exactly.
Great job.
Thank you, Captain.
Why?
For throwing me off a plane.
For showing me what I'm capable of.
For believing in me.
No.
No, I'm sorry.
Forgive me.
I didn't--
I have to go.
Yeah, sure.
See you tomorrow, María.
I'm separated.
- Got it. - Separated is not the same as divorced.
That's true.
See you tomorrow.
Any headway?
Emilio Escobedo? Chief of Police?
- Yes. - Go fuck yourself, asshole.
Who is the asshole?
Fuck you!
Jero.
What the hell is the matter with you?
Don't help me!
And leave María alone!
You hear me?
WOMEN'S POLICE FORCE
LECUMBERRI PRISON
Lucas?
Lucas.
Lucas! Lucas!
Lucas! What did they do to you?
Lucas! Lucas!
Help me, please!
An ambulance, goddamn it!
In the next episode...
I know it's hard to believe, but I'm trying to help.
LECUMBERRI PRISON
From Lecumberri Prison.
Cassandra. She knew the truth, but nobody believed her.
It's very dangerous for you to be investigating on your own.
We have to figure out what Goyo is trying to tell us.
About 15 years ago, a woman was killed.
She ran a foster home.