Previously on "The Hunting Party"...
It's called the Pit.
It's home to the most dangerous
and violent criminals in history,
all of whom the world believes are dead.
Or at least it was until the blast hit.
Dinner with Lazarus was actually nice.
Nice?
She didn't even know I was her son
until a couple of weeks ago.
A new hire candidate at the Pit was flagged
on their security clearance.
Colonel Lazarus personally pushed it through anyway.
Shane Florence.
It seems like Colonel Lazarus has known
about Shane for a long time.
Cracked screen.
Oh, that's the worst.
Man, you've got to get yourself a better case for this thing.
Yeah.
When's the last time you updated your software?
This thing's moving a little slow.
- I don't know. I just need the screen fixed.
It could be a drop.
Oh, snap.
You play "Warmonger" too?
I guess I tried that out at some point.
Did you, uh... did you make it to Freya's chariot?
It's pretty epic.
Uh, look, man.
How long will it take to fix the screen?
Uh, usually two business days.
But for a fellow warmonger, I can get this done in one.
For Odin.
Right. OK.
Thanks. - Hell yeah.
Hmm.
What a cool guy.
Oh?
"Really wanted to go see the Pirates play this weekend,
"but all my boys are out of town.
FML."
Yes.
And here he comes...
into Turn 4, hugging the line.
Throttle wide open here.
Expanding...
Hey, dude.
I, uh, got your screen fixed.
- Oh. Uh, thanks.
Oh, and I, uh...
I went ahead and upgraded the OS for you.
No more buffering when you play "Warmonger."
Right.
How did you know where I lived?
Company database.
Uh, you didn't have to...
- Oh, it's all good, man. - Come to my house.
It's... it's fine.
In fact, I didn't even charge you for it.
And, uh, you were on my way home,
so I thought I would just deliver it,
save you from having to come in again.
OK.
Thanks, man. - Mm-hmm.
I was... you know, I...
I was supposed to go to the, um, Pirates game tomorrow,
but my friend just flaked on me.
Is there any chance that you would want to go?
They're great seats.
I splurged.
- Yeah, uh... you know what, man?
I don't really like baseball.
So, um... but you have a good time.
OK?
You told your mom that you wanted to go to the game.
What the he...
did you go through my phone?
Why are you lying to me?
You love baseball.
Get the hell out of here, you creep.
- I was trying to be nice. - Hey.
Did you hear what I said?
I said get out.
Ugh!
Shane, it's all there.
Seven years ago, you were recruited to work at the Pit,
but your file was flagged during the vetting process
and denied.
Until, of course, Lazarus pushed it through herself.
- Hey. I'm sorry, man.
She didn't just figure out that you're her biological son.
She's known for years.
It doesn't say in here why I was rejected.
You didn't pass the psych eval.
My source told me when they dug all this up.
What, they thought I was too crazy for the Pit?
No. No, no.
Places like this, they want people
they can control that follow orders,
no matter how unethical.
It is a good thing that you did not check those boxes.
- A good thing? You sure about that?
I mean, I checked the right box for Dr. Fairfax,
maybe he was onto something.
Nah, don't do that.
Don't do that.
I know who you are.
We both do.
And she's an expert.
Yeah, all right.
OK, so she lied to me.
She pushed my paperwork through.
She wanted me here.
Why?
If she wasn't gonna tell me who she was,
why go through the trouble?
Best case scenario, you're her estranged son.
Feelings are complicated.
Worst case?
Literally anything else.
Speaking of.
We need you out here.
Yep.
Shane.
We're gonna figure this out.
Yeah.
- All right. - Thanks, man.
Yeah.
All right, folks.
This is a sensitive one.
Inmate K77, Byron May... his fingerprints were found
all over a murder scene in Pittsburgh.
Locals ran the prints already, but, as usual,
our system intercepted the request
and bounced back a no-match reference.
Byron May.
I don't know this one.
Well, that's a first.
Well, in the 2010s he worked as a tech specialist
at an electronics store where he crossed
all seven of his victims.
And after only brief encounters...
After a brief encounter,
he would become fixated on his victims.
But after they inevitably rejected his overtures,
he would beat them to death with an improvised weapon.
Yeah? - Uh, sorry.
I thought you said you didn't know this guy.
No, I don't know this guy.
But that is the work of the East Side Ripper,
and his name is not Byron May.
It's Victor Rosa, who is serving
consecutive life sentences
at the Pennsylvania State Penitentiary.
So either they have the wrong guy or the Pit does.
What the hell are we talking about?
What we're talking about here, Agent Henderson,
is a very delicate situation.
Is there an innocent man in prison?
Are you serious?
I'm afraid it's more complicated than that.
The East Side Ripper was a serial case
of particular interest to scientists in the Pit.
In 2013, they used covert surveillance technology
to positively identify him as Byron May,
and our team took him into custody.
He had no friends or family,
so no one even noticed he disappeared.
OK, so you had the actual killer in custody,
did not tell the police, the case stayed open
until 2015 when Victor Rosa was arrested.
I was not involved.
But that's correct.
For obvious reasons, the Pit does not share
information with local authorities.
You understand.
You had the right guy,
and you did nothing to help an innocent man?
Be that as it may, your job...
our job... is to catch Byron May before he kills again.
Nothing more. Understood?
- Mm, not again. Come on.
You were supposed to be at work.
Who the hell are you?
How are you feeling, Byron?
Safe.
Can you hear your mother?
Yes.
Can you hear her heartbeat?
Your mother loves you very much.
I know.
Your tax dollars hard at work, ladies and gentlemen.
I did one of them sensory deprivation chambers once.
I just fell asleep. It was a waste of 50 bucks.
This isn't quite a sensory deprivation chamber.
This was, uh, something called birth therapy,
where a patient is put in a simulation
of his mother's womb.
It's supposed to trigger early childhood memories.
- Does that even work? - Sometimes.
Either way, when Byron got to the Pit,
the therapist traced the genesis
of his social dysfunction back to a traumatic birth.
The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck.
OK, but that doesn't exactly add up
to serial killer, though, right?
My nephew was born the same way,
and he works for a nonprofit.
No, I'm... I'm just saying.
How does sticking Byron in a futuristic fake womb supposed
to fix all the murdering?
I think the hope is that he'd be in a state
where the social conditioning could be rewired.
It actually paid off in dividends.
You know, when people brought their devices in to me,
I think they forgot that they store their entire lives
on those things.
Pictures of their kids, friends,
texts, emails,
the lies they tell, secrets.
Things they love, hate.
I could spend hours going through someone's phone.
And, by the end, I would know everything about this person.
I mean, things they wouldn't even share with their mother.
It was like a shortcut, a cheat code.
I felt so close to them,
but it didn't matter.
It always went the same way.
It's normal to want connection,
but you can't force imaginary ones into existence.
All I ever wanted is for people to like me,
and I just don't understand how other people
can make friends so easily.
It's like the more I try,
the more people seem put off by it.
Genuine friendships take time and understanding.
They're based on a reciprocal interest,
and that just doesn't happen overnight.
So Byron had trouble forming authentic relationships
as a kid.
He couldn't do anything about that rejection.
But as an adult, he responded to that rejection
with violence.
OK, here's what I'm wondering.
Byron killed seven people, right?
How did investigators pin that guy's crazy on an innocent man?
So he and Victor worked at the same electronics store.
Circumstantial evidence,
a DA that was under pressure to find the killer.
Yeah, it wouldn't be the first time
an innocent person is railroaded by the system.
All right.
So Victor Rosa gets a life sentence,
this guy gets spa treatments.
Yeah.
No.
No, screw Lazarus.
We're not going to let an innocent man spend the rest
of his life in prison, right?
No, we're not.
All right.
Well, if we're gonna put this right,
we better find Byron first.
Yeah.
- Thank you. - Of course.
James Wilson.
Time of death was about a week ago.
They just uncovered the body this morning,
when a maintenance worker called about a weird smell.
He was stabbed 63 times with a fork.
Huh.
Spur-of-the-moment kill.
That tracks, right?
If he's following his old MO,
he would have crossed with James before all this.
I've been reviewing James's socials,
and I just found something super creepy
in one of his photos. Check it out.
Looks pretty wholesome.
Oh, that is creepy.
He took a photo with the guy who would kill him,
and he had no idea.
Morales, when was this taken?
Two months ago.
He was stalking James for a while.
Morales.
Hey, guys.
Ben just got an angle on James's house.
Ring camera from across the street has a clear view.
I've got Byron leaving the house in a hurry
eight days ago, presumably right after the kill.
The strange thing is, there's no footage
of Byron entering that day.
And there are cameras angled all over this house.
How could he have exited without entering?
Maybe he tunneled in.
Hey. Keep going back a little further.
Scrubbing.
Nothing.
Keep going.
OK, going back even further.
What are you thinking?
All Byron's previous kills, they happened
at the entrance of the home.
Maybe James invited him in.
Except there's no footage of him coming
in through the front door.
Maybe he didn't use the front door.
- Whoa. Zoom in on that vent.
We got him.
Sending it over now.
When was that?
Four weeks ago.
And then we don't have Byron on camera
again until the day he killed James and fled.
Well, that doesn't make sense.
Unless he was already in the home.
He didn't need to enter to kill James,
'cause he was already inside.
Well, how do you stay in someone's house for a month
without anyone noticing?
Hey, don't step on the insulation.
Underneath, it's just drywall.
You go right through.
You think that's where Byron was sleeping?
Looks like a rat's nest.
It's not a nest.
It's a womb.
Guys, I found something.
Hey.
Check this out.
What is that?
He's spying on them through the holes in the air vents.
Look.
And there's another one.
Hey, these angles, they match those photos over there.
Jeez, why can't you just follow James around
like a normal stalker?
You guys ever heard of, uh, phrogging?
- What? Like the, uh...
retro video game?
No, like... like, phrogging.
Like, P-H-R-O...
no?
OK.
Phrogging... basically, someone sneaks into
another person's home while they're away or at work,
and they just don't leave.
That person comes home and has no idea that there's
a stranger in their walls, or their basement,
or, in this case, the attic.
Now that he's killed James, I wouldn't be surprised
if Byron is creeping around his next victim's attic right now.
Phroggers were often deprived of human connection
and use their voyeuristic position
to connect with their victims.
There's this vicarious thrill they get
from staying in someone's home or their life.
Most of the time, it traces back to early childhood,
because they were forced to hide
due to trauma, shame, deep insecurity.
Hey, Bo.
You want a treat?
There you go.
Now, by spying on someone's most naked
and vulnerable moments, they get to actually connect.
A lot of the time, it goes back months or even years.
And it's usually non-violent, but, occasionally,
things take a turn.
Byron used to use his victims' phones
to gain access to their personal life.
It's how he got to know them.
But, now, without his job or that access,
he's infiltrating their lives, studying them 24/7.
So Byron got to know James by spying on him.
But moving into a victim's house,
that is a high-risk move.
Accidental contact is bound to happen.
So he gets caught, there's a confrontation,
and he kills James with a fork.
Yeah. So all his encounters have gone wrong.
You're saying he's... he's gonna keep doing this.
What happens when it goes right?
It never will.
Byron's still trying to shortcut
normal social development.
He's using the information that he gathered
during phrogging to create a chance meeting
with his victims.
Just like his previous MO, he's gonna craft himself
into what he thinks is the perfect match
for the object of his obsession.
But it's gonna be just as manufactured
and empty as before.
So when he inevitably gets rejected,
he's gonna kill again.
Hey, buddy.
Walk time.
Bo, where are you going?
Bo?
Come on, boy. Let's go.
Bo, come on, boy.
Let's go.
Hey.
I'm sorry, I didn't know Eric had company.
I'm Lee, the dog walker.
I'm just here to take him for a walk.
What, uh... what are you doing?
You know, I... I can come back another time.
Guys.
You've got to see this.
This is all true crime.
There's an entire section on serial killers.
No way.
Yeah, there's at least half a dozen books
on the East Side Ripper.
Oh, you've got to be kidding me.
The Pit.
It taught Byron that friendship should be reciprocal.
He fixated on James because he thought
James was fixated on him.
But how did Byron know about James's interest
in the East Side Ripper to begin with?
Bookstore?
True crime convention?
- Mm-hmm. Probably got a fan club.
It feels more specific.
Morales, can you see if there's a connection
between James and Victor Rosa?
Get this.
James made two requests to visit Victor Rosa in prison.
Visiting a serial killer in prison,
that's a whole other level of fandom.
But it wasn't reciprocated.
Looks like Victor rejected both requests.
No, there's got to be some kind of interaction.
Phone calls, letters, something.
Prison keeps a record of all correspondence.
Yeah, there's a letter from James to Victor
from two years ago.
Read that to us, please.
"Dear East Side Ripper, I know how hard
"it is for you to make friends.
You've done terrible things, but, then again, who hasn't?"
"I believe that you didn't mean to do them.
"I know there's goodness inside of you,
"and it's a goodness that I understand.
"It's goodness I would like to correspond with.
Please write me back. I want to know your story."
I'm gonna need a list of anyone who wrote
letters to Victor Rosa.
Guys, Victor Rosa received a lot of mail
over the last ten years.
But if I ignore everything from his family and lawyers...
Huh.
James was one of four people who sent fan mail
to the East Side Ripper in prison.
Can you imagine being innocent and getting fan mail?
Can you imagine writing fan mail to a serial killer?
It's actually quite common.
It's a form of hybristophilia. - That's right.
We saw that with Carol and her love affair with Mark Marsden.
Exactly, but instead of falling in love,
James formed an asexual obsession
with the East Side Ripper.
Morales, let's do a wellness check
on the rest of the superfans.
Tell the officers to make sure they're safe
and lock down their homes. We're on our way now.
Two steps ahead of you.
Pulling the addresses now.
I'll send them to you and Pittsburgh PD.
- Copy. Let's go.
Bex?
What are we doing?
I gotta talk to Victor Rosa.
You mean, uh, the guy Lazarus gave us
express orders to stay away from?
That's the guy you want to talk to?
- Yeah. - I'm not complaining.
I just want to make sure we're all on the same page.
OK, look. Regardless of whether we're right or wrong
about the superfan angle,
we still have one unanswered question.
How did Byron get his hands on letters that were meant
for Victor Rosa in prison?
Uh, why do I get the feeling you're about to suggest
that we split up?
- Work the angle. No, it's fine.
I'll get one of the officers to drop me off.
OK, Bex?
Please be careful.
You be careful.
I'm the one talking to an innocent man.
Well, tell him we're getting him out.
Hey, officers.
- You know what this means. I got shotgun.
- Yo! What's up, Snowflake?
Yeah!
That's what I'm talking about.
Can I get up in that coat with you, girl?
Here's the thing about Victor Rosa.
He ain't once taking responsibility
for what he's done.
- Aww. Nah, don't go away.
This is a place of rehabilitation.
I miss you, beautiful.
You can't start that journey unless you own what
got you here in the first.
Yeah, I bet a lot of inmates claim they're innocent.
You ever get one that actually was, though?
To hear them tell it, they all are.
Come to think of it, we must be the most saintly square block
in America.
Victor get many visitors?
Only his wife.
She comes every week, has done for years.
I know it's hard for family members.
They can't accept the truth, especially when
the incarcerated can't face it themselves.
Thanks.
You take as long as you need.
Mr. Rosa,
my name is Special Agent Rebecca Henderson.
I'm with the FBI.
Is this about my appeal?
Um, actually, this is about...
this is about the murder of James Wilson.
Never heard of him.
Are you sure?
Because it says that he sent you letters twice
while you've been in prison.
These were written to the East Side Ripper.
That's not me.
OK... they weren't written to you.
But what did you do with them?
I mean, I know that the prison screens them.
But once you actually got them, did you keep them?
Look, my lawyer said it was all right.
They're my property.
I can share them with whoever I want.
What do you mean, share them?
Sorry. Who... who did you share these with?
Hey, listen to this.
It's from Kenneth Wiley.
"Dear Mr. Ripper, I am writing to you today as someone
"who has the utmost respect and understanding
for what you have gone through."
- Mr. Ripper? - Yeah.
Yeah, we need a watch list for anyone
sending fan mail to serial killers,
especially the ones using honorific titles.
Fanboy or not, Mr. Wiley is a potential victim.
I just got confirmation from local officers.
They're en route
to all three locations. - All right.
Tell them we're five minutes out from Wiley's,
and we're going to cross them off the list one by one.
Copy.
I'd like to report a missing dog.
When did you last see your missing dog?
Um, at home this morning before I left for work.
OK, I see.
Any more details you can give me?
He went out with my dog walker,
but I can't reach him.
And he hasn't come home yet.
He's a multicolored Pomeranian.
He's mostly black.
Um, two years old.
His name is Bo.
- Is he microchipped? - Yes, he is.
He's microchipped.
Shh.
It's OK. Good boy.
- Victor, I want to help you. OK?
Look, I get it.
You don't trust law enforcement.
I wouldn't either if I were in your shoes, but...
I'm gonna level with you, OK?
The DA that convicted you, he ignored evidence
due to political pressure to get a conviction.
He also suppressed critical testimony.
Believe me when I say I want to help you.
My wife visits me every week.
Ten years.
I'm not the only one in prison.
Do you understand?
My son thinks I'm a killer.
He doesn't visit.
He doesn't write anymore.
I'm sorry.
He said that he still loves me,
that he understands what horrible mistakes I've made.
But he's not going to visit me until I confess
that I'm the East Side Ripper.
So admit that I'm a monster that I'm not...
Or never see my son again.
What kind of choice is that?
The choice you don't have to make.
I know you're innocent.
Victor, I need your help to prove that.
OK.
I think I found a friend of yours.
Oh, my God.
That... I can't believe it.
Thank you. Ah.
- Where... where... where did you find him?
Just, uh, wandering over by the park.
Yeah.
I saw the address on the collar and figured
I'd just walk over here and...
I... I don't know how I'm going to be able to thank you.
Oh.
I... um, uh...
do you want to come in?
Can I get you a drink or something?
Uh, yeah.
Yeah, a drink would be nice.
Yeah, thanks.
Yeah.
Morales, new wrinkle.
There's evidence that Byron has been
to each of the houses that we've been to.
But by the looks of it, he didn't stay long.
Wait.
He cased the others before settling on James?
That's what it looks like.
We've only got one person left on the list.
Hey, how come we can't get a hold of Bex?
She's still at the prison.
She had to give up her comms and her phone.
All right. Let her know we're on our way
to the last house and to meet us there.
On it.
Who did you send James Wilson's letters to?
Victor, look.
I can't tell you why, but this information,
it could get you out of here.
Her name is Kendra Wilcox.
She's a famous crime writer.
She's gotten people exonerated before.
It's the only reason I wrote her back.
And she specifically asked for the letters?
She asked for everything.
I gave her case files, letters from my family,
the fan mail, all of it.
OK.
- Ma'am. Phone call. - Thanks.
Sorry, Victor. One second.
Henderson. - Bex.
We've been trying to get a hold of you.
The guys have searched all the houses on the list,
and there was evidence that Byron was there.
But now we've run out of fan mail.
Great.
Byron focused on the fan mail because it gave him
acceptance and understanding.
So who else?
Who else would write Victor letters expressing
acceptance and understanding
for the East Side Ripper's crimes?
Hey, you said your son... he used to write you letters?
Eric hasn't written me in a long time.
Morales.
Uh, my name's Eric, by the way.
Eric Rosa.
Byron.
It's nice to meet you.
Cheers.
Byron posed as a famous crime writer
who promised to help Victor with the case,
and that's why Victor sent him everything.
So Victor thinks he's been emailing someone who can help
prove his innocence, but really,
he's been talking to the actual killer all along.
Morales, did you find Eric Rosa's letters
that he sent his father? - Yeah, listen to this.
"People talk about the East Side Ripper
"like he's a monster, and I understand why.
"You and I both know life isn't that simple.
"Nothing is black and white.
"I know you have a lot of love in your heart,
"but I can't be in your life unless you admit
to being a murderer and ask for forgiveness for your crimes."
That's exactly what Byron would want to read.
I need Eric's phone number right now.
And I was just running by the park when I saw him alone.
I'm training for a marathon.
- Oh. No way.
The... the Chatsville?
- Uh, yeah. - Me too.
We... uh, we got to train together.
I got a group of buddies.
We all go running in the mornings.
- Oh, yeah. Definitely.
Mm.
Oh, man.
I'm sorry, but I've got to probably call it a night.
Got to get up early for work.
The old grindstone, huh?
- Mm-hmm. - All good.
Um, listen.
Thank you for bringing him home.
I... I don't know what I would have done if I lost him.
Of course.
And no worries.
I have to go visit my dad tomorrow anyway.
Oh, uh, where does he live?
He's, uh, in prison.
He's a good guy, but he got into a fight with someone.
And it's been a really hard few years.
But it's a long story.
I'm so sorry, man.
That really sucks. - Yeah.
Anyway, I don't know why I just said all that.
Oversharing.
I'll see you around.
Uh, hey. Wait.
Um...
Believe it or not, I know what that's like.
Yeah, my dad's in prison too.
I don't talk about it a lot,
but, um, my dad is Victor Rosa.
Uh... - He's the East Side Ripper.
- Wow. - Yeah.
Uh, most people are pretty freaked out when I tell them.
That's not very fair to you.
Uh, sorry. Just one second.
Oh, God.
Huh. - What is it?
What's wrong?
Um, my dog walker's body was just found.
Um, someone killed him.
I guess that's why Bo was wandering around lost.
How'd you know his name was Bo?
His collar.
It's just an address on the collar.
He isn't picking up.
Oh, well, if his name's not on his collar,
you must have said it, then.
Y-yeah.
Yeah. Yeah.
You're... you're probably right.
Listen, I... I should probably deal with this.
So... - OK.
OK.
Well, this was really nice.
I hope to see you around.
Yeah. Yeah.
Stace?
Eric Rosa, this is the FBI.
Are you home right now? - The... the FBI?
I need you to be quiet and listen to me.
We have reason to believe that there's a dangerous intruder
in your house.
You need to get out and go somewhere safe now.
We'll be there in two minutes. - Wait, are... are you...
are you talking about the weirdo guy, Byron?
Did he kill my dog walker?
Eric, get out of your house now!
- No. No, no, no.
No. It's fine.
He just left.
No, he didn't!
He is in your house right now!
Eric!
Eric! Stop!
Please, stop!
What do you want from me?
I just want to be your friend.
Eric, I know you can forgive me.
I know because you said so yourself.
What... what are you talking about?
In your letters, you said that you could
forgive the East Side Ripper.
I wrote those letters to my dad.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
Help me!
Somebody help me, please!
Hey! Hey!
Byron, drop the knife!
Byron! Drop it!
- OK. You're OK.
Yep.
You all right?
We just need his fingerprints, right?
You're all right.
You're OK. - Come on.
I'm calling the cleaners.
- Wait. Stop, stop, stop.
Shane's right.
We're not cleaning this one up.
Victor Rosa will never be free
if they don't find the real killer.
Hassani.
Morales, in about 30 minutes, Pittsburgh PD is
about to send over some prints.
Make sure they're a match this time.
Will do.
Victor.
Hey.
How are you doing?
The lawyer says you're getting out.
This new evidence, the fingerprints,
change everything.
He'll have the appeal filed tonight.
Oh!
Eric.
Come here. Come here.
Oh, my God.
Thank you.
Hey.
Thank you.
OK, thanks for letting me know.
Hey.
I just got off the phone with Eric Rosa.
His father is gonna be a free man.
Hey, we did the right thing.
But there will be consequences.
Lazarus wants to talk to us.
Let her.
Hell if this ain't justice.
Yeah.
You know, there's always been this...
This part of me that...
you know, daydreamed, when I finally met my mom,
she'd be a good person, you know?
Just misunderstood or wrongly convicted
like Victor Rosa.
Yeah.
Hey.
You really think she attacked Cyrus's convoy?
I do.
OK.
Hey.
We still don't have proof.
Well, we need to find some.