The Limehouse Golem

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Let us begin, my friends,

at the end.

Lizzie:
John?

John!

He left nothing?

No...Note?

If he meant to poison himself,

why would he not

at least leave a note?

I fear that the act of

burning his papers

bears testament enough

to his state of mind.

Mrs. cree...? Forgive me --

i-i know this is neither

the time nor the place --

but may I say what an ardent

admirer I am of your work?

I looked in the kitchen, sir.

This was all I could find.

I'm afraid this'll be it.

There was residue in a glass

on the nightstand.

Oh, it can't have been

in there, sir.

His nightly cordial was always

prepared by Mrs. cree.

Aveline...?

You...Did not make the drink?

Surely you're not

asking me in earnest

if I poisoned my husband?

Oh, sir, believe me,

she cannot have done this!

The two of them were in a most

violent dispute yesterday!

Why would she prepare

Mr. cree a nightcap

when they were not

on speaking terms?

Aveline,

what has possessed you?

Sir, please,

allow me to explain.

I'm sorry, Mrs. cree.

You'll need to do that

down at Scotland yard.

A woman accused of

poisoning her husband.

But not just any woman --

little Lizzie,

darling of the music halls.

But the city was in thrall

with the fearsome

limehouse golem.

Who was he?

Who would be his next victim?

The golem had last struck

the day before her arrest.

And his was the name

on every londoner's lips.

How many are dead?

Five.

Shopkeeper Mr. Gerrard,

his wife Mary, their maid...

And the two Gerrard children.

It's not...Number 29.

29 ratcliffe highway?

What of it?

The ratcliffe highway murders?

John Williams?

It's a bit before my time.

Kildare:
And mine!

It was 70 years ago!

Inspector Roberts!

Can you confirm that

this is the work of the golem?

Evening post reporter:

What is it about this house?

Do you think it could be cursed,

sir?

Gentlemen, gentlemen, please!

I'd ask you to, uh, direct

your requests to my colleague,

detective inspector kildare.

He's taking over the case.

Evening post reporter: Kildare?

How are you spelling that?

Taking over?

I'm just stepping aside,

not stepping down.

The public seeks reassurance,

kildare.

What better way than to

give them new blood?

Are you fearful of

stepping into the shoes of

the great Mr. Roberts?

Evening post reporter:

Can you confirm this is

the work of the golem?

How many more people have to die

before the golem is caught?

Driver!

Man:
Detective Roberts!

Inspector kildare, is it true

that this is

your first murder case?

Inspector kildare!

Kildare!

Move. Move back.

Do you know if they'll be

displaying the bodies today,

sir?

Flood:
Step aside, sir.

The maid was found over there.

Were there footprints when you

arrived? The golem's prints?

Flood:
Half of limehouse

was already here.

Which of the victims

was found there?

None. The golem moved

that one himself.

Either Mr. or Mrs. Gerrard.

-More likely him.

If the maid was killed first,

he'd investigate

the disturbance.

Where is her body now?

-We took her upstairs, sir.

At least up there we can

keep the hoi poloi out.

Down here is a lost cause.

-They can't all be reporters.

Oh, no. Locals looking

for entertainment.

Cheaper than a ticket

to a shocker.

Sometimes I suspect if

i was dispatched to hell,

I'd barely notice the change,

bar the weather.

This is inspector kildare.

Taking over from Roberts.

-Sir.

Can you tell this idiot

to let me up?

I'm with the evening post!

This is the maid?

I'm sorry.

I've never seen anything

of this kind.

Neither have I.

"He who observes

spills no less blood

than he who inflicts the blow."

Lactantius.

Impressive, sir.

The truth has a habit

of sticking in the mind.

Truth?

Those who fail

to prevent injustice

are as guilty

as the perpetrator.

It's a message...

To us.

Evidence -- John cree case.

The poisoning.

You've had quite a week.

First the limehouse golem,

now this.

I heard inspector kildare

was asking after you.

Yes.

I don't know what he wanted.

I keep missing him.

Well, they did right giving him

the golem case, I reckon.

He'd have risen well

above Roberts by now

if those rumors

hadn't done for him.

You know.

That he wasn't

the marrying kind...

Men.

Oh, it's before your time,

i suppose.

Come in.

I got your message, sir.

I'm being assigned a constable.

I thought someone of

your knowledge of limehouse

might be an asset.

When I heard nothing back,

I thought perhaps

the offer didn't appeal.

I came by twice, sir.

You were out.

I was at limehouse.

Appealing for witnesses.

To no avail.

-What are you looking for?

-I'm just looking.

Trying to understand.

The golem's a madman.

What else is there

to be understood?

Even madness has its own logic.

Here there's none.

At ratcliffe highway,

he slaughtered a household.

The previous week,

a prostitute. Alice Stanton.

Before that, Solomon weil.

He was an old man,

a -- a scholar.

Oh, my god.

Is that his --

-yes.

Laid upon the open pages

of a book on Jewish folklore,

like a bookmark.

"The legend of the golem."

Is that how the press

got the name?

Our murderer obviously approved.

And who were the first two?

Both women of the streets.

I do remember reading

of that one.

"Old salty."

-Her name was Jane quig.

The point is there's no story

to any of them.

Men, women, young, old. Jew

and Christian. Rich and poor.

Perhaps he just likes to kill.

No.

I'll wager there's

a tale being told.

If we can sink to his circle

of damnation to comprehend it.

If I may say, sir,

seems you've been wasted

down in theft-and-fraud.

Oh, I'll be back there

soon enough,

if the golem strikes again.

That seems to be the plan.

What do you mean?

The yard is setting me up

as a scapegoat.

They'll not risk Roberts,

will they?

I'm expendable.

They get to preserve the

reputation of their golden boy

and the public...

Get blood.

Well, as I said

back in limehouse...

Seems they never have

their fill of that.

"He who spectates."

He doesn't mean us.

He means the public.

The public want blood.

The golem provides it.

Yes!

I'm sure that must be it, sir.

Are you?

I'm not.

Do you feel like a walk

to the library?

Rowley:
Ah! That quotation.

About the gladiatorial ring?

The guilt of the audience

who seek bloodshed?

Well, perhaps

you read it elsewhere.

It's quoted in an old piece by

the essayist Thomas de quincey.

One I imagine might be

of interest to a man

in your line of work.

-Kildare:
What's the piece?

"On murder considered

as one of the fine arts."

A satire about the ratcliffe

highway killings of 1811.

Should we talk with

this de quincey?

He has been dead for 20 years,

flood,

so it might be a bit --

what is it?

Man's voice:
Left to rot.

To kill a whore.

Who last borrowed this book?

This is a reading room,

inspector, not a local library.

So nothing leaves the premises?

Do you keep

an attendance record?

Of course, but there's

no earthly way of knowing

what anyone read

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