Detective Debra M. Morgan, Miami Metro Homicide. Friday, December 18th 2009, two o'clock p.m. Session 1. Miss Morgan, may I call you Debra? … Speak up, please. The recorder needs to catch it.

Yeah. Debra. You can call me Debra.

Good. Debra, then. Debra, why do you think you're here? … I'm going to need you to speak louder.

I punched out an officer.

And what was this officer doing do deserve the…thrashing that you saw fit to give him?

He was being a shithead. He called my brother a faggot. A fucking faggot! And after everything he's been through? That shit stick deserves every cracked rib.

You broke his collarbone and shattered his left eye socket, in addition to the two ribs you just stated you cracked. Are you telling me this was justification of calling your brother a dirty name?

Yes, it was fucking justified. What right does Jones have calling anyone a fag since he boned his wife's brother?

Debra, that is quite the accusation.

Yeah? Well, it's the fucking truth, too. … Look I don't need this. I'm fine. I was just defending my brother and Jones got what he deserved. He'd been asking for it.

Had he?

Yes. He had.

And what was it you think you were defending your brother from, exactly?

Fuckfaces like Jones.

You're brother is a grown man, no? … Debra, please. You need to speak. The recorder cannot see your head motions.

Yes! Yes, he's a fucking grownup.

Then shouldn't he be able to take care of himself?

Excuse me, Doctor? Do you have any fucking idea what my family has been through in these past few weeks?

No. Please, if you would…

I got shot. Earlier this year. Did you know that, Doctor?

I did.

My…good friend Special Agent Frank Lundy – do you know him?

I know of him, but I am afraid that is the extent of our relationship.

Well, you know he was shot and killed, don't you?


He was shot and killed in front of me. I watched my…my friend died right before my eyes. The bitch who shot him was the Trinity Killer's daughter. She committed suicide in front of me not just last week. Dexter's wife was killed by Trinity a few days ago. Dex found his little baby boy on the floor, covered in his mother's blood. He found his wife taking a bath in her own blood. Her throat was slit. She left behind two kids from a previous marriage, now Dexter is all they've got. Before you try to mentally dissect me, chew on that.

When you heard about you're sister-in-law's murder, what was your reaction?

I…don't know. I cried? I don't remember. Although it sort of reminds me of when my mom died.

Did your mother die violently?

No. She died in the hospital. But it was all over. Done. She's never coming back. Do you know what it's like to be all alone, Doctor?

We aren't here to talk about me, Debra. Now, how did Mrs. Morgan's death remind you of your mothers'?

Rita. Her name was Rita.

Pardon me, Debra. I didn't—

I'm out of here.

Debra, if you don't sit back down, I will have to call security. Sit. Good. Now will you answer my question about Rita?

Astor, Cody and Harrison are left with a father who doesn't really know what he's doing. Their mother – their rock – is gone. For-fucking-ever. So is mine. Jesus.

Did you feel abandoned by your mother?

No. She couldn't help getting cancer. I'm not some freak with mommy issues.

What about daddy issues?

Fuck this.

So I've struck a chord. Sit, Debra. Please? That's better. Do you have issues with your father? You've said he doesn't really know what he's doing.

I was talking about Dexter.

But you compared him to your father, no? Just like you compared yourself to your niece and nephew and your sister-in-law to your mother. Did your father do a bad job of raising you?

No. Well, he didn't really do a bad job. He just…

Did he hurt you, Debra?

What? God, no! Shit. No, he just payed more attention to Dexter. But that's bad. He just…spent more time with the boy. That's understandable.

Yes, but aren't you entitled to your father's attention?

He gave me attention. He never ignored me. But you want to spend more time with him?

Fuck yes! But I never asked so he wouldn't have known.

A father is supposed to know, Debra. Are you angry with him?


Are you angry with Dexter?


Are you angry with yourself?

Yeah, I guess.


Because...I...I don't know. I let Frank die. I let Christine die. I let fucking Rita die. They're all dead and it's my fucking fault.

How do you find that, Debra?

I should've figured it all out faster. It was all in those folders. I should've…

Should've what?

I don't know. Done something, I guess. Dexter's always looked out for me. He's always been there. I should've protected him and the kids. I should have protected Rita from that…that sick fuck.

Why is all this protecting your responsibility?

Because I had all of the fucking information!

I'm sure that if, like you said, you had ALL the information, you would have apprehended the Trinity Killer. I do not doubt your detecting skills.


Well, I think our session is done for now. Thank you for sharing, Debra. Same time next week?


Goodbye, Debra.

'Bye, Dr. Cain.

"Dexter? When are we going back home?" Dexter leaned over and kissed Cody on the head. Cody's big, brown eyes stared up at his step-father imploringly.

"Not for a while, buddy." He smiled a fake smile at the boys. Astor stood, as quiet and rigid as a statue against the apartment railing.

Harrison gurgled and smiled a toothless smile. Lucky little Harrison. He wouldn't have to remember the horror of seeing his mother dead in a bathtub filled with her blood. He wouldn't have to remember the sticky blood on his soft, baby skin. Lucky he doesn't have to remember his mother.

Astor's eyes skimmed the surface of the shimmering pool. Dexter could feel the longing for everything to be back the way it was.

Dexter sucks in a deep breath, adjusts and knocks on the door.

A few seconds later, Deb, disheveled as ever, opens it and her mouth pulls back into a taut smile for the kids.

"Hey guys!" She took Cody's little hand and lead him in. "I bought some Hohos for you guys!"

"Hohos? Dexter, can I have some?

"He's not mom, Cody. You don't need to ask him for sweets." Astor said with malice. She forced her way through the doorway and plopped onto the couch, flipping on the T.V.

Cody looked up and whispered to Dexter, "It's okay, Dexter. I'll still listen to you. And so will Harrison."

"Thanks, little man. Go ahead and have some Hohos."

"Jesus, Dex, how do you handle it?" Deb asked as Cody scampered off to join his sister in the living room, a Hoho clutched in each hand. He offered one to his sister.

Dexter shrugged. " I love them. Like Harry loved us." He put Harrison into his high chair and stretched.

"Yeah, hey , Dex, I saw the psychiatrist that Batista recommended."

"Oh, yeah? How was it?"

"He's good. Like, really good." She rubbed her elbow uneasily.

"How are you doing, Deb? I mean, after all that's happened."

She looked at her brother oddly. "Jesus Christ are you real? After all that's happened to you? I'm fine!" She hugged him close. "You have been through a shitload. Don't you dare worry about anyone but you and the kids."

"Thanks, Deb," he smiled. "And thanks for letting us stay here."

"Are you joking? I wouldn't allow you to go back to that house if my life depended on it. You can stay here as long as you want."

"Only until I find a new home. Then we'll be out of your hair." He smiled.