Untraceable

Agent Griffin Dowd:
What's he into?

Agent Jennifer Marsh:
High-end tech and low-end porn.

Agent Griffin Dowd:
You sure he's a guy? If it's a woman, she could be my soulmate.

Owen Reilly:
[watching his victim in a tub filling up with acid] You know if no one was watching right now, you'd just be sitting in water. But the whole world wants to watch you die, and they don't even know you.

[online, Griffin sits in a chamber with sulfuric acid pumping into it]

Detective Eric Box:
If that's water in that tank, pretty soon he's going to be sitting in battery acid.

Agent Griffin Dowd:
Got the list of them right here. The most common is Heparin; get the dose right you save a life, wrong, got yourself a hemophiliac.

Richard Brooks:
So the more people who visit the site, the more the drug is released, and the faster he bleeds.

Agent Jennifer Marsh:
That's right, that's what we believe.

Richard Brooks:
Well, isn't that wonderful.

Agent Jennifer Marsh:
Listen to this, I'm running the logs from that mirror we took down, he's blocking all the foreign IPs, only Americans can gain access to the site.

Agent Griffin Dowd:
Oh, how patriotic.

Agent Jennifer Marsh:
Username and password please?

Agent Griffin Dowd:
Coming to you... now. Chang's restaurant?

Agent Jennifer Marsh:
He hacked into their site?

Agent Griffin Dowd:
No. Half the office eats there. He's messing with us. He wanted us to find this. Who the hell is this guy?

Agent Jennifer Marsh:
You forming a task force?

Detective Eric Box:
Not yet.

Agent Jennifer Marsh:
Not yet? How much more do you need?

Richard Brooks:
What we have so far is one dead cat and a man who may or may not be in danger.

Agent Jennifer Marsh:
That's today. You think this is it? It's just the beginning!

Detective Eric Box:
Subject? What are we in science class?

Agent Jennifer Marsh:
What would you prefer?

Detective Eric Box:
How 'bout piece of sh*t?

Agent Jennifer Marsh:
What about the kitten? Did you talk to that guy?

Detective Eric Box:
Scottie Hillman yeah, he's a f***ing jackass. All he cares about it getting the kitten's collar back because he paid twelve bucks for it.

Annie Haskins:
Mom, there's a video of our house on the computer!

Owen Reilly:
[types on killwithme.com blog] Did you really think I would let you people hurt that little girl?

Agent Jennifer Marsh:
Its Griffin. It's Griffin! What are these tubes? Zoom in on the tubes! Sufluric acid. Sulfuric acid?

Detective Eric Box:
If that's water in that tank, pretty soon he'll be sitting in battery acid.

Agent Jennifer Marsh:
This is James Reilly. Sixteen months ago, depressed over the recent death of his wife... a hematologist... Reilly staggered out into rush-hour traffic on the Broadway Bridge. Traffic copters were out in force. But only one caught all the action from beginning to end... Channel 12. The regular pilot was out sick that day, so the job went to Herbert Miller. He later told friends he'd gotten lucky. At the right place at the right time. The back of Reilly's skull... landed on the rooftop of this diner. So did his glasses. The skull was turned over to the coroner... but the glasses were retrieved by one of the diner's employees, Scotty Hillman. He put them up for sale online. And they sold quickly. Kids were home from school. Parents were outraged. They called the TV stations. The TV stations apologized... except for Channel 12. They'd been having a little problem in the ratings, but not that afternoon. Their numbers were sky-high. And knowing a good thing when it fell into their lap, they rushed a veteran reporter to the scene. This is David Williams. He got lucky, landed an interview with a local businessman... whose parked Cadillac had been struck by Reilly's falling body. When the interview ended, Channel 12, as a courtesy to those who might have missed it, aired the entire video one last time. Within minutes, Andrew Kilburn had pulled it off his TiVo... and posted it on five different shock-video sites. From there, Reilly's suicide was public domain... something for five billion people to feed on, laugh at, gossip about. Reilly had a son, Owen. He was brilliant. Good at electronics, mechanics and computers... but he was disturbed. He was troubled. He was withdrawn. Owen took his father's suicide very hard. He had to be hospitalized. And six months ago, he was released. This x-ray image is supposed to be Owen's father. The number on the left, the date his father died... followed by the the number of his autopsy report. Owen lives alone now at his father's house in Fairview. What do you say we arrest the piece of sh*t?

Detective Eric Box:
Hi, I'm detective Box.

Arthur James Elmer:
Unusual name...

Detective Eric Box:
Well, it wasn't up to me.