He keeps them alive for three days. We don't know why. There's no evidence of rape or physical abuse prior to death. All the mutilation you see there is postmortem.
The Silence of the Lambs
1.5s
Thank you.
The Silence of the Lambs
7.7s
She'll have to go to the state pathologist at Claxton. Well, I better get back to that service. Lamar will help you.
The Silence of the Lambs
6.2s
Excuse me. Sheriff Perkins, these are the FBI people. Sheriff Perkins. Jack Crawford, FBI.
The Silence of the Lambs
1.5s
Rule 404...
The Silence of the Lambs
38.4s
What does your father do? Is he a coal miner? Does he stink of the lamp? And, oh, how quickly the boys found you. All those tedious, sticky fumblings in the back seats of cars, while you could only dream of getting out, getting anywhere, getting all the way to the FBI. You see a lot, Doctor. But are you strong enough to point that high-powered perception at yourself? What about it? Why don't you... Why don't you look at yourself and write down what you see? Maybe you're afraid to.
The Silence of the Lambs
2.7s
Miggs! You stupid fuck!
The Silence of the Lambs
11.3s
Johnny, hold your fire. We're coming into the car. -We're opening the hatch. -Watch his hands. If there's any fire, it'll come from us. Affirm. Got it.
The Silence of the Lambs
7.8s
If I had sent you in there with an actual agenda, Lecter would have known it instantly. He would have toyed with you, then turned to stone.
The Silence of the Lambs
7.7s
Ligature marks found around the wrists, not around the ankles. This would indicate that the skinning was postmortem.
The Silence of the Lambs
5.5s
-Time, Pilch. My move. -No fair. You lured him with produce. Tough noogies. Still my turn.
The Silence of the Lambs
6.4s
Oh, Agent Starling, you think you can dissect me with this blunt, little tool? No.
The Silence of the Lambs
3.7s
Oh, Jack. What do you make of these?
The Silence of the Lambs
17.6s
A well-scrubbed, hustling rube with a little taste. Good nutrition has given you some length of bone, but you're not more than one generation from poor white trash, are you, Agent Starling? And that accent you've tried so desperately to shed, pure West Virginia.
