It begins with a ritual. In the bright Miami sun, a blade slices through citrus, bacon sizzles, and a smile plays on his lips—but it never reaches his eyes. This is Dexter Morgan, blood spatter analyst by day, and something much darker by night. His morning routine is a masterclass in misdirection, turning the mundane into the menacing. We meet the key players in his orbit: Debra, his foul-mout...
