Before we keep going, quick heads-up: this list is absolutely packed with SPOILERS for the Scream franchise, because unmasking the killer is kind of the whole point of the series. You’ve been warned: proceed at your own risk... | © Spyglass Media Group
The first phone call, the one that ropes Casey Becker into a pop-quiz-from-hell, sets the tone: the killer isn’t just hunting, he’s performing. Underneath that performance are two faces, and the movie hides them in plain sight by giving each a believable cover: Billy Loomis (played by Skeet Ulrich) as the too-easy suspect, and Stu Macher (played by Matthew Lillard) as the guy who feels too goofy to be lethal. What makes their reveal stick isn’t only the body count, it’s the way they twist horror “rules” into a script for real violence, then smirk like they’ve earned an applause break. Even after the mask comes off, the film leaves you with the nastiest takeaway: in Woodsboro, the danger can look exactly like your social circle. | © Dimension Films
A sequel about sequels opens with a crowded theater and a killer who understands spectacle, which is why the suspects feel like they’re auditioning as much as they’re hiding. One half of Ghostface is Mickey Altieri, brought to life by Timothy Olyphant, and the choice is perfect: Mickey has the calm, watchful vibe of someone already rehearsing his explanation. The other reveal is the gut-punch: Nancy Loomis, Billy’s mother played by Laurie Metcalf, slipping into the story as a background presence until she suddenly owns the room. Their motives don’t even match, and that’s what makes it work: one wants infamy, the other wants revenge, and the chaos lands on the same target anyway. The film doubles the paranoia by doubling the mask, then dares you to trust anyone with a campus ID. | © Dimension Films
The voice on the line can sound like anyone, and in Hollywood that’s less a trick than a business model which makes this entry feel extra slippery. Ghostface here is Roman Bridger, played by Scott Foley, and the reveal hits differently because he isn’t one half of a duo; he’s the whole machine. As a director, Roman understands angles, timing, and how to steer attention toward the “right” suspect, so the murders play like a production that keeps rewriting itself mid-shoot. His motive drags the franchise back into Sidney Prescott’s family history and reframes the saga as something orchestrated, not just repeated a cruel attempt to claim authorship over her pain. It’s a finale that swaps teen-party chaos for backstage manipulation, then asks the ugliest question possible: what if the monster thinks he’s the storyteller? | © Dimension Films
Jill Roberts doesn’t want to survive a massacre, she wants the credit for one, and Emma Roberts plays that hunger with a smile that gets sharper the longer it holds. Her partner, Charlie Walker (played by Rory Culkin), buys into the fantasy that doing the killings earns him a place in the story, but the movie makes it clear who’s really steering. Jill’s plan is pure modern vanity: curate the tragedy, edit the narrative, and step into the spotlight as the “new” face of survival even if it means literally staging her own wounds. The reveal is nasty because it turns the usual slasher wish (make it out alive) into something colder: make it out famous. And when the act drops, it’s obvious the scariest thing in Woodsboro isn’t the knife it’s ambition with a ring light. | © Dimension Films
If you want the motive in one word, it’s obsession, the kind that quotes trivia like scripture and treats real people as props for a “better” story. Amber Freeman (played by Mikey Madison) brings the unhinged true-believer energy, the person who thinks fandom is a license, not a hobby. Then the movie twists the knife with Richie Kirsch, played by Jack Quaid, because he’s disarmingly normal until the mask logic clicks into place and the “supportive boyfriend” act curdles. Their goal isn’t just to kill it’s to manufacture canon, to force a new chapter into existence with blood as the ink. The story also ties the chaos to Sam Carpenter’s past in a way that keeps the franchise’s original sin in frame without letting nostalgia do all the work. When the reveal lands, it feels less like a whodunit and more like watching a comment section crawl off the screen and grab a knife. | © Spyglass Media Group
New York gives Ghostface endless places to hide, but the movie’s real flex is how it turns closeness into the threat crowded trains, shared apartments, familiar faces you stop questioning. The killers are a coordinated family strike: detective Wayne Bailey (Dermot Mulroney), plus his kids Quinn Bailey (Liana Liberato) and Ethan Landry (Jack Champion), all fueled by revenge for Richie. That trio dynamic matters because it explains the film’s momentum the attacks feel relentless, like you’re not dealing with one person slipping up, but a team covering angles and cleaning mistakes. Even the set pieces lean into that pressure: the ladder, the subway, the shrine of evidence that turns past murders into trophies. The mask here isn’t a gimmick or a prank; it’s a family uniform, and that idea makes the betrayal land with a colder weight than usual. | © Spyglass Media Group
In Scream, Ghostface isn’t a single villain, it’s a role that gets traded, shared, and occasionally tag-teamed when the plot needs a last-second gut punch. Half the franchise’s fun is watching suspects pile up while the “rules” keep getting rewritten.
If you can remember the set pieces but not who was under the mask, this is the clean cheat sheet. Here’s who the killer (or killers) are in every Scream movie, listed clearly so you can match each reveal to the right film.
