01x09 - k*ll Zone

[bunniefuu]

There's been speculation that this
police investigation will start...

with one of the victims
involved in an office dispute,

but that has not yet
been confirmed.

Thank you.
This much I can tell you ...

Can you believe it? It's national news and
we don't even know what happened.

Some alpaca herdsman in Peru knows
more about our case than we do.

He knows what to
look for, he does.

One over the left eye...

... and one right between the eyes ...

...and one into the right eye--
boom, boom, boom--

and that's called the k*ll zone.

No messing around,
clean and deadly.

Hey, guys.
So, nobody saw a sh**t.

I've got seven people that
say they heard a sh*t.

One sh*t for all three victims?

Yeah, it's ridiculous--
one sh*t.

There's no way.

I also have a couple of witnesses.
They say they heard a car screech away.

So we're still interviewing.
Keep me posted.

So how did three people
get sh*t in broad daylight...

on a busy street and
nobody sees anything?

sn*per.

No two witnesses place the sh*t
coming from the same direction.

Okay, shoes ...

Lost shoes indicate people
running for their lives.

Yeah, not these three: Jason Groves,
Lou Blake, and Maya Franklin.

Jason was a stockbroker, Lou a janitor,
and Maya was a secretary.

They work together?

No. So far, there hasn't been any
connection or workplace issues.

You know, the press got it wrong.

Let's get all the surveillance
video from the street --

interior and exterior.

You got it.

Alexx, how many b*ll*ts
am I looking for?

Guy in the suit --
b*llet lodged in his head.

That man, same thing. And let's see what
happened to your b*llet, sweetheart.

Messed up your pretty weave,
that's for sure.

Yeah, it went right through you.
Through and through.

Okay. Calleigh?

Let's find the third b*llet.
We need to triangulate.

Hopefully, we can locate the
sh**t's position.

Speed.

Don't these people have
anything better to do?

Okay, all right, remember where you are.
Anything catch your eye?

Not yet.

All right. So, let's get
everything back to the lab.

We need to start the victimology and figure
out why these three people got sh*t, okay?

I've got one divot over here.

Victim dropped in her tracks,
b*llet went through her head ...

hit here, based on
the teardrop shape.

Tail indicates that it traveled
in this direction ...

... and maybe it's a small caliber.

Looks like a .223.

.223. Okay, let's get the trajectory.

You and I will work the b*ll*ts.
Alexx, you and I are on the bodies.

Okay, Maya, let's see what's
going on with you.

Angle is downward ...

into the glabella, perforated the brain,
then exited through the occipital bone.



What were the other angles?




Hard to get that sh*t from the ground
unless the sh**t's ten feet tall.

Or they're in a tenth-story window.

b*llet entered her brain, shut down her
central nervous system --

immediately fatal.

Never felt a thing. Next best thing
to going in your sleep.

These are not your
daddy's b*ll*ts.

Normally b*ll*ts have
striations, but these don't.

Sabots encased in plastic.

Specialty b*ll*ts: Not illegal but
also not widely available.

Right -- encased in plastic
to protect the b*llet,

making it impossible to match
it to a specific w*apon, right?

This guy is thinking ahead.
He does not want to get caught.

Maybe he's just beginning. Three dead
before morning rush hour is over.

Who knows ... Excuse me. ...
What the day will bring us.

Horatio.

... And the rest is back here.

Sitting right there was
Dee Lawrence --



She was sh*t at 9:15 when
the bus driver stopped...

for a bathroom break
around second near Langley.

Wait a minute. Did you just say
Second and Langley?

We've got a fourth victim.

The driver said he saw people
running outside.

He heard the back
window shatter.

he heard screams,
he didn't know what was going on,

and in a panic, took off.

He went straight to the hospital.
They couldn't save her.

Why would he suddenly be sh**ting
at a moving target, though?

He missed?

Not this guy.
Not this guy.

Victim number four,
the grandmother.

Trajectory is upward ...

into the left ...
temporal lobe.

Alexx, you just said upward --


How is that possible?

Ricochet?

You're going to tell me that
that b*llet is not a sabot.

No, it's a nine millimeter.

And that means we have two sh**t:
One in the sky, one on the ground.

Then that could explain the sh*t
that was heard at the scene.

Could be from the nine millimeter.
Megan,

Megan, you and Eric are on a different case.
Take the grandmother on the bus.

You got it.

We have somewhere to be.

That's good.

All right, good.

These lasers should get us up close to
where these sh*ts were taken from.

You ready, Angel?

All right...
let 'er rip.



That's six and a half
football fields.

One sh*t, one k*ll.

This guy's either m*llitary
traded or police.

He's marine corps, probably.
They're the best sn*pers in the world.

So, that is his nest up there.
Let's go find out if he left us anything.

The sn*per taped that door shut. He didn't
want the g*nshots echoing in the stairwell.

He would have had to disassemble the r*fle
and hide it in something to get it up here.

Maybe it was a Winchester model 70 or
a Remington 700, I don't know.

Charles Whitman disguised himself
as a delivery man to get up ...

the Texas tower and he got there,
he just wheeled his g*ns...

and his a*mo onto the observation deck and
k*lled fourteen people. He wounded 31.

This sn*per moved to the
high ground as well, didn't he?

All right, if I was a sn*per,
what's the first thing I would do?

You'd pick your spot.
Prone position is best for sh**ting.

Right, the problem is, is this
wall obscures my view of the target.

Yeah, so maybe you
were kneeling.

And maybe I went higher.
Take a look at that.

So what do you get
when a six-foot-tall man...

lays down with a
three-foot-long r*fle?

Hot flashes.
But that's just me.

What you get is a GSR cone.

This is his location.

This is where he sh*t from.

This is a tough
location for exposure.

You can be seen by a helicopter,
any one of these buildings ...

I've got burlap with gravel glued on.

Camouflage.

Better than camouflage --
you know what that is?

That's from a homemade
urban guilley suit.

It's what marines wear in the
desert as camouflage.

And take a look at this.

This is not gunpowder.

Sand.

Sand.
On a roof?

Yeah, it's from a sand sock.

You hold it in your hand or you put it on
the ground, right underneath the muzzle,

and one squeeze is enough to raise the
barrel right to the sweet spot on the target.

This guy is scary.

Look, Marisol,
it's not my case, okay?

If you want dad to stay home or call in sick
from work you should call him yourself.

You know he's not
going to listen, okay?

I got to go. I have to go.
I'll call you later. Bye.

What's up?
You talking to your sister?

Yeah, our dad works downtown
and she worries about everything.

So what's going on
with the sn*per case?

Well, Horatio and Calleigh found
his nest and I'm on victimology.

Find any connection?

Nothing obvious.

That's good time to look
for the un-obvious.

I'm aware of that. H.
Says that to me all the time.

You know, it's great minds ...

You're unbelievable.

I am.
See you later.

Hey, they get anything on the
nine millimeter in Grandma Lawrence?

Show me yours,
I'll show you mine.

Nothing. No match in IBIS.

Ah, I've got something.
Nine millimeter plus. Check it out.

That spec is government issue
blue paint called "postal blue."

One guess what it's used on?

Depressed mailmen.

The b*llet that k*lled grandma ricocheted off
a mailbox near northeast second and Langley.

Must be this one near the
southeast corner.

Put one of those uh,
chartered tour buses in the street.

And line up the back of the
bus with the mailbox.

Can you do a 180 to
the other side?

An ATM.

What do ATMs have?

Surveillance cameras.

And what do I have?
Surveillance tapes from downtown.

Adhesive residue on the rooftop
door was electrical tape.

And we got through the night
without another sh**ting.

My mom wants me to
come home to Louisiana,

but I told her even Al Qaeda
couldn't make me.

People are starting to get nervous,
which is the way he wants it.

Take a look at this and
tell me what you think it is.

Some type of vegetation.

We found three of
them on the roof.

In terms of the guilley suit, we were right.
Made the entire thing out of this --

the burlap we found up there.
Must've taken him weeks.

sn*pers are patient. They can lay in
wait for days waiting for the target.

If conditions aren't right,
they won't take the sh*t.

You know a lot about sn*pers.

I used to date one.
Marine corps, special op, 38 kills.

He's retired now. He runs a
r*fle range about an hour away.

You still friends?
Yeah.

Been a while since
I fired one of these.

You know your way around a g*n.

Sniping is different.

Comes to sh**ting,
you can't trust just your eyes.

Just like a crime scene.

Most people think a b*llet
travels in a straight line.

The actual path of a b*llet
is arced, like a rainbow.

That's the first thing your
sn*per has to take into account.

The next thing is the wind.
See that tall grass, fifty feet ahead?

Means the wind is moving at
three to five miles an hour.

But at 75 feet, wind speed's
completely different.

Take a look at those tall reeds.

Tells you the wind is going
at five to eight miles an hour.

So no matter where your target is,
you adjust for the wind.

Kentucky windage.

In the 20/100th of a second it
takes a sn*per to pull the trigger...

he takes one controlled breath ...

and decides if conditions
are right to take a life.

You put a human being at the
end of the barrel of your w*apon ...

and you become god.

You have all the power.

You stay in control.

The sh*t has to be perfect to take it.

We know you were downtown
yesterday morning at this ATM.

You took out $40.00 at around 9:15,
right before that sn*per hit.

Yeah, I ... I hit the ground.
It scared me to death.

Really.
What'd you see?

Pavement,
like everybody else.

I was talking about who was
doing the sh**ting.

I didn't see anybody.
Just the other people who were dying.

Mr. Santoya, do you own a g*n?

A g*n?
No. Never.

What's this all about?

May we come in?
Why?

We just want to talk to you.

So go ahead and talk.

All right, there was another
sh**ting downtown yesterday.

Someone k*lled a


And that someone was near the
ATM the same time as you.

Look, I-I ...
I wish could help you.

I'm sorry.

If you'll excuse me,
I have other things to do.

I'm sorry.

You believe that?

What? That he slammed the
door in our faces or his story?

Either. Neither.
He's hiding something.

You're looking at
Japanese Black Pine.

Now, it's not indigenous to Miami but
it is commonly used to grow bonsai trees.

Our sn*per has a hobby.

And patience - it takes twenty to thirty
years to grow a bonsai tree.

I also found urine.

Probably up there all night
waiting to take his sh*ts.

It happened again.

Police just arrived on the scene. Now,
witnesses tell us one person has been sh*t.

There may be others,
we just don't know yet.

What we do know is that the sn*per has
once again struck in downtown Miami.

Second day, second sh**ting.

Could be unrelated.
Could be a copycat.

It's the same part of town.

Yeah, but the first sh**ting happened
in the morning. The MO's different.

Is it? The only time busier
than early morning...

is evening rush hour when
people are trying to get home.

Or get a quick bite to eat.

Michael Corday, 39. Professor
at Miami-Dade Community College,

had a wife and three kids
and no one heard any sh*ts.

He just bought a hot dog
and fell over dead.

Director's ready to have a stroke.
He wants to call in the feds.

Two sh**t, two days, four victims
-- this guy's on a spree.

Can we place him on a building?

Not with just one b*llet,
but I can approximate distance.

So the only evidence we have
are b*ll*ts we can't use...

and strips of a
homemade guilley suit.

Let's not forget the sand
and the bonsai needles.

The further the evidence takes us
away from the crime scene,

the greater the chance he'll let
down his guard.

And that's when we'll get him.

Speed.

So, betonanything.com posted
three-to-one odds ...

that he's going to sh**t
again monday morning.

Sounds like a good bet.

Ten-to-one odds that he's going
to sh**t in a different location.

Okay, but he is sh**ting people
downtown for a reason.

Well, you know,
Delko's dad works downtown ...

and his sister doesn't
want him to go to work.

What do you think the odds are,
realistically,

that we're going to find this guy
before somebody else gets k*lled?

I don't know. But if this guy gets us to
change the way we do our jobs,

then those odds are going to go up.
So let's not do that, okay?

All right.

Hang in there.

He's lying.

About what,
I don't know.

So what do we know?

That, at 9:15, Ray Santoya
was at the ATM.

And so, the question is:
What was he doing at 9:16?

sh**ting the nine-millimeter at something.
Maybe he saw the sn*per.

Or was working with him.

Wait.
Go back one.

What do you see?

Bring his face up full screen.

His glasses.

There's a reflection.

It's the Nuevitas baseball team.
That's their logo.

And he's talking to whoever's
wearing that jacket.

We may have a witness.

To both sh**t.

Can I help you?

Yeah. Uh, we're looking
for Ray Santoya.

He's not here.

Miami Dade Police.
Can we come in?

Sure.
Yes.

Thank you.

And you are?

Gustavo Santoya.

Gustavo?

What's going on?

We need to ask you and your
son some questions.

What about?

Do you mind if I take
a look at that jacket?

Wait a minute, what for?

Right here.

What the hell are you doing?

Don't worry.
It's waterproof.

But not GSR-proof.

Remove your jacket, please.

No, no, it-it's not his.
It's mine.

Father ...
I was wearing it.

Don't do this.

It was me. I was there.
Nobody else. And not my son.

I swear on my mother's grave,
no lo sabia.

I didn't know.
People were ...

Yo crei que veia al
que disparava.

You thought you saw the sn*per?

No, not the sn*per.

Then who?

The car was full of callejeros ...
street kids.

I thought I saw a g*n.

El tenia una pistola negra. A black g*n--
he was holding it. I swear to you.

I didn't see any woman in the car.

Solo los cuatro muchachos.

The four boys were laughing ...

at the people dying.

Well, you didn't see her because
she wasn't in the car.

Tell her family I'm sorry.

I was trying to protect my father.

All right.

Okay, get up.

Four dead in the so-called
Miami sn*per ...

... four sh**t, so far,
have been linked to the sn*per.

A car backfired earlier today,
causing panic in downtown Miami ...

... worried parents are keeping their
children home from school...

... the special b*llet is designed to prevent
the authorities from tracking...

...some people say they can't trust...

So far, all victims have been
sh*t during rush hour.

So far, I've confirmed
our businessman...

was inside the dry cleaners two
minutes before all hell broke loose.

Good. Good.
Confirm this for me.

The sand on the right is...?

Is ... a mixture of
calcifying green algae

and brown swiss cheese-looking
grains uniform in size.

Likely from erosion?

Beach sand.

Sand on the left? Found traces of this
on the roof, in the sn*per's nest.

Gastropods-snails --

and football-shaped grains
of benthic foraminifier.

But not h*m*.
I'm thinking from a quarry.

I'm thinking you're right.

Based on the penetration test --

I used a gelatin block to reconstruct
the human tissue --

the sh**t was 975 yards away.

You're kidding.

Give or take a yard or two.




He was showing off.

Maybe he's making a sport of it.

The sand in the sh**t's
sand sock is coral.

So he practices sh**ting
in a coral quarry.

Right. Which would give
him the distance he needs.

Now, these three locations
are all abandoned.

Gives him the isolation he wants.
So you want to look at all three?

Don't need to.
Take a look at that.

Jet fuel.

Jet fuel and coral.
Now watch this.

There you go like
giving us directions.

Natural sound cover.

The perfect place
to keep your r*fle on.

So if I was him ...

where would I sh**t from?

Well, he needs distance.

Because he's a long-range sh**t, right?

Nothing moves here.

Take a look at this.

That flag is how he judges the wind.

So if he's sh**ting from there ...

Where does the b*llet end up?

Christopher Harwood, 42,
ex-marine corps special ops.

His world and welcome to it.

Everything's in perfect order.

He's trying to control his environment
the way he wants to control us.

Firearm data cards.

There must be 20,000.

He's recorded every
sh*t he's ever taken.

Or planning to.

This one was dated this morning.

That could be residue.

He's been on another rooftop
since taking out his latest victim.

This could tell us where he's been.

Or where he is right now.

I matched the dry cleaning receipt to our
Stockbroker Jason Groves, screen on the left.

He stops in to drop off his wife's
blouse and two pairs of pants.

Okay.

Screen on the right is Lou Blake, janitor.
He's picking up some pictures of his dogs.

I hope somebody's feeding them.

In the center, Maya Franklin, secretary.
She stops at Dade sugar and spice, 9:09.

Stands in line five minutes and 23 seconds.
Three total strangers just living their lives.

What about our fourth victim?

On the cell phone, eating a hot dog,
talking to his wife.

Okay ... one-hour photo shop one-hour
dry cleaners, coffee shop, fast food.

Is that our theme?

They were all in a hurry.

Is that it?

That was it for them.

Five hours to rush hour.

Let's find out what this
residue is made of.

Three hours till downtown
becomes one big living target.

Keep me posted.

The substance on the back of the
data card was a hardcore adhesive...

called rt600. It was only used two
years after Hurricane Andrew.

To prevent rooftops from going airborne
in case of another hurricane.

Now, I've narrowed it down
to three buildings.

We've got to get it down to one.
Okay ...

here's what we need to do.

We've got to outhunt the hunter.

Where do we start?

Where he did.

He climbed up to the roof of the hotel ...

he'd been preparing
for a long time.

He changed into his guilley suit...

assembled his w*apon ...

... scope last.

Climbs even higher ...

gets into position ...

He waited for the right conditions.

Then his targets were irrelevant
because the people that he k*lled...

were picked at random.
Meaning he picked spots ...

and not victims.

Once he hunkered down ...

... he was up there all night,
dry f*ring.

... he didn't eat,
he didn't move --

not for any reason.

He waited for as long as it took.

And he didn't take the sh*t
until conditions were perfect.

Like a skier visualizing a
hill before the race starts.

Because he was waiting for
his puzzle to be complete.

He used a flag or a tree
to gauge the wind.

But it didn't matter how
long he waited ...

... because as soon as those
pieces fell together he'd be ready.

To take three sh*ts.

And the answer, my friend ...

is blowin' in the wind.

Speed ... what do you got?

Of the three buildings that used rt600
after Hurricane Andrew only one

has not been re-roofed
narrowing it down to this one.

Now, these are satellite photos
taken from the past 72 hours.

He hasn't been there.

Okay, but this guy is a chameleon.

He could blend into a side of beef.
Why this building?

These are lines of sight from
the building to surrounding areas.

Let's turn it 180 degrees, please.

All industrial. Okay,
now shift 90 degrees west.

Targets everywhere.

Okay, now, there's a high-traffic area in the
upper left quadrant. Highlight that, please.

Now let's check the line of sight.

That's his kind of spot.
Lots of people walking into it.

Yeah, but that's got to be
over 800 yards away.

Get Eric up in the
chopper, Speed.

Okay, H, I'm in position to
scramble the wind condition.

Copy that, Eric.
Stay in position.

Calleigh.
Calleigh, where are you?

I'm with SWAT,
heading upstairs.

Okay, you'll be my eyes and ears.

Ladies and gentlemen,
there's a sn*per in the vicinity.

I need everyone
to leave the area now!

Officer, listen, I need a 360
quarter-mile perimeter clear!

You got it.

Eric, speak to me.

Ma'am-- can't be here.

Horatio, you're right
in the line of fire.

Okay, listen up! This guy is one sh*t, one k*ll.
If he can't make it, he's not going to take it.

Eric, the wind from the
chopper ruins his sh*t.

SWAT has him in sight.

I need to know if this is all-clear.
I need confirmation, Calleigh.

Release your w*apon!

Turn it over!

Code four, code four.
sn*per has been apprehended.

The sn*per has been apprehended.
We have him in custody.

Nice work. Have you considered
a transfer to SWAT?

I don't look good in all black.

I beg to differ.

Don't you want to know why?

You just k*lled four innocent people.
You're evil.

You enjoy death.
I hope you enjoy your own. Take him.