01x12 - Entrance Wound

[bunniefuu]

What's that noise?

It's the waves crashing
on the beach.

Since when do oceans hum?

Wait.

A guy and his coworker
found her this morning.

Well, they've obviously cleaned the
room before they checked in, right?

Yeah, typical maid service -

Scrub the surface.

Scrubbed the surface but
left the dead body under the bed.

So what do we know
about our previous occupant?

No face-to-face booking.
Sent the victim to pay.

And who is our victim?

Pocketbook and clothes
were missing but ...

the assistant coroner okayed
a live scan of her prints.

Susan McCreary.

A string of priors
for prostitution.

Looks like she
was working the street.

Not anymore.



Seventy-five degrees.

With her liver temp...

that puts time of death between
seven and nine last evening.

Victim was stabbed repeatedly.
Slim, sharp implement.

What do you think?
A Kn*fe or scissors?

Width of the wounds
could match either.

She wasn't stabbed under here.

There's not enough room,
and there's no blood present.

On the bed's the
next logical choice.

Yes, but there would be
spatter on the night stand...

and the wall and
the sheets would be soaked.

I got the sheets from the maid.

There's no visible stains,
but I bagged them anyway.

Bag that bedspread,
too, will you?

What do we have here?

That's blood ...

and somebody tried
to wipe it away.

Not the only surface
he scrubbed.

Body smells like cardamom.

It's a spice. I use it in a
mean South African curry...

but it's also used
as a scent in soaps.

Scented soaps.

Okay.

The maid did say that....

the renter boosted a couple
of towels and a washcloth.

What about used soap?

Yeah, he took that with him, too.

You know what?
Let's green-light this tub.

Cardamom soap.

Whoa.

You got something?

Yeah. It looks like
he washed her.

That would explain the clean body
and the missing towels, wouldn't it?

Well, he didn't hose these.

Uniform found them
in a dumpster outside.

Well, I guess they
could be the victim's.

They fit the lifestyle.

Don't worry. Officer Saxon
didn't touch anything else.

We'll take it from here,
gentlemen.

I guess I got to go
check the dumpster now.

Do that next.

Hey, what do we got?

Attempted carjacking
or robbery.

German tourist couple.
They stopped for directions.

Now, that's the wife,
Greta Roebling.

Husband's Werner and they're here
on a short vacation from Stuttgart.

Oh, another slam from
the European Press.

"Miami: Deathtrap
Under the Palms."

Did the wife
see the sh**ting?

No. She said a masked man
approached her side of the car ...

and then sh*t
her husband.

Body's still in the car?

No. Husband fled,
sh**t ran after him ...

... and he left his body on
the floor of the garage bay.

Well, if it's a carjacking,

why chase a guy who's
already abandoned his car?

Exactly.

That's the first of many questions.

How about I take the car,
you take the garage and

we'll meet up at the body
when the M.E. shows up?

Sounds good.

I got blood spatter
in the car but no b*ll*ts.

Also, got a smear
on the rearview mirror.

There's no sign
of the M.E.?

No. Stuck on the
Venetian Causeway.

The bridge wouldn't close.
Would you believe?

So how many times
was this guy sh*t?

I'm only seeing one wound.

A small entrance behind the ear
possible exit through the mouth.

Gosh, it's hard to imagine
him running all the way ...

in here with a
sh*t in the head.

Anything's possible.

Did you find any
b*ll*ts in here?

No, but check out
these blood patterns.

Now, it doesn't look like a shoe but,
uh, it's hard to say where it's from.

And the spatter on the back
of this truck is even harder to place.

Looks like high velocity
from a g*nsh*t.

Well, that would put a second sh*t in
here and that doesn't track with the body.

Or with his head wound
in relation to the truck.

Aah, we need to get
at this body.

Twenty-three s*ab
wounds in all.

Some of them
look tentative.

Till he got the hang of it.

Yeah. The majority of the wounds
are deep penetrations.

What's your cause of death?

Exsanguination from a sharp
force injury that severed the aorta.

Not much external
blood loss, though, huh?

Right. Aorta bleeds out
into the chest cavity.

Which would have helped
the k*ller with his cleanup.

You think he could have
known that?

You find him and ask him.

Adhesive, right?

Yeah. Wrist,
ankles and mouth.

Okay, so he picked her up
gagged her, taped her, went to town.

How about
sexual as*ault?

No vaginal tearing,
no signs of semen.

Guy went to a lot of trouble for
no apparent personal or sexual motive.

How about the joy
of just taking a life?

That's always good.
Okay.

Anything else from
the dumpster?

Just the victim's clothes.

Pipes from the tub were a bust.
I found traces of drain cleaner.

So it would have dissolved
any DNA he might have left.

What about right here?
Right in the center.

I'm about to test it.

Never go naked on
the hotel bedspread.

Lucky for us, some
people do, right?

Keep me posted.
I'll go check her personal effects.

The smear on the center
of the bedspread was mold.

A type that wasn't on
anything else at the bungalow.

Maybe the k*ller
brought it in with him.

But not off his body.

Could be transfer from some kind of
cover he used to keep the mess down.

He did get sloppy
about one thing.

We found a bloody fingerprint
on the victim's belt.

Guy in the system?

A Cole Judson. A prior Kn*fe as*ault
on a woman twelve years ago.

Not his first time.

Let's make it his last.

Excuse me.

We're looking
for Cole Judson.

Um, yeah, he's probably out back
helping me out with my fence.

Does he work for you?

No. I'm the landlord.

This guy pulls in six figures and his
way to unwind is hacking at wood.

Go figure.
You guys the police?

Yes, we are.

Where would that be?

Right around back.
Just follow the screams.

His step-kids believe
in expressing themselves.

Thank you.

Cole Judson?

Detective Brunner,
Miami-Dade police.

Horatio Caine, CSI.

You're under arrest for
the m*rder of Susan McCreary.

You have the right
to remain silent.

Cole?

Anything you say can be used
against you in the Court Hall...

What are they doing?
Wendy, call our lawyer.

Cole?

You have the right to an attorney.
If you cannot afford ...

Everything's going to be okay.

The court will appoint you one.

What are you doing?
Cole would never hurt anyone.

Mrs. Judson, your husband will be
transported downtown...

where he will be booked.

In the meantime, I have a
warrant to search your residence.

This, this can't be right.

You're wrong.

There's our sh**t.

Yeah, with a mask
leaving us no facial ID.

But I can ID our
odd print on the floor.

Perforations on the glove...

appear to match the pattern
we found in that blood smear.

So the sh**t lost his footing.

Which confirms the wife's story.

The sh**t approached her side
of the car and sh*t the husband.

But we still can't see where
the husband was hit.

Oh, it's riveting but what I really
want is a call from Alexx.

Easy, girl.
You will get your b*llet.

Sorry, Calleigh. Your second
b*llet was fragmented.

It's a small caliber "22",
probably.

There's no hope for a
comparison.

But the good news is
I've got your first b*llet.

He was sh*t in the mouth?

Oh, yeah.

Well, I have never seen
anything like this before.

Never forget your
first time, do you?

It's intact,
that's a good sign.

Came to rest in the
back of his throat.

That would explain all the blood
spatter on the back of the truck.

He would have been spitting cupfuls
of blood with a wound like that.

Over forty arteries and veins inside
the oral pharynx and the buccal mucosa.

He was hiding from his k*ller.

Who's this?

That's the ex-husband.

Hmm ...

the ex-husband.
That's interesting.

I'll keep them for a few days,
all right, Wendy? Don't worry.

This is a mistake, Michael.
It, it's crazy.

Anytime, the middle of the
night 5:00 in the morning,

I'm there for you, okay?
If you need me.

If there's anything I can do ...

We'll let you know.
Thank you.

Bye, sweetie.

Are you aware that your
husband has a record...

for a Kn*fe as*ault
on a woman?

No, that's not right.
It can't be.

Cole could never do what
you're accusing him of.

Can you tell us where
he was last night?

He was, he was at his
weekly sales meeting.

Every Wednesday till 9:00.

Could you give us
a contact at his office?

Yeah. Let me get it.

Thank you.

Surprise, surprise.

What's up?

Cole Judson didn't work late
on Wednesday. He never does.

So he's two for two
on lies to his wife.

Okay.

Please, you have
to believe me.

I don't know what you found,
but you're wrong.

What happened to your finger?

I whacked my nail. Henry,
the little one, put this on me.

Mind if I take a look at it?

Yeah, sure.

The band-aid?
Band-aid. Thank you.

Where were you last night?

After work I took
a walk on the beach.

It's what I do every
Wednesday.

That's not what
your wife told us.

Listen, I ...

I love being married, I do.
And I adore those kids.

But I steal one night
a week for myself and I ...

I should have been honest
with Wendy about needing it.

What about the girl you
stabbed in college?

Oh, my god, Beth?

I never hurt Beth.

Listen, we were young
and we were drunk,

and we were arguing
and she cut herself.

I took her to the ER to get stitches.
They had to file a report.

Suddenly she was worried
about what her family...

would say so she said I did it.

Do you, um,
recognize this woman?

No.
No?

No.

Excuse me.

Well, our gas station b*llet matched a
prior convenience store robbery.

The g*n was never recovered.

The adult was convicted,

he's still behind bars but
the juvenile accomplice,

Malcolm Davidson,
served only a few months.

All right, so where's
Malcolm now?

At home, with grandma.

I'm telling you wherever
you think Malcolm was...

he was out
with me.

I'm not finding any
of those clothes.

Hey, Calleigh come
take a look in here.

You find the g*n?

No, even better.

Originally seen on video.

Rinsed off and stiff
from drying, too.

With perforations
that look very similar...

to that blood pattern we
found on the garage floor.

All right, let's go.

No way my brother did this.

Okay, so I'm the k*ller and...

I've just wiped down the scene,

and I'm preparing to dispose of
the victim's clothes but somehow,

some of the victim's blood has
escaped my cleanup, right?

Beef blood?

Yup. Close to human
but not a biohazard.

So, this is how the print ...

... should look on the belt.

But take a look at the picture.

Looks the same,
like the print you made.

Ah, but it's not because it wasn't
made with a bloody fingerprint.

It was made with oil.

Like this.

And the blood was applied ...

later. Like this.

Allowing the blood to slide off
the ridges and pool in the furrows.

Take a look.

Wow. Never seen
anything like that.

I guess you'd miss it
if you didn't know it.

That's right.
So it pays to stay current.

Remember the
criminalist from Taos?

The one with the long,
black hair?

She did a study and this...

is how you can frame somebody
with their own fingerprint.

What did the state's
attorney say ...

when you called them and told
them they had the wrong guy?

Well, he said it was a very,
very interesting study.

So he's ignoring the science.

Right, and here's why --

because people understand fingerprints
and he is not going to confuse a jury ...

over one study.

So Cole Judson ...

Is looking at m*rder one.

Now, I believe that the k*ller
left the print behind intentionally,

but he left this
behind by mistake.

That's my mold from
the bungalow.

Cladosporium,

is a dark mold commonly found in indoor
water space like Cole Judson's bathroom.

Now, this is the mold
from the shower curtain.

Mold from his bathroom
matches the bungalow?

Mmm.

It's not looking good for Cole.

That's true.

But cladosporium is a
common genus and species,

and that would be like saying
the k*ller's a h*m* sapien.

So, in order to clear
Cole Judson...

we have to distill this mold down
to the equivalent of a human name.

You're trying to identify
the DNA of the mold?

Yes, I am,

which would mean the smear from the
bungalow could only come...

from a single host colony
like the k*ller's bathroom.

Mold's a primitive organism.

But if it's biological,
it has DNA.

Yeah, but still isolating DNA is ...

is going to be rough.

Not as rough as leaving an
innocent man to do time on death row.

Hey.
Hey.

You should have gone
for Malcolm's closet.

Driving glove I found
was a major score.

Yeah, blood was the
German husband's,

epithelia's match Malcolm and
there was a waxy substance.

A waxy substance?

On the glove?

"Castor oil,
triglyceride, lanolin,

heptan-2-one red
number six barium."

I couldn't locate the brand or the
manufacturer but it's definitely lipstick.

Probably grandma's.

You know, it's bad enough when
you're in that awkward stage...

between boy and
cold-blooded k*ller,

but it's even worse when grandma's
kiss links you to the scene.

Are you kidding me?

I found the same lipstick on
the German's rearview mirror.

So that doesn't just
put him at the scene.

That puts Malcolm
inside their rental car.

Except we have the whole
crime scene on video ...

and Malcolm never sets
foot in the car.

Okay, so it had to
happen before the crime.

But what was he doing
in their front seat?

I don't know.
And who was he sitting with?

Christian, you
get my message?

You think Cole Judson
is being framed.

Any reason someone
would want to do that?

Oh, probably because they
don't want to get caught ...

or they're trying
to ruin his life.

It's a theory or two.

I'm awaiting a mold smear.

Mold smear?
We got a bloody print.

Yes, but we believe the
blood was applied later ...

and that the print
is a forgery.

How do you forge
someone's print?

Well, you get them to stick
their finger into something soft,

you let it harden you fill it with epoxy,
and then you duplicate the print.

Without their knowledge?

Or you could use
an existing print.

From the print store?

Everyday things:
Tile grout, Clay.

You might be surprised.

Mr. Judson, who has
access to your apartment?

Wendy and I --
we rent --

so I guess the building manager
or our cleaning lady.

Okay, I guess what I'm
asking is who has keys to it?

What does my apartment
have to do with anything?

For right now why don't you let
me worry about that, okay?

You know, I wish I could but
I'm going through hell,

and I didn't do anything.

So I give you our friends,

our cleaning lady's name and what,
they're here instead of me?

Okay, the thing is is that
they might be able to help you.

How?

I don't even know
what you're looking for.

Does anyone have
a reason to frame you?

No.

You see, what I'm
trying to determine is...

whether somebody gained
access to your apartment...

and took something
without your knowledge.

Wendy's ex-husband
doesn't have keys,

but we came home one day and
found him inside the apartment.

Did he have a reason
to be there?

Not at that moment, no.

I brought the kids home,
Henry was sick so I put him in bed.

That's not what Cole
and the ex-wife say.

They say you didn't have
custody that day.

Okay.
All right.

I told the landlady
I left my car keys.

She let me in,
and I looked around.

What were you
looking for?

dr*gs, p*rn.

Wendy married this guy just three
days after our divorce was final.

She just met him
five months before that.

Where were you Wednesday
night between six and nine P.M.?

Me?

I was at a cocktail party
for a colleague.

We set up around six P.M.
And I was home shortly after nine.

Can anyone confirm your
presence at the party?

Everyone.

I was the toastmaster.

The only surprise there is the
ex didn't find a stash of violent p*rn.

So you think his alibi is
going to clear him, huh?

Read the M.E.'S report again.

She was k*lled at
approximately seven P.M.

Approximately seven P.M.

Time of death is always the
most fluid aspect of any crime.

I mean, even you
should know that.

Now, Cole's fingerprint aside...

the only thing that ties him to the
crime and clears the ex ...

is time of death, right?

Established by the victim's
liver temperature.

Which brings us
to room temperature.

When we entered the room
it was 75 degrees, correct?

Perfect for humans
and orchids.

Cells look healthy.

As they should at 75 degrees.
But take a look at these cells.

They don't look healthy.

And the reason they're not
healthy is because like her body,

they were chilled.

Causing the cells to burst
and the petals to close.

At fifty degrees or below.

So somebody went in and
cranked the air conditioning.

Reentered the room reset
the temperature of the room...

there by changing
the time of the crime.

I recognize no one.

The sh**t
wore a snow mask.

Do you know anyone who would
want to hurt you or your husband?

We know no one in Miami.

People told us,
"Don't go there. You'll get sh*t."

We came.

My husband was k*lled.

I would like to go and I would like
to take my husband with me.

Why don't you just relax,
have a sip of water?

Maybe you can think of
something that might help us.

You know, I am tired,

and I've already told you
everything I know.

I think we have
everything we need.

Okay.

Thanks for coming.

Cooling the body made it look
like she d*ed earlier than she did.

Electrical company confirms...

there was a spike in kilowatts at that
bungalow from 9:00 P.M. till 12:00.

Okay, but whether he k*lled her or...

she was just bound and gagged,

our prost*tute did not
turn up the air by herself.

Putting somebody else in
the room with her after 9:00 P.M.

So he k*lled her and then
waited while her body chilled.

New time of death
clears Cole Judson.

Leaving a bitter ex-husband
with time to spare.

Let me ask you a question.

How many things do you think
we'll overlook in a career?

You?

Less than anyone I know.

Me, fewer because of it.
It's a perfect clue.

And Cole is the perfect
guy to pin it on, isn't he?

No alibi, a rap sheet
with a Kn*fe as*ault.

Right, and his wife doesn't
know about the prior conviction,

but her ex-husband does.

That's a lot of information for sale.

Yeah. Let's see if he
purchased any of it, okay?

Castor oil, triglyceride,
heptan-2-one, pigment red 68.

But Greta prefers
a deeper shade of red.

Well, lipstick on the glove
was definitely grandma's.

So the Roeblings were
here for two days...

and somehow a kid from Liberty City
ends up hanging out in their car?

The same kid who
sh*t the husband.

Okay, so what kind of m*rder
requires an advance meeting?

A hired hit.

The question is:
Who did the hiring?

Husband ended up dead.

But ... Malcolm was
aiming at the wife.

So he's looking
straight at Greta.

But is Malcolm recognizing his
employer or is he locking on a target?

I don't know.
It's not quantifiable either way.

No, but this is.

The average person's
reaction time from sensation,

perception through response
is one point five seconds.

How do you know that?

Auto insurance studies.

Now, for an unexpected stimulus the
brain needs even more processing time.

Say, for example,

if you weren't accustomed to having
someone pull a g*n on you.

Exactly.

The video images are sh*t at
one-thirtieth of a second intervals.

She ducked in one point one seconds.
Olympians aren't even that fast.

So when do good reflexes
become intent to k*ll?

And how, within two days
of arriving in Miami...

did the wife find a sh**t that
she knew wouldn't flip on her?

A glove ...
a mirror.

And what does any of
this have to do with me?

It has to do with you
and your brother Malcolm.

Did you know that heptan-2-one isn't
approved in the United States?

It offers sun protection.
The sun shines in Germany, doesn't it?

You never asked me
if I lived in Germany.

State department was happy
to provide that information ...

along with your work visa.

It was an easy call.

Once we linked your grandmother's
lipstick to its European manufacturer.

I don't understand.

It's chemistry.

It's a gift, just like all the other cosmetics
you bought for your grandmother.

But those gifts stopped coming once
you were cut from the Stuttgart Ballet.

And then you took on
some private clients.

Like Greta Roebling.

You should have limited your
services to teaching dance.

Wife's ready to make a deal.

She's very opposed to the death penalty
especially when it's applied to her.

I don't like to exercise,
not even dance.

I complain and complain.
It's my way.

So, when I told Brian:
"I wish my husband were dead".

I didn't mean it literally.

And then Brian said he'd
arranged a sh**ting person.

I said, "Where I come from,
ten grand buys you a corpse."

I was talking trash.
She gives me an itinerary.

They're coming here.
Hands me cash for a ticket, too.

She booked you but at any point,
you could have said no.

I was broke.

And I had leaned on
every friend that I had.

And I swore that I would
never end up where I came from.

So you came home to cash out
on your little brother's back.

Malcolm ...

he saw what I had and
he wanted out, too.

But he didn't have a focus.

'Cause he had never
worked for anything before.

I said, "Get a fresh strap."

But does he do it? No.

A different g*n.
That's looking out for him.

I started with the biggest
criminal records company.

All you need is a social
and a date of birth.

Thirty bucks buys you a
lot of information these days.

That one's out of Jacksonville.

There's no billing to the ex,
Michael Giotti,

but they did run Cole's
criminal history.

This one's bought and paid for by
Cole's landlord, Lee Bastille.

Checking a tenant's history
is not exactly a crime.

Unless you use it
to frame them for m*rder.

Mrs. Bastille, how long have you
and your husband owned the building?

Uh, three ...

no, four years.

But I don't know
Mr. Judson very well.

Don't you check into
your tenant's histories?

Uh, only a credit check.

Sometimes Lee will have me call a
reference -- previous landlords.

Do you manage the
building with your husband?

We do pretty much everything
together. Or at least I try.

It sometimes drives
Lee crazy but...

you have to hold
a marriage together.

I understand that Mr. Judson...

did some work for your
husband around the building.

That's why Lee would be able
to tell you more about him.

He just left, but I could
reach him on his cell phone.

That won't be necessary.
You have a ...

a forensics buff in the house.

They're Lee's.
He can't get enough.

I think they're disgusting.

No ... no offense.

No. None taken.
Could I, um ...

could I use your bathroom?

Why are you wearing gloves?

This is cardamom soap,
Mrs. Bastille. Is this yours?

No. Lee brought it home.

Did he do that recently?

A few nights ago.

Possibly Wednesday?

Did he ask you to use this,
Mrs. Bastille?

He didn't ask.

How do you mean?

Well ...

we've been married
almost nine years, and ...

I'd accused Lee of being
asleep for eight of them.

Then one day he woke up.

It wasn't how
I thought it would be.

Is that when
the baths started?

And every day since.

Be still.

That's better.

Okay, Mrs. Bastille,
I'm going to level with you.

The woman that we found that
was stabbed to death...

was bathed in
cardamom soap by the k*ller.

I need to know where
he was Wednesday night.

He was home.
We always eat at seven.

Later he said he got a call
from a tenant -- some broken pipes.

Okay, what time was that?

Uh, a little before nine.

I ... didn't hear
the phone ring.

He'll be home
any minute.

Okay, I don't want you
to worry about that right now.

Here's what I want to do:
I want to search your apartment,

but first I want to get you out of
here for your personal safety.

Can I do that?

I didn't do anything.

Now, the Judsons were in
your building less than a month...

before you created the
plumbing emergency, right?

That both Wendy and
Cole Judson confirm...

you insisted on
fixing with Cole's help.

We found traces of epoxy
in the plumber's putty.

Nice job on the print,
by the way.

This is from a botanist.

That's correct.

You transferred mold from your bathroom
to the bedspread of the bungalow.

I don't understand ...

Check your crime books,
my friend. Mold has DNA.

I was at home with
my wife having dinner.

Ask her. We do the
same thing every night.

I mean, we may not look
at each other or talk for days,

but we eat together,
seven o'clock.

While Susan McCreary lay bound,
gagged terrified, but not dead, right?

You left her waiting...

while you went home
to your wife to set up an alibi.

Later, after you k*lled her...

you dropped her body temperature
so you could roll the clock back.

You would
have pulled this off...

without the bloody print had
you not gone too far.

I liked it.

I can see that...

evidenced by the bar of soap
that you took home as a souvenir.

Wh ... ?

You never take soap
from hotel rooms?

It's not a crime
if you paid for it.

The same doesn't apply to the
women you k*ll though, right?

Think about it.

What do we do?

Work, sleep,
eat the same food,

have the same sex and
then do it all over again tomorrow.

I felt dead until I felt her
life slip through my hands.

I was curious.
I'm not a monster.

To her, you were.