03x15 - Hookman

[bunniefuu]

♪
♪

(prosthetic hands whirring)

♪
♪

(g*nsh*t)

(horn beeping)

(tires squeal)

(Hawaii Five-O theme song plays)

♪ Hawaii Five-O 3x15 ♪
Hookman

Original Air Date on February 4, 2013

♪

(siren chirps)

(indistinct radio transmission)

Heard it was a police officer.

HE was a HPD solo bike officer who's on funeral detail; Officer Keoki.

Ben Keoki?

I think so.

What, you know him?

Ben lived in the corner house on my block.

He and my dad were very close.

He was basically an uncle to me.

I'm sorry, man.

With Keoki, the job was never about ego.

I don't think he ever took a promotional exam.

He just wanted to be a good cop.

Sounds like he was a solid guy.

Yeah.

Hey.

What'd you find?

Look at this.

Tripod imprint, dirt's been disturbed, boot impressions. I'd say this was the sn*per's hide site.

Kono...

Do we know whose funeral it was?

I mean, maybe this guy's got a beef with the family, and Keoki just gets hit by a stray.

I don't think so.

I found this in the area where our guy took his sh*t.

Kono: The sh**t engraved a b*llet casing with Keoki's name on it.

What kind of sick bastard sh**t a cop in cold blood?

Somebody with a serious grudge.

When we rode together, Keoki never wanted to drive.

He always had me take the wheel.

He said he couldn't focus on what was happening on the streets if he had to worry about traffic lights.

(chuckles)

Bruddha had me fooled.

How's that?

We were partners for two years before I figured out he couldn't drive.

I found out he got his cousin at the DMV to issue him a license without having to take the driving portion of the test.

It was your father that taught him how to drive on weekends.

Motorcycles, too, when he decided he wanted to be a motor officer.

Imagine that...

Ben managing to get into the academy and onto the force without the ability to drive a car.

That's how much he wanted to be a cop.

Keoki ever have any run-ins?

You think this was a revenge hit?

Maybe. We have to look at every angle.

We pushed it hard back then, shook a lot of people, made a ton of arrests, but we were just street cops; domestics, drug pops.

Take your time.

Oh, believe me, I know I shouldn't say this, Commander, but if I knew who was responsible, I'd get him myself.

I get it. We all feel it.

Something like this, we all feel it.

I'm old school.

You hurt one of mine, I hurt you back.

Troy, I'm gonna ask you a question, all right?

Did Ben ever have any money troubles?

Could he have borrowed from the wrong people?

Ben didn't have a hell of a lot, but he didn't owe anybody.

Keoki had too much pride to take a loan from anyone.

All right, Troy, listen to me, all right?

We're gonna get this guy, understand me?

But until we do, I need you to stand down and let us handle it.

You remind me a lot of your old man, Steve.

I trusted him, I trust you.

Chin: From these aerial sh*ts of the cemetery, you can see our sh**t took a position of advantage with maximum cover and just waited for the procession to pull in.

So this guy's a pro.

He must've scouted this k*ll site days before.

It was a hell of a sh*t.

Bull's-eye from almost 200 yards away.

Why k*ll him in a public place like a cemetery?

'Cause he wanted the headlines.

So who is this guy?

Mob? m*llitary?

Chin, contact the FBI.

Have them pull intel on all known suspects with a similar MO.

Yeah.

Should also check Keoki's past arrest stats.

Maybe this is a parolee who's got a grudge who was just recently discharged.

You think he's gonna k*ll again?

This is the sn*per's personal calling card, okay?

The fact that he left this tells me two things: first of all, he's claiming full responsibility for this, second of all, he's getting off on it, okay?

So the question is not whether he's gonna k*ll again.

The question is how many people are on the list?

(hand whirrs)

(dog barking in distance)

(indistinct radio transmission)

(indistinct radio transmission continues)

(tool whirring)

Fong, get any prints off that r*fle casing?

Nothing.

Either the sn*per wiped it down before he left the cemetery, or he was wearing gloves.

Here, take a look at this.

Found something interesting about the engraving.

The lettering is slightly irregular, which means it was done by hand, and not by some locked-off engraving machine.

Probably using something like this.

Okay, so he's old school.

How do we I.D. him?

Well, the lettering is pretty distinct.

Most people write the letter "O" top to bottom like this.

Which you can tell by the intersecting lines at the top.

Right. But in the case of our sh**t...

His "O" is written from bottom to top.

That's what we call a "unique identifier."

I'm running the sample through the FBI Ransom and Demands database for a possible match to other similar criminal cases, but it's gonna take some time.

How long?

It could take days.

Charlie, we don't have that kind of time.

Someone's out there k*lling cops.

Better lead... might be the casing itself.

Kono, that specific caliber r*fle is used in hundreds of different weapons.

True. But this doesn't look like your typical b*llet casing.

This thing is highly polished.

It looks like it's had some aftermarket modifications to its coloring.

So what does that tell us?

That the sh**t really knows his a*mo and his physics.

Any alteration will affect not only how the cartridge fits into the f*ring chamber, but its flight path, as well.

It's very specific.

It's engineered.

So I'm thinking I need to find a gunsmith that specializes in custom loads.

You trying to put me out of a job, Kono?

(laughs): And, what, miss seeing you smile?

No way.

Thanks a lot, Charlie.

See you around.

Happy I could help.

You a cop?

Huh?

Because by law, you got to tell me if I ask.

I'm not a cop.

That's exactly what I would say.

If I was a cop.

We going to do this, or not?

I'm here, right?

That's it?

A r*fle?

That'd be a great idea if I was hunting bear in Montana.

I was told you wanted something untraceable and something fast.

Fast and untraceable does not mean some assembly will be required.

Well, this is all I got.

It's supposed to be for my protection.

How am I supposed to protect myself or my product and I can't even put that up under my shirt?

This is better.

This eliminates the threats before they make it through your door.

Yeah, but it creates a lot of exposure.

Well, maybe you don't want to play with big-boy weapons.

I'll take it.

Watch closely how I put it together.

Damn, what the hell happened to your hands?

I cut myself shaving.

Now pay attention.

Pull the receiver out of the case.

Flip the stock open until it clicks.

Line up the barrel.

Gas tube in the hole.

Put the hand guard on top of the barrel.

Push the pin through.

Pull the lever over the pin.

Take the clip... and then...

Then it's bang-bang time.

Bang, bang.

You all right?

Yeah.

Keoki had a lot of friends, huh?

Yep. Good men always do.

What about, uh, what about family?

He got a big family?

Keoki's wife walked out on him when I was a kid.

Ben, he was such an optimist, you know, he used to... he used to set a place for her at the dinner table every night.

Even kept the porch light on in case she changed her mind, you know.

But, um... she never did.

She didn't come back.

They have kids?

A daughter.

Chelsea.

She was, um... she was the same age as me.

We were pretty tight, actually, back then.

We should try to contact her, see what...

She d*ed four years ago; breast cancer.

Wow.

I was deployed overseas when I heard, and... (clears throat)

(sighs)

I was going to look Keoki up when I came back.

You know what I mean, convey my condolences, make sure he was going okay, just check on him, you know? But...

Time slips away, Danny.

It just, it disappears and I, I don't know, I waited too long.

No, stop.

Please, okay.

You got busy.

People get busy.

That is part of the job.

Guaranteed, Keoki knew that.

He also knew that you cared about him, okay?

(phone ringing)

Yeah.

Steve: Kono, what do you got?

HPD thinks they have the sn*per's house pinned over by Ala Moana Park.

They're mobilizing now.

(siren wailing)

Lukela: We got an anonymous call that Keoki's k*ller was hiding out at this address and sitting on a huge stash of methamphetamine.

(screaming)

Started sh**ting as soon as we arrived.

We clear the area?

We're working on it.

We got an I.D. on this guy, or what?

Utilities come back to a guy named Don McKinney.

Came to the lslands two years ago.

Been nothing but trouble since.

This guy have any run-ins with Keoki?

None that we're aware of.

That's what doesn't make sense.

Hold your fire.

HPD, hold your fire.

McKinney, this is Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett, Five-O. Throw your g*n out.

Excuse me, did you think that that was going to work or what?

Maybe he didn't hear me, okay?

Oh, yeah, maybe he didn't hear you.

McKinney, this is Commander Steve McGarrett, Five-O.

Throw your g*n out.

Hey, hey, hey.

What, what?

If you want to get sh*t, I'll sh**t you.

Hey, McKinney, you come out or we're coming in.

The door's wide open, cop!

What are you doing?

What am I doing?

I'm going to smoke him out.

Okay, Steve, stop. Okay?

SWAT is on their way, right now.

Can we, please, please give them the professional courtesy that they deserve and let them do their job?

You done?

I'm done, why?

Cover me.

Go, go!

Cover.

Danny: Hey.

What?

Danny: You know the difference between cover and concealment?

One hides you from b*ll*ts, the other hides you from sight.

Here I have both.

Yes, I know the difference between cover and concealment.

You do?

Because right now, you the Navy SEAL, you got neither.

(coughing)

(shouting)

What?! You can't mess with me!

Hey, McKinney.

You okay?

Of course I'm okay, because I took cover.

Like any normal human being with a little bit of common sense and training would have done.

That's a .308 DRD Paratus sn*per r*fle.

So, what, this uses the same caliber a*mo we found at our crime scene, right?

Right.

But, what? You don't think this is our sh**t.

This guy, he's a bottom-feeder pushing ice to dope fiends.

Besides, you saw him sh**t.

He couldn't hit the side of a barn.

Whoever took Keoki out was a skilled sn*per.

Lukela: I got an officer down.

I need an ambulance, now!

McKinney must've hit him.

Troy, Troy.

Troy, hang on.

Steve: Where's that ambulance?

Commander McGarrett?

May I speak with you for a moment?

You find something?

I'm afraid so.

The sh**ting incident described by Sergeant Lukela indicated that the k*ller was sh**ting from ground level, correct?

Yeah, he was 25 yards away from the house, just in front of that black and white when he was hit.

Well, then... my observations contradict that.

Based on the entry and exit wounds of Officer Ookala, I can ascertain that he was sh*t from a higher angle; definitely not ground level.

Okay, how high?

Higher than the window your suspect McKinney was sh**ting from.

So, McKinney didn't sh**t him.

It appears not.

All right.

The sh**t could've got a sight line from any one of these buildings around here.

Right.

We need Fong down here right away to tell us where that b*llet came from.

Here's your point of origin.

The victim was standing right about here when he was sh*t.

Now I just need the trajectory of the victim's entrance wound.

I believe the b*llet entered the victim's body at a downward angle of 20 degrees.

20 degrees, got it.

The sn*per took the sh*t from the corner of that rooftop.

Ookala.

Danny: Okay, so, our sn*per must've known that he would've been one of the uniforms to respond.

And he must've been monitoring police frequencies using a scanner.

It wouldn't have been too hard to figure out which car Ookala was assigned to.

Kona: We traced the 911 call that tipped HPD to McKinney's place.

Turns out it was a pre-paid burner.

Chin: And, according to HPD narco, the chatter on the street was that McKinney was in the market for a w*apon.

We know why?

One C.I. said that he wanted it for protection, 'cause two weeks ago he got rolled during an ice deal.

Okay, so McKinney is desperately in need of a w*apon, uh, our sn*per gets wind of this, hooks him up, then he lures Ookala here so he can put one in him.

Steve: We have to find a connection between our sh**t, Ookala and Keoki.

It's the only way we're going to be able to protect whoever else is on that list.

CHIN; I'll get HPD to cross-reference Keoki and Ookala's past cases looking for anomalies.

It's gonna take some time.

These guy's got 25 years on the job.

That's a lot of cases.

Those are just the cases where Keoki and Ookala were the primary arresting officers.

If you factor the ones where they were backup, it would double that.

Just have them put every available unit on this, okay?

We can't waste anymore time.

This guy's running around out here k*lling cops.

(phone ringing)

McGarrett.

Yes, Governor.

I'll be right there.

That was Governor Denning, he wants to be briefed.

He's holding a press conference in one hour.

And in two hours they're going to be chopping our heads off because we haven't caught this guy.

What are you going to tell him?

I'm going to tell him that we positively I.D.'d our sn*per.

(grinding)

Denning: I'm doing my level best to assure the Bureau of Tourism that the situation's under control.

But you know the press.

No matter what I tell them, they're gonna embellish things.

I get that it's great for ratings, but it creates panic in my streets.

So to stop that, Commander, is there anything positive that I can feed them?

Yeah, you tell 'em Five-O is bringing every resource to bear on this case and that an arrest is imminent.

Is that true?

Not exactly, but you spread a bit of misinformation about this guy over the airwaves, maybe he's gonna lay low.

A bluff?

No, it's a tactical maneuver.

What I can tell you is that these murders are somehow tied to the victims' past.

But I need time to get an I.D. on this guy before he strikes again.

I'm worried about our actions moving forward.

Look, I'm totally aware that this sh**t k*lled two of ours.

Despite that, we still need to approach this in a professional manner.

Okay, so what's your concern, specifically?

I'm not gonna b*at around the bush with you.

We all feel the loss of Keoki and Ookala.

But we need to follow procedure here.

Everything by the book.

In a manner of speaking, the whole world's watching.

This coward, he k*lled two good men without giving them the opportunity to defend themselves.

HPD has lost two family members.

So, yes, sir, we're all adults here, but you can't expect the rank and file not to feel anger about this.

I'm not talking about HPD.

I'm talking about you.

Two cops d*ed today.

I don't want you making this personal.

With all due respect, Governor, this guy didn't just k*ll two cops.

He k*lled my friends.

These are men that I grew up and men that I respected.

I'm sure he intends to k*ll a couple more.

So, in all honesty, I don't know how not to make it personal.

(engraver grinding)

(grinding stops)

(indistinct radio transmission)

Take a look.

I confirmed the engravings on both b*llet casings we found are an exact match.

The letters show the same type etching marks on each one.

What about results from the FBI's Ransom and Demand database?

They ran the handwriting.

Didn't get any hits.

Okay, well, run it again.

Anybody this maniacal must have been through the system at least once.

One would think, but the fact is there are many things that can alter someone's handwriting style: arthritis, physical damage, or an intentional misdirect on the part of the suspect.

Hey. The canvassing of the g*n stores worked out.

HPD just got a call from a gunsmith saying he sold the r*fle casings we found at the crime scenes.

Thanks, Fong.

All you need is a bed, right, babe?

Excuse me?

A bed. A place to lay your keppie, and this would make the perfect apartment, no?

What's your problem?

You don't like g*ns?

You got one on your hip.

This is a necessity of the job, okay, but I do not love g*ns the way you love g*ns.

If purchased legally and used responsibly, they're a civilian's best friend.

I thought that was a dog.

They're better than dogs.

You get the physical protection, you don't have walk it, don't have to feed it.

(chuckles) You know, Norm, I gotta tell you you are everything I imagined a g*n shop owner would be.

And you're a nasty human being, you know that?

I don't like to broadcast this, Commander McGarrett, but I've been the captain of my neighborhood watch team for the past 20 years.

So from one law enforcement officer to the next...

Whoa-whoa-whoa.

You mean, from one delusional g*n nut to two real cops.

You want my help or not?

Yes, of course we want your help, Norm. Just ignore him.

What did you say? Please.

The name written on the side of the casing, is it your sh**t or the victim?

Let me get this one, please.

Respectfully, if we had the sh**t's name, we wouldn't need your help, would we?

Is he off his meds or does he always act this way?

Steve: Welcome to my world.

(keys jingling)

(gasps)

Well, it's fine workmanship,

I'll tell you that.

Custom order is the only way to get these things.

It's a little fancy for my taste, but I can see the appeal.

All right, but you sell these, right?

I sure do. Special order, but so do a lot of other places on the mainland.

Truth is, the guy you're looking for could've bought 'em from here or online.

All right. Well, we'll check into the mail order thing.

In the meantime, I need a specific list of exactly who you sold them to.

Well, I'd love to help you out, but we don't keep records of things like r*fle casings.

It's too small a purchase to track, and with all the federal monitoring of g*n sales, we don't look to add more paperwork to the pile.

Right. Why would you do that?

Why would you go out of your way to track something that does 600 miles an hour, comes out of a g*n and kills people?

g*ns don't k*ll people!

Shut up, Norm! Stop, okay, with that stupid sentence, okay?

The fact is idiots with g*ns k*ll people.

No g*ns. No k*lling.

It's that simple.

Steve: Thank you, Norm.

We appreciate your help.

Okay.

Whoa. You don't want to get a grenade or a rocket launcher?

Something nice like that?

Hey, I keep that stuff in the back if you're interested.

I'm sure you do.

I have no reason to doubt you.

Get him out of my shop.

He's bad for business.

Thanks.

Pleasure.

And thanks again for the call.

You hear anything else, you let us know.

Call? What call?

What do you mean "what call""

Wait a minute.

I thought you said he responded to the HPD canvass?

You didn't call HPD about that casing?

No, I didn't call HPD.

Get down!

Cover left, Danny!

Got ya.

You guys need backup?

No!

No!

Hey, I got movement coming out of the garage.

(tires squealing)

Steve: Got your belt on?

Of course I got my belt on.

You're driving.

(tires squeal)

Okay, do me a favor.

Don't pass on the right!

What?

People are not paying attention.

They're listening to their radios.

They hear sirens, they look up, they see lights.

What do you think they do?

They should get out of my way or pull over.

Okay, exactly. That's why you do not pass on the right, all right?

People naturally, they pull to the right when they hear sirens.

What do you want me to do?!

Let this guy get away?

No, no, no.

The better plan would maybe be to let me, a trained police pursuit driver, operate his own vehicle.

That's what I think.

Oh, you're the better driver?

Is that what you're saying?

On a janky dirt road peppered with land mines in the middle of a third world country, yes, maybe you may have me b*at.

But here on the well-paved, bustling streets of Honolulu, I am 1,000% the better driver!

♪

(phone rings)

Chin.

Chin: Coast Guard have any luck finding our sh**t?

Nah, they're still looking.

What do you got?

Steve, the sn*per was in a third-floor vacant office across from the g*n store.

We also found another victim.

What?!

A painter. Must've surprised our guy. Snapped his neck like a twig.

Not just snapped.

It looks like someone put his neck in a vise.

It's crushed.

All right, get the I.D. techs over there and process the scene.

Our boy left in a hurry.

He forgot to take the g*n case with him.

We'll make sure it's held for prints.

Roger that.

Oh!

That's a hand.

It's a prosthetic.

Okay, now it makes sense why we haven't been able to pull any prints from the crime scenes.

Well, the good news is it narrows our suspect pool down.

Couldn't be too many one-armed sn*pers running around, right?

Yeah.

So what's with the face?

What's the matter?

I think I just figured out who our sn*per is.

(grunts)

Steve: Happened about 20 years ago when I was a kid.

(people clamoring)

Man: Don't try anything stupid.

Ookala, Ben Keoki, my dad, they all received the Department Medal of Valor for stopping this bank heist that was going on downtown.

Nobody move!

These guys had already wounded a bunch of the employees.

Once my dad and the boys get there, they have to make a forced entry.

Go!

Go, go, go!

(shouting, g*nf*re)

(woman screams)

All right, there's a brutal sh**t-out.

My dad puts a couple rounds into this guy.

Curt Stoner.

Steve: During the sh**t-out, Stoner had his hands on the blasting caps.

One of my dad's rounds hits the blasting cap, blows Stoner's hands off.

(screaming)

Wow.

Well, I can see why he'd be upset about that.

Now it's payback time.

According to this, Stoner did his bid, and he was released three months ago.

Model prisoner.

He had a personal recommendation from the warden.

They must've thought he was rehabilitated.

There's a letter from his P.O.

Only took him two weeks to violate, and now he has been off the map ever since.

Whoa, wait a minute, Danny.

m*llitary record.

Before prison, Stoner was a scout sn*per in Vietnam.

(phone ringing)

Yeah, Kono, go.

Kono: Steve, Duke Lukela was just found sh*t in an alley.

What happened?

He responded to a suspicious person call.

When he arrived, it looks like our sn*per drilled him between the shoulders. He's lost a lot of blood and tissue, Steve.

Steve: Well, where is he, Kono?

Is he alive?

Kono: Tripler.

Steve, look at this.

Duke was part of the team that took down Stoner.

Kono...

Stay with Lukela, okay?

Those army docs are the best in the business.

You make sure they do everything humanly possible, okay?

Lukela is not gonna die.

Right.

Steve, there's two other cops in this photo.

Danny, we need to call HPD and get these guys protection before this bastard strikes again.

Steve: Max... please tell me you got something.

Well, I've been working posthaste to deliver you some workable results.

The good news is, I processed the painter's body and was able to determine that the COD was a result of this.

Right. The hand.

That's fantastic work, Max.

But now we do have to find the rest of the Tin Man.

That's exactly the reason why I called you here, Detective Williams.

When I examined your evidence, I discovered that these particular prosthetics have a hidden registration number engraved on the servo.

When I ran it, it came back to our assumed suspect, Curt Stoner, who received two prosthetics courtesy of the Hawaii State Corrections Department.

This particular prosthetic has a warranty filled out by Stoner three days after he was released from Halawa Prison.

All right. Please tell me he put an address down.

He did.

Unfortunately, it's just a private mailbox in Chinatown.

That's a start.

All right, thanks, Max.

(siren wailing)

What's the word on Lukela?

He made it through surgery.

They're optimistic.

(sighs)

All right, good.

Steve: Let's go.

Mahalo.

How you doing, sir?

Okay.

We're looking for this man. Have you seen him?

Nope.

You sure about that?

Our records show that he rents a mailbox here.

You only got about a hundred of them.

Mister, I don't keep track of 'em.

Why don't you take another look, okay?

He's got a pair of prosthetic hands.

I'm sorry, mister, I just don't know.

Okay.

Let me see your box rental list.

I can't give out information like that.

The people in this neighborhood rely on me to keep their privacy.

So... unless you have a warrant...

Okay, fine.

Forget this guy. We can have a warrant drawn up in an hour.

Or you can draw your Kn*fe and petrify everybody.

Hey, wait a minute.

H-Hold on.

Hey! You just committed a Federal offense.

Actually, that's not true.

Technically, uh, that's a filing cabinet, not a mailbox. So...

Kono: Most of these are registered to the apartment complex upstairs.

There must be a hundred units in this building.

What are we gonna do, knock on each door?

Hey. Hey.

Hey, hey, hey.

You recognize that "O"?

Kono: Yeah. It's written from bottom to top.

Our suspect's handwriting.

Apartment 324.

Clear left.

Clear here.

Hey...

Coffee's still warm.

He must've just left.

Where the hell is this guy?

(phone ringing)

(answering machine clicks)

Stoner: Hello, Commander McGarrett.

Kono...

I'm sorry I missed you today.

That won't happen again.

I'm sure you're curious about who is next on my list.

If you want an answer to that question, look in the drawer by the phone.

I think you'll find it very interesting.

What is it?

Get away from the windows!

(g*nsh*t)

Rooftop across the street.

Kono: HPD, be advised.

Suspect is on the roof adjacent to our position.

(two g*nshots)

(remote chirps)

What are you doing?

Just cover me.

Kono.

Take the sh*t.

You're gonna get one chance, all right?

Take the sh*t!

Danny: Hey!

What are we doing?

We're not doing anything.

I'm gonna take the car, draw his fire.

When Kono gets the sh*t, she's gonna take it, okay?

Steve, he's a sn*per, okay?

You're not gonna make it to the end of the block.

Oh, yeah, don't listen to me!

Don't listen to reason!

Be you!

It's very you of you!

Danny: Nice sh*t, Kono.

What was that?

What are you, Scarface?

What were you thinking?

I don't know, I guess I misinterpreted your game plan, which for the record was seriously flawed.

You were worried about me.

Worried? No, no, I was worried about my car.

I'm touched.

Yeah, you're touched.

You're touched in the head. You are touched by something that I cannot explain.

And so you know, there are a lot of things on this planet that I am worried about.

Losing you in a combat situation is not one of them.

Okay?

Rough day.

Let's get out of here.

We just wanted to thank you, Steve.

Dad.

You're all I could've hoped for in a son, Steven.

I'm proud of you.

Danny: Steve, come on!

Give me a sec!