13x06 - Pick and Roll

[bunniefuu]

♪

COACH: Pass it, there you go.

Get it in.

Now get back, hustle back.

Russell, hustle.

Pass the ball, get rid of it.

There you go.

"D" up.

Nicely done.

There you go.

Use your feet, Russell, use your feet.

Stay low...

Stay low!

Don't reach!

(blows whistle)

What the hell are you doing?

I'm playing "D, " Coach.

Try doing it like you're not in high school.

Coach...

You shut up.

You sit your ass down.

What, are you serious?

You gonna cry like a little bitch, huh?

Get the hell off my damn court.

Hey, Charlie, Charlie.

You want to ride the bench for the rest of the season, Russell?

Tell Austin this is a closed practice.

He's the president of the university and he's sitting next to the guy whose name is on this gym.

It's not his gym... it's mine.

Kick 'em both out.

Now.

(door squeaks, closes)

Oh, look at that.

I'm so glad you're home.

Me, too.

No more bacon.

What do you mean?

Oh, please, you think I don't know what you do when I'm not here?

I always said you were a better detective than me.

Oh, I think Charlie has a girlfriend.

What's your evidence?

Laundry.

He's bought new clothes, and they're not the kind you play basketball in.

They're the kind you...

Wear to impress someone.

And I saw him washing his car.

Oh, dear Lord, must be serious.

(phone rings)

I'm sorry.

Yeah, Jim, what's up?

(shower running) BRASS: And I'm gonna want to talk to the maintenance guy...

Yeah, I'll walk over there with you.

So the janitor found him around 8:00 a.m.

RUSSELL: David, can I see him, please?

Oh, yeah.

RUSSELL: Tom Burns was a hell of a coach.

He started recruiting Charlie in junior high.

Charlie thought the world of him.

He's not the only one.

Well, my guys said they didn't touch anything, so it's all yours.

Liver temp?

Uh, 97 on the nose.

Warm water, naked body on cold tile.

If my math's right, couldn't be dead much more than about three hours.

So that puts time of death around 5:00, 5:15 a.m.

Guy was an early riser.

Yeah, old habits die hard.

He used to play ball for West Point.

He still gets up at 4:00 in the morning, jogs to the campus, works out, then jumps in the pool for 30 laps.

Be enough to k*ll me.

Well, somebody gave the coach a little help.

♪ CSI 13x06 ♪

Pick and Roll Original Air Date on November 7, 2012

♪ Who... are you?

♪ Who, who, who, who?

♪ Who... are you?

♪ Who, who, who, who?

♪ I really wanna know

♪ Who... are you?

♪ Oh-oh-oh

♪ Who... ♪
♪ Come on, tell me who are you, you, you ♪
♪ Are you!

SIDLE: So I talked to the janitor.

FINLAY: Yeah?

Place was cleaned up and locked down by 1:00 a.m.

Coach Burns had a key.

Yeah.

Okay, so Coach Burns finishes his workout and then he comes to take a shower.

Someone comes in and hits him from behind.

(grunts)

First swing's always for free, no blood.

He goes down.

k*ller goes to town.

Elongated blood drops suggest that it was at a low angle and multiple blows.

There's no sign of the m*rder w*apon anywhere.

Took it with him.

Looks like... someone tried to clean up to cover their tracks.

Here you go.

Could you hit the lights?

Swipe marks.

Arcing suggests the k*ller backed out of the shower into the locker room.

Covering his tracks.

Then the cleanup stops, yeah, right about here.

To the naked eye.

Hmm, not to ours.

SIDLE: Shoe impressions.

Just the front half.

Heading towards the locker room exit.

Spacing-- only the balls of the feet.

Suggests running.

The other impressions-- also evenly spaced, heading towards the door.

It's an odd pattern.

Sport shoe, maybe cleats?

We might be looking for more than one k*ller.

Oh, wrong room, I'm so sorry.

Dad, what are you doing here?

Oh, hey, um, I would have called, but...

Sorry.

No, I'm sorry.

You are Charlie's dad, and I...

This is so not how I wanted us to meet.

Dad, this is Vanessa, my girlfriend.

Think I got that part.

So, what's going on?

Charlie... (sighs heavily)

Coach Burns is dead.

He's dead?

Oh, my God.

What happened?

Actually, I'd like to talk to you in private about that if you don't mind.

VANESSA: Not at all.

I'm so sorry.

I'll call you later, okay?

CHARLIE: Yeah.

(door closes)

Charlie, Coach was m*rder*d.

What?

Yeah.

I'm so sorry.

What happened?

Do you know if any of the players had a beef with him?

All of us... at one point or another.

I mean, right or wrong, we all think we're superstars going to the NBA.

Egos get out of hand, Coach slaps 'em down.

Did he slap down anyone in particular?

Yeah, but it wasn't a player.

Last night, after practice, I, I was in the shower, and I know it sounds weird, but I felt like, like someone was there.

I didn't see them, but it was like they were watching me, like, waiting for me to leave.

Okay, w-what's this have to do with Coach?

Well, after I left the gym, I, I had to come back 'cause I left my dorm key, and that's when I heard them arguing--

Coach and Jack Oxford.

Oxford-- the, the deep pockets guy?

Yeah, Mr. Hedge Fund.

I put $8 million into this school, into this program.

I deserve some respect.

Respect is earned, not bought.

CHARLIE: I didn't hear much, but, you know, money, the team-- the same crap they always argue about.

Okay, um, I got to get back.

Come here, buddy; come here.

Oh, wait a minute now, the girlfriend-- been going together long?

A couple months.

Oh.

Thanks for sharing.

Is she nice?

Yeah.

Good.

I'll call you.

Yeah.

STOKES: Those are some pretty nasty head wounds there, Doc.

Victim was struck at least nine times to the head and the face.

Fractured skull, nose, cheekbone.

And no defensive wounds.

Guy never had a chance.

Well, I found two different wound patterns-- one large and flat, the other small and triangular.

The large wounds have clean margins, show signs of caving.

The smaller ones are deeper and sharper.

So two different weapons or one w*apon used two different ways?

I can't tell you, but what I can tell you is, our victim was no stranger to v*olence lately.

What do you mean?

Well, his left nares had clotted blood from a recent antemortem injury.

So someone punched him in the nose before his head got caved in?

By several hours, I'd say.

I found injuries that even predate that.

STOKES: Bruising.

How long ago do you think this was?

Two or three days.

David found this when he was washing the body-- a dried substance on the forehead.

He took a swab, sent it off to DNA.

Circular, gravitational.

I can tell you what it looks like from here.

I didn't find any evidence of sexual as*ault.

You know, sometimes a b*ating is just a b*ating.

OXFORD: Yeah, Burns and I got into it.

So what?

We had some things to discuss.

Like what?

None of your business.

You know, a witness at last night's practice told us the coach had you and the university president kicked out of the gym.

Your gym.

Damn right it's my gym.

That'd make me mad.

Well, that's the difference between you and me.

I manage a hedge fund worth $9 billion.

This watch-- probably worth more than you make in a year.

I don't get mad, Detective, I get what I want.

And did you want Coach Burns dead in the shower-- this morning-- of your gym?

What's the upside in that?

All the millions of dollars I put into this program...

k*lling the head coach-- not exactly a shrewd business strategy.

What's your point?

When a naked basketball coach gets beaten to death in the showers, it's not a good thing.

Your compassion is overwhelming.

And so is your incompetence, because every minute you spend in here with me is a minute you could be out there looking for the guy that did this.

Why, look at that, I have to go.

Don't go far.

Well, you were right, Madame Poirot, about our son.

I just met his girlfriend.

Charlie said you walked in on them.

(laughing): Did he?

Yeah, yeah, I did.

Remember, we were supposed to have dinner tonight.

Really?

I thought, with everything that's going on, maybe he'd reschedule.

I guess he has other things on his mind.

He asked me to set another place at the table.

She's a vegetarian.

Well, I guess she'll fit right in, then, huh?

♪

(mechanical rumbling)

(burbling)

(crackling, hissing)

(whirring)

(whirring)

Hey, Henry.

Hey, uh, bloody towels were a match to Coach Burns.

Definitely what was used to clean up the crime scene.

No more locker room laundry.

I just went through three carts of dirty towels.

This whole place smells like feet.

Now it is going to smell like something else.

(sighs) Give me the ruler.

And you might want to borrow some of Russell's incense.

Pretty ripe.

(sighs)

Wait.

That's blood spatter.

Medium velocity.

Well, that's not from any kind of cleanup.

Spatter like that only gets on someone one way.

I think we have a suspect.

BRASS: You really ought to do your own laundry, kid.

RUSSELL: We tested the blood on your jersey, T.J., and it matches the coach.

It's also the same as the blood that was on the towels that were used to try to wipe up the k*ller's footprints.

We know that Coach Burns kept a tight schedule, predictable.

Whoever k*lled him knew that.

And knew their way around the gym.

Burns was a hard-ass, we all know that.

Maybe he got what was coming to him.

No.

I mean, yeah, Coach is tough.

I mean, sometimes that was hard, but...

I respected him.

I'd never...

I understand.

Charlie's on the team; I've heard all the stories.

But maybe there's something that we don't know about.

Like what?

BRASS: Well, whoever k*lled him had a lot of rage.

b*ating a man naked in the shower...

Whoa, whoa, whoa... whoa, wait a minute.

If you're suggesting what I think you are, n-no way.

Coach wasn't like that.

And I wasn't anywhere near the gym this morning.

How do you explain the blood on your jersey?

Come on, T.J., you got to tell us something here.

Otherwise, we won't be able to help you.

(sighs)

Last night, after practice, there was a fight in the locker room.

Somebody threw a punch at Coach.

I stepped in to try to stop it.

That's how the blood got on my jersey.

Okay. All right, thank you.

Who threw the punch?

Your son.

I need more focus, Russell.

Commitment. The goal is to chase titles, not girls.

Excuse me?

Look, ever since you've started dating that tramp-- what's her name?

Vanessa...

Don't talk about her like that.

That's what she is, right?

A tramp.

BURNS: You're done!

You're done.

What T.J. told you was true.

I... I did take a swing at the coach.

Where were you this morning, Charlie?

Um... got up early, 5:00 a.m.

Went to the stadium, ran steps.

Can anyone verify your whereabouts?

Is that really necessary?

Yes, it is.

Um... nobody saw me at the stadium, but Vanessa was here when I woke up.

She saw me leave.

I was working out for an hour and a half.

Then I met up with her for breakfast.

Who's Vanessa?

It's his girlfriend.

D.B.

Who's Vanessa, Charlie?

Vanessa Drake.

She's a student.

A grad student.

Psychology.

I can give you her number. (phone beeping)

Yeah, I'm gonna need that.

Hold on, I'm getting a text.

Coach Burns's wife just got back into town-- she was in Tahoe.

I'm going to interview her at the P.D.

Okay, we're all done here, Charlie.

But you understand the seriousness of this, right?

We have to follow every possible lead-- don't go anywhere.

(door opens)

(door closes)

Look, Dad, it... it's not like I didn't want to tell you about what happened with Coach.

And besides, I didn't think it was pertinent.

Pertinent?

The man was m*rder*d, Charlie, hours after you physically assaulted him!

What could be more pertinent than that?

I punched him.

He deserved it.

You know, that's another conversation.

Right now my problem is, you are a suspect in a homicide investigation.

I mean, you know what really pisses me off?

I had to find out about that from a witness in an interrogation room.

Am I really a suspect?

Yeah, you are. You lied.

I didn't lie; I just didn't tell you.

Don't-don't do that.

Come on.

We didn't raise you like that.

How many times have I told you, there's nothing that could happen in the world that you couldn't come and tell me about.

You also told me to be my own person, to fight my own fights, to live my own life, Dad.

If you don't know the difference between being independent and being honest, then I don't know what to say to you.

I really don't.

(door opens, shuts)

(footsteps clopping)

BRODY: Something's different about you.

Did you get a haircut?

Heels.

Something you want to tell me?

Yes.

I have identified... one set of shoe impressions from our crime scene.

Heels.

Sara was right-- running from the scene.

Fast women.

Always dangerous.

What about the other shoe impressions?

Well, Finlay seems to think that they're from some sort of athletic shoe or a cleat.

So far...

I got nothing.

Well, you know, the database is only updated every six months, so there's probably some that aren't in there yet.

Mm.

You might have to go on a shopping spree.

Want to go with?

Sure.

But isn't there one stop you need to make first?

Where's that?

Charlie Russell is a suspect, so... you're gonna have to raid his closet and... you're gonna have to clear it with his dad.

Hmm. Not a good day to ask for a raise.

Mrs. Burns...

I'm sorry for your loss.

I need to ask you some questions.

I understand.

Now, you said you were in Tahoe last night.

I went up there on Wednesday to close up our cabin.

Once basketball season starts, there's really no time for weekend getaways.

I got back this afternoon-- that's when I got your message.

About Tom.

So, when was the last time you two spoke?

A few days ago.

I know what you're thinking, but for us, that was normal.

Especially at this time of year.

Tom was always so focused on getting ready for the season.

So no problems with your marriage, then?

We had our struggles, but unlike most men, he was at least willing to work on our relationship, go to couples therapy.

How was that working out?

It was good.

Things were... improving.

Mrs. Burns, I'm gonna need a sample of your DNA and permission to search your house.

It's standard procedure.

I didn't k*ll my husband, Detective.

I'm not saying you did.

Sure.

Whatever you need.

RUSSELL: This is some of the stuff we found in Coach Burns's house.

You're sure these, uh... th-these, these things belonged to him?

These sex toys?

FINLAY: We definitely found them in Coach Burns's house.

Actually, in his man cave in the basement.

His wife said that it was a home office.

I'm assuming you had no idea about his hobby.

No, of course not.

Right.

I-I assume you'll be, uh, discreet about this.

This sort of information could do irreparable damage to the university.

I understand your concern, and I share it-- my son goes to your school-- but our job's not to protect the university, it's to find out who k*lled the coach.

I thought I knew the man.

Well, so did I.

Thanks for your time, President Austin.

Thank you.

(groans) Okay, uh... (sighs) what else did you find?

I ALS'd the bedroom.

It lit up like the Strip.

Well, his wife was away for several days, she said.

Yeah, when the wife's away, the coach will play.

Tell Henry to get to work.

Let's find out who he's been playing with.

VANESSA: Thank you so much for dinner, Mrs. Russell.

It was lovely.

You're very welcome.

So, Vanessa, are you a graduate student?

Going for my master's in psychology.

I assume, in your work, psychology often comes into play?

Yeah, yeah, I'm usually dealing with people at their worst, so...

I bet.

It's a tragedy with Coach Burns-- it's so awful.

Do you have any idea yet what happened or-or who could have done something like this?

Actually, I can't talk about an ongoing investigation.

Oh, right, of course.

Sorry.

CHARLIE: Uh, so, Mom, Dad...

Vanessa and I have been talking, and... we have decided to move in together.

I know it's soon, but... no secrets, right?

Right.

Oh, my, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize how late it was.

I'm leading a discussion section in the morning, so I got to go.

I should get back, too, actually.

Okay.

Nice to see you again.

You, too.

Yes, we need Thank you.

To do this again sometime.

(music blasting)

Ouch!

♪

I-I think you need a little more wrist there.

(turns off music)

You better have my DNA results.

Sorry, I was just waiting for, uh, for that.

Coach Burns was a naughty boy.

DNA from our sex toys and the sheets in Coach's bedroom.

Two contributors: Coach and... someone not his wife.

RUSSELL: "Unknown female."

Maybe moving up our suspect list.

Why do you say that?

Doc took I.R. photos of the bruising on Coach Burns' chest and back.

Guess we know how he got those nasty bruises.

Getting nasty.

Whoever was riding him in bed, maybe it's the same person who dropped him in the shower.

Having fun in bed's a long way from bludgeoning somebody to death in a shower, don't you think?

But it is our best lead, so... all right.

Let's find out who this unknown female is.

Hey, Russell?

Yeah?

Come here for a sec.

What you got?

I got Burn's cell phone records.

Now, I know these guys chase recruits, but this is ridiculous.

He made, like, over 200 phone calls in one day, and even more than that in text messages.

Forget about the recruits.

We're looking for a woman now that's good with a riding crop.

Oh, really?

Well, hold on.

This may interest you.

On the night before the m*rder, Burns made three phone calls, all with the same number; disposable phone.

And a text-- look at this.

RUSSELL: "Feeling naughty.

Need some discipline."

Ten minutes later, he gets this message back: "Can't make it to your place.

"Find me at The Iris.

Obey.

Mistress Z."

Sounds like our girl to me.

You know anything about The Iris?

No, but that information's pretty easy to get.

♪

WOMAN: There you are.

WOMAN: This way.

MAN: Nighty-night.

Good evening, gentlemen.

Hi.

Evening.

Well, Lily said that you were looking for something special.

Yeah, my buddy here needs a little, um... a little discipline.

STOKES: Yeah. Yeah, I heard Mistress Z really knows how to punish a man.

I'm sorry.

Are you on the list?

Uh...

Uh, no, we're not, actually.

A friend of ours sent us here.

Tom Burns.

I think you need to leave.

Mm.

I think we're gonna stay.

Seeing as how we're with the crime lab.

You want me to just...?

I can set it right here.

No, it's fine.

Right this way.

Okeydoke.

Mistress Z, these gentlemen would like to have a word.

Gentlemen, what can I do for...?

Nice to see you, Mr. Russell.

This is awkward.

Oh, it's a lot more than that, actually.

So, what do we call you?

Mistress Z?

Vanessa?

What is it you wanted to talk to me about?

STOKES: Coach Tom Burns.

Phone records indicate that you two had an ongoing relationship.

Is that right?

Not sure I'd characterize it that way.

Yeah, neither would I.

Coach Burns had bruises all over his body.

I'm assuming it was you who... disciplined him?

Tom Burns was a client.

Ah.

Client.

That's what you call it.

STOKES:We found evidence of a woman at the crime scene.

Where were you at 5:00 a.m. this morning?

Why don't you ask Mr. Russell's son?

Charlie said that he went to work out, and left you in his bed.

That's true.

I... I slept in until about 6:15, and then we got an early breakfast.

Ah.

I didn't k*ll Tom Burns.

Well, if you didn't, maybe you know who did then.

This was a crime of passion; this guy was beaten to death.

Maybe one of your clients got jealous 'cause he couldn't have you all to himself.

I have nothing more to say.

Well, you know, we could drive you downtown... Vanessa.

We could book you for solicitation.

I am not a hooker, Mr. Russell.

No? What are you then?

I am a licensed sex therapist, which, aside from being perfectly legal, also entitles me to therapist-patient privilege.

I don't have to tell you anything.

So you're telling me that all these women running around in here are licensed therapists?

Yes, they are.

You can book a session with any one of them if you feel the need.

Does my son know what you do?

Like I said...

I have nothing more to say.

Oh, I didn't hear you come in last night.

(grunts)

Didn't want to wake you.

(gentle laugh)

Hey.

I was up all night... thinking about Charlie, Vanessa.

I'm with you on that one.

Just seems so early for them to move in together.

They barely know each other.

Did you run the dishwasher last night?

No.

Why?

Just asking.

I guess that's the danger of raising an independent child.

You might actually succeed.

I guess it is their decision to make, right?

I mean, where would we be if we'd waited for my parents to approve of you?

Is that's Vanessa's wine glass?

You are not seriously going to run her DNA?

Are you gonna do a background check?

Trust me on this one, Detective.

What does that mean?

It means trust me.

I'll call you.

I just had the strangest experience.

I found Henry swabbing a wine glass that you quietly slipped him in order to obtain a potential suspect's DNA.

I hope you got a warrant, because, as I recall, I was fired by my boss in Seattle for doing the exact same thing.

Are you through?

No, no, no, no.

I have a lot more things I'd like to say.

'Cause it's not the same thing.

It's my wine glass in my house, and-and-and the DNA happens to come from a hooker who's banging my son.

So, no, not the same thing.

Well, your suspicions were confirmed.

What do you mean?

The DNA matched our unknown female.

Vanessa was definitely sleeping with the coach.

That's great.

So, my-my son is in a love triangle involving his coach, who, you know, he happened to have a violent confrontation with just hours before the man was k*lled, and... shoe impressions at the scene suggest a woman and somebody else, and the someone else's footwear looks like it could be an athlete.

So it just gets better and better.

Hodges analyzed all of Charlie's shoes, and none of them fit the mystery pattern.

D.B., I've known your son since he was ten.

There is no way that he is a k*ller.

(sighs)

I-I know that.

I know that.

But he's keeping something from me.

And you know, it wouldn't be the first time some idiot kid did something stupid for love.

Do you think he's lying to protect Vanessa?

I have no idea, but I'll tell you something.

If he wasn't my son, he'd be sitting in a jail cell right now.

We need to figure this out.

We don't even have a m*rder w*apon yet.

And there are so many suspects still in play.

What are we missing?

We're missing something.

What is this?

What's the white substance on the coach's forehead?

It's a biological, but that's about it.

Henry ran a quant, and there wasn't sufficient DNA to even generate a profile.

What about Trace?

Um, Hodges, I asked you a question.

Yes. And I heard you.

Struck out again.

Okay, uh... what did you ask me?

The dried substance?

Oh.

Yeah. It's all in there.

I know you were counting on semen.

It was a teardrop?

Not just any teardrop-- an emotional one.

An emotional teardrop?

Seriously?

I mean, how can you even tell that? That's...

Science.

Emotional tears have a different composition than irritant-induced tears.

Emotional tears exhibit 25% higher concentrations in proteins, enzymes, lipids, lysozymes and electrolytes.

So, someone cried over the victim.

I'm not sure how that helps us.

Refer to page four.

Perhaps the owner of our tear was not only mourning Coach Burns, but also mourning a lost vigor of lash.

Tear contained bimatoprost?

A synthetic prostaglandin and a key component in a prescription drug that helps promote eyelash growth.

Longessa.

Does that help you?

Yes, it does. Thank you.

(Hodges sighs)

Damn it.

You ever think maybe not a shoe?

I hate you.

(sighs)

What's this?

Longessa.

Found a six-month supply when we searched the Burns's home.

Eyelash ointment.

Uh-huh.

Prescribed to Mrs. Burns.

You know that dried substance that we found on the coach's forehead?

Well, turns out it was a tear with traces of Longessa.

That puts the wife in the shower, standing over her dead husband's body.

Question is, who was she with?

Well, I checked the Burns' cell phone records.

There's a consistent pattern of calls between Mrs. Burns and Jack Oxford.

Oxford?

Mm.

WLVU's favorite booster?

Well, maybe he was boosting something else.

Oxford sleeping with the coach's wife, but the coach has his own thing going on with Vanessa.

Everybody should be happy.

In theory.

But, uh, simple math gets complicated sometimes, when passions are involved.

Okay, I'll call Brass.

I think it's time we talk to the booster and the widow.

Go get 'em.

Jim?

Yeah, Nick, I hear you.

I'll send some officers to Burns's house to pick up his wife.

But as far as grabbing Jack Oxford and taking him to the station, that's not gonna happen.

Somebody took him out of the game.

BRASS: Ouch. That's a one-and-one.

Must have been in the penalty.

Two sh*ts fired from a g*n registered to you.

Recovered from a trash can right outside the gym.

BRASS: So, thanks for making our job so easy.

To put a b*llet in a guy's manhood-- good luck with a jury.

You sure you don't want to call your lawyer now?

I don't need a lawyer, because I haven't done anything wrong.

In the eyes of God?

I don't think so.

State of Nevada looks pretty bad, too.

SANDERS: Phone calls between you and Oxford.

DNA from his house puts you in his bed.

Now, as far as your husband's m*rder...

Shoes from your closet match shoe impressions from the scene.

And Trace report says that you shed a tear over his body.

BRASS: How touching.

And incriminating.

I didn't k*ll anyone.

But I was there at the gym that morning.

Yes, I was having an affair with Oxford.

It was just a fling.

I knew Tom was seeking... professional company with that woman.

For a while, it worked for both of us.

And then... it didn't.

That morning, we were supposed to get coffee and talk about mending what was broken.

I went looking for him in the locker room.

I heard the shower running.

That's when I saw him.

Well, it's a good thing you called the cops.

Oh... wait a minute, sorry-- my bad-- you didn't.

No, instead you made up a story about being in Tahoe.

I shouldn't have lied.

The thing is, I knew who did it.

At least I thought I did.

I couldn't bear the scandal.

What are you talking about?

Oxford was furious with Tom.

They'd had a number of confrontations.

Over you?

No, over his son Eli.

He was trying to get him on the team-- Tom refused.

Said some things money couldn't buy.

That's a good story.

Especially since Jack Oxford and your husband are both dead.

Dead men tell no tales.

I'm telling you the truth.

And I'm telling you, you really should call your lawyer now.

HODGES: Hey, boss!

I heard that, uh, Mrs. Burns just got booked.

Mm.

So I guess my travails in high heels and crocodile tears paid off?

Yeah, the D.A.'s going forward but Mrs. Burns is claiming that Oxford k*lled her husband, and then someone sh*t Oxford using her g*n.

Sounds pretty thin.

Except for the fact that... her g*n was wiped clean.

We still don't know what was used to bludgeon the coach to death, so, forensically, we can't place either w*apon in her hand.

So it's back to you-- your... travails yield anything on our mystery impressions?

I'm still working on it.

I have eliminated all shoe possibilities and all other sundry and slightly repulsive locker room possibilities.

So, back to work.

Oh, hey, um... for what it's worth, I knew Charlie had nothing to do with this.

Thank you.

Mm-hmm.

Okay...

Hey.

That was a good day.

RUSSELL: Proud day.

First game as a starter.

Rumors are all over campus.

About Coach, his wife, Jack Oxford.

T.J. says the program's screwed.

Some of the players are starting to get calls from other schools.

Are you getting calls?

A couple.

Okay.

(sighs)

What are you gonna do?

What do you think I should do?

Not the question.

I know you're pissed off at me, Dad.

No. I'm not pissed, Charlie.

I'm-I'm... disappointed, that's all.

(sighing): All right, I think we need to talk about Vanessa.

Why bother? She broke up with me out of the blue.

And said she got a job at another school.

One day, we're madly in love, moving in together, and the next day she's gone.

What is it you always say?

"Wisdom comes through struggle."

(sighs)

Well, that's easy to say.

Think I'm gonna keep struggling here in Vegas.

Hell, if guys like T.J. leave, I should get some playing time, right?

More good days ahead.

Dinner Sunday?

Yeah, I'm in.

Hmm.

♪
♪

I think Russell's hunch was right.

Well, maybe right.

Least he was in the... ballpark.

Come on, that was a good one.

Based on the consistent repeating pattern, the location of the crime scene, I definitely think our mystery object is a ball.

Yes, but... (sighs) it's not a basketball.

Or at least not one of these basketballs.

They all created tiny, dimpled patterns and... rolled or bounced in a reasonably straight line.

Yeah, pattern at the scene was smooth, no dimples, and the path was jagged, irregular.

You see something?

Ugh.

I hate me right now.

What are you talking about?

This detail in the impression... does it look like it could've been caused... by a lace?

Yeah.

Maybe.

Why?

(chuckles)

A little roll down memory lane.

Prior to 1948, all basketballs had laces.

Not unlike this replica here.

The laces were crude, hand-stitched, and irregular shape-- didn't matter, because back then the goal was to pass, not to dribble.

Just roll the ball, please.

A little historical perspective never hurt.

Wow. Well, it sure looks like a match to me.

Same general characteristics, spacing...

I agree.

Okay, so, an antique basketball rolled through Coach Burns's blood...

How does that happen?

Don't know.

What we do know is... that antique basketballs... are often showcased on heavy, rectangular display cases like this.

Flat surfaces, sharp edges.

Would explain the two types of wound patterns that Doc found on Coach Burns' face and head.

I assume basketballs this old are rare.

Very.

Can't be too many people in Vegas who own one.

The next time you bring your basketball to a m*rder, you might want to... think about getting rid of it.

Even if it is worth 85 grand.

FINLAY: Yeah, we swabbed the ball and the display stand that we found in your office, and it came back positive for Coach Burns' blood.

Burns was a stubborn son of a bitch.

I asked him for one thing: Put Jack Oxford's kid on the team.

I'm trying to take a damn shower here.

Just put him on the team, Tom.

Please. Who cares if he can't play? Let him ride the bench.

Nobody tells me who to recruit.

I need this, Tom.

Oxford's our biggest donor.

I'll never ask again.

I promise.

This is one of the first basketballs ever made-- 1894.

Signed by James Naismith.

I want you to have it.

You're pathetic, you know that?

Who the hell do you think you are?

You work for me.

I'm the face of this university.

This brand.

Not you.

You're just some...

Ivy League pimp with his hand out, looking for cash.

Now, you get the hell out here.

AUSTIN: Oxford gave millions to WLVU.

Coach Burns got the glory, but I did all the hard work.

FINLAY: Sucking up to donors, and always having to make them happy.

And when they're not, they pull their cash.

Then it's my fault.

My ass on the line.

But Burns couldn't care less.

(grunting, squishing)

(grunts)

And as I was leaving, I saw Linda driving up.

And I knew she was having an affair with Oxford.

I knew she had a g*n, and I needed a way out.

And you probably hated Jack, so k*lling him and setting up the wife, that's a two-fer, right?

So you snuck into Coach Burns' house, you stole his g*n and then you sh*t the biggest booster in WLVU's history.

That's irony.

At least I think that's the way these academic guys put it.

For 20 years, I've given that school everything.

Given it... my life.

And now with a double-homicide, that very same life will belong to the state penitentiary.

So, did the girl love Charlie?

I think Charlie believed that, yeah.

We're going to have to tell him.

I know. I know.

Why didn't you tell me?

There are things that I don't talk to you about.

The things that I don't...

I don't bring home, but that was... that was our deal, right?

Charlie is our son.

You owe it to me to tell me if he's in trouble.

You're right.

You need to tell me, anyway.

You sure you want that?

Given the nature of what I see every day?

You need to talk to me about it.

You think you're protecting me, but you're just trying to protect yourself.

And that's when we get into trouble.

Promise me, no more secrets.

I know who I married, D.B.

I know who I married, too.