(birds singing)
(whoops)
Hell yeah!
I win again.
No way.
Sweeney, you a sandbagging son of a...
I'm not paying.
Yeah, are we sure it even hit the target?
Oh, it hit the target, Cooper.
Pay up.
Ah, you must've messed with our sights, man.
Sure, the sights-- yeah, that's the problem.
Hey, how about double or nothing?
You want to give me all your money, that's fine.
Oh...
(both chuckle)
DALE: Well, well, well.
Looks like you're not such a hotshot after all, huh, Sweeney?
Sweeney.
Sweeney!
* How did I never know this?
I'm telling you, the elevator close-door button is a placebo.
Same with crosswalks.
Wha...
So, we've just been pushing it all these years for no reason?
Yeah, it's crazy, especially when recent studies show that levels of bacteria on elevator buttons can be 40 times higher than on public toilet seats.
(growls in frustration)
You okay, Nick?
McGEE: Nick?
Huh?
Hey, guys.
Everything all right?
No!
You want to talk about it?
I got a letter from the IRS.
They want my leave and earning statements from when I was undercover in South America.
I mean, who keeps an LES from five years ago?
I do.
I do.
REEVES: I once had a friend at MI6 whose taxes got messed up when he was undercover in Borneo.
Took him years to pay off.
How'd that happen?
He tried to write off a helicopter as his company car.
Palmer finished the body that came in last night.
I'll be down in Autopsy.
Well, I thought Spain said he had heart failure.
They did.
Do any of you do your own taxes?
Palmer.
Duck.
(laughs)
Well, good morning.
Good morning, Jethro.
No doubt you're wondering why I'm here.
Well, I don't know.
Maybe you missed us?
(laughs)
Well, true as that sentiment may be, the university is on spring break, and I'm here in town to handle the second of life's two certainties.
And when Dr.
Mallard stopped by this morning, I invited him to have a go at the first.
Yeah, death and taxes, Jethro.
What do you got, Jimmy?
Well, Petty Officer Sweeney definitely d*ed of a cardiac arrest.
But the real question is why.
23 years old, active-duty sailor.
He just had a physical last December, Gibbs.
He passed with flying colors.
DUCKY: Not exactly the ideal candidate for heart failure.
Maybe he had help.
Perhaps, but we haven't been able to find anything.
Most certainly no puncture wounds that would indicate the injection of a toxin.
I sent blood samples and his stomach contents up to Abby.
Yeah, maybe she can find the answer.
Keep me updated?
Mm-hmm.
Hey, Duck, maybe stop by for a little bourbon before you head out of town?
I'll bring some Scotch!
Hey, Abby.
What do you got?
McGee, buckle up, 'cause I got a lot.
So I found cyanide in Petty Officer Sweeney's blood.
How do you think it got in his system?
That's a good question, and the answer is tragically.
Death by cookies.
Cookies?
Yeah, frosted almond cookies with little almond bits and some poison mixed in.
Where did he get poisoned cookies?
I called Spain, and they said there is nothing close to a frosted almond cookie on their whole base.
Maybe something from his personal effects?
And we are on the same page.
This is a care package that was sent from Franconia, Virginia.
And I wouldn't eat these if I were you.
Well, is there anything here that we can work with?
Other than James Sweeney's own fingerprints?
There was no hair, no DNA, no forensics.
Hey, what are these?
Those...
are the kicker.
Hmm.
He sent the package.
Okay, everybody, I just got the new list of deployed sailors and Marines from the Navy.
I'm gonna put 'em on the bulletin board if you guys need a name to put on your boxes.
Hey, Tom, where's your box going to?
It's going to my wife's sister's youngest son.
Uh, what's your special touch today?
My wife made banana bread.
Nice.
Did you get your new pictures yet?
Yeah, sure did.
Check it out.
It's too bad they couldn't edit all the ugly out of these, huh?
Hey, man, what you talking about?
I look like Denzel Washington and Wesley Snipes rolled up in one.
(scoffs, chuckles)
McGEE: Excuse me, Mr.
Ross?
Oh, yeah, hey, guys.
Have a seat anywhere you want.
The boxes are right over there.
Oh, we're with NCIS.
Uh, we have a few questions for you.
Oh, wow.
Uh, yeah, ask away.
Uh, anything you got to ask me, you can ask me in front of them.
Well, I'm afraid we can't.
We're gonna need you to come in.
What's this all about?
One of your care packages k*lled a sailor.
BISHOP: Petty Officer Second Class James Sweeney.
McGEE: 23 years old, married, no kids.
He owns a home in Virginia with his wife Emma.
Parents were k*lled in a car crash when he was 16 years old.
Record?
Spotless.
What about our suspect?
TORRES: Retired Marine Sergeant John Ross.
He sends out care packages every day from his Legion Hall in Franconia, Virginia.
Every day?
Got him set up in interrogation whenever you're ready.
GIBBS: We sure that Sweeney's package was sent by Ross?
Contents are consistent with the packages he sent in the past.
And not to mention his pictures.
That's the Prisoner of w*r Medal.
Yeah, Ross was held c*ptive for five years in Iran after being taken during the raid on the U.S.
Embassy.
He was on duty as a Marine Security Guard.
ROSS: Are you Gibbs?
(door closes)
I didn't, uh...
I didn't k*ll anybody.
Please.
(clears throat)
Petty Officer Second Class James Sweeney.
I-I never saw him before.
Well, you sent him a box.
I get a list from the Navy every week.
I mean, you know, I try, but my memory's not what it used to be.
Uh, look familiar to you?
Uh, looks like what I send, yeah.
You make these?
Listen, can you just tell me what's going on?
Yes or no?
Yeah, they're my mother's recipe.
The ones sent to Petty Officer Sweeney were laced with cyanide.
It's got your name on the return address on the label.
It's got your cookies inside and two photographs of you.
Nah, this is crazy.
I don't know how poison could have gotten into one of my...
How could poison get in one of my boxes?
You tell me.
I have no idea!
How well do you know your friends at the Legion Hall?
They're patriots, every single one of them.
There's no way any of 'em could have done something like this.
GIBBS: Anyone who could have put their cookies inside your box?
We all pack our own boxes.
They're all personalized.
I know about you, Sergeant.
I know what you've been through.
But you got to give me something.
This isn't right!
I have to get out of this room!
You can't keep me in this room!
I have to get out of this room!
You hear me?
I have to get out of this room!
What do you mean, Ross seemed off?
Oh.
It was sad.
He seemed really scared.
Do you think he sent that package?
Not sure.
Sounds like there's a "but" in there.
Well, I did some digging.
Ross has a checkered past.
How so?
He had some violent outbursts after his rescue in Iran-- a bar fight in '85, road rage in '87.
Fired from several jobs.
Sounds familiar.
Well, when he came back, they didn't have the same sort of psychiatric support system they do now.
They barely knew what PTSD was back then.
So you think he may be unstable?
Uh, I-I don't know.
Uh, I-I'd like to meet with him somewhere where he feels safe.
Could get a better read.
All right, but do it quickly.
There's a hold on all care packages to the m*llitary till this gets sorted out.
You got it.
(indistinct chatter)
BISHOP: How long were you and James together?
Uh...
we had met in high school, actually.
Um...
even back then, he said he was gonna join the Navy, and that we'd get married.
He have any enemies?
James?
No.
He was a really good man.
We were actually gonna try for our first child when he...
when he got back.
(dish shatters, woman yelps)
MAN: Whoa, whoa, whoa.
I'm so sorry.
It's such a zoo in here.
I'm just gonna go tell 'em to quiet down.
No, no, no, it's-it's fine.
Did James ever mention the name John Ross?
No.
Why?
(dishes breaking, indistinct arguing)
MAN: Leave me alone.
WOMAN: You should be ashamed of yourself.
MAN: I should be ashamed?
WOMAN: Oh, now look what you've done.
I'll pick it up.
Bob.
You guys the cops?
Uh, yep.
NCIS.
Well, if you want my advice, I'd look into her.
Why would we do that?
You see this place?
You think a petty officer's salary paid for it?
No.
James' parents, my brother and his wife, they had money.
Get out of my house.
They d*ed in a car crash six years ago, and they left everything they had to their boys.
She never had any interest at all in James until they were dead.
Get the hell outta here, Uncle Bob.
Calm down, Clyde.
You don't have to cover for her anymore, your baby brother's dead.
Are you kidding me?
You disrespect a dead man in his own home?
I'm not disrespecting him.
I'm disrespecting her.
Leave, you drunk.
Okay.
Time to go, Bob.
I might be drunk, but I am not wrong.
Clyde, was it?
Yeah.
I'm James' older brother.
Your uncle always so friendly?
Uncle Bob is just angry that he didn't get any money when my parents d*ed.
You know, Delilah's cousin had a thing with the IRS.
It's actually a pretty funny story.
Was it, uh, terrible and he lost a ton of money after months of paperwork?
Yeah, I guess it's not that funny of a story.
Yeah.
Oh, we're closed.
Oh, we're federal agents.
McGEE: Do you know this man?
John?
Yeah.
He comes in here every day to send out those packages of his.
You ever talk to him?
Yeah.
(chuckles)
What does that mean?
Well, if I'm being completely honest, I think he's got a bit of a crush on me.
TORRES: Really.
And why do you say that?
He thinks I don't notice, but John always lets people budge him in line until my station's free.
Well, we're gonna need the internal tracking information for a package he mailed out.
Here, I have a scan code for that.
Okay.
I-Is he in some sort of trouble?
What do you and John talk about?
Stuff.
Uh, mainly, my husband and kids.
He'll bring in leftover cookies from his care packages for them.
I'd hold off on eating the last batch.
Uh, let's see.
Huh.
Wh-what does that mean?
The scan code you gave me is for a package that got picked up by a mailman at a blue dropbox not far from here.
That unusual?
Yeah, actually.
DALE: John Ross?
Yeah, I-I know him.
How?
DALE: Guy's basically Santa Claus for sailors.
I mean, ev-everyone knows who he is.
Did Petty Officer Sweeney ever mention that he talked to Ross before he received the care package?
I don't think so.
I heard a rumor we aren't gonna be getting boxes anymore.
We're working on it.
It's just that morale's been pretty low ever since Sweeney d*ed.
We could all use a little something from home.
Thank you, Petty Officer Dale.
We'll be in touch.
McGee, got something?
Care package sent to Sweeney was dropped in a blue mailbox less than a mile from John Ross's house in Franconia.
But?
But the woman at the post office says that John Ross always dropped off the packages in person.
Box was full of poison.
Ross didn't want to be seen with it.
Yeah, I checked Ross's timeline.
Mailman picked up the package on February 16, while Ross was in Chicago at a Marine Corps reunion.
Then he couldn't have sent the package.
Well, someone sure wanted it to look like he did.
Customer service.
FEMALE VOICE: Press seven to....
No, I don't want to press seven to leave a voice mail.
I want to talk to a human being.
FEMALE VOICE: Press one for...
Human being.
Hey.
Where are we?
Street surveillance on the mailbox?
No luck.
Small town.
No cameras nearby.
McGEE: We're still gathering a list of veterans who helped pack boxes at the Legion Hall.
And, so far, no connection to the victim.
Gotta connect to somebody somewhere.
Well...
(sighs)
There is, just not to Sweeney.
About three months ago, a podcast host named Whit Dexter had John Ross on his show.
BISHOP: An unwitting Ross assumed the interview was about the care packages.
McGEE: Dexter pushes insane theories he knows are false in order to gain listeners and advertisers.
Yeah.
I know who he is.
All right, I'm gonna get straight to it.
There's a lot of people out there who aren't buying your little dog-and-pony routine.
Uh, I'm not sure I understand...
DEXTER: Ah, come on, John.
We all know that the U.S.
government is paying for those boxes to be shipped just to drum up support for the failing U.S.
Postal Service.
You know, I-I don't have to prove a damn thing to you.
DEXTER: Well, I have several sources who tell me that your little stint as a "POW" was nothing more than a paid vacation in Hawaii, used a a false flag operation to drum up tension between the Middle East and the U.S.
Silence, folks.
You hear that?
Looks like Dexter Nation has struck a nerve.
You're gonna regret this.
(scoffs)
I'm gonna expose you for who you really are.
Is there a connection to the victim?
After Ross leaves, Dexter lays out Ross's history of v*olence and aggression.
He promised his listeners something big would soon be revealed to prove that Ross is a government thug.
What?
A box of poisoned cookies?
ROSS: Hey.
How do you take your coffee?
Oh, I like my battery acid black.
I'll handle my own sugar, though.
Blackjack.
I'm on it.
(clock chimes quietly)
(dog barks in distance)
(train rattles past)
So, uh...
Why'd you ask about Whit Dexter?
He k*lled that sailor, didn't he?
I never said that.
Well, you wouldn't have mentioned it if it wasn't a possibility.
You think he'd do it?
He definitely hates our m*llitary.
Came after me personally, too.
Listen, there is nothing that man could say to you that would be worse than living in a cage for five years.
Yeah, you're right.
It's not my favorite subject.
Mmm.
Uh, what is all this, anyway?
I'm scanning all my old genealogy stuff so I don't lose it.
Oh.
Looks like you've found an awful lot.
You know, I had a, uh, great-great-grandfather-- I-I don't know how many greats-- but he was named after George Washington at the request of George Washington himself.
That is impressive.
My family's been fighting for this country since it was founded.
Where'd you serve?
Who said I served?
You called your coffee "battery acid," so...
Ah.
(laughs)
Dead giveaway, huh?
Afghanistan.
Oh.
That's a, that's a tough part of the world for a woman.
Tough part for anybody.
This helps me.
You know, knowing how hard these people worked to have the lives they had.
And paved the way for the rest of us.
Exactly.
DEXTER: And another thing, Dexter Nation.
Has anyone else out there noticed that when you call the IRS nobody answers the phone?
Only letters.
No real people.
Well, I have definitive proof that the IRS is nothing but a scam run by computers.
More on this after a brief word from our sponsors.
Thank you very much.
That was interesting.
ASSISTANT: Three minutes, Mr.
Dexter.
TORRES: What?
DEXTER: Come around.
There's a door over here.
(whispering): Ricky.
You don't just let people into the studio.
You don't know who those guys are.
They could have a car b*mb on them.
Gentlemen, you got three minutes before I'm back from commercial.
My secretary says you're with CSI?
NCIS.
Whatever.
What do you want?
We're here to ask you a couple of questions.
Is this guy for real?
Seriously?
Of course you're here to ask me a couple of questions.
You guys are cops; you came down here to see me.
Out with it.
James Sweeney.
What, is he a moron, too?
You guys both morons?
What the hell is th-- Is this some sort of a prank show?
Come on.
You guys are wasting my time.
Do you know who James Sweeney is?
No.
Why?
He was m*rder*d.
Oh.
Sucks for him.
Yo.
Enough with the attitude.
Have a little bit of respect, mate.
(mimics Reeves' accent): A little bit of respect, mate, for someone I don't even know?
For someone who served his country.
Oh, he was m*llitary?
Yeah.
Well, at least he knew what he signed up for.
Look, fellas, I don't know him.
Never seen him, never heard of him, okay?
So you ladies have any more questions, please, feel free to contact my attorneys.
Until then, I got a show to run.
Thank you.
Ricky, you can show these guys out.
RICKY: Yes, sir.
You're sure James never mentioned anyone he was concerned about, no fights or feuds?
Not that I can remember.
I'm sorry.
It was so hard when he was gone, I just...
It was easier for me if I stayed focused on things back home.
You mean things like the house?
Hear it's a nice house.
We were very lucky.
What'd you say you do, again?
You know all of the answers to all these questions already.
So I'm a suspect now?
You're taking tips from a drunk uncle?
According to the real estate agent, you and James bought your house for almost $650,000 last year.
Do either of you have any idea what it's like to lose someone you love?
Bank records indicate James' father only left him $150,000.
It's called a mortgage.
Uncle seemed to think the inheritance was pretty sizable.
Maybe there was some more money, something James hid away?
$150,000 is sizable when you're a drunk or a 17-year-old.
You know what, I thought you guys wanted my help.
I'm done here.
(sighs)
Log on to ZNN.
Okay.
What happened?
It's Dexter.
He's claiming you harassed him.
Uh, that's not good.
No, it's not.
This is nonsense.
JIMMY: It's all over the Internet.
He posted on all of his social media pages.
Yeah, well, he's been known to do that.
So, a government organization known as NCIS just paid me a visit.
These scumbags are trying to frame me for the m*rder of a sailor named James Sweeney.
Now, I've learned that this sailor was about to go on record, exposing our old friend John Ross.
But now that sailor's dead.
How did he die?
From poisoned cookies in care packages sent by John Ross.
We never said a word to him about Ross.
Or anything about poison.
Dexter shouldn't know how Sweeney d*ed.
Unless he had something to do with it.
* (grunts)
Go tell the valet to grab the car.
You got it.
Make it quick.
You son of a bitch.
Wh...
Easy, buddy, easy!
I ought to k*ll you, you know that?
Take a walk!
Take it easy there, pal!
Whoa!
Who the hell do you think you are?!
You're making a big mistake, buddy!
John.
John!
Oh, yeah.
Hey!
Big mistake!
What the hell do you think you're doing?
Everybody knows that guy deserves a punch in the face!
GIBBS: I know it!
All right, you see this, folks?
See this?
NCIS chumming it up with John Ross, the real m*rder*r.
Yeah, this thug att*cks me.
Typical tyrannical government.
Andhave to...
Wh...
Hey.
Whoa, I'm the victim here.
Yeah.
You got something to say?
Come on, let's make a statement.
All right.
GIBBS: Go make a statement.
I'll make a statement.
Make a few statements!
Come on.
DEXTER: People are broke, they're upset, and that is why the IRS is just a big Ponzi scheme and people like you are suckers.
How did you know about the poison?
(chuckles)
You got any real questions?
Gary Cooper over there got anything to say?
You know what?
Been a real pleasure, Whit.
Ah.
And how may I enlighten you today, sir?
Uh, big pharmaceuticals?
Flat Earth theory?
Got to be exhausting-- keeping your lies straight, pretending you care.
(chuckles)
I could say the same to you.
How do you even look in the mirror in the morning?
Oh, usually with my eyes.
What's Layla think about this?
Don't talk about my daughter.
Do you ever think what school must be like for her?
She's got a dad like you.
Hell of a burden to carry around.
Don't talk about her, pal.
A man's family is a line you do not cross.
Well, you've crossed that plenty.
What's life gonna be for her when she hears her father is a m*rder*r?
(chuckles): Oh.
Oh, you-you actually think I k*lled him.
I just assumed I was in here 'cause you didn't like what I say.
Listen, I'm an entertainer.
Most of what I say isn't true.
This whole Ross thing, it's all over the Internet.
But I didn't put it there.
You said on air you were gonna expose him.
Yeah, I was gonna make something up.
You released that information yourself, and you knew your listeners were gonna jump all over Ross.
(chuckles): Oh, no, no, no, no.
See, that's the beautiful thing about getting into the minds of these people.
They're ravenous.
I mean, thousands of them posted it long before I ever knew about it.
I just have the biggest voice.
(knocking at door, door opens)
Ah, Dr.
Mallard.
Thank you for coming.
Always a pleasure, Jacqueline.
And one can struggle with tax forms for only so long.
How may I be of assistance?
I was hoping that you could help me with a bit of profiling.
Well, I'm always up to a challenge.
Okay.
The subject is retired armed forces with past trauma they refuse to talk about, and their whole life is still wrapped up in the m*llitary.
Unable to move on?
Unwilling, at least.
History of aggression?
Sporadic.
Intelligence?
High.
Has the subject ever sought counseling before?
No.
What about the family?
None.
Huh.
And...
well, your concern is what?
What happens if the subject continues to internalize what happened?
Almost certainly, they'd be on the road to disaster.
Yeah.
That's what I thought.
Well, you...
you just have to use all your tricks to get him to open up.
Thank you, Dr.
Mallard.
Hey, help yourself.
Ah.
May I have one of each?
Absolutely.
Thank you.
(door opens)
Dexter confess yet?
Not quite.
You know, everyone in this country is done following the old establishment.
And I'm just providing them with something new to follow.
Whoa, whoa, where's he going?
He's letting Dexter stew.
Gibbs has him right where he wants him.
Oh, good.
'Cause I want to be here when he breaks him.
Me, too.
Six years ago, an up-and-coming shock jock accused me of running a money laundering ring out of the Navy Yard.
Dexter reminds you of him?
Dexter is him.
His claims about me were so outrageous they never caught any mainstream attention.
But over the years, he's learned.
You know, you can't just keep me in here 'cause you don't like what I say!
I got First Amendment rights, you know.
Somebody give me something.
Uh, Dexter told his lawyer we were free to go through his cell phone.
Yeah, he's a cheeky little bugger.
What'd you find?
McGEE: Well, besides the videos he posted online, I can't find anything incriminating in any of his texts, call logs, or search history.
It's starting to look like there isn't anything.
REEVES: Yeah.
He wasn't lying when he said the information about John Ross and the poison cookies was all over the Internet before he reported it.
We've been trying to find the original source, but...
There are no "buts," Bishop.
Boss, we've been looking, but it's like searching for a needle in a haystack.
More like hay mountain.
BISHOP: We'd need to comb through the entire Internet to find the first post describing the m*rder that all the others piggybacked on.
There's a dead sailor.
There's a vet being framed.
God.
Find the source.
Listen, I know I shouldn't have gone after that idiot.
(sighs)
Hey, I don't...
I don't blame you.
I just want to talk about why.
Why you did it.
'Cause some nutbag's out there telling everybody that I k*lled a sailor.
John, you have a history of aggression.
I am not interested in talking about my feelings.
I see a lot of anger hiding behind that happy face of yours.
Bottling up what happened to you is dangerous.
You get that?
And how would you know?
'Cause it happened to me, too, okay?
Nine months.
They wanted Army intel.
I never said a word.
Screamed a bit.
I'm-I'm so sorry.
I don't know if you had this, but it was like...
they kept moving me around.
So I-I didn't know how long I'd been there or where I was, um...
My problem isn't what happened to me over there.
I've...
come to terms with that.
It's the life they took away from me over here.
What-what do you mean by that?
I had a girlfriend when I got sent to Iran.
(sighs)
She was more than a girlfriend.
She was...
she was really special.
What was her name?
Clara.
A few weeks into the mission, before we left base, I got a letter from her saying she was pregnant with our child.
And, uh...
I was thrilled.
My life was all lined up.
And I was gonna ask her to marry me the second I set foot back on American soil.
But then...
everything changed.
You know, they held me for five years.
And after two rescue attempts went south and my captors cut off all communications...
(sniffles)
...uh, everybody thought I was dead.
So she moved on.
When I got back, she had a new husband, and my daughter had a father that she believed to be her own.
I made her mother promise to never tell her.
I-I just...
I was in no shape to be a dad.
They-they had to move on.
I was a...
I was a broken man for quite a while.
(sniffles)
You know, in a lot of ways, I still am.
I th...
I thought I was better at hiding it.
Where's Clara now?
She and her husband both passed on.
She had a heart att*ck.
I'm sorry.
And your daughter?
Oh, she still doesn't know anything about me.
Well, maybe she should.
No.
Just too much time has passed.
You have this mountain of family history to share.
Don't you think she'd want that?
Family is who's there when you need 'em the most.
And I was never there for her.
She's got her own family history now.
She'd reject me if I brought all this stuff to her and dumped it in her lap.
She'd probably hate me, even, so...
it's too late.
I am not built for all-nighters anymore.
REEVES: I forget.
Can anybody b*at 3:23 p.m.?
Well, the earliest post I can find describing the m*rder Mm, I got 2:44 on Twitter.
REEVES: I can't keep them straight.
Don't worry.
I'm keeping a running list of all the posts.
I got it!
Thank God!
Well, where was it?
Oh, it was in an e-mail account I forgot I had.
What?
Well, what are you talking about?
My missing LES, baby.
Pay period eleven, 2013.
I've been looking for it all night.
Wait.
So...
you've been in there working on your taxes?
Yes.
REEVES: And you haven't done anything the entire time?
I can multitask.
McGEE: I no longer feel bad the IRS wants to take all your money.
Tim...
Hold on.
Oh, Abby to the rescue?
ABBY: That's what I'm talking about.
BISHOP: Original post?
ABBY: This was posted to a Web forum by the user name "TheJuggalution" at 2:04 p.m.
BISHOP: At least a dozen people copied the information onto Twitter, Facebook and multiple other sites.
From there, it spread like wildfire.
Wait.
Who wrote the first thing?
Well, it was a dummy account.
Like most Web handles, it didn't connect to any name, address or bank account.
But we were able to trace the subnet of the IP address.
I have no idea what that means.
Oh, it means we know where the post was sent from.
Where?
You're not gonna believe this, but it came from John Ross's Legion Hall.
Could it be Ross?
No.
Sloane was with Ross at his house in Franconia yesterday afternoon when the post was uploaded.
BISHOP: We contacted the Legion Hall, and the vet working at the office said that they have surveillance on all of their computers.
Torres and Reeves are on their way there now.
(knock at door)
Jack?
(door closes)
I told him what happened to me.
I know that's a very difficult thing for you to talk about.
(sniffles)
He has a daughter that doesn't even know he exists.
Does he know where she is?
He wouldn't say.
He's fighting the demons that came after his escape, not the experience itself, so...
What about that scares you?
Seeing what burying his feelings has done to John.
He's, uh...
He's angry.
He's lonely.
You're not like John Ross.
Oh, come on, Leon.
Bar fight in Texas.
Road rage in Encinitas.
I was ordered six months of anger management in San Diego.
That's done me a lot of good, hasn't it?
That was a long time ago.
Oh, yeah, I've gotten really good at looking pretty and pretending to be put together all the time, huh?
Hey, you...
Takes a long time to get past what happened to you.
This is not about getting hooked up to a car battery!
These are not emotions I can just get over.
This is not a problem that can be solved!
(voice breaking): I should have saved them.
You didn't k*ll them.
(crying): But I let them die, right?
I did.
I did.
No.
No, you...
No.
I let them...
(crying)
No.
Don't do that.
It's okay.
TOM: Yeah, we had some issues in the past.
Some of our members were abusing their computer privileges, and that's when we installed the surveillance cameras.
We need to see yesterday afternoon.
Around 2:04 p.m.
You know, I could have told you boys from day one that you was barking up the wrong tree with John.
Yup.
There you go.
2:04 p.m.
That's Petty Officer Sweeney's brother.
Clyde.
Hey, I know this guy.
He came in to pack some boxes.
It was about a month ago.
Was John here?
Man, John's always here.
Did either of you talk to this man?
Yeah, a little bit.
You know, I just remembered.
He took a few boxes with him that he wanted to pack at home.
That must be his girlfriend.
That's his brother's wife.
Really?
(laughs)
Because they look like they're getting along pretty well to me.
Oh, my!
Okay.
(doorbell rings)
You expecting someone?
No.
(doorbell rings)
Hi, Agent Gibbs.
Agent, uh...
Bishop.
We're here to talk.
Right now's not really the best time.
We're looking for Clyde.
We went to his apartment, he wasn't home.
And you came here?
Well, yeah.
I mean, we figured since you two are sleeping together and all.
Cameras at the Legion Hall.
Please.
Clyde?
Yeah.
NCIS is here.
Clyde?
Clyde, put the w*apon down.
Don't move.
Drop the w*apon!
McGEE: NCIS!
Stop!
Hey!
(grunts)
(grunting)
Going somewhere?
(groans)
(panting)
McGEE: How'd it go?
Had nothing to do with James Sweeney's inheritance.
GIBBS: Wife wanted out of the marriage for a while.
She paired up with the brother once the husband was deployed.
They decided to k*ll James and impress Clyde's hero, Whit Dexter, at the same time by framing Ross.
Two birds, one care package.
BISHOP: Emma and Clyde thought they could sway public opinion with their posts.
(Torres laughing)
(singing in Spanish)
Is that your "caught the bad guy" dance?
No, that's my "IRS messed up, and now they owe me money" dance.
Oh, they owe you?
TORRES: Yeah.
The only thing that would make this day better is if we somehow got to arrest Whit Dexter.
BISHOP: Well, you get the next best thing.
He's already lost multiple sponsors.
No.
Yeah, apparently, influencing a m*rder is where they finally draw the line.
Ooh.
Bazinga!
(snorts)
Hey.
You all right, Jack?
Yeah.
I'm, uh...
perfect.
So, um, John is still living a life where he can't even talk to his own daughter.
He says he doesn't even know where to find her.
You don't believe him.
I think he knows exactly where she is.
How old do you think she'd be?
ROSS: I am so nervous.
This could change her whole life.
What if I screw everything up?
Hey, I think she'll be glad to know the truth.
I just want her to know how much I loved her mother.
And I'm ready to tell her it's okay if she doesn't want anything to do with me.
Stop it!
You're a good man.
She'll see that.
It's gonna be a big step for both of you.
(sighs)
You know, Jack, you're the first person I could ever talk to about what happened to me.
I don't, uh...
I don't talk about my experience much, either, John.
It was hard, but...
it definitely helped knowing that you understand.
Good.
I'm glad to hear it.
(clears throat)
(choked up): Maybe I was able to help you, too.
SLOANE: Hey, here she comes.
(sighs)
Okay, let's do this.
You got this.
Hey, Molly.
I'm your dad.
(laughs)
(both laughing)
Thank you, Jack.
Thank you, John.
(exhales)
(car door closes)
*