06x09 - Seven Feet Under

[bunniefuu]

I just need to know for certain
it's the m*rder w*apon.

The wife's handprints
are all over the ankle.

The husband's brains
are all over the shin.

I'd say it was the m*rder w*apon.

Hey! What do you think
you're doing?

Rule number one about moving?

Try not to drop anything.

- Uh... What is that?
- Not "what".

"Who".

Naeema.

The m*rder*d daughter
of Ramses the Second.

Nineteenth Dynasty.
Thirteenth Century, "B.C.E."

You run out of fresh bodies?
Practicing up?

Modern archaeological findings indicate Naeema
wasn't k*lled the way the history books have it.

I've been asked to find out how
she d*ed and who was responsible.

Shouldn't they be asking
a forensic anthropologist?

They are.

Wow! So you're, like,
Indiana Switzer.

Six years ago, I helped
determine Cause of Death

on a mummified corpse
at the Manchester Center.

Using an endoscope.
First time they ever used fiber optics.

Yeah. Well, hate to tell you,
but you're barking up the wrong pyramid.

Three thousand year old m*rder mystery?
Your "perp's" gonna be dead.

Get your hands off my mummy.

MENINGIOMAS
CLASSIFICATION AND TYPES

TREATMENT

CAUSES
SYMPTOMS

RISKS OF SURGERY

BRAIN FUNCTION, STROKE,
INFECTION, OR DEATH

DEATH

TREATMENT

CRANIOTOMY AND ENDOSCOPIC
TRANSNASAL BRAIN SURGERY

You avoiding me?
You didn't answer your phone.

Uh, no. I'm just busy.

- Well, I've got a body in a cemetery.
- Odd.

It is, when you consider the groundskeeper
found it dumped in an open grave.

- Here's the address.
- Thanks.

Jordan, what's going on?

I just, uh...

I'm about a day behind
on the Maroulis autopsy.

I've got... four cases
I need to close out.

My case log's open.
You want me to make the pick up for you?

That would be great.

I'll... I'll be caught up by lunch.
You know...

Don't worry about it.

- Great.
- Great.

- Detective Seely.
- Doctor Macy.

What have we got?

Groundskeeper found her.

Sixteen years old.

Tragedy.

- You read palms now?
- School ring.

Westside High School, class of
two thousand eight. Pretty smart.

If they'd buried Mr. Gamalli this morning,
we never would have found her.

Seven feet under.
I guess we got lucky.

- She didn't.
- Yeah. You need a hand?

Guess you already got one.

You want to get that?

MOM & DAD

Who is it?

Her mom and dad.

CROSSING JORDAN

JILL HENNESSY

MIGUEL FERRER

RAVI KAPOOR

KATHRYN HAHN

STEVE VALENTINE

AND JERRY O'CONNELL

CREATED BY TIM KRING

Cindy is...

Cindy was so full of life.

We got her that car two weeks ago.
Sixteenth birthday.

She loved red.

Named her first cat that. "Little Red".

We're very sorry for your loss.

Do you... uh... know
where Cindy was last night?

Who she might have been with?

We... We just got back into town.

We flew back this morning from Martinique.

She wasn't here
when we got back home.

We kept calling her.

What... What happened, Detective?

We... found her car at Copley Plaza.

Waitress at a coffee shop
saw her at about five-thirty yesterday.

Who was staying with Cindy?
Maybe they could tell us if she was planning
on meeting someone last night.

She was staying alone.

She's sixteen. Straight "A" student.
We thought she was old enough to stay by herself.

- She'd done it before.
- What about her phone?

You guys know her pass code? We can find out
who she called, when she called them?

Okay. We'll need to talk to
her friends then. Boyfriend.

- Find out if Cindy told them anything.
- She didn't have a boyfriend.

But there's, uh, Patty Norton.

They've been friends
since they were in kindergarten.

No. David, they moved.
Last summer.

I am so sorry.

I just can't seem to think of
any names right now.

I mean, she was a teenager, you know?
There were just so many of them. They come and go.

We just...We...

lost track.

So, you can't give me a single name.

We're going to find
who did this to your daughter.

- They just lost a child.
- Yeah. It seems to me like
they lost her a long time ago.

Did you raise a family
since the last time we met?

- Look. I had parents,
as all these other kids have...
- Not the same. Not by a long sh*t.

Wait. Because I don't have kids, I'm not
allowed to have an opinion? / Exactly.

TRACE EVIDENCE: CINDY TALLRIDGE

What are you doing?

You volunteered for the pickup.
Didn't mean I needed you to take my case.

Parents any help?

They were on vacation and trusted
their daughter to take care of herself.

And if you were left alone at sixteen,
what the hell would you have done?

- You have anything?
- Suffusion. Bruising around the neck.

She was strangled
with some kind of ligature.

Traces of silk fiber in the wound
and the width of the mark suggest a neck tie.

There's no trace on her shoess from
the cemetery. So she wasn't k*lled there.

She was dumped. Explains the sheet.

- Any idea where she was k*lled?
- Well, I found beige carpet fibers in the sheet.

It's a long sh*t, but I'm running them.
And there is this.

Saliva. No angular momentum spatter.
And the dispersion suggests low velocity.

Like the point of origin
was only a foot away.

Translation, please?

It came from directly overhead.
Probably while she was being strangled.

Our k*ller's "D.N.A." Good.

- Sexual as*ault?
- No. No defensive wounds.

I'm guessing she knew her attacker.

Did the parents say anything about a boyfriend?
You guys know how this kind of thing usually falls.

Yeah. Her parents don't seem to
know anything about her.

Then why don't you do your job
and find someone who does?

Fine.

"Slide your feet up
the street Bend your back...

Shift your arm,
then you pull it back...

Life is hard, you know...
"Oh-whey-oh"...

So strike a pose on a Cadillac"...

- Shouldn't you be out directing traffic?
- No. I'm working a m*rder.

Though being forced to share the same room
with you does feel like a curse.

Could it be "The Curse of the Mummy"?

Maybe it's "The Curse of the Homicide d*ck".

What's the, uh...
point of this, anyway?

I thought it was confirmed
that Naeema was k*lled by a "Hittite" sl*ve.

- You know about this?
- Yeah, the mummy's from the Boston "Met".

You know. That big building downtown
that looks like a museum?

It has one of the largest collections
of Egyptian artifacts in the country.

The curator and
I were Mellon Fellows together.

Six months ago, he acquired a scroll
that was discovered near Naeema's burial site,

telling of a princess who assisted
the Israelites in their Exodus.

Well, that makes sense. Because
Naeema's father was Ramses the Second.

Often thought to be the Pharaoh
in the story of Moses.

According to the scroll,

the princess was caught returning from
an Israelite camp by one of Ramses' sons,

who struck her dead
with a royal mace.

Something that no Hittite sl*ve would have had.

So, if I can use our fluoroscope,
"C.T." scans,

and a little visual probing to prove

that Naeema's injuries were
inflicted by one of those maces...

You can conclude
that she wasn't k*lled by a Hittite sl*ve...

But by her own brother.

And?

Show that she was
at least partially responsible

for the Israelites' Exodus from Egypt.

And, by extension...

the evolution of Western Civilization.

Sorry. Sorry.
God. I was just gonna call you.

Yeah. Yeah? You got something?

Nigel ran the "D.N.A."
from the saliva on Cindy's forehead.

Didn't match anyone
in "CODIS", but it is male.

Any luck at the school?

I talked to the teachers, her guidance
counselor... No boyfriend they knew of.

But I did get the names of some of her friends.
I'm gonna work those after school.

- Nice. What did they say about Cindy?
- Just that she was a really good kid.
Shy, reserved...

What?

I unlocked Cindy's cell phone,
and I got this as a web link.

"Faceplayce dot com".
It's one of those social networking sites?

It's very spicy stuff.

Frankly, some language that would have
made me blush when I was sixteen.

- You know what?
- What?

Those are the girls the school
said were her best friends.

I saw their yearbook pictures.

Anyone Cindy chatted
with seem like a stalker?

I ran all the screen names through
the sex offender's database. No hits. But...

There were references to
a certain secret that Cindy had.

- But no mention of what it was.
- Well, maybe a secret somebody
would k*ll to find out.

Or k*ll to keep quiet.

Fibers from the wife's sweater
were found in the husband's scalp tissue,

along with bits of plastic
from his own prosthesis.

If the shoe fits... Case closed.

How about you, Doctor "S"?

Everything all wrapped up
with your mummy? / Just about.

Blunt force trauma to the skull matches
the dimensions I'm looking for.

I think Naeema was k*lled
by the prince.

You know... I've never heard
you call a body by a name before.

- No?
- No.

Normally, it's "g*nsh*t wound
in Autopsy One" or...

- "blunt force trauma in Trace Two".
- Naeema's part of history.

- Everyone's part of history.
- That doesn't make sense.

- Of course it does.
- I'm talking about this.

In my initial scan of the oral cavity,

I noticed what looked like a primitive
filling in one of her teeth.

I thought it might be ancient
"Resin of Terebinth" so I took a small sample.

It's got "polythyleneglycol diacrylate".

"Diacrylates" weren't used in dental
work until two thousand three.

This woman's m*rder wasn't
three thousand years ago.

It was less than four.

Jordan, Nigel said you were...

God, I'm clumsy today.

"Dexamethasone"? For a headache?

That's... That's pretty hard core.
That's like a cannon for a housefly.

- Well, it's a... It's a big fly.
- Yeah?

Yeah, can I have that bottle?

You're not a clumsy person.
Go ahead. Pick them up.

Pick them up.

Remember that, uh, "meningioma" victim
I showed you last week?

She's not dead yet.

What are you doing for it?

These.

Okay. Well, this isn't treatment, is it?

- For all I know, it's been in there for years.
- Well, the symptoms haven't.

You have options, Jordan. Surgery.

- Radiotherapy. Gamma Kn*fe. Come on.
- Yeah. And leaving it alone.

- Who are you seeing?
- Rene Sanchez at Brigham. He's got my films.

Garret, I... I'm on this. Okay?
I... I just need to go meet Seely, now.

Because we're interviewing
some of Cindy's girlfriends.

- You need to be home.
- I'm meeting Seely. / Stop.

- I've got to meet Seely.
- He doesn't need you. You don't have to...

- I do.
- You don't have to... / Yes, I do.

She called you last night.

Around five thirty. Did she mention
anything about meeting someone?

I couldn't talk. I was at work.
My boss was looking over my shoulder.

We were all supposed to
meet at Starbucks at nine.

We waited, but she...

I still can't believe it.

When they made the announcement
at school, I got sick.

Do you girls know anybody
who would have wanted to hurt Cindy?

- No. Everybody liked her.
- What was Cindy's secret?

The one you girls talk about
on your "Faceplayce" sites.

[font color=AAAAAA]CINDY'S PLACE[/font]
Look, we don't want to get
you guys in trouble.

[font color=AAAAAA]MELISSA'S PLAYCE[/font]
Uh... We're not looking to talk
with your parents.

But we think Cindy knew
the person who hurt her.

No boyfriend in the picture... It looks like someone
you guys chatted with might have had motive.

- It's pretty explicit stuff.
- Everybody has a page like that.

It doesn't mean anything.
It's just what we do. It's...

It's like a tease.

- Seems pretty real.
- Bet it sounds real to those guys.

They know it's a game. / You think so?
You think you're in a chat room with friends?

Truth is, half of these guys are older.
A lot of them are predators.
And your tease... makes you bait.

It's no big deal.

- Is everything okay, Mel?
- I'm Detective Seely. Boston "P.D."

This is Doctor Cavanaugh...
The "O.M.E.'s" office.

- We just had a couple of questions for your daughter.
- It's about Cindy.

I'm so sorry, "hon".

It's been a hard day for them.

- Do you know anything that can help?
- No.

Well, if you think of anything, just call us.

So... Aren't you supposed to... you know...

- "un-spool" her?
- This isn't "Scooby Doo", Detective.

The linen's sealed to prevent disintegration.
You can't just unwrap it.

Mummification process.

Over a ten week period, the brain is skewered
using a heated rod inserted through the nose.

And the brain is scrambled
and poured out.

The internal organs removed
through a cut in the side.

And the body is infused with sea salt.

And finally, the brain cavity is packed with resin.
All to preserve the body in the afterlife.

The sick freak who did this
wasn't thinking about her afterlife.

All they wanted to do was pass
her off as your mummy.

And they did a hell of a job.
Henry's shocked.

- Henry, your museum guy?
- The curator.

Yeah. Whatever. I just need to know
who had access to the mummy exhibit.

- He's making you a list.
- Great. Because her dental gave us nothing,

so I need whatever he has.
Also, can we still get prints off of her?

Well, that may take a while.
I need to re-hydrate it first.

Uh...

"it"?

- The body.
- Yeah. It's just...

A couple of hours ago, you said
that she was a part of history.

And now she's part of a case.
Like anyone else.

And I thought you were difficult. Switzer.

She's a piece of work.

Hey. Are you alright?

Yeah. I'm fine.

Where is she?

- I thought she was with you.
- She is. Or... was.

We're headed to Cindy's parents'.
Jordan's gonna run trace on Cindy's room.

Always going the extra mile, aren't you?

Well, maybe she went for aspirin.
I know she wasn't feeling well.

You know what? I want to be
at the house with the parents.

- You know, you don't have to do that.
- It wasn't a question. I'll run trace.

- Jordan said she could handle it.
- Jordan's not here.

I really like your curator friend.

He didn't give a crap
about solving this girl's m*rder.

He thought I should be helping
him get his mummy back.

Well, that is his job. Protecting
and preserving cultural artifacts.

- This woman is not an artifact.
- Henry's got a board of directors

breathing down his neck to get back
an eighteen million dollar mummy that's gone missing.

Well, someone at his museum
probably took it.

That is our k*ller.

So, do your job and find them.

And, while you're at it,
let me do mine?

- What are you looking for?
- We won't know until we find it.

Well, is there something you found out?

I'd like to know.

Cindy had a web page.
It talked about some kind of secret she had.

Any idea? What that could be?

No. I mean, you think this secret
is why someone... / We don't know.

- There's a lot we don't know. Because you don't know.
- Why don't you take it easy, Detective?

Are you suggesting this is our fault?

I'm suggesting there was a lot
about your daughter you didn't even ask about.

So, now it's our job to find out
what it was. So...

if you'll excuse us...

Mrs. Tallridge...

You know, what is it with you, man?

- Didn't your parents pay you any attention at all?
- You don't know the first thing about...

I don't know and I don't care.
Unless it helps us to find who k*lled this girl.

You talk to her again that way...
You answer to me.

You think this might help?
There's got to be at least ten grand in here.

- Drug money?
- Her "tox" screen was clean.

- Same with segmental hair analysis.
- Dealers don't need to use to sell.

- It would explain her secret.
- dr*gs aren't Cindy's secret.

This is.

Hi. I'm Cindy.

And this is my room.

- Do you want to know my secret?
- How dare you talk to my wife like that?

Oh... my God.

Shut it off. Shut it off!

Hey.

Meet your "blunt force trauma".

"AFIS" just got a match on the print.

Kimberly Wannamaker.

Age twenty-three. Arrested
two years ago for vagrancy.

- Sad eyes.
- She was homeless.

No family. No contacts.

No one to find out
what really happened to her.

You'll have the final results
when I'm done.

Dead... Everyone thought
she was royalty.

Alive... We probably passed her in the street
a thousand times without so much as a glance.

Hey, Jordan!

- I've been thinking about what you showed me...
- Cindy Tallridge was selling sex online?

Not exactly what a father wants to see.

You should have seen the expression on
Mr. Tallridge's face.

I missed it. Since you took Seely
and took over my case.

- It's not your case. It's our case.
- Now you're babysitting me?

This is a big deal, Jordan.
We need to talk.

No. Clearly, you need to talk about it.
I'm dealing with it. / Are you?

Yes. / So, I'm working on a list
of subscribers to Cindy's web...

- site. Sorry. I...
- Oh, no, no. Now's fine.

What is it?

"CindySecret" is bloody popular.

It had over a thousand
hits last week alone.

"DigiDollar" deposits from twelve states,
Canada, Australia...

Even one from Iceland. Now.

I am tracking "I.D.'s" on the domestic users.
Most are married.

There's a pediatrician,
a couple of lawyers... / Any local?

Well, it's hard to be sure. Some of these perverts
use so many proxies I'll never find them.

But... I've got one bloke in town.

- A Russell Gruden.
- He ever talk about meeting with her?

Not that I saw online.

But Mr. Gruden deposited eight hundred dollars

into her "DigiDollar" account the day
before she was m*rder*d.

Any guess as to
what that bought him?

Maybe Cindy's life.
I'm calling Seely.

No.

I'll call him.

Right.

You let me know
when you're ready to talk.

Museum employee one hundred sixty-two.
And still, everyone looks clean.

Any news from the guys at Major Theft?

The way they tell it, getting inside
the world of black market antiquities is

harder than breaking into Fort Knox.

Leaving me with almost
sixty more names to check.

- Sounds exciting.
- Riveting. How about you?

I think I have "Cause of Death".

You want to go two for two
and give us a m*rder w*apon?

Only if you consider winter a w*apon.

"Wischnevsky's ulcers" in her stomach.
She d*ed of hypothermia?

She was homeless.
The last two winters here have been miserable.

- What about the blow to her head?
- There was no hemorrhaging beneath the wound.

It was inflicted post-mortem.

So she was already dead.

You can thank me later.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Uh... Hang on.

- If we can find out where she d*ed...
- There's no "we" anymore.

I've determined "I.D." and
"Cause of Death". My job is done.

And if I'm not mistaken,
this isn't a homicide anymore. So...

You're done, too.

Okay.

I logged on to her website.

How old would
you guess she is, Russell?

I don't know.

Nineteen? Twenty?

Sixteen.

Sixteen years old.
A junior in high school.

That's child p*rn.
Child prostitution.

You know, it's tough enough being
a parent without freaks like you out there

getting into their lives.
Preying on them.

What do you think your daughter would say?
You screwing around with somebody her age?

You paid Cindy Tallridge
eight hundred bucks two days ago.

For what?

For sex.

But I didn't...

I met her at the mall.

I wasn't with her five minutes.
I knew it was wrong.

Is that why you strangled her?

No.

We have your "D.N.A." on her body.

No!

Okay. So, submit to a "D.N.A." test,
and we'll see if you're telling the truth.

I swear. I didn't...

We went to the handicapped
bathroom to... But I couldn't.

- It wasn't the same.
- It wasn't the same as what?

The other girl.

- This one seemed younger.
- What other girl?

Her name's Melissa.

She's the one who...
told me about Cindy.

You mean this girl?

So, what do you think it means?

Melissa and Cindy were involved
in some kind of business together?

Don't know.

You know, maybe it's as simple as
they were both involved with Russell Gruden.

I just feel sick,

you know? Both these girls living double
lives and the parents just... oblivious.

You know what? I don't buy it. All they had to do
was go into their kid's room. Look around.

My dad was the same.

Yours any different?
He know what you were up to?

I wasn't up to that.

Gruden was telling the truth.

- Not his "D.N.A." on Cindy.
- Oh, great. So, he's just a pedophile.
Not a m*rder*r.

- Back to square one.
- Not exactly.

I finally figured out what those fibers
were we found inside the sheet.

Automotive carpet.
From a two thousand and four Highlander.

The interior is beige. Exterior choices
were white, black, blue, and...

Silver.

Melissa's car. Uh...

Cindy's dead body was in there.

- Jordan.
- I'm gonna go talk to her.

Desecration of a body,
theft of a corpse...

But it's not about "Queen Tut"
anymore, so she's done.

Ignore her.

No record of Kimberly Wannamaker
at any of the area medical schools.

Move on to hospitals.

How does someone like Switzer
even have any friends?

I don't think she does. Just her dog.

- Figures.
- Hey, you know what I think?

When a body is mummified,
they leave the heart inside.

They forgot to do that with Switzer.

What is this, high school?

You have something to say...
say it to my face.

You treat a three thousand year
old body like it's royalty.

But the second you find out
she's a regular person... "Poof".

- It's back to business as usual.
- It was always business as usual.

- Just because my heart doesn't bleed...
- You don't care about her or anyone else.

Got her.

Kimberly Wannamaker.

She was checked into the "E.R."
at Saint Adrian's for exposure.

- Two years ago, February.
- Look at this. Look.

She had a family history of breast cancer.
Her mother d*ed when she was eight.

Father unknown. Personal effects...
She was wearing a cross.

That's it. That's all she had. No one.

But she was not an "it".

Do you understand these rights
as I have explained them to you?

Yes. We understand the rights.
Just not why we're here.

You know what this is?
It's a lab report

that says when Cindy was
wrapped in that sheet,

someone put her into a two thousand four
Highlander with a beige interior.

And we expect when "C.S.U." runs your car,
they'll find Cindy's hair, or her blood,

or the urine and feces that expel
from the body when someone... / Stop it!

He read the rights because
your daughter is about to be charged.

- Please...
- Not another word.

Your mother's right. You wait for the lawyer.
We are not going to hear this now.

The Tallridges didn't want to hear
about what Cindy was doing, either.

- And look at her.
- She is just a child.

- This is unconscionable.
- No. What's unconscionable is you turning away.

What's unconscionable is
what happened to your friend.

That is unconscionable.

We know you didn't do it. It was a man.

But you were there. You know.

No...

Protecting her doesn't help anybody.

We are her parents.
It is our job to protect her.

Okay. Thanks.

Got a break in the paper trail. Kimberly Wannamaker
d*ed at Saint Adrian's on February twentieth.

When no one claimed her body,
she was transferred to the State for burial.

Yeah, but we have no records of
that ever happening.

Which means that someone stole
her body from the hospital.

The hospital director is emailing
me a list of employees

who were authorized to release bodies
the night that Kimberly d*ed.

So, where do we start?
See if any of the employees have criminal records?

Yeah. Then we take them one
at a time and... Hold on.

Eric Margosian.

Yeah. Odd name,
but it sounds familiar.

The list of employees
from the museum.

There we go.
Maria Margosian.

It was Smith... I might buy a coincidence.
But two Margosians?

- I'm betting that they're related.
- And I'm betting we know their mummy.

We're missing something.
She didn't hate Cindy.

- I still don't see her as a k*ller.
- Fifth amendment's a bitch, huh?

I need to use the restroom.
Can I use the restroom?

Um... You stay here.

I'm just going to the bathroom.

You were Cindy's friend.
Whatever happened, I think you still are.

Now, I know your parents
are trying to protect you.

But if you keep this inside,
it's gonna eat you alive.

What are you doing?
I thought we were clear.

- I can't.
- Look. You're sixteen years old, Melissa.

You have the legal right to talk to us.
To do the right thing.

- Melissa...
- You've been trying to act like a grownup.

Prove it.

The "Wycombe" Hotel.

It happened in room six "oh" seven.

I work the back phones
for reservations after school.

I... know which rooms are open.
I got us keys.

And who was Cindy meeting that night?

I don't know.
We never talked about who. That was...

That was... too weird.
We just talked about the money.

Guys would buy us whatever
we wanted. They would...

They would pay anything.

What happened that night?

Um...

Cindy always came by afterwards.

This time, she...

she didn't.

I called Stephanie,
and we went in to check on her.

We found her.

Yeah. She...

She wasn't moving.

- We have to call the police!
- We can't.

- She's dead, Mel.
- I know. And when they find her here...

The cops would know
I had given her the key.

About the men.

About everything. / So, you wrapped her
in a sheet and snuck her out to your car.

I read this book that said that the last place
that anyone would ever look for a body was...

In a grave.

Somebody else's grave.

We need to know exactly
where in the room you found Cindy's body.

She... She was here.

Slumped against the wall.

I'm sorry.

I am so, so sorry. / Do you really think
you're gonna find something?

- I mean, the cleaning crew must have been here.
- You ever run trace on a hotel room...

you'd bring your own sheets.

Okay. We've got blood and hair.

The k*ller must have crushed Cindy up against
the wall as he was strangling her with the neck tie.

Then he would have had to straddle
her to keep her from moving.

That will give us the saliva drop.

Okay. So, from that position... to get up...

for balance...
you'd probably put your hands...

"Voila". Scan the prints.
I'll run it through "R.M.V."

I want my daughter out of here.
My wife, too.

Are you people deaf?

They shouldn't be here.
She's sixteen years old, for God's sakes.

Daddy?

Just go, Jessica. Just go.

Mrs. Ripton, could you take
your daughter into the hall?

Now.

Cindy was going to tell you. About...

And I couldn't let her.

Somewhere, somehow, you heard
that there was cash to be made in selling a mummy.

You had access to
one at the museum.

You had a replacement body
waiting at the hospital.

She was dead. She was homeless.
Who would care? Who would even notice?

Well, I noticed. Her name
is Kimberly Wannamaker.

You bashed in her head...
cut open her side...

you yanked out her guts...
you poured out her brains...

and you left her with nothing.

- Eric, maybe we should...
- Shut up, Maria.

No, you shut up. You talk.

- She was already dead.
- She doesn't know what she's saying.

Ten weeks.

Ten weeks is how long
it takes to mummify a body.

And that whole time...

not once did either of you think,

"Gee, maybe desecrating a corpse isn't
such a cool way to spend my winter vacation"?

Because she was homeless.

She was dead.
So, what did it matter?

Well... It mattered.

Not quite the royal way she entered.

No. Switzer had her boxed up
and logged out before I could stop her.

She'll be faceless again.
In some unmarked grave.

At least she's leaving here
like a human being.

Wish I could say the same
about some of my colleagues.

Some people just don't get it.

"The one who spoke"
"cried tears of hope...

That we might change in time...

"And when I looked into her eyes...

The fear I saw was mine...

Swing and turn, Jubilee...

Live and learn"...

That your pervert?

Can you imagine finding your daughter's
friend has an internet sex site,

and then sleeping with her at the hotel
your daughter works at?

- It sucks to grow up.
- Yeah.

You want to go to "Yang Chow's"?

Sorry. I don't really feel up to it tonight.

You sure you're okay? The last couple of days,
you've seemed a little...

Yeah, it's just a lot of...
You know... A lot of work.

I'm kind of tired.

But... uh...

thanks. Good night.

Those poor parents.

I guess it just keeps getting
harder to know your kid.

It would be easier
if there was a manual.

You hold the reins too tight... you're
controlling. You let them loose... it's neglect.

Either way, they're pissed off
later and you're a failure.

Can't win.

Seely said he was gonna work
the "D.A." to go easy on the girls.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

So, I spoke to Doctor Sanchez.

You didn't follow up. He said surgery.
"Transnasal". Now.

Yeah. Well, did he give you the stats
on that? That I could probably die?

Maybe have a stroke, be paralyzed...
Be a vegetable?

All that could happen
if you do nothing. Worse.

Yeah. We don't know what could happen.
Stress causes symptoms. Symptoms go away.

Okay. Sanchez doesn't believe that,
and neither do you.

There's formaldehyde
all over this morgue.

A ton of chemicals you're breathing
that are linked to tumor growth.

Okay. You want me to quit?

I want you to live.

If I quit, what do I have?

What am I supposed to do?

Let your friends help you.

If you say a word of this to anyone...

- Jordan...
- No. Garret, please.

Okay? It's my life.