11x18 - Hitting for the Cycle

[bunniefuu]

Andrews: Oh, wow.

What?

No. I...

I don't even want to say it.

I don't want to jinx it.

What are you talking about?

You guys playing freeze tag again?

Henry seems to be having a, uh, beautiful mind moment here.

(Imitates engine revving)

The cycle.

Yeah, I just closed a homicide, and I think ray closed an accidental about an hour ago.

And I logged a su1c1de.

Stokes: Well, there you go... homicide, su1c1de, accidental. Gentlemen...

We here on grave shift, are one natural death away from hitting for the cycle.

I can't believe you; You said it.

So, what's your problem?

A guy's pitching a perfect game, you don't say he's pitching a perfect game.

Do you know how long it's been since grave hit a cycle?

Four years, seven months, 13 days, two hours and ten minutes.

Henry, we're men of science, not men of superstition.

Hodges: Oh, my band of brothers, we will hit the cycle... of this I am certain.

I am so certain that I propose a little action.

A little action, huh?

Yeah. Let's do it.

A wager to see which CSI brings in the natural, and thereby brings the cycle home.

It's luck of the draw.

You can't predict who's going to pull a natural.

It's a numbers game... the more cases you get, the more chances you have to win.

And, uh, I'm on a roll, right now, boys.

I wouldn't bet against me.

Or me.

I got a body, right now, in autopsy, that's looking pretty au naturel.

Hodges: I got a hundred bucks on Nick.

And it's not because you are the co-shift supervisor.

Thank you. I am also...

In on me for $100.

You know what?

Uh, make it $200.

Like a man...

All right, I'm in.

Yeah, and Hodges, let Henry be the bank.

What, you don't trust me with our future earnings?

(Wry laugh) Come on.

Andrews: This is so wrong.

You don't just shove dollar bills into the holy grail, like she's some...

(Whispers): You know.

That's true, Henry.

But this is Vegas.

Uh, we have a cycle going on, people!

Anybody else want in?

Go see Henry.

Easy money, Sanders.

It's like picking it up off the ground.

Yeah, well, don't hurt yourself.

Andrews: Oh, come on!

No... seriously?

♪ 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! ♪

Robbins: Abdomen is distended.

Hard to the touch.

She's not pregnant.

Tumor, maybe?

That would be a natural.

Maybe the chick's just fat.

Stuffing her face with twinkies and chalupas.

Wouldn't be the first.

You'll have to excuse Kevin, my new assistant... transfer from L.A.

Just used to hotter-looking corpses, doc.

Kevin: Ah, that's gross.

It's pus, Kevin. Beaker.

That is a lot of pus.

And one serious infection.

Question is, what caused it?

Infection.

That would be a natural, right?

Would you give the cycle a rest for a second, please?

Cycle? Sanders: It's, uh...

When you get a homicide, accidental, su1c1de, and natural death, all in the same shift.

Kind of like banging a white chick, black chick, Mexican and Asian chick all in one night, right?

Been there. Oof.

Robbins: The colon appears punctured.

Did you say she die at her desk?

I did.

People like to chew on office supplies while they're working.

Swallow them.

So... paper clip.

Accidents happen.

Definitely not a natural.

(Cell phone rings)

Sorry to burst two bubbles.

We have another call out: 419.

Well, where there is death, there's hope.

Sidle: Hey, hey.

Welcome to the apocalypse.

Aeron's Legion. Sweet.

Meet DV8avenger.

Huh! Nice chair.

Brass: So, at 4:38 A.M., we got a call from leftbrain528, in Vancouver.

He was concerned because his buddy was AFK for the past five hours. AFK?

Sanders: It's "Away From Keyboard."

It's a gamer thing.

DV8's real name is Steven Pyles.

Unfortunate name.

You guys smell that?

Check under the blanket.

Um... (Clears throat)

Mr. Pyles is wearing a diaper.

Guy's a serious gamer.

No time for bathroom breaks.

Right.

Didn't want to be AFK.

Brass: Well, good luck with this.

I'm out of here.

(Sighs)

Whoo! Sorry we're late to the party.

Grandma here was driving.

Oh, God, it reeks in here.

This isn't too good for my hangover.

Have you all met Kevin?

Yeah.

Yeah, we've had the pleasure.

Possible cardiac flush.

Kevin: Oh, you think?

Lookit: Pepperoni pizza, hot wings, French fries...

I'm just gonna go out on a limb here...

And say that, uh, Moby d*ck stroked out.

Congrats.

Got your natural.

Oh, well, I guess we can all go home then.

I don't know how you do things in L.A. , but in Vegas, we wait for autopsy.

Yeah, you could do that.

86 degrees... it's odd.

Based on lividity, I'd say T.O.D was six to eight hours ago.

Body temp should be higher than that, right?

More like 91 degrees.

Could be the AC, or the guy just runs cold.

Doesn't rule out a natural.

No, but it also doesn't rule out a homicide.

I guess we should get to work.

Sucks.

Stokes: Gardener found the body.

Homeowners are on vacation in Europe.

Victim was house-sitting.

We got an I.D?

Yeah: Benjamin Fowler, age 39.

Supposedly, the guy just went through a divorce, and was just crashing here.

Come on.

Langston: Forced entry.

Yeah, looks like it.

I have a shoe impression here.

Herringbone pattern.

Glass still in the window frame and on the ground.

Radial fracture, right angle, rear side.

This window was broken from the outside in.

(Latch clacks)

Dead bolt still works.

So...

The perp tried to kick the door open, it wouldn't budge...

So he breaks a window, reaches in and unlocks the dead bolt.

Whoo!

No tv. No tunes.

Somebody got ripped off.

Victim wanders into a robbery, gets himself k*lled.

Straight-up robbery-homicide.

Works for me.

Now, where the hell is super Dave?

Man, I want to get this one wrapped up; Get back in the game.

Willows: So this is DV8avenger.

From what Sara said, I'm glad you got that diaper off.

I had my new assistant do it.

Kevin.

Mmm.

Well, it's a perfect job for that guy.

So, uh, you got any C.O.D on the gamer?

Well, our victim's gullet was congested with vomitus.

Undigested food.

Mmm. What is that?

Pepperoni?

With onions.

Our friend's unhealthy habits caught up to him.

But it wasn't his heart that gave out.

What was it?

His stomach.

Our victim experienced a violent regurgitation.

Generally speaking, when someone reacts to a choking gag-reflex, undigested food will be hurled back up and be expelled through the mouth and nose.

In this case, that didn't happen.

Our victim succumbed to food being trapped in the vocal folds.

Asphyxiation.

Kind of like what happened with Mama Cass, and choking on her ham sandwich.

Actually, the coroner's inquest found Cass Elliot d*ed from "fatty myocardial degeneration, due to obesity."

There was no obstruction.

Well, at least Mama was a natural.

Ah, yes... the cycle.

How much is the pot up to now?

It's a couple grand.

Crazy, right?

Mm. How much you in for?

$200.

On whom?

Nobody. I mean, most people die of natural causes, without suspicious circs... we don't roll on them.

So, I'm betting that we are not going to be hitting for the cycle.

Well, you are a smart lady, which is why you're probably asking, how was our victim unable to expel the vomitus?

And I have an answer.

These healed contusions along the tongue say that our victim appears to have had a history of seizures.

Seizures caused by what?

I haven't had a chance to review his medical records yet.

All I know is that a seizure would've been a major contributor to his death.

Sidle: Guess what I found in DV8's apartment...

Carbamazepine.

Anticonvulsant used to treat epilepsy.

You know, I read a case about a person diagnosed with epilepsy who suffered a seizure while playing a video game.

You think a video game k*lled our Vic?

Preexisting condition, but death brought on by external circumstances.

You know, I hate to say it, but the needle's tipping from natural to accidental.

So the cycle takes a backseat, but it's still speculation.

I mean, we have no way of knowing what happened to DV8 after he went AFK.

Actually, there is.

Serious gamers don't just wear diapers, they also record their games.

Like chess players, they want to review their moves and learn from their mistakes.

We did pulls all the hard drives from his apartment.

I'll look through them, see if I can find a recording of our victim's virtual death.

♪ ♪

Yo, dude, what the hell?

There could be biologicals on that g*n.

You just can't put it into plastic.

Yeah, I don't need a forensics lesson there, Mr. Wizard.

The serial number's etched off.

I'm going to let it air dry.

I'm not putting it in the bag, I'm putting it on the bag.

Believe it or not, I know what I'm doing.

Whatever.

Dr. Langston, I presume.

You're the fella who crossed swords with Nate Haskell.

Saw you on America's Most Wanted.

Cool.

Kevin! Gurney!

Now!

Kevin, do this, Kevin, do that.

I'm getting sick to my stomach with your crap.

Hey, don't...

What was that?

I'm sorry.

He's from L.A.

That explains it.

Wrists are bound, overhand knot.

Langston: That cord is from inside the house.

Restraints are loose.

He probably tried to set himself free.

Contusions on his face.

What appears to be a broken nose.

All signs of blunt-force trauma.

Phillips: That's not what k*lled him, though.

It was a single GSW to the back of the head.

Can't find the exit wound.

It's probably still holding.

More than likely the b*llet's still in his head.

Yeah...

Stokes: No cash.

It's consistent with robbery.

So Mr. Fowler interrupts a burglary.

There's a struggle.

The k*ller punches him, ties him up.

Then Fowler makes a break for it.

The k*ller follows after him, sh**t him in the back of the head.

What do you think, new girlfriend?

Personal experience says it's probably his ex-wife.

He's still wearing his wedding ring.

(Various indistinct voices shouting over speakers)

(g*nf*re blasting over speakers)

Taking a break?

(Taps key, game playback stops)

Reliving the last exploits of DV8avenger.

Guy kept recordings of all his games, including the final two minutes of the last game he ever played.

Now DV8 was not just playing Aeron's Legion solo.

He was playing mmorpg.

English?

Massively multiplayer on line role-playing game.

Meaning there a lot of people playing against him.

That is a lot of people.

Well, it's Aeron's Legion.

See, we're talking 34th century, when all of humanity has been whittled down to a small but contentious band of warriors called The Descendants.

Mm-hmm.

The point is, you've got all these weapons, but the only one that you don't want to use is the flash-bang.

Excellent distraction, but takes major points off your score.

Greg...

All right, well, during DV8's last game, uh-huh.

One player pulled a radical move and just started unloading with flash-bangs.

54 in just one minute.

A move like that just deducts points from your score.

You don't gain a single point.

Unless the point is to give your opponent a seizure.

A type of att*ck like this would do it.

The strobing imagery in the game generated a photosensitive reaction, which produced impulses that traveled through the optic nerve and into the temporal lobe of the brain... frying the circuits, triggering an epileptic seizure.

Who launched the att*ck?

Ninjaassassin.

So if Ninjaassassin knew that DV8 was epileptic, and intentionally triggered a seizure, we're looking at a homicide.

(g*nf*re over speakers)

Geeks and freaks, give it up for Cyber Bowl 2011!

(Cheering)

Aeron's Legion semi number one pits two hot-wired warriors.

First, Las Vegas native, and future hall of gamer, Ninjaassassin!

(Cheering, applause)

(Laughing)

Hi-yah!

Game on, gamers!

Whoo! Let's do this!

I think we found our assassin.

These people need to get a life.

I think you'd like video games.

You get to sh**t people.

Brass: When I was their age, I was on a real b*ttlefield with a real w*apon in a real jungle.

I don't need to play w*r with my thumbs.

And uploading from San Juan, Puerto Rico, the Rico suave of gaming, last year's rookie of the year, murd3er-1.

Sanders: You know what the winner of this takes home?

100 grand.

100 g's?

Now I want to sh**t someone.

Emcee: Fire up your controllers.

It's game on, b*tches.

(Bell ringing)

Okay, let's go.

Las Vegas police.

Emcee: Hold on, guys.

Man in crowd: Get outta here, man!

Game's over... b*tches.

(Booing)

(Crowd shouting angrily)

Am I in some kind of trouble?

This isn't about the girls gone wild file share, is it?

You, uh, you know this guy, ninja?

Oh, man!

Who filleted DV8avenger?

No wonder he didn't show up for the semi.

Dude, put that thing away.

So you can toss fake grenades at a guy, but you can't stomach seeing what it did to him?

What are you talking about?

DV8avenger was playing against you when he d*ed.

Virtually.

I didn't actually k*ll him.

I-I mean I have k*lled him on the fields of Crador.

Though, admittedly, he had the edge.

Brass: Hey, real world.

Did DV8 ever mention to you that he had a medical condition?

He had a lot of conditions.

Yeah, like epilepsy.

Did you know that?

Kind of.

2009, El Paso finals, I saw DV8 popping pills.

Figured they were uppers.

Told him I was going to the judges...

Yeah, and he told you they were his epilepsy meds.

Kind of.

Brass: And you kind of knew that all the flash-bangs you threw at him would trigger a seizure.

Look, I'm an athlete.

I'm a competitor.

I was looking for an edge.

I get it.

100 grand.

You can't die from a seizure.

That's a fact.

I looked it up.

It's on Wikimeds.

I think you're gonna kind of need a lawyer.

Hey, doc. I know, I know, you want a quick C.O.D.

So you can get out of the pits and get back into the race.

It's not just me, man.

I got a lot of people riding on me.

Yeah, well, for the record, I am not among them. Oh, yeah?

Well, who'd you put your money on, Greg?

You might as well just give it to me right now.

I hold my cards close to the vest and my cash even closer.

Yeah, yeah, okay.

What's up with this guy?

I found these fibers in his chompers.

They match the restraints on his wrists.

He was probably trying to undo that knot with his teeth.

Mr. Fowler's x-rays.

Extensive damage to the cervical vertebrae and the occipital bone.

You see the beveling?

Inside to out.

So the b*llet went out the back of his head.

We initially thought that exit wound was an entry wound.

The real entry wound is in the oral pharynx.

No soot around the hole, so he was sh*t from at least three feet away. Mouth open.

No!

(Screaming)

Robbins: It's a penetrating wound.

Through and through.

Okay, so the b*llet's got to be back at the house.

Well, if you're lucky, you might catch a natural on the way over.

(Chuckles)

(Chuckles)

Thanks.

I'm very sorry for you loss, Mrs. Fowler.

What happened to Ben?

He was house-sitting for some friends.

There was a break-in.

He was sh*t.

The house in seven hills?

The Alexanders' place?

You know them?

They were friends, before the divorce.

People choose sides, you know how that goes.

Yes, I do.

Tell me... When was the last time you saw Ben?

Just a couple of days ago.

He got pulled over for DUI.

He called me, I bailed him out.

I took him back to the house.

I got to go.

I just poured you a glass of wine.

Come on, stay, please?

I'm tired. I don't want to do this anymore.

You won't have to, I promise.

(Both gasp) Ah, sh**t!

I'm sorry. You know, what, next time, just call somebody else.

Olivia, please wait.

You're all I got.

I was the last person in the world that he could call and I turned my back on him.

Sounds like he was in a pretty dark place.

He wasn't always.

He lost his contracting business.

Couldn't find another job.

Started drinking, gambling.

It got out of hand.

I filed, he left.

I thought when the Alexanders' took him in that he'd be okay.

I just wish I could take back what I said.

I never did stop loving him.

(Sobbing, sniffling)

Why didn't you find the b*llet the first time?

We thought it was still in him.

Are you questioning my work?

I've got one large riding on you.

Relax.

It's got to be in the pool.

Oh, no... I'm having a good hair day.

Well, maybe neither one of us has to get wet.

No!

A little ballistics, a little case closed, and then team Stokes is on the hunt for the elusive natural.

Go, Stokes.

A little faith, baby.

Ah, here to lay down some more action?

Actually, I'm here for my tox results.

Right. Found sleeping pills in your gamer's bloodstream... zolpidem.

High therapeutic levels.

A gamer on zolpidem?!

That's like a sumo wrestler on diet pills.

Yeah. Listen, thanks to you guys, I'm really busy here.

The point is, your victim was staring at the inside of his eyelids when those flash-bangs were going off.

So Ninjaassassin's off the hook.

So, why would a hardcore gamer pound sedatives the night before the big game?

Maybe someone spiked his joystick.

Can you solve this someplace else?

What about his stomach contents?

Yeah, it just went to the top of my stack.

I'll have it in twenties.

Or 20 minutes.

Forget it.

I just got flowers from one of the day shift guys.

Does he know you're married?

Yeah.

He was wishing me luck in the cycle.

Henry found zolpidem in our Vic's system.

I'm guessing this is how it got into there.

You know, I did find a prescription bottle for zolpidem in the trash, but it belonged to somebody else, and there was still a few pills in it.

You know the rules: I couldn't collect it because there was no direct link to the case.

Did you get a pic?

I did.

Sidle: (Sighs)

Label got wet.

But I think I can still scan the bar code.

Bottle belonged to an Evan Ferrari.

All right, well, based on DV8's social calendar, my bet is that Mr. Ferrari is also a gamer.

(Explosions, g*nf*re blaring over speakers)

(Crowd cheering)

It's like finding a nerd in a haystack.

Maybe she can help.

Excuse me.

I'm with the crime lab.

Yeah, I remember you.

And your sidekick, Commander Buzz k*ll.

Listen, sugarbug, we're looking for Evan Ferrari.

So if you don't want another Buzz k*ll, just point him out to me.

(Crowd cheering)

The blonde.

That's Evan Ferrari?

Sweet ride.

(Sniffles)

I knew something was wrong.

I kept calling him, but no answer.

But then when he didn't show up to the semifinals...

Poor Stevie.

Did he have a heart att*ck?

How well did you know Stevie?

He was my boyfriend.

Really?

I'm sorry for your loss.

We found your zolpidem in his apartment.

Brass: How many pills did you give him?

What?

You crushed up his pills, spiked his drink and put him to sleep forever.

I didn't crush any pills.

The only thing that I had a crush on was Stevie.

He had trouble sleeping.

He was a gamer and...

There was always someone on line that was ready to thumble, and he just could never back down, so, sometimes I would give him sleeping pills, but never more than the recommended dosage.

I think you're lying.

And I think big Stevie got nervous when his fine Italian sports car girlfriend was strutting her stuff for a thousand amped-up geeks.

I work all kinds of events: Conventions, fight nights.

It pays the bills.

And Stevie knew that.

He liked a woman with her own career.

You're a cyber league girl.

You don't make a lot of money.

So maybe some nerd offered to pay you to dose Stevie, knock him out of the tournament and share some of the prize money with you.

No, I would never do that.

I loved Stevie.

And for the record, I didn't need his money or anyone else's.

I make enough off my looks to have anything that I could ever want... except for a man who can see past them.

So, the pot on the cycle is up to four grand if you want to get in on this.

If I want to gamble, I'll go to a casino.

Fair enough.

I got back DNA on the blood from the house.

Two contributors.

One was our victim, the other an unknown male.

I may be able to help there.

I ran the prints.

Most came back to our victim Ben Fowler, a few unknowns, but we did get one hit in the system: Carl Jansen.

Stokes: Nice rap sheet... burglary, larceny, as*ault.

Did you check with PD?

Yes. He's a loan shark.

I also checked our victim's phone records, and you can see, that our loan shark has been calling him.

Calling him a lot.

Mm-hmm. Well, Carl doesn't look like somebody you want to owe money to.

These are your fingerprints, this is your blood, and I'm guessing that's your g*n.

Used to sh**t Ben Fowler.

How much did he owe you?

All right, Carl, come on now.

You save us a little time here, we might be able to return the favor.

Does that line ever really work?

Actually, it does.

It did with armin kosh.

Yeah, when you get out of the joint, I'd suggest finding yourself a new fence.

Your boy gave you up real quick.

He paid you $3,000 for the items that you stole from the Alexander house.

After you put a slug in Ben's head and dumped him in the pool.

Sounds like I need to have a little talk with armin.

Threatening to k*ll someone in front of a cop?

That's not real smart.

I don't k*ll people.

Dead people don't make me money.

It's my blood, my prints.

I was there... to collect.

Just give me till Tuesday.

Tuesday, huh?

(Groans)

Are you sure you won't forget?

Because I think you're gonna forget.

(Groans) I swear I won't.

I think you will.

That's why we're gonna settle right now.

Take the tv...

Take everything.

Guy owes me money.

Now, the way this works, he's gonna owe me more money.

You want to hook me up for stealing a tv?

Go ahead.

That's all you got.

Wow... Kevin, charming.

I hate him...

To the very core of my being.

Oh, I hear you.

I don't even want to tell you what he just said to me in the washroom, but do me a favor.

And take a good look at the D.B thank you.

Dude, I'm rolling a natural here.

I told CSI redhead I'm putting five large on her.

I'm gonna score and then I'm gonna score.

If you think for one second that Catherine would actually lower herself... there's no way this old lady didn't die of old age.

(Annoyed sigh)

Paramedics found her on the stairs.

(Tissue crackling)

Dude, that's my corpse.

Shh.

Hear that crepitis sound?

She has osteoporosis.

Yeah, Grey's Anatomy, she's old.

Well, the injury indicates that she probably fell and fractured her femur; Caused a blood clot.

No way her death was a natural.

It was an accident.

Can we just keep this between us?

No.

Diagnose this, Quincy... why does my head ache the more I'm around you?

(Pills rattle in bottle)

Hey, got an AG waiver on Evan Ferrari's phone and isp.

Our cyber league girl wasn't kidding about loving DV8.

If anything, she might have loved him a little too much.

"Find another beer belly to rub.

DV8's mine."

"Text DV8 again and your phone will blow off your fingers."

Do gamers have groupies?

Haven't you seen The Social Network?

Hey, bank. Hope you got my stomach contents there.

Look, I'm really sorry I fell a little behind.

I can't believe I got roped into being everybody's bookie.

So, your gamer didn't just have zolpidem in his system.

The extended tox panel says his pizza had an extra topping: Emetine.

Sidle: Hm. Primary alkaloid in ipecac.

Used to induce vomiting.

If you knock somebody out with zolpidem, and then feed him a pizza with ipecac...

Hello Jimmy Hendrix, good-bye DV8.

He chokes to death on his vomit.

So, Evan's pissed at her boyfriend for doing a little groupie-grabbing.

What do you got for me, leftbrain?

You walked right into my trap.

Sara: She mixes him a nightcap.

Don't think I don't need to see you behind that rock to k*ll you.

There you are.

Sidle: Adds in some special sauce.

Looks like you could use a midnight snack, baby.

(Gagging)

I buy it.

But how do you prove it?

Well, we still have her bottle of zolpidem.

Now we can actually print it.

I'll go get it.

And I'll print the pizza box.

If she served him his last meal, that puts the pizza in her hand.

♪ ♪

(Goofy voice): Pizza, pizza.

Sorry. I had to.

What are you delivering, Greg?

Oh, just our prime suspect.

Sara and I ran prints on the pizza box and zolpidem bottle.

Both came back to a work card for a Monica Gimble... better known as DJ Drang.

She's working the Cyber Bowl... the emcee.

For a big guy in a diaper, DV8 sure knew how to attract some k*ller babes.

So you were moonlighting as a pizza delivery girl.

Excuse me?

Well, you delivered a pizza to DV8avenger the night he choked and croaked... didn't you?

So I delivered a pizza to a friend.

The man liked to eat.

No, I understand.

Hey, listen, I love pizza, you know?

I'm from the east coast.

I like it, you know, I like New York style pizza.

You know, I never had a pizza to go that had ipecac on it?

It must be a Vegas thing.

You know, ipecac, you gotta get it from an on line pharmacy.

And you gotta use your credit card.

And you used your credit card.

So, we got you for the ipecac.

And the lab guys told me it was combined with a drug called zolpidem.

And here's where it gets a little salacious.

Your fingerprints are on the bottle, and Evan Ferrari's name is on the script.

So we know you know her.

The question is how well?

We're just friends.

"Just friends" with benefits?

We thought you were in on it together until we read the e-mail where she dumped you.

You were girlfriend and girlfriend.

You shared everything; You shared the zolpidem.

But you didn't share her newfound taste in men, right?

I thought she was going through some weird experimental phase.

Yeah, I know what you mean, I saw the guy. Right?

I mean, if you're going to go join the other team, at least make it a model or a jock, not... Jabba the Hutt.

The bastard even threw it in my face.

How his thumbs had given her more pleasure than she'd ever known.

So he had to go.

I loved Evan, and he stole her from me.

And then he's about to win the Cyber Bowl, walk away with a hundred grand?

He didn't deserve any of that.

So you spiked his pizza and his soda.

I knew the fat pig couldn't turn down free food and a little come-on.

Double bonus!

I just wanted to wish you luck.

Want some company?

(Gagging)

I thought, fat guy, stuffing his face, chokes on his own vomit...

Who's going to investigate that?

Let me guess.

Me?

Hey, Catherine, I ran ballistics on our b*llet.

It came from the g*n in the pool, but the g*n's not in the system.

Well, it's not like we expected loan shark Carl to get sloppy.

So I got a call from the Alexanders' insurance adjustor.

He accounted for all of the electronics that Carl boosted from the house, but there was one additional item missing... a sculpture.

Is it valuable?

Worth about ten grand, so vice talked to Carl's fence, he never saw it, and pd's canvassing pawn shops.

We'll see what we get.

All right.

This case will just not die a natural death.

I pulled some very interesting trace from your g*n.

Uh, more specifically, from the front sight... human tissue.

The k*ller's?

Unfortunately for Nick's and my apparently ill-advised wager, it belongs to the victim.

Tissue from his tongue.

So the k*ller shoved the g*n into Fowler's mouth.

That's not possible.

There was no gsr around the wound.

Maybe Fowler was sh*t underwater?

Sorry, boss.

It's just a theory.

I mean, we're all under a lot of pressure here, but...

All right, so, if you found tissue from the victim's tongue on the sight, that means that not only was the g*n inside his mouth, but that it was upside-down.

And a g*n in this position, looks more like su1c1de than m*rder.

Which is consistent with Ben Fowler's state of mind.

Divorced, in debt...

What about the break-in?

The guy was tied up and dumped in the pool.

You saying it was staged?

No.

The evidence is saying it.

♪ ♪
♪ ♪

Stokes: The shoeprint on the door was a match to a pair of Ben Fowler's shoes.

So, he kicks in the door, punches a hole in the window, then tries to make it all look like a break-in.

Willows: Doc Robbins found rope fibers in the victim's teeth.

And Hodges proved that it is possible to tie yourself into knots.

Stokes: So he wasn't trying to loosen his restraints, he was trying to tighten them.

Willows: Apparently.

And when he fired the g*n underwater, the flames were extinguished, which explains why there was no gsr in his mouth.

Now why would he go through so much trouble to make a su1c1de look like a homicide?

Because he wanted to make amends.

Look, the man's life was in pieces.

He's divorced, he'd gotten pulled over for a DUI.

His ex-wife had to come bail him out.

That couldn't have felt good.

Then Carl Jansen beats him up.

And while he's watching Carl and his thugs tear apart his friend's home, maybe Ben thought there was a way for him to be a man again, to be a husband, a provider.

Langston: The pawnshop owner I.D'd Ben the morning of his death.

Said he came into shop and pawned the sculpture.

A thousand bucks.

A million, actually.

What do you mean?

Ben didn't take the cash.

He had the pawnshop wire the money to an insurance company.

Willows: Life insurance.

Langston: Had a million dollar policy.

He was behind on some of the payments, but he used the money from the sculpture to pay off the remaining balance.

Olivia Fowler: He k*lled himself so I could have the money?

You said you never stopped loving him.

Well, clearly, he never stopped loving you.

You know, when a man lets his wife down, loses her...

Sometimes he can lose himself.

When your marriage fails, what no one tells us is that it makes us feel like we've failed somehow.

I'm not sure who failed who.

Last body of the shift.

Dare I ask?

Homicide.

Liquor store robbery.

Single GSW.

So much for hitting the cycle.

Phillips: Unbelievable.

It's one shift, five homicides, two suicides, three accidentals, not a single natural.

All it takes is old age, heart att*ck, stroke, aneurysm.

Well, you and Kevin get our Vic washed up and prepped.

Then go home.

Got it.

Kevin.

Wake. Up.

Kevin! I need help!

Okay, you are such a sack of...

Doc?

David, don't be a snitch, just wake him up so I can fire him.

Uh, he's dead.

Yeah, he said he had a headache.

He's been popping aspirin all day.

Thought he was hung over.

Robbins: Blown pupil.

Aneurysm.

Well, there's your natural.

We completed the cycle.

Yeah.

But nobody won.

Au contraire.

I did.

You found the body, did you not?

Yeah. So?

My money was on you.

Most natural deaths aren't investigated by CSI.

But when a body drops, you're always there.

Even when the body drops in your lap.

Sorry, Kevin.

(Sighs)

Uh, are you calling 911?

No, I'm calling Henry.

(Chuckles)