12x09 - Zippered

Episode transcripts for the TV show "CSI: Crime Scene Investigation". Featured Movie "Immortality" aired Sunday September 27th, 2015.*
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12x09 - Zippered

Post by bunniefuu »

Hey. What are you doing here?

I work here...

Close to 20 years now.

You're two and a half hours early.

My house is too quiet, if that makes any sense.

Oh, no, it makes complete sense.

Yeah, our youngest has been out of the house now for three months, and we're still wrestling with empty nest.

Yeah.

So how is your daughter?

Lindsey.

Lindsey, yeah.

Yeah.

Uh, she's doing...

She's doing really good.

She's doing great, in fact.

She's... well, according to her e-mails.

Hey, do you do that thing where you call them, and then you get this three-word text back?

Doesn't it make you crazy?

Yes, but, um...

This is her time to find herself, you know?

(Phone chirps)

Okay.

You're on the clock now.

Brass: So, neighbor called in sh*ts fired.

Police officers found the door ajar.

No sign of forced entry.

Place belongs to Michael Newbury.

Army ranger, m*llitary lifer.

Retired out here 15 years ago.

Hmm.

Married to the mission.

Not a woman's touch.

No photos, no family.

Yeah, talk about empty nest.

Okay. I give up.

Where's the body?

Well, there's none to speak of.

We found blood and evidence of those sh*ts fired.

Lots of evidence.

Do you recognize this caliber?

5.7 by 28?

Casings have rolled all over the floor.

Kind of hard to tell where the sh**t was.

Easy to place the sh*ts, though.

Okay, so, our guy was probably standing here, got sh*t, right?

Spatter starts to thin out.

Drops the beer bottle.

Collapses in this direction.

And then...

Brass: Nothing.

No body, no suspect, no m*rder w*apon.

Furniture moving disks.

Check out the scuffing along the floor.

Repetitive.

Let's move it.

Okay.

You guys should check this out!

No body, no suspects.

But if you're in the market for a m*rder w*apon...

Take your pick.

CSI, Crime Scene Investigation Season 12, Episode 09

Zippered Original Air Date - December 07, 2011

♪ 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! ♪

Brass: So, I just finished talking to all the neighbors over there.

They all said the same thing.

Yeah, let me guess: Kept to himself?

By all accounts, a hermit.

Anybody float any theories on why someone would want to hurt him?

No, and apparently, he had no friends and no enemies.

But one of the neighbors called him a, quote, "a peaceful soul."

Yeah, I'm betting they hadn't seen that g*n room.

Greg.

Let me show you something.

When the sun came up... thank you...

The unis found a secondary scene.

Take a look at it, will you, and tell me what you see?

Well, I see lots of cartridge casings.

Where are the b*llet holes?

In the ground, by way of a body, I'm thinking.

Take a look at that jelly that's kind of jammed in there.

Looks like human flesh, right?

Looks like it.

Bone fragments, intestinal tissue.

Take a look at the tissue a little closer.

Margins aren't inflamed.

Capillaries are withdrawn.

Tells me that this victim's heart stopped b*ating before all this damage was done.

But why would you sh**t a dead man a hundred times?

I don't know...

But maybe this has something to do with it.

Looks like a grommet or something, right?

Shower curtain?

Which one of these is for OCD?

Hey, check this out.

Oh. Looks arabic.

That's all I got.

Took Spanish in high school.

Moi, francais.

But fortunately...

There's an app for that.

Of course there is.

(Beeping)

(Blipping)

"Farsi."

Ex-m*llitary, a loner, a room full of g*ns.

And medication from the middle east.

Who the hell was this guy?

Whew.

Well, leave it up to you to find the books in a room full of g*ns.

Let me ask you something.

What do you have on your bookshelves at home?

Uh, sports illustrated, moneyball, bunch of forensics books...

But all in all, like, a good representation of who you are, right?

Man, fan, CSI.

So, what's on this guy's reading list?

Great American manifestoes?

No, that's the interesting thing.

I mean, he's got Journal of Ballistics, Hatcher's notebook, Firearms Assembly, Part three.

He's even got a classical mechanics text.

So, he's a nerdy g*n nut.

Yeah, I think he's more like a scientist, like us.

I mean, look at this workspace.

You could eat off this sucker.

Everything in its place.

Oh, come here.

This is so cool.

All his g*ns are organized by theater of conflict, you know?

World w*r II Europe all the way to the surge in Afghanistan.

Cool, huh?

Yeah, the coolest, but we need info on a more current conflict.

The sh**ting up in the kitchen.

Which is why I called in the big g*n. Hey, Xiomara, welcome to Xanadu.

Wow.

This is so much like my dreams, it's scary.

Yeah, let me ask you something before I completely lose you here.

You recognize that caliber?

5.7 by 28 mil.

Rare.

Can't even buy these rounds in the States.

Stokes: Oh, you can fire plenty.

Someone put seven in our victim.

So, you think any of these could be the culprit?

Hmm... well, as much as I'd love to fire that Italian 38 troopen special, or even just touch that million dollar luger...

Stokes: Geez.

Get a room.

Oh, I got one.

And it's perfect.

The only problem is, none of these g*ns in here use that caliber.

Oh, it's crazy.

All this firepower, and still no m*rder w*apon.

Catherine, who do you want to be?

Victim or k*ller?

I'll be the k*ller.

I'll be the victim.

I've got a beer in my hand, I'm standing in my own kitchen, I've got every kind of g*n six meters that way.

I'm heading that way when I'm sh*t.

These laser trajectories are too low.

The the k*ller surprised him.

The lasers tell us that he was well inside before he fired.

k*ller was sitting at the counter.

Newbury welcomed him into his home.

Maybe they both had a beer together.

So, he was k*lled by somebody he knew.

Well, our victim's paper trail is pretty straightforward.

Ex-army.

Bought his little piece of heaven in 1997.

Lived there peacefully ever since.

Never married, never arrested, and never out of the country except for Gulf w*r I.

I think you're wrong on that.

I'm sorry?

Oh, don't be sorry.

Just be wrong.

I ran your Farsi label.

It's, uh, hexadecylphosphocholine, which is the drug of choice for the Kala Azar parasite.

This particular little bugger resides exclusively in the Middle East.

How do you get a Middle Eastern parasite in Mountain Springs?

You don't.

It seems our evidence trails contradict each other.

Which brings us back to your being wrong.

Hey, why am I the one who's wrong?

Because the other person is me.

Okay, well, tell you what.

Hair never lies, so, let's let it decide.

So the b*ll*ts in the kitchen and the b*ll*ts in the ground out by the barn...

Match each other.

Same w*apon.

Great. Did you get a hit on IBIS?

No.

Caliber's never been used in a crime in the U.S.

But given the nature of the a*mo, I called in a favor to a buddy, who ran it through the m*llitary ballistics database.

Nice to have friends with friends in high places.

The same w*apon was used in a crime scene in Pakistan a month ago.

This g*n gets around.

What happened in Pakistan?

m*llitary supplies were stolen; A warehouse guard was sh*t.

Wow, the plot thickens.

Yeah, and then it thins once you get to page two.

The report's been heavily redacted.

(Chuckles) - Yeah, I'll say.

The whole thing's blacked out.

Oh, I found a word: "The."

Hey, can I keep one of these?

Sure.

We're looking for D.B. Russell.

That's me.

Who are you guys?

We ran a test on the victim's hair.

The oxygen isotopes that are found in the local water supplies leave markers in the hair, which indicate where Mr. Newbury has been in the last three months.

Brody: Each .44 millimeters of hair is a day in the life.

And, oh, the places he's been in those five centimeters.

Iraq, DC, Israel, Belgium, DC again, Pakistan.

Have g*ns, did travel.

But there are no official records of him going to any of these places.

No airline tickets, immunization, State Department records...

Nothing.

So his passport's never been stamped, but his body's been around the world?

Extended family meeting...

Now, please.

What... did he mean by "extended"?

Russell: Hey, come on in, everybody.

I want to...

I want to introduce a couple of people to you.

This is Agent McQuaid, Special-Agent-In-Charge Pratt.

They're with the Las Vegas field office of the FBI.

We're here to help you with the Michael Newbury homicide.

You mean you're here to take over the case from us.

Not at all.

No, this case is still under Las Vegas PD jurisdiction.

We're just here to offer our assistance.

Assistance with what, exactly?

That, I'm afraid, is on a need-to-know basis.

And who decides who needs to know?

Anyway, we're really excited to be working with you.

Willows: - Oh, yeah, ditto.

Hey, hey.

Come on.

Let's play nice.

Sure I can't get you any, uh, soy milk for that?

A little agave?

No. No, thank you.

Black's great.

All right.

So, here we are.

We said we'd brief you.

Who's she?

I'm sorry.

This is Catherine.

And Catherine was me before I was.

And I have assigned Catherine to be the lead on this case.

Okay? So...

What is going on here?

I mean, we got a room full of g*ns, we got missing bodies, and now the FBI?

Is this domestic terrorism?

We have no reason to believe that Mr. Newbury was... a thr*at.

No, he was a ballistics consultant, right?

Yours or the m*llitary's?

What makes you say that?

Oh, I didn't say it.

A strand of his hair did.

For three months, he's been jumping from DC to every a*tillery hot spot on the globe.

We can't really speak to that.

Can you speak to why you fellas are so interested in his death?

We're more interested in the w*apon that we believe k*lled him.

This is the FN-P90, manufactured in Belgium, currently used by U.S. troops in urban sweeps of Afghanistan.

It's an entry w*apon.

It's got a lot of power, a compact frame that allows you to go around corners and sweep stairwells...

It's a bit of a beast.

And how the hell did that thing get into Clark county?

I'm afraid that's classified.

Yes, of course it is.

Hey, out of curiosity, what year did you graduate from Brigham Young?

'03. How'd you know?

FBI recruiters are l over that place like chickens on a June bug.

Am I right?

If you're... concerned with my age, I promise you, I've earned my stripes.

So have I.

Every suspicious cargo container in Seattle came with a pair of you guys.

Eight out of ten times, it was great.

Resources, manpower... made my job a hell of a lot easier.

And... the other two?

Well, you guys would lose interest and chase off after the next shiny object, leaving us with a pretty shoddy chain of custody.

We have no intention of compromising your investigation.

I have no intention of letting you. So, here's what we're gonna do.

We are going to pair up.

Mixed doubles, all right?

All right? Every CSI gets an FBI.

Catherine, why don't you take Agent McQuaid, go back out to the farm, re-scour the place.

Let's get a bead on that body.

Okay?

I'll drive?

Hey, I got my own driver.

Score.

And what about me?

You...

Are my new best friend.

Somebody spilled ink all over my Pakistani crime report, and I'm just bet...

I mean, look at that.

I'm just betting that your copy's a little more legible than this one.

So, why are we back here?

Did you miss something the first time?

Yes. Context.

As your people were obscuring it.

We now know that someone brought a super-g*n to an expert.

And that expert was then sh*t by the same w*apon, in his kitchen, and he was wrapped in a shower curtain and he was brought here.

Mcquaid: Where he was sh*t again.

And again.

Why the overkill?

Well, maybe it wasn't overkill.

I mean, based on the grouping and the volume, my guess is he zippered him.

Zippered? Is that what it sounds like?

If a w*apon's cyclic rate is fast enough and the a*mo's nasty enough...

You can actually rip right through a man.

Open him up... like a zipper.


But why halve a man after the fact?

Willows: I'm thinking, ease of transport.

(Camera shutter clicks)

A whole body...

Wouldn't fit inside one of these garbage bags.

They're too small.

Okay.

So the k*ller...

Shreds the shower curtain, hauling the body out here.

And he still needs to move it.

Right. The tire treads that we cast in the driveway match to a Dodge pickup, so perhaps the k*ller zippers, stuffs, ties and throws two bags of carcass into his truck bed.

And gets away without a trace.

You know, I see idiots using garbage bags for body disposals all the time.

And they almost always leak.

Willows: Directional blood drop.

Its spine is telling me that he went that way.

Thank you.

Un-redacted.

So much easier to read.

Why don't you walk me through this.

Four weeks ago in Pakistan, a warehouse guard was k*lled trying to stop a raid on U.S. m*llitary supplies.

Using that same g*n, the FN-P90?

According to the ballistics report.

Russell: So, when we ran that b*llet through the m*llitary database, it raised a red flag on your end, right?

That's why you're here?

To be Frank, it's the only flag that we've had.

I mean, we never recovered any supplies and didn't find the sh**t.

Who did the work-up on this for you?

Are you familiar with the term "b*ttlefield forensics"?

That's CSI on speed, right?

Except people are dropping bombs on you and sh**ting at you.

This scene in Pakistan was processed by operatives working for Ceressus Logistics.

It's a U.S. m*llitary contractor.

Yeah.

They handle most of the law enforcement in our overseas operations, right?

As well as, as well as police training, supplies, transportation, a*tillery, food service, you name it.

And you think that those people at Ceressus are the ones who stole your supplies?

I didn't say that.

No, you didn't have to, though.

If that g*n was taken by an insurgent, it wouldn't have ended up in Nevada.

But it did... so you got to be thinking inside job, right?

I mean, there's no evidence to support that.

Forget about evidence, just for a second.

What's your gut tell you?

It tells me that someone at Ceressus could be behind this, but I can't accuse one of our law enforcement partners of theft without having any proof.

No, you can't.

But what the heck, we can talk to them, right?

I mean, there was a crime scene in Pakistan...

We'd be just doing our due diligence.

Don't you think?

Willows: Your boss is kind of young.

He's not my boss.

He's my replacement.

I'm training him till I de-camp from Las Vegas office.

On to bigger and better things?

Mm, I don't know about better.

More important, I suppose.

More dangerous.

More dangerous?

Really? Where?

Your boss, he said you were him before he was.

What's that about?

The technical term is "demotion."

Good girl does bad. So what, are you just biding your time till you can rise to that top spot again?

I'm not sure I want it anymore.

What do you want?

Right now?

I want more blood drops.

Haven't seen any in the past couple hundred yards.

The trail's run dry.

Maybe not.

This is McQuaid.

Let's get our cadets out here to walk the line asap.

I want a couple of flir helicopters up in the air, and mobilize half a dozen canine units, right now.

I'm impressed.

But you can call off your dogs.

I got vultures.

(Vultures squawking)

(Camera shutter clicks)

Mike Newbury, I presume?

Willows: Looks like our feathered friends found him a few hours before we did.

Good call on the zippering.

That's the beer bottle that made our ring.

Check this out.

Ink. I think.

It's a tattoo...

But sadly...

It's m*nled beyond recognition.

On purpose, right?

Look at the vulture nips on the rest of the body.

The skin is pulled.

These cuts here are clean, like they came from a blade of sorts.

Or...

Huh.

A shattered beer bottle.

k*ller wanted to obscure this tattoo.

Mission accomplished.

We can't tell what is was now.

No, not in this current state.

But that's the thing about tattoos.

You better be sure, 'cause they're forever.

Doc, can I take this part to go?

No, not yet, but we deliver.

Isn't this the questioned documents area?

Why, yes, it is.

And this is the video-spectral comparator.

We use it on worn or altered papers to isolate one part of the color spectrum at a time.

You're going to put this in there?

Uh-huh.

Okay.

A tattoo's ink goes down to the dermis, right?

Uh-huh.

So, if we adjust to look for different ink colors...

You can pull out the tattoo fragments one color at a time.

Brass: Mr. Gabriel, I have to say, that when we asked to speak to a representative of Ceressus, I didn't expect the CEO.

I take my job seriously, captain, and my job, above all, is to serve my country, so, whatever you need, I want you to have it. Mm.

Very much appreciated, sir.

Uh, Mr. Gabriel, your b*ttlefield forensics team processed a crime scene in Pakistan, and a g*n was implicated.

And then, the same g*n showed up stateside, last night, in this mysterious homicide.

Any idea how that might have happened?

I can't speak to the scene here, but I read my guys' report on my plane.

Seems pretty straightforward.

Insurgent raid, right?

What about your men over there?

You know them well?

You trust them?

I run a tight ship.

I hire only the best, only after excessive background checks.

In fact, I've had to say no to police, even FBI agents.

Russell: Yeah, but it's like the wild west out there, right? I mean, a w*r zone.

Rules go flying out the window.

Any chance somebody did something they weren't supposed to?

What are you saying exactly?

It must be very tempting, that's all.

You know, your people have a certain window of time where they can do as they please.

You know, take anything they want.

Like those g*ns, for example, and they certainly have unlimited resources to cart them anywhere they want in the world.

My people do exactly what yours do, Mr. Russell, but without the luxury of time or security.

Hmm.

Let me go back a second here.

Didn't you just say, "I read it on my plane?"

Kind of hard to get a, you know, a lecture on luxury from somebody who just used the words, "I read it on my plane, "you know.

Muddies things, that's all.

Then let me be clear.

Yeah. Please.

The sort of corruption you're implying is neither encouraged nor tolerated at Ceressus.

Clear?

Laura?

Catherine!

Oh, my God.

What are you doing here?

Laura and I were friends...

Way too many years ago to say aloud.

Do you work here?

Uh, the crime lab.

Law enforcement.

Really?

Yeah.

You?

Yeah, well, it's a long story.

What are you doing here?

My husband is helping out on a case with the police and the FBI.

Your husband's Mark Gabriel?

I'm sorry. Who are you?

Agent McQuaid. FBI.

You look great.

It's been 20 years, and I can still tell when you're lying.

22, and you still can't take a compliment.

(Laughs)

Laura.

(Clears throat) I got to go.

(Phone rings) Oh, hey, um, are you in town for a while?

A day or two.

Do you have any free time?

Yes. Get ahold of me here.

Mark: Laura, today.

Hey, Nicky, what's up?

Stokes: Well, I got good news, and I got bad news.

The good news is, I think I found our g*n.

Great. And the bad news?

16-year-old kid comes in to rob the place.

And the clerk must have sneezed, and the kid's w*apon spits out about 50 of your magic rounds.

sh**t said he found it behind a dumpster at D Street and Barlow.

Anybody else hurt?

Hell, yeah.

Clerk half a dozen.

He's en route to the E.R. now.

And the rifleman over there literally sh*t himself in the foot.

I'm just glad he ran out of a*mo.

Think it was a little bit too much g*n for him.

Would be for me, too.

That thing's a monster.

Glad it's off the street.

Okay, see you later.

(Chuckling): Okay.

What's the matter?

If that one w*apon got out, there may be more to follow.

Those are the stolen supplies you were talking about?

That's the problem we're here to fix.

That g*n?

The cuts-people-in-half g*n?

Well, how many we talking about? Give me a number.

144.

144 of these?!

That's not a problem.

That's a... that's a w*r zone.

You find anything?

Afraid not.

Okay.

No, no, wait, wait.

I found "a frayed knot."

A thread that's been tied into a knot.

It was snagged in the magazine well.

And it's... it's frayed.

The thread is wool, made from refined camel hair.

And the knot is not just any knot.

It's the asymmetrical sennah knot, a persian knot specifically used in finer rugs.

See, the thread is wrapped around only one warp, and then it's passed behind to the adjacent warp, which divides the two ends, right?

So, these types of rugs that are woven with this knot are generally...

You're welcome.

Sidle: Took a little luck and a lot of computer enhancement, but this eagle has finally landed.

It's m*llitary.

Skeleton with a beret.

That's definitely m*llitary.

The bird's airborne.

Willows: 532?

532nd division.

k*ller purposefully carved out this tattoo with the beer bottle.

Why?

Something to hide?

Maybe he had the same tattoo.

Same division.

A brother in arms.

Someone you'd share a beer with.

Pratt: Okay, persian carpets, plus, army tattoo.

How does that equal g*n runner?

Hey, you know what?

Cross-reference the 532nd airborne with locals.

You drop a g*n off at D Street and Barlow Ave, I'm thinking you know that neighborhood pretty well.

Maybe even lived there.

Yeah, that gives us 14 candidates that served while Newbury was active.

Russell: Anyone drive a Dodge pickup?

Willows: Bingo. Lenny Wesson.

I got him. Yeah, he grew up in the alphabets.

Dishonorably discharged.

Went the way of the rap sheet.

Catches work as an independent truck driver.

He drives a '97 Peterbilt semi.

But he doesn't work for Ceressus.

But he wouldn't.

He's not smart enough.

Remember? "Only the brightest and the best."

Background checks.

Blah, blah, blah.

Now, you know, I think Lenny may be our weak link.

So someone from Ceressus boosts the g*ns in Pakistan, brings them into the country, and he's got to move them.

He calls an ex-foxhole buddy.

They ask Lenny the truck driver to haul some cargo.

Haul some persian carpets maybe.

And maybe Lenny got a look at what he was really lugging.

He took 'em to an expert to see exactly what he had.

Mcquaid: What he still has.

Until he unloads 'em, which could be right now.

We got to find Lenny and his truck.

Lucky for us, we have the weight of the FBI behind us.

Come on, B.Y.U.

If you want to throw some weight around, now's the time.

It's nice, all our kids playing so well together.

It's called a citizen broadcast.

We set it up with DHS after 9/11.

Pretty much puts us into contact with every private company on the road... UPS, FedEx, trucking companies.

All eyes on the road become our eyes.

Russell: Like CB radio on steroids.

What's a CB radio?

I was joking.

Got something!

Driver spotted...

Suspect Wesson going eastbound in a green Peterbuilt semi on route 164.

(Sirens blaring)

(Phone chirping)

(Tires squeal)

What are you doing?

Busted a dozen arms exchanges from Honduras to Somalia, and by definition, both sides are armed, which makes everyone paranoid.

Still not following why you turned off the road.

Because most of these things, in my experience, take place in public, hiding in plain sight.

Oh, and if you want to hide a truck in plain sight, there's one obvious place to do it.

Plate's a match.

Special Agent McQuaid, requesting backup... truck stop at mile marker one-two-five.

Dispatch: Confirming mile marker one-two-five.

Sending backup.

Anybody in the market for a rug?

I was imagining something with a little more pop.

From the looks of it, somebody already took the g*ns.

(Muffled groaning)

Lenny Wesson?

(Muffled groans)

Hey!

Oh, crap!

(g*ns cocking)

Get down!

(g*nf*re)

(Rapid g*nf*re)

Grab him!

(Rapid g*nf*re continues)

(Grunts)

(g*nf*re continues)

(Man groans)

There's another one out there!

(Door opening)

(Sirens blaring) It's all good!

It's all good!

Russell: You okay?

Yeah?

Yeah. I'm good.

Agent: Looks like we got the rest of the shipment.

(Sighs)

McQuaid: I guess we should thank you.

You helped us flush out some gunrunners that we were looking for.

Course they wouldn't have g*ns to run, were it not for you.

Not to mention the m*rder of Michael Newbury.

Mike who?

I don't know what y'all are talking about.

I didn't even know there was any g*ns in that truck.

Your saliva and prints are all over that bottle.

You were smart enough to take it from the crime scene, but stupid enough to leave it with the body.

McQuaid: You served under Newbury, for a whole tour.

He invites you into his home and then you k*ll him.

Why?

W...

We were supposed to be brothers.

All of us.

And they go on...

To contracting jobs and consultant gigs.

A bunch of them are working for Ceressus now, and they're living the good life.

But a rising tide didn't lift all boats.

You fell on harder times.

Yeah, I was always the idiot kid brother.

Okay?

Finally, I get a score.

I brought the g*ns to Newbury because I knew he knew g*ns.

It's great to see you, man.

And at first he was happy to help.

Hey, uh, you mind taking a look at something?

Sure, what do you got?

Nice, huh?

You want a beer?

All right.

But as soon as he got his hands on them g*ns, his whole mood changed.

Lenny...

These g*ns were stolen from the m*llitary.

This is serious trouble.

I'll tell you what.

I'll return them for you.

Anonymously.

Okay?

I had bills to pay.

Take this.

They all got their golden tickets.

Well, these g*ns were mine.

They weren't your g*ns, Lenny.

They were stolen.

We know you were just a middleman.

Who threw you the driving gig?

Was it another ex-ranger?

Someone from Ceressus?

You think I'm a rat?

We know that Ceressus is implicated; we just want to know how far up the ladder it goes.

Yeah, well, you know so much...

What do you need me for?

We need someone to say it in court.

You cooperate, maybe we could shave a few years off your sentence.

Years?

Years?

If I tell you everything...

Everyone involved...

I want immunity.

Immunity?

Protection from-from-from it all.

You k*lled a man, Lenny.

You put those g*ns out on the street.

Immunity?

Forget it.

That's not going to happen.

Actually...

It is.

If you can give us the names of all of your contacts, and it turns into something substantial.

Wh-what are you doing?

You can't decide...

Yes, we can.

Good.

I'm sorry, I gotta pull rank here.

I'm going to need a lawyer to draw up the papers before I say a single word to y'all.

Okay.

Whatever you need.

Why the change in venue?

Well, this interview is a little less informal than our last.

Am I under suspicion for something?

No. I mean, not you specifically.

Yet.

This is the beginning of an official inquiry of Ceressus.

We just wanted to give you the courtesy of letting you know.

And the opportunity to get on the record sooner than later.

Courtesy?

Is that what this is?

Look, I know you have free rein on your global turf, but somebody in your outfit brought those g*ns into mine and I want some answers.

Pratt: We're gonna need all of the names of the men involved in that g*n theft and then we're going to want access to all of your personnel files.

I'm not giving you anything but politeness.

To be honest with you, I'm running out of that fast.

Yeah. Mr. Gabriel...

If you want to make demands of me, have your boss's boss call me.

Otherwise, I'm done here.

Actually, you know what?

There's one more thing.

What's that?

You see, all these g*ns that are now stateside have to go back to the troops in Afghanistan.

You know, given your resources, and your patriotism...

That's going to cost me half a million dollars.

Oh, at least.

Thanks for your time.

Laura: Your daughter is beautiful.

She is, isn't she?

I'm jealous.

Jealous?

Laura, look at you.

The good life, the billionaire husband.

You got it all.

So how is your mom?

Laura...

Why are you here?

To catch up, just like we talked about.

Which has been great.

Really.

But...

I just have this feeling that there's something you want to say.

Is it about Mark?

'Cause I saw the way he talked to you.

Does he hurt you?

No. No, he doesn't.

It's not...

I heard something.

By accident.

What was it?

(Laughs)

Okay, this is just me being jet-lagged.

I'm sorry.

I should go.

But listen, um, it's been so nice seeing you again.

Hey, hang on.

I just want to make sure you have all my numbers, okay?

Uh...

Okay.

All right.

So I want you to call me if you need anything.

And I mean anything.

Is there a reason you wrote this on the back of a lawyer's card?

Random coincidence.

Coincidentally, he's a good lawyer.

He's Sam's guy.

I think you might need that.

Okay. Thanks.

Okay. Thank you.

All right. Bye.

(Knocking on door)

Oh.

Did you guys have a good conversation?

How long have you been standing outside my house?

Not important.

I...

The thing is...

I'm here...

My foot in the door, my hat in hand, a bottle in the other.

It's beer.

It's Belgian.

You know, g*ns aren't the only thing they, uh, they make.

I'd like to apologize.

About the whole Lenny of it all.

I blindsided you, and...

It sucked.

Yeah, it sucked.

But it's the job.

I have a job, too.

And you did it kind of perfectly.

You got the g*ns back, by way of vultures, and garbage bags and whatnot.

By "whatnot" you mean saving your ass.

I do.

But the thing is, I had to cut a deal with Wesson.

And I would do it again.

This isn't much of an apology.

But if I did it again, I would tell you beforehand.

You deserve that.

At least that.

Maybe more.

(Phone ringing)

(Cell phone ringing)

Willows.

McQuaid.

Lenny Wesson d*ed en route to a federal holding facility.

How?

Heart att*ck.

Heart att*ck?

He was 37 years old.

Willows: How did he die of a heart att*ck?

We need to run a tox panel.

You won't find anything.

What, you think that Mark Gabriel is covering his tracks?

I do, and I think he's really good at it.

Okay, so that's it?

No, we gotta do something.

McQuaid: No, you guys did your job...

The g*ns are off the street.

I think this is our responsibility.

Agent McQuaid and myself are due back at Quantico.

It's back to square one.

It's been a real honor.

Great work.

Thank you.

Wait, whoa, wait, hold it a second.

I got a little going away present for you.

Is that a mushroom?

Hericium erinaceus.

"Lion's mane."

It improves cognitive function and promotes well-being.

I like just a little thin slice on my toast in the morning.

Thanks.

I think.

(Russell chuckles)

Pratt: Uh...

You sure you're not just trying to ruin my drug screening?

No, no.

You should be all right with that, I think.

Yeah, pretty sure.

CSI Willows, it has been, uh, a real pleasure working with you.

Likewise, Agent McQuaid.

Good luck with the new job and everything.

Russell: Stay away from badges.

I tell my daughter every morning, "if he wears a badge, he's wrong for you."

Really?

And what if your wife's father had told her the same thing?

Actually, he did.

See you tomorrow.

Regular time.
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