01x01 - Legacy

[bunniefuu]

♪ ♪

♪ When an irresistible force ♪

♪ Such as you ♪

♪ Meets an old, immovable ♪

♪ Object like me ♪

♪ You can bet ♪

♪ As sure as you live ♪

♪ Something's gotta give ♪

♪ Something's gotta
give, something's... ♪

(FLOORBOARDS CREAKING)

♪ When an... ♪

Is someone there?

Keep it down.

♪ Such as yours ♪

Will you keep it down, Elvis.

♪ Implacable heart ♪

♪ Such as mine ♪

(SHUTS OFF RADIO)

♪ ♪

(GRUNTS)

(BOTH GRUNTING)

Aah!

(GROANING)

Who are you? What do you want with me?

He... he didn't...

he didn't tell me.

Oh... Oh, God.

WOMAN: Bryan, son.

Because you're not a B-minus student.

Okay, buddy.

I love...

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Game time, people. Look alive.

I see you. You ready?

Hey, Frank.

Okay.

This is my kind of mess.

Smile, Allie. We got lots to work with.

No ID, though. Only
thing in his pockets.

- He sure picked the wrong house.
- I'd say.

The homeowner's Jim Brass.

Is this gonna be like the time I didn't
know who Drew Carey was?

Jim Brass used to run Criminalistics.

He was a captain. He's a legend.

- (HELICOPTER BLADES WHIRRING)
- Hmm. (CHUCKLES)

Yeah, I'm getting mauled here.

Well, look, I could
really use your help.

That'd be great.

Okay. Thank you.

Detectives are asking

if they'll find any more
g*ns in the home.

g*ns? Sure. There's a bunch.

But LVPD are good at their
jobs... they'll find 'em.

Jim Brass.

You went three for ten.

I'll grade on a curve
and give you a B-plus.

BRASS: I'm half-blind.
How about an A-minus?

I'm Maxine Roby.

We met at Catherine Willows'
retirement thing.

Right. You run the lab.

Yes. And I'm here with Allie Rajan.

She's a level II CSI.

She's one of our best.

Honor to meet you, sir.

Well, sorry to make work
for you, Allie, but...

he started it.

Everyone told me you
were a tough old bastard.

I've made my share of enemies, I guess.

- You think one of 'em sent him?
- Yeah, I'm pretty sure.

But that's all I could get
out of Mr. Mystery Guest.

Maybe whoever hired him gave him a ride.

There's no vehicle out here.

There's no time machine, either,

so there's no telling
why this kid would have

a wad of hundreds older than he is.

Well, big bills stay in circulation,

what, six or seven years?

Well, this was all from the mid-' s.

Really? Mid-' s?

Will you do me a favor, Allie?

Could you, uh, read me the
serial numbers on the money?

Last five.

Yeah. - - - -A,

- - - -A, - ...

Actually, hold on. These
are all close together.

Oh.

Lucky.

- I don't think it could be random.
- No, no,

that's his name. His name is Lucky.

He's a kidnapper.

Struck four times.

He used to send us notes, um,

and he sign them "Lucky".

Last woman he took, we never found her.

Him either.

Yeah, but I don't get it. I mean,
Lucky was paid millions.

It... it was a long time ago.

I mean, why not let it be?

Most people win, they keep playing.

If it was easy to walk away,
this town wouldn't exist.

♪ ♪

♪ Trouble on the streets,
I'm a bad one ♪

♪ Nightmare of your dreams
like a black lung ♪

♪ Nowhere left to hide
when the ruckus comes ♪

♪ No, I'm not done, I'm not done ♪

♪ I'm moving in with precision,
I'm g*n metal cold ♪

♪ I hit the target, don't miss
'em, it never gets old ♪

♪ Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh ♪

♪ You don't want the smoke, no ♪

♪ Outlaws doing bad
things for the rush ♪

(GLASS BREAKS)

♪ Outlaw, yeah, I'm
taking what I want. ♪

MAN: Well, Folsom, looks
like you're stuck with me.

Everyone else is tied up
with the Jim Brass case.

Folsom?

Folsom? You all right?

You haven't moved in ten minutes.

Less there is to look at,

the longer it takes
to see what's missing.

Then we're gonna be here a while.

VFD says this one got nasty in a hurry.

The whole pawnshop was melted.

Think it started by the door, Chris.

Moved fast.

k*ller had already doused
the place in bleach.

They used an accelerant.

My money's on kerosene.

This guy's money...

is gone.

Robbery-homicide?

Danny Yates.

Yates Pawn.

You weren't kidding
about less to look at.

Not even an entry wound?

Nope.

The b*llet went in through

the left eye.

Out through the occipital bone.

Hard to tell the caliber
of the, uh, b*llet.

(DOOR OPENS)

- WOMAN: No!
- WOMAN : Oh, my God, wait...

Hold on, give her a minute.

Is that... is that Danny?

He's her brother.

They've been looking
for him all morning.

(SOBBING): Who...

who did this?

♪ ♪

ROBY: Joshua. I heard
you caught a doozy.

Yeah, the whole scene's
one giant charcoal briquet,

but it's possible we have
the m*rder w*apon.

It's possible?

It could've been tossed in with
the g*ns the store was selling.

Be a good way to confuse the issue.

You'll figure it out.

(SHORT CHUCKLE) Yeah.

I'll get right on that.

(SIGHS)

What a view, huh?

(CHUCKLES): Don't
start with me, old man.

Yeah. Too late, it sounds like.

How often do we talk? You
never mentioned this...

what you're going through.

What?

You got a cure for Fuchs'
corneal disease up your sleeve?

People care about you.

So much so they want me dead.

Listen, it's a six-hour
drive from San Diego,

and I did it in five.

Well, at least I got Sara Sidle

back to Vegas.

Catherine has rolled out a red carpet.

She would be here, you
know that, if she could.

Yeah. She's got a little
grandbaby in Dublin.

- What's your husband's excuse?
- I sent him

for jellyfish samples
in the Panama Basin.

Collecting jellyfish.
That's on my bucket list.

Well, there are no flights
from the deck of his boat.

Believe me, I've checked.

Is this bird your only helper?

What, Elvis? That little bastard
wouldn't lift a wing for me.

I got a cleaning lady, Mirta.
She looks after me.

You know, I mean, can still see,

you know, things,

shapes and...

I can see well enough to get
on the Harley on the weekends.

I can't tell if you're kidding.

Good.

You look like you lost weight.

Well, I did skip dinner last night.

So, you think your old
friend Lucky's back.

Do they have an ID yet
on the guy that he sent?

No, no. Look I met new people,

and I'm sure that they're great.

But I don't know them,

and I'd feel a lot better
if you took a look.

- Well, I don't know how that would work.
- Oh, come on,

Sara. I mean, we can
figure it out. I mean...

(SCOFFS) I didn't ask you back here

so you can help me pack my socks.

- (ELEVATOR BELL DINGS)
- _

ROBY: I got a meeting.

Let me talk to you later.

Got to go. Hey.

- Sara Sidle.
- Yeah.

Nice to meet you. I'm Maxine Roby.

- Thanks for having me.
- Thanks for passing on my dream job.

Come on back. Walk with me.
You'll love this new lab.

SIDLE: Wow.

I had the same expression
when I got here two years ago.

Course, back then, it still
had that new lab smell.

Ethyl alcohol. The more things change.

- Yep.
- (SHORT CHUCKLE)

So, uh, Jim seems to think

- you'll pick it all right back up.
- He already talked to you?

- Yeah.
- I-I'm so sorry.

No, I love the idea of you
riding shotgun on this one.

We're always understaffed.

- You up for it?
- I was gonna ask.

Good, 'cause I already
ran it up the pole.

It helps that you kept
your certs up to date,

so you're already authorized.

Uh, just can't carry until
the sheriff signs o...

- Mm-hmm.
- What, you thought there was gonna be a fight?

- A little, yeah.
- Nope.

Come on. Saddle up, sis.

Is that you?

Yep. I got a PhD

in genetics and a blown
knee out of the deal.

Sweet ex-husband, though.

What do you know about Brass's attacker?

Oh, lots. He liked knives.

Stabbing people with knives,

breaking into houses

to s*ab people with knives.

I take it that prints, dental, and
DNA were not in the system.

Nope. But the cash he had on him was.

- Jim was right.
- Cash they found

was part of a ransom

paid to the man they knew as Lucky.

So this is who you're looking for.

Sketch artist worked that up back in '

with a neighbor of the last woman taken.

They only got a glimpse,

and no one's seen either since.

Kelsey Webb, .

Taken August , .

Whoa.

Found her.

"Jim Brass is just the beginning".

♪ ♪

♪ 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! ♪

I guess you'd call this good news.

Check the carotid.

Whoever k*lled this poor girl...

they didn't do it by
cutting her head off.

Must have removed it just for us.

The severed edge is smooth.

If cause was decapitation,
the tunica externa

would be shriveled by now.

We get a nice look

because she was buried in quicklime.

It's like one of my old school projects.

Poetry major?

Archaeology and forensics.

Allie's our go-to CSI when
we get a desiccated corpse.

Well. Then, please. Do the honors.

RAJAN: She has a long incisor.

You don't need to wait for DNA.

Dental's a match.

This is Kelsey Webb.

I'll inform the parents their
daughter's been found.

SIDLE: She had a nicer
smile than Lucky did.

Brass is gonna be torn up.

- He still blames himself.
- Why?

Lucky got paid huge ransoms

to return his first three abductees.

So Brass pitched a sting for the fourth.

Lucky sniffed it out and disappeared.

Maybe that's why he blames Brass.

Cost him a couple million bucks.

People k*ll for less. But his note

said, "Brass is just the beginning".

And I don't know what he's planning,

but this guy woke up yesterday
and decided to switch sports.

Max, if it's all right with you,
I'm gonna learn more

about his teammate... Brass's
buddy with the Kn*fe...

- work backwards from there.
- And I'll help you,

but first we need to examine
the attacker's clothes.

Well, you know what else might help?

He also dropped the head.

The flesh is...

well, it's smushed.

Somewhere between
decapitation and the box,

this head impacted a surface
that was coated in...

whatever this is.

We'll run tests.

Excellent.

♪ ♪

Hey.

Come into my office. My real office.

Thank you. You come from the lab side?

Actually, I come from
Evanston, Illinois.

Go Cats.

But, yeah... genetics, phenotyping...

that's my thing.

What about you?

Materials and element analysis.

- Used to be.
- Yeah?

- And now?
- Uh, avoiding mosquitos

in various corners of
the globe, I guess.

It's too bad that Brass
made such a mess.

I was hoping that our guy
brushed up against

whoever hired him, shook his hand.

Guess we'll never know.

- Oh, ye of little faith.
- That shirt is soaked.

Aren't you worried that all that
blood is masking other DNA?

I would be...

if it weren't for my
new little friend here.

We are now into massively
parallel sequencing.

It's the next gen of DNA analysis.

- Brave new world.
- Mm-hmm.

- CODIS still takes a couple of days?
- Yeah.

But I'm hoping Lucky's in line
for a name change before then.

You must be Dr. Ramirez.

I'm sorry, I don't have time
for new people right now.

Oh, I'm Sara.

Sara Sidle.

Okay.

SIDLE: You know,

the last guy that worked
in here would have been

really impressed with
this coronal sectioning.

So this is the brain
of Brass's attacker?

Call me Hugo.

Dr. Robbins trained me, actually.

I like to imagine he's still
watching me when I cut.

You know he's retired, not dead?

It's just I-I don't get a lot
of visitors down here, so...

What are you looking for in
the corpus callosum? Motive?

Some reason this guy
would become a k*ller?

In a way, yes.

Well, th-there is a lot of plaque.

During the autopsy,

I noticed cirrhosis in the liver

and auricular hematoma, of course.

So you're thinking a wrestler, MMA type?

Gets cauliflower ear and CTE.

Self-medicates with liquor.

Chronic traumatic encephalopathy
is hell to live with.

Mood swings,

confusion, violent outbursts.

Contract k*lling.

I-I don't mean to justify
what this man did.

No, no, by all means.

He-he had an unhealthy brain.

All these tats might as well
have advertised his services.

But there's something
funky about, uh, this one.

I think it's a cover-up.

Nice catch.

Yeah, uh, I'm not really
a tattoo connoisseur,

but the older half looks prison quality.

We should share it with RTCC right away.

Don't you think?

I am a bit of a connoisseur,

and I couldn't agree more.

I actually paint a little.

Did they tell you upstairs?

Oh. Huh.

Is that stomach contents?

Pomegranate. He was full of it.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

PARK: It's actually much
worse than not knowing

who Chuck Woolery is.

- It was Drew Carey.
- (CHUCKLES)

The point is,

Jim Brass is on the Vegas PD Rushmore.

You should be ashamed of yourself.

- I'm ashamed of you.
- All right.

Well, since you're such
an amazing historian,

why don't you tell me
something about Sara Sidle?

You're kidding me.

I know the name, Chris.

Now that I've met her,
I can't figure her out.

A woman works her way up

to take over the Las Vegas crime lab,

and then, right when they're
ready to give her the keys,

she just walks away.

Yeah, well, it's not
really a mystery why.

Remember, uh, David Hodges?

Salt and pepper, funny dude?

He told me that Sara
and Gil Grissom were

the star-crossed duo here
before Folsom and...

Don't.

So, what, she just left for a guy?

The heart wants what it wants.

You told me you always thought

you would move back to Mumbai

after you finished college,

but then you fell in love...

... with Dunkin' Donuts and
Carrie Underwood, right?

That's weird.

- That powder is yeast.
- Huh.

Gil? Gil?

ROBY: Hey, Sara.

- Looking for me?
- Oh, yeah.

Uh, Allie wanted me to give this to you.

It was brewer's yeast,

that yellowish powder on Kelsey's cheek.

ROBY: So, if that was
laying on the ground

when Lucky dug her up,

then he's either a moonshiner or...

Board of Examiners keeps lists.

Distilleries, brewery supply stores.

I can check it out.

Well, what do you have here?

Uh, Joshua Folsom.

And everything left

from a b*rned out pawn shop.

FOLSOM: The store owner's son was sh*t

and the scene was b*rned.

Trying to figure out just
how hot this fire got.

Not hot enough to vaporize
shell casings and slugs

because there would've been
melted pieces at least, right?

So the k*ller swept up after
themselves and b*rned the scene?

And bleached it and wiped it down.

Not a partial print to be found
on any of the glass either.

Welcome to .

Whole lot of careful criminals
out there. (CHUCKLES)

We do get the occasional moron,

just not this time.

I love what you haven't
done with the place.

FOLSOM: More and more, we're working
scenes that have been altered,

b*rned down.

It's nice to have a blank
canvas for reconstructions.

It was a big aquarium last week.

He made fish out of foam core.

Popoto dolphins, actually.

Mammals.

He's a lot nerdier than he looks.

SIDLE: So, this will be the pawnshop

as it was at the time of the sh**ting.

Wow. Poor kid took it in the eye, huh?

Yeah.

k*ller steps up to the counter here

and bang.

Best guess based off
the exit wound is a . ,

but it's just a guess.

SIDLE: So, all these melted g*ns...

this was the k*ller cleaning
up after themselves?

FOLSOM: Maybe. I haven't
been able to find

anything else they left.

Surprised they didn't take them.

The value of those g*ns
is probably double

what we think was taken in electronics,

- jewelry and guitars.
- So, was this a robbery,

or just made to look like one?

Might be looking at an
inside job gone wrong.

The victim Danny Yates,

he has juvenile arrests for B and E.

Yeah, but he's kept his nose
clean the past few years.

You never bet on an underdog?

My sweet Folsom.

Hey, I know what it's like

in the kind of neighborhood
Danny's from.

It's a petri dish of self-destruction.

Not every angry young man
turns out to be trouble.

Okay, I'm gonna send
mine to live with you.

Huh.

(BEEP)

Bad time for a drink?

(CHUCKLES) Pretty
flammable time for one.

- Wow. Oh.
- (CHUCKLES)

Is that... ?

Mark scared the hell out of me.

Asked me to move in with him like this.

Wow. That's...

Congrats.

I didn't realize you guys, uh...

That's great.

We're grabbing friends to, you know...

celebrate.

- It'll be fun.
- Ah.

I wish I could go with you, but I...

think my g*n is finished cooking.

You like 'em well done, hey?

Didn't get that way till
, degrees Celsius,

which doesn't make any sense to me.

I'm with you there.

Yeah. I'm trying to figure out

how those g*ns melted.
This Colt's made out

of the softest alloy I could find.

It held up way past the point
of your typical structure fire.

So that was made before the fire?

Somebody pulled a Salvador Dalí

before they ever struck a match.

I think I...

better find out why.

(SCREAMING)

♪ Don't want the kisses
unless they're bitter ♪

♪ I'm hooked on touches
that leave me weaker ♪

♪ I swear that I love
nothin' more than broke ♪

♪ I always let the good ones go ♪

♪ And, baby, you couldn't
have loved me any better ♪

♪ But doin' this is all
that I've known ever... ♪

MAN: Excuse me, Officer.

Can you point us to Circus Circus?

North end of the Strip. And hurry.

Looks like it's bedtime.

♪ I let the good ones go. ♪

(WOMAN WHIMPERING)

I'm wondering if you guys have seen her.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

- So, Lucky strikes again?
- Yep.

This is connected.

Fisher was detailed to
the Brass crime scene.

We're showing Lucky's sketch around

and we're looking for witnesses.

So our guy checked in on things,
and she caught his eye?

We're checking security
cameras, but so far nothing.

- You made any progress?
- So, it's something interesting.

The head that Lucky
sent... Kelsey Webb...

her cheek was coated in brewer's yeast.

We're searching local distilleries.

- Sounds like a long sh*t.
- I thought so, too,

but I just got a call.

There's one in particular,
might be a pretty good bet.

A distillery next to a fruit stand.

Almost hope it's a coincidence.

Dude who tried to k*ll
Brass didn't deserve

a last meal this good.

(CHUCKLES)

You know, you're different
than I pictured.

(CHUCKLES)

I was expecting more of a...

weather-beaten, salty sea captain vibe.

SIDLE: Gosh, thanks.

This lock looks brand-new.

Somebody's been using this
place without permission.

- Ready?
- Yeah, well, ready as I can be.

The sheriff hasn't authorized
me to carry yet.

Well, you can stay back in the truck.

- Huh.
- Or not.

(BIRDS' WINGS FLUTTERING)

(CREAKING)

Got something over here.

Could be our brewer's yeast,

from Kelsey Webb's cheek.

It is.

How you know they didn't
just melt in the fire?

Science.

Do you want the long answer?

(SIGHS) But these are our g*ns.

- These were for sale at our store.
- You were reselling them.

Could be they were used
in some other crime.

Maybe that's why they were destroyed.

Might be why your son is dead.

Are you saying Danny's a criminal?

I'm not accusing anybody of anything.

RICK: Look, what you're not getting is,

we sell clean weapons.

And you have to maintain
records with the A*F online.

Now, I could deal with them direct,

but I thought you could help me check

some serial numbers I found.

You pulled numbers from that mess?

They're engraved deeper
than people think.

Got a few from the g*ns on top

that were in better shape.

Becky, when you worked with Danny,

did you ever see anything suspicious?

Did you ever think Danny did it?

For art?

Now, that makes sense.

Boy was trying to be a sculptor.

He made that totem pole
type deal out back.

LISA: Wouldn't that be just like him?

Burning up inventory, trying
to make some statement.

- (CHUCKLES)
- BECKY: When we was clerking,

he wouldn't shut up about g*n control.

Is that right?

RICK: I didn't raise him that way.

He was a normal kid.

Liked to hunt.

Danny got preachy when he got sober.

And he started taking those art classes.

RICK: Anyways, you find anything?

The few numbers I got
all had clean histories.

And I can't tell on the partials.

Thanks for giving it a sh*t.

- (WHIRRING)
- SIDLE: Poor Kelsey.

Well, Ms. Rajan, it's
your time to shine.

What do you think?

RAJAN: Cause'll be tough.

We can try to rehydrate these organs,

but right now I can't tell

if she was stabbed, strangled, or what.

Let's soak in Allie's secret sauce.

Saline, glycerin, and... nitrates?

You're good.

(CHUCKLES) Once upon a time.

What's it like to, you know, um...

stop and then, uh...

She wants to know if
you regret retiring.

Oh. (CHUCKLES)

Sorry.

No, um...

No. No, I don't.

I, um...

I loved this job. I did it for years.

And I wanted to be with my husband,

and we had an adventure waiting.

Found out I wasn't meant to be
in two places at once, you know.

Drink, little bronchioles, drink.

Got to love the lungs.

Always the first to plump.

Bet this hole...

wasn't always here.

RAJAN: Lacerated tissue in the lung.

b*llet wound?

Guess who was hiding behind T .

Never would have thought to
look in back of her spine.

Let's go get this guy.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

What the hell do you mean
Lucky's not our man?

SIDLE: He didn't send
a k*ller after you,

and he didn't kidnap Officer Fisher.

The g*n that sh*t Kelsey
Webb was a Beretta M .

We know that because
the same g*n was used

in another m*rder in October of ,

and that case was solved.

Lucky k*lled his girlfriend

over a busted hand of blackjack.

His name was Ellis Vikner.

Was?

He d*ed in prison two years ago.

At least Kelsey Webb's
family gets a little closure.

Even when he dies,

he manages to do it like a scumbag.

He leaves all his money to
some sociopath who hunts cops.

I'm sorry, Sara.

I thought for sure we knew
who we were looking for.

Well, you know, that's
the worst part about this.

(SETS FILE DOWN)

We're nowhere.

- (PHONE RINGS)
- FOLSOM: Hey, Max.

I was about to call you.

I need you to head over
to Fremont Street.

They found something where
Officer Fisher was taken.

I know, I caught it on
the radio. I just got here.

The kidnapper left a calling card?

Waitress thought he gave
her a counterfeit tip.

Bet the prints are all smudged, but...

It doesn't matter.

Bring me everything
he might have touched.

That bill could tell us who
kidnapped Officer Fisher.

Yes, ma'am.

(SLURPING)

Your poor kidneys.

Never gets easier, watching
you destroy latents.

Some evidence must die
so that others might live,

and I'll take DNA over
no-value prints any day.

You'll get plenty.

You might as well be
swabbing a public bathroom.

Cotton and linen in paper money
is kind of like a sponge.

But Lucky's stash wasn't
touched for a long time,

so a lot of that old DNA
will be degraded,

and the only epithelials...

... will be from the perp
and the waitress he tipped.

I'm skeptical about an ID,

but we should learn something about him.

Once upon a time, you'd
be b*rned as a witch.

I got to get back to the pawnshop case.

I got a theory.

Not what they pay us for, Joshua.

Evidence. I know.

It's coming.

You didn't go home last night.

- Don't you tell Folsom about these.
- (CHUCKLES)

I bet you don't miss these all-nighters.

You have a little boy.

Yeah.

Actually, Bryan's .

And he has not smiled
at me like that in a bit.

Come here. Let me show you something.

I ran our guy's DNA from the cash.

It was too degraded for
STRs, but I got SNPs.

- SNPs?
- Single nucleotide polymorphisms.

And they say...

our subject is male, Caucasian,

has blue eyes, and
he's on the short side.

There's plenty of those guys
in the general population,

but "gen pop" is another story.

Captain, we think this is

who took Officer Fisher.

Bill Dwyer.

God, let's hope not.

A serial r*pist?

I worked the case with
Detective Brass in .

One of our lab techs... David Hodges...

ran a soil analysis that put him away.

- So there's motive.
- ROBY: There's more than that.

We pulled prison files on
all of Lucky's cellmates,

looking for someone he might
have told about his stash.

Dwyer's the only one
with the same phenotype

as the perp who handled that old cash.

- Phenotype?
- He's a little blue-eyed devil.

Well, he got out in May,
he's supposed to live

in a halfway house during probation.

We called, and they haven't
seen him in over a month.

ROBY: The pieces fit.

I mean, we got to find him
and tie him to something.

The distillery, the cash,
Kelsey Webb's body...

I'll put out an APB.

Just pray Officer Fisher's still alive,

and this stays out of the news.

'Cause if Dwyer sees us coming...

You must've been a demon with Legos.

FOLSOM: Move half a foot to your left.

That can't be where the sh**t
was when he k*lled Danny.

You saw the hole in the skull.

That look like a b*llet
entry wound to you?

We thought the k*ller
sh*t Danny face-to-face,

that the b*llet went in through the eye

and exited through the back of the head.

But that's not the only
possible explanation

for the hole in the occipital bone.

A tipless wooden bolt would
make a jagged entry wound...

... and it wouldn't come
out the other side at all.

You're talking about an arrow?

That's why we didn't find
any b*ll*ts or shell casings.

The k*ller didn't collect
them. There weren't any.

The arrow just b*rned to ash.

I never would've thought the
k*ller had a sh*t from behind.

I didn't either, until I came in here

and found out that there
was this one tight angle

from H of our grid.

Not a section of the grid

we ever would've spent much time with,

but... lo and behold.

Crossbows.

We got the m*rder w*apon.

What's left of it.

That piece is called
the stirrup and lath.

And the rest of it b*rned.

Whole family bow-hunts.

None of them did it.

- You sure?
- The k*ller left us one clue

thanks to how they got
rid of all the rest.

Look at what else was in H .

Too wide to be a shoe print.

(DOOR OPENS)

LISA: I don't like being
in here, Detective Carson.

Can't you ask your questions
somewhere else?

Sorry, but it's important

that you both see this.

What?

You see those marks that
your walking boot makes?

These were found

at the spot where the
k*ller took their sh*t.

(SCOFFS) What is this?

You accusing me of... ?

FOLSOM: I think Danny found out
you were selling illegal g*ns.

I think that's why he melted them down.

I think that's why you sh*t Danny.

Here's what I know.

You doused the scene with bleach

and lit a fire to destroy the evidence.

No.

No, I didn't do any of this.

You tracked through the
bleach you were spilling

on your way out the back door.

The fire b*rned the sodium
hypochlorite into the floor.

There's always something. I
just had to know where to look.

LISA: Becky.

Tell them that you wouldn't.

Tell us, Becky.

(SOBS): Why?

Okay.

- LISA: Why?!
- CARSON: Give me your hands, come on.

- Why?!
- (HANDCUFFS CLICK)

SIDLE: No need to call me back.

Hopefully tomorrow I'll have some news.

All right.

I miss you.

(PHONE BEEPS)

Sara Sidle.

You don't look that surprised to see me.

You haven't been looking
for me, have you?

What are you doing, Bill?

I'm not doing anything.

Seeing you here is just...

fate, I guess.

- (LINE RINGING)
- I'm calling my office.

I'm not gonna hurt you.

DISPATCHER (OVER PHONE): CSI section.

I know all about you people.

I know how you put me away.

The way you plant evidence.

The way you lie.

Hello? Hello?

Someone needs to teach you all a lesson.

Who knows?

Maybe it'll happen tomorrow.

Where is she?

Where's Julie Fisher?

See you soon, Sara.

Hey, is anybody still there?

Yes, ma'am. How can I direct your call?

I have a suspect heading
west on Ogden on foot.

C in pursuit.

I need backup. Send them now.

♪ ♪

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Hey! Watch it!

♪ ♪

- (HORN HONKS)
- (TIRES SCREECH)

MAN: Watch it!

- (TIRES SQUEALING)
- (GRUNTS)

MAN: You crazy?

(TIRES SCREECHING)

♪ ♪

Confirmed. Dwyer's car.

(OFFICER SHOUTS INDISTINCTLY)

Let's go, move, move!

Well, they said the house is clear.

All SWAT and non-essentials out.

CSIs have the scene.

No luck next door.

Neighbors haven't seen him.

PARK: They were definitely here.

Julie Fisher's service w*apon.

Clip's full.

I know he was in a hurry,
but would you leave that?

I think we've got a match
for the note he sent.

(SIRENS WAILING IN DISTANCE)

(THUMP)

He didn't take her g*n.

(WHISPERS): The crawl
space under the house.

OFFICER: There. There he is!

Show me your hands!

(WHIMPERING)

Lucky girl.

(SIREN WAILS)

No, he didn't touch me.

Julie, you're okay.

You're gonna be okay.

You need to see this.

Due respect, I think this meeting
is a little premature.

I haven't had a chance
to review the case

- against Mr. Dwyer.
- The case is overwhelming,

Mr. Wix, we got your
client dead to rights.

Kidnapping, as*ault...

We've got you in a car that
left tracks at the scene

where Kelsey Webb's body was found.

We've got the money you paid

to have Jim Brass k*lled.
I mean, we've got plenty.

Well...

what's on the table?

We could push the D.A.
to offer favorable terms,

but first

we need to know who put him up to it.

ROBY: We found this.

It was addressed to your client.

"Pay Felipe, take $ K for yourself,

and don't forget to wear gloves
when you get the head".

See, that part was underlined,

but you sure didn't wear gloves
when you handled this.

We got about a hundred of your partials.

You were following a playbook
somebody else wrote.

Who's behind all this?

Be smart here, Bill.

There's a deal to be made.

DWYER: No.

There's not.

I ain't flipping.

The person who wrote that...

I like them.

But you people,

I want to see you rot in hell.

The note you sent me said
Brass was just the beginning.

I want to know how it's supposed to end.

Talk about this part,
this bit at the end.

The storage facility in Spring Valley.

What are we going to find there?

"We have to get in there before you go.

I think it's where they do it".

Come on.

Who's they?

WIX: We're done here.

No cameras?

MANAGER: No need.

We got the big gate out front.

The one on your warrant's up here.

Number .

My file says it's rented
to a Mr. Hodges.

- What?
- David Hodges.

Long-term tenant, I guess.

I don't like any part of this.

I mean, why would he have this here?

It's like his own little lab.

Hodges never mentioned this place.

Jenny Carrol, David Bohr, Natalie Davis.

Why would he take these
and leave these off-site?

So he'd have privacy.

You know what this looks like.

He's got everything he
needed to fake test results

and whip up phony evidence.

This is always where this was headed.

They wanted us to find this place.

It was all a setup.

Brass, the cash, the
kidnapping, all of it.

Hodges didn't do this.

He couldn't have done this.

I think that's gonna be
damn hard to prove.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

This isn't real.

I'm afraid it is.

It's all checking out.

The files, soil from
Eli Holt's burial site.

Thomas Donover's shoes.

Ballistics. Fibers. There's
legitimate evidence

from at least a dozen of our old cases.

What the hell is it all doing here?

Exactly what it was designed
to do: framing an innocent man.

I'd love to believe that, but
there are two dozen prints here,

and every one of them
belongs to David Hodges.

- You don't know Hodges.
- RAJAN: Neither would a jury.

Sorry, it's just facts.

If I'm being generous, maybe
it's all a little too damning,

'cause every one of these
is clean and complete.

They were planted. This transfer remnant

is the guy that Dwyer worked for

signing his work for us.

He left it there because
it can't prove anything.

He knows forensics.

He knows how we work.

He knows what he's doing.

Well, then we'd better find him,

or else your friend's in real trouble.

Okay, listen to me. We can't make this

all about David Hodges.

What happened here,
whatever happened here,

how we handle it

will determine whether
convictions hold up or not.

Whether murderers stay in prison or not.

Whether they're out
there k*lling again...

or not.

First lawsuit got filed.

Only took three days.

And there's more coming.

A class action, Max thinks.

All the cases in the storage unit?

No. Every case.

Every defendant that was put away
with evidence from our lab

the entire time that
David Hodges was at CSI.

That's insane. There could be hundreds.

Thousands, and there's precedent.

That lab tech in Boston,

there was a scandal in Houston, too.

Max has held off the
D.A. this long, but...

they're gonna charge
Hodges. They have to.

We're not gonna let him take this fall.

That's a nice thing to say.

But what's the plan?

You didn't come all the way to
Vegas to sit on the sidelines.

What do we do now?

What we always do, Jim.

Follow the evidence.