All language subtitles for CSI Vegas S02E06_Subtitles01.ENG

♪ Jeremiah was a bullfrog ♪

♪ Was a good friend of mine ♪

♪ I never understood
a single word he said ♪

♪ But I helped him
drink his wine ♪

Oh, scusi.
Hey! Idiot!

♪ And he always had
some mighty fine wine ♪

♪ Joy to the fishes
in the deep blue sea ♪

♪ Joy to you and me ♪

♪ If I were the king
of the world ♪

♪ I tell you what I'd do ♪

♪ I'd throw away the car
and the bar and the war ♪

♪ Make sweet love to you ♪

♪ Sing now, joy to the world ♪

Ah, buongiorno, Silver.
♪ All the boys and girls ♪

Prego.

♪ Joy to the fishes
in the deep blue sea ♪

♪ Joy to you and me ♪

♪ I'm a high life flyer
and a rainbow rider ♪

♪ A straight-shootin'
son of a gun ♪

♪ Joy to the world ♪

♪ All the boys and girls ♪

♪ Joy to the fishes
in the deep blue sea ♪

♪ Joy to you and me. ♪
Was I right?

Somebody knock it down
to negative ten?

Yep.

Still got it.

You can take the girl
out of Chi-town...

You know, I came up solving
frozen-body cases like this.

I did everything you do, plus...

Walk ten miles
in the snow?

As a matter of fact...

Where are your damn coats?

This is a coat.

That's a glorified
jean jacket.

All right, you're gonna
end up like this fella,

whoever he is.

Do we know?

Do we know?

Max, come on.

That's Dario Donnelly,
as in Dario.

Of Dario.

Uh-uh.
Come on, Michelin-star chef

of the restaurant
we're standing in.

Huge social?
Oh.

Yeah, oh, that Dario.

You seem pretty excited.

It's kind of creepy.

So is this knife wound.

Mr. Dario barely
bled from it.

It's almost like he was stabbed
after he was frozen.

Blood does freeze at about
the same temperature as water.

Yeah, but the blade's
not very deep.

Stuck right between
ribs seven and eight.

I don't think it
killed him, either.

Could be somebody was
just decorating.

Who would do something
like this?

The man was a massive talent.

He helped feed the unhoused.

He had incredible
bone structure.

Looks like he was chiseled
by Michelangelo.

Goodness gracious.
This must be really
hard for you.

To lose someone
you follow on TikTok.

I think I'm being perfectly
professional about this.

Look, I'll check
with security, but...

it's a pretty good spot
for a murder.

Out of sight of
the cameras out front.

Uh-oh, look at this.

"I'm so sorry"?

Wow.

Nice of the killer
to sign his work.

But not sorry enough
to confess.

♪ 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! ♪

You're gonna be sorry, bub.

Hey, fanboy,
get a shot of this.

"Fanboy."

Why do you think
they took off his shoes?

Couldn't tell you.

Don't be so sure
the killer did that.

None of y'all ever heard of
paradoxical undressing?

Never seen it,
but I suppose it's possible.

What's possible?

Go on.
Freezing to death makes

your circulatory system
stop working.

Blood stops pumping
to your core,

warm blood collects
in your arms and legs,

making your extremities feel
scalding hot by comparison.

Your brain's not getting
enough blood, either.

You become delirious.

You start shedding clothes. Yeah.

All right, so we can dust
for prints, but...

Dario probably took off
his own shoes and socks.

That is textbook peripheral vasodilatation.

Kind of hard to say
what happened first.

He was definitely trapped
in here long enough

to freeze solid.

And it doesn't take that long.

Yeah, uh, could we do
Corpsicle 101 outside?

Uh-huh.

I don't want to become one.

Oh, man,
I just can't warm up.

Oh, me, neither.

Okay, come on, you guys,
circle up, circle up.

Okay, the thing
you gotta realize,

subarctic temperatures
can be a blessing and a curse.

Yeah, the ice man giveth,
the ice man taketh away.

Yes, let's start with
"taketh away."

You cannot autopsy
a block of ice, right?

Uh, last time I called
the Butterball hotline,

they had some pretty simple tips
on defrosting.

But we ain't making dinner.

If we warm Dario
over 38 degrees,

his flesh will start
to decompose

while his internal organs
are still frozen.

Ugh.

What about time of death? Cause?

I mean, are we gonna have to
wait, like, days

till he warms up?

On some answers, yes.

But we will roll with
the evidence that we do have.

Well, maybe I can pull a print

from the message
the killer left us.

Mm, we might find some
on Dario himself.

That's something ice
is good for.

Holds a latent,
locks it in.

We should print the whole staff

since this was probably
an inside job.

Yeah, you and I
could go outside,

where the sun is shining.

Uh, question.
What's that?

Is someone feeling chilly?

Get out.

Get out. Come on.

Go to the fridge,
get Dario,

take him back
to the crypt.

And make sure
you hold him upright.

I don't need that man
breaking in half, okay?
Yep.

Am I a...

You think I...

You're not a suspect, Albert.

These are elimination prints.

We know you touched Dario
when you found him. Yes.

I go to help,
but I see his eyes open.

I can never forget, you know?

Do you know if anyone
in the kitchen was angry

at your boss?
No.

Week before last, I-I start,

but I don't know anyone
who hates Dario.

But he a tough man.

He remind me of, uh...
of my father.

Most of us hated Dario.

But those same people
loved him, too.

He was tough, but he also cared.

Look what he did for
the unhoused of this city.

Dario was just... a lot.

When's the last time
you saw him?

Last night, after we closed.

He made family meal,
like always,

then we all went home.

Who else has access
to the kitchen?

Just us, the staff.

The customers were all gone.

You need an I.D. to get in
through the service tunnel.

It had to be one of us.

You don't seem upset.

Of course I'm upset.

I had so many plans for Dario.

I was going to make
his life hell.

He cheated on me. Me!

You do know you're
being questioned

for a murder
investigation, right?

Now I'm never gonna get
the chance to get back at him.

It's so sad.

So you-you are sorry he's dead?

Of course I am.

He used to make
this grilled cheese...

Whoever killed him,
they never had that sandwich.

That man was a culinary genius.

But his whole public schtick--
Saint Dario--

that was 180 degrees off.

He was a raging egomaniac.

Nobody who worked in his kitchen
was ever good enough.

And you're the sous-chef,

so you got it worse
than most, right?

See this?

"Silver."

That's what Dario called me.

Second place, 'cause I'd
never be a head chef.

But I wore it.

He knew how to motivate.
Motivated somebody

to put a knife in his ribs.

A knife with your initials
on it, right, Damien?

I saw it. It was mine.

But I left my knife kit
here last night.

Anyone could have done it.

I'd never hurt that man.

Is that a luggage cart?

Uh-huh.

I explained what it was for
to the valets.

They said I could keep it.

I can't believe I'm about
to say this, but...

It's not cold enough?
Not even close.

It must be some kind of cooking
oil to still be semi-viscous.

Okay, well, we need it
frozen solid

if we're gonna make a cast
to look for latents.

Compressed air should
make it easier

to make the Mikrosil cast.

Okay.

You know what's crazy?

Some people love
this kind of weather.

They go skiing,
they go snowboarding.

They move to places
like Chicago.

And they love it.

Yeah, 'cause they can't
hack the heat.

That must be what it is.
It totally is.

I mean, if you think about it,
we're the tough ones.

We're not the tough ones,
are we?

People move to the desert to
help with their arthritis.

Of course we're not.

Jack, come on.

Have you ever seen
frozen eyeballs?

I'm not not gonna look.

He doesn't like being stared at.

He didn't mention
anything to me.

Did he say something to you?
Because I...

Hey. Am I interrupting?

Well, we're working
and you're not,

so kinda.

I've offended you
in some way.

Not yet.
Okay, well,

we're gonna solve this
little mystery another day,

but right now I'm here to check
on our friend there, Dario.

I thought Dr. Roby was
running point on this case.

She is, but she's still
coming back from injury, so I...

You want to help her. Yeah.

That's actually kind of sweet.

It's ridiculous but sweet.

Why is it ridiculous?
Because you lack

a magic wand to wave away
Newton's law of thermodynamics.

Frozen dude's gotta
warm up slowly.

This poor man's
blood vessels

have not only been stabbed
and shredded by ice crystals,

but his cells are
also dehydrated,

causing the membranes
to collapse and weaken.

The faster Dario thaws,
the faster those ice crystals

fuse and squeeze his cells
into even tighter spaces,

ultimately deforming them.

Do you want us to deform
Dario's cells?

Uh, no, I don't want to
deform Dario's cells.

Then my assistant
will let you know

when this man comes up to temp.

Jack. Jack will let you know.

In the meantime, you guys mind
if I take some pictures?

Be my guest. Thanks.

Jack, could you
help me out here?

Uh, yeah. My pleasure.

All right, nice.

Great. Neck.

So, if I adjust the contrast,

we should be able to see...

One second here.
What?

I may not have a magic wand,

but I do have a buddy that's
gonna help me pull those prints.

Thanks.

Try thinking warm thoughts.

I'm thinking roaring fire.
Thicker socks.

Some more socks on top of that.

Oh, come on.

Weird. The Mikrosil cast

gives us prints but
not on every letter.

Maybe the killer wrote
certain letters faster?

I guess it doesn't
really matter.

We got plenty to work with.

Nice.

Is this your natural state?

You're just chugging
coffee all day?

Caffeine's got nothing to do
with my mood.

Oh, that's not
crack, is it?

Ruthenium tetroxide.

That's the real fun stuff here.

One of your favorite
unstable molecules, is it?

I'd put it on my Mount Rushmore.

Probably number three.

If we want to find out

who touched Dario around
the time that he froze solid,

there's nothing quite like this
temperamental diva of a crystal.

All right, show me what
your Diana Ross of rocks can do.

Mask up.

Three, two, one.

Nice prints.
Ruthenium tetroxide?

Yours are pretty crisp, too.

Mikrosil cast?
Mm-hmm.

I can't remember
the last time we pulled

so many usable prints
from a scene. Mm.

The ice man giveth.

What's wrong?

The killer didn't
leave us that message.

Dario did.

Those were his prints
in the oil.

Dario the victim?

He's the guy who wrote
"I'm so sorry"?

That's sad, isn't it?

To die so full of regret.

But what was he apologizing for?
Mm-mm-mm.

Maybe he spat
in someone's food.

I mean, that is what
we all worry happens back there.

Right?
I am now.

Actually, that might explain...

Hey, look at the oil
from the message.

What are all the flecks
mixed in it?

That's what I've been wondering.

But since Dario wrote the
message, not the killer,

now I'm thinking
it might just be

some sort of cooking spice.

If it all went down
in the kitchen,

I guess it wouldn't
be surprising. Mm.

Not so fast. Frozen body cases
will surprise you.

They always do.

Here's something.
Hmm?

The prints on Dario's body
belong to Valerie Bianco.

The hostess.

Chavez did say
Dario was cheating on her.

Maybe she...

And Damien Pak.

The sous-chef? Wait a minute.

He did have beef
with Dario.

The guy even tattooed
his name...

And Albert Santoni.
Well, the dishwasher.

I mean, at least we know why
his prints are all over him.

And Holly Prince.

The doe-eyed server?

I'm sorry, you mean to tell me

after all that work
and freezing my nose off,

all we know is half the kitchen
staff could've killed him?

I didn't say it'd be
a good surprise.

I don't know what to tell you.

Dario really made my, uh...

appetite whet last night.

Yeah, we found your fingerprints
all over his face.

You can probably find
even more, uh...

you know.

You seemed pretty upset when you
told me he was cheating on you.

You find that out before

or after you slept with him
that night?

I'll be honest.
It was after.

He wouldn't tell me who,
but I know

it was someone
at the restaurant.

A love triangle.

That sounds complicated.

I'm not proud of it.
I slapped him.

That's all I did to him.

You had motive, access.

So did this other bitch,
whoever she is.

If you find out who it was,
will you tell me?

No.
No.

So, what was the nature
of your relationship

with Dario?

We worked together.

Mm.

We found your prints
on his hands,

on his jacket
and on his neck.

We fool around s-sometimes.

It wasn't serious.

It just started a few weeks ago.
No one knows.

Actually, the other woman Dario
was sleeping with also knows.

What other woman?

There was another woman?

Wh...
Who?

Yes, I touch, uh, Dario
many time

when I find him.
We know, Albert.

You had every reason to help
your boss when you found him.

But some of your prints
were on his neck.

Under his collar.

And that-that didn't
make sense to us.

I don't, um... I...

Sorry, uh, my English...

Where'd you learn Italian?
You study abroad?

I studied an Italian gentleman
before my ex-husband.

He's talking about Damien,

the sous-chef?
Mm-hmm.

Ask him how things were
between him and Dario.

Everybody's had an excuse so far
except for Mr. Pak.

He's the only one that
didn't show up today.

He's at the restaurant.

Yeah, Valerie's story
seems plausible.

They all do, actually.

He close to temp yet?
No.

Not even gonna check?

You've got unrealistic expectations

about corpse thawing.

Yeah, you kind of do.

I just thought, 'cause
he's starting to smell.

What? I haven't
smelled anything.

Did you bring shrimp empanadas
for lunch again?

It was one time.
Wrong, Jack.

It wasn't. Because
shrimp juice is forever.

No, no, it's coming
from Dario, and it's not shrimp.

It smells like, um...

nuts?

I swear I'm not crazy.

I can't smell anything,

but do you mean
like almonds?

Yes! Almonds.
That's exactly it.

But if you can't smell it,
then how'd you know that?

Well, Dario's body
still doesn't have

bluish postmortem lividity.

A corpse at room temperature
will experience livor mortis.

Blood succumbs to gravity
and pools at its lowest point.

That's when the deoxygenation
of the hemoglobin forms

deoxyhemoglobin.
Body turns blue.

But that never happened
with Dario

because he was frozen.

He remained pink because...
Gravity couldn't do its thing.

The fact that he's
still pink tells us

there's something else
going on here, though.

Because hemoglobin and oxygen
can't detach from one another.

As Dario thaws,
his body starts to release

hydrogen-based gases.

Gases that neither Jack nor I
apparently can smell.

Which means that Dario may have
actually died from...

Really?

I-I swear, I was following you
until two seconds ago.

If the gas smells like
bitter almonds...

It means you two are in
the 25% of the population

that can't smell benzaldehyde.
The chemical that gives

a distinctive smell
to both almonds and...

Cyanide.

So this guy wasn't just
stabbed and frozen.

He was also poisoned.

Someone really wanted him dead.

So, which method
was the cause of death?

I'll let you know.

In about three days.

Hey, Damien.

What you got there?

Some mint?

And rosemary and marjoram.

Gonna make a pork loin special.
That's right.

You're taking over
the restaurant

now that Dario's gone.

Is that why you were too busy
to come answer our questions?

Ooh, you mind if I take
one of these?

Kind of what
I was hoping to find.

Why's that?

You grind down
enough peach pits,

and you get this compound
called amygdalin.

And do you know what that
breaks down into?

Uh, no.

Cyanide.

I'm gonna test this to see
if it's the same kind

that Dario ingested.

Come on,
you didn't know that?

Cooking is chemistry, Damien.

I-I don't, uh... I didn't...

So Dario was poisoned?
And frozen.

And stabbed.
And choked by you.

I'm not gonna apologize
for that.

He apologized to me.

Back up.

We fought sometimes, yes.

Uh, physically.
A shove. A smack.

I grabbed him by the neck when
he came at me the other night.

Why'd he do that?

I told him I was leaving.

I got a job interview,
and I was gonna...

Baby bird's leaving the nest.

Yes, okay?

I saw him like a father. That's
why I would never hurt him.

You must be unfamiliar
with the stats on patricide.

No, no, no, we got over it.

We always do.

We made up by family meal.
You can ask anyone.

What about Valerie the server
or Holly the hostess?

Would either of them have
a reason to hurt Dario?

Actually, Valerie's the hostess,
and Holly's the server.

And as easy as it would be
for me to point fingers,

I really doubt it.

We all loved him best we could.

Can I go now?
Yeah.

Excuse me.

You doing okay?

I only ask because you
confused Holly and Valerie.

Yeah, I got, like,
12 cases on my desk.

It happens.

Sure. But I'm just curious, though.

You sleeping okay?
Since your attack.

I'm just wondering. I've seen
this kind of thing before.
Uh-huh.

Actually, I've been there myself.

I know nights can be
the hardest part.

Detective Chavez,
this is none of your...

You were colder than me
in that freezer,

even with your coat.

Your circadian rhythm's
messed up,

and now you're a little foggy.

Wow, you got all
the answers, huh?

I'm just gonna tell you,
try humming.
Mm-hmm.

Uh, it releases melatonin
or something.

It worked for me. Mm.

Thanks. You're driving.

Oi-oi, there he is.
The man with the golden nose.

Cyanide, huh?
That's the theory.

Unconfirmed.

We still can't test
his body.

Hello, Chris.
How are you?

Oh, I'm fine, Chris.
Thanks for asking.

He won't get
off his phone.

I think it's generational.

You're one year older than me.

So, I was thinking,
even though we can't

test Dario, maybe we can
still figure out

how the poison got
into his body.

Run some tests
back at the kitchen?

Something he ate or drank
at that last supper they had?

Maybe. But the cyanide
only affected Dario.

I mean, no one
else got sick.

Hey, what if Dario absorbed
the cyanide

through his hands?

See, look. Dario was famous
for his spice rub.

No one knew what was in it.

No one was even allowed
to touch it.

So, if the spice rub was laced
with the cyanide,

Dario easily could have
absorbed it through his skin.

I did find traces of a spice
in some of the letters

in Dario's message
in the fridge.

And Dario always prepped
the next day's meat

at the end of dinner service,
so I've learned.

We should make sure
no one eats that meat.

A hundred percent.

Also, I cannot believe
I'm saying this, but...

thank you

for spending the last
20 minutes on your phone.

It's a service I provide.

Beau.

Oh, you look broken.

Okay, hotshot, you try
adjusting the GC/MS sensitivity

so it has a chance
of detecting a compound

with a molar weight lighter
than carbon dioxide.

Mm, that's okay.

Now, it took a whole
pot of coffee,

both PhDs to calibrate it,
but at 27.0253 grams per mol,

we'd never find the cyanide
if we weren't looking for it.

Okay, so let's look for it.

Let's do this.

♪ I'm having vivid dreams ♪

♪ That you're all over me ♪

Thank you.

♪ You got me hooked ♪

♪ You got me hooked ♪

♪ You keep on reelin' me in ♪

♪ Keep, keep on reelin' me in ♪

♪ You got me hooked ♪

♪ You got me, got me,
got me, oh. ♪

Oh, that feels good.

Confirmed.

The rub was laced with cyanide.

But not enough to kill him.

What do you mean?
Dario's DL50 number.

That's the measurement at which
half the people his weight

would die, and half would
survive poisoning.

It's nine grams.

Well, what's the concentration
of the spice rub?

Seven-point-two.

I mean, it would
knock him on is butt,

but it wouldn't kill him.

With that much cyanide,
it might cause seizure

or cardiac arrest.

Definitely loss
of consciousness.

So Dario was alive,
just paralyzed,

before someone
locked him in the fridge

and froze him to death?

So, we're starting to
get a clearer picture

of how Dario Donnelly died.

He was exposed to
a nonfatal level of cyanide.

Boss? Seriously?
Hmm?

You are just as bad
as he is.

I have some news here.

Yeah, sorry.

So do we.

You know I'm all over
Dario's social?

Look what someone
just posted.

Somebody's really
enjoying themselves.

Okay, freeze right there.
No pun intended.

That is not a picture

a killer took
of a dead man.

You're right.
He has a little stubble here.

This is just shot
to make him look frozen.

I want to know where
he got that photo.

What makes you so sure
it was just one killer?

We have prints from
four different people,

most of whom had motive. Right.

More than one M.O., too.

Knife, freezer, cyanide.

Maybe one person
started the job,

someone else finished it?
Maybe.

Or maybe when one killer
didn't succeed,

he was taught to try,
try again.

Look at his handle.

"LookPa, IMadeIt"?

Someone had daddy issues.

You think?

All right, this picture of Dario

came from Damien Pak's
birthday party.

You don't say.

It was posted
on a public account.

Anyone could've
grabbed it.

Or maybe it was just
birthday boy himself.

You know, Dario also made
his Michelin-star grilled cheese

for family meal before he died.

So...?

So you get to go tell Sonya
we're tired of waiting.

And...

that should do it.

You love your job, don't you?
I do.

All right, Jack, you're up.

All right.
Watch and learn.

All right,

no pressure, Jack.

All right. You want to take
a look at this fella's

last meal?

And...

we are in, baby.

Respect.

This guy could
put it away.

Yep. There's the grilled cheese.

His entire last dinner's here,
and it's completely undigested.

Which means
Dario had to have been poisoned

right after family meal

with the staff.
Given how little

of this meal
actually was digested,

the killer must've put him
on ice right away.

They got him in the fridge...

...lowered the temp
to negative ten,

left him to die
and the deed was done.

Or so they thought.

But the concentration of cyanide
was too low.

Wasn't even enough
to keep him sedated.

You think Dario woke back up
in the fridge?

He had to. That's when
he took off his shoes and socks.

And that's when he wrote
the message on the glass.

At some point,
the killer realized

his plan had failed...

...grabbed a knife
from Damien's kit...

...stuck it
between Dario's ribs...

...hoisted him on the meat
hook and left him to freeze.

Yeah. I buy
that order of events.

Still doesn't tell
us who killed him.

Or why Dario wrote
"I'm so sorry."

Maybe he just regretted eating
the entire damn kitchen.

We got cheese, beef...

lamb.

Could be lamb. Could be beef.

It's hard to tell.
There's peppers, onions...

Jack, no one cares.

Really?

A great chef's last supper.
Not interested?

Oh, what-what
were you saying?

About the beef
and the lamb?

Uh, just that
they look

exactly the same but they're
completely different...

Thank you! Got to go!

...animals.

Hmm.

You're right.

All the letters in the message
with Dario's prints

also have traces
of the rub.

But the letters
without Dario's prints

are spice-less and smooth.

They're completely
different animals.

So Dario didn't just write
some letters faster.

It's... almost as if
an entirely different person

wrote them.

While wearing a rubber glove.

So, we know he wrote the "Y."

And an "S."

And the "M."

And another "S."
But not in that order.

"M."

"S."

Ooh. Wordle?

No. Just trying to figure out
what Dario was telling us.

Oh. CSI Wordle.

Looks like
that man,

in his dying moments, wrote...

"...messy."

"Messy"?

That's all you got?

Yeah. Final answer.
"Messy."

You're just missing
the "E."

He was dying.

Freezing.

Maybe he forgot to write it.

Actually,

look.

Between the "M" in "I'm"

and the "S" in "so,"

there's a... little smear.

There's your "E."

Somebody wiped it away.

Messy.

Messy.
Messy.

What do you
think it means?

That's dead plate number six, people.

It's not GBD if you
just let it die on the pass.

Yes, Chef!

Look who's top chef now.

Damn it, Sancho,
the board hasn't moved.

Come on.
Sorry, Chef.

Funny how
that works, huh?

He's got
the demanding boss playbook.

I don't have time right now.

No, no, no.
That's not how this works.

You're living the dream here,
huh, Damien?

You got the kitchen,
the title, the power.

You kidding me?
I am short-staffed.

You people
confiscated my meat.

The kitchen's a mess.

And everyone's forgotten how
to cook rib eye medium rare.

So you don't like
the kitchen a mess, huh?

Got to have Messy
or it gets messy.

Whoa, what-what
are you talking about?

She's talking about half
our freaking problem.

Messy's not here,
and we need him.

Washing dishes,
Johnny-on-the-spot, you know?

Messy is a person?

Yeah. You met him.

Guy hasn't shown up to
work since Dario died.

Said he's too shaken to work
after what happened.

God, he's such
a delicate paisan.

Wait a minute,
so Albert is Messy?

Does everybody
call Albert "Messy"?

Most of us.
It's the nickname

Dario gave him.

"It's Messy. Where's Messy?

Come here, Messy."
I don't think

he ever bothered to learn
Albert's real name.

Why?

Dario was telling us
who killed him.

Yeah.

Until he got caught.

Hey.
Hey.

LVPD has an ATL out
for Albert Santoni,

but no bites yet.

You got anything?

You mean proof? No.

Just questions.

What do you mean?

Okay.

Like, how does someone

with a thin grasp
of the English language

have the wherewithal to change
"Messy" into "I'm so sorry"?

That's
a good question.

It's not like he had much time
to think about it.
Right?

I checked cameras.
Mm-hmm.

He was out the door before half
the staff exited the casino.

There you go.

Yoga or Pilates?

Pilates.

Does that help you with, um...

what you're going through?

Usually.

Breathe.
Whoa, whoa, whoa,
whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

He's talking to himself.
After we left.

Breathe.

Just give it a minute.

Then we'll stroll out of here
like Keyser Söze.

What happened to his accent?

And who mutters
in a second language?

Using pop culture references.

Who is this guy?

A killer who lied
to the police.

We got to get
a warrant.

Nicely done.

Yeah.

Took me long enough.

Yes, hey, it's Max.

We need a warrant.

Hey.

I'm just gonna say it--

it's an awfully nice place
for a dishwasher.

Same address

on Albert's W-2, but...

the name doesn't match
his mail.

You think he's using a fake
identity to wash dishes?

Who does that?

Peter "Nesico-lotchy,"

apparently.

Hey.

I think you're gonna need
to update that ATL.

Peter "Nesico-lossy"?

I think you're both pronouncing
it wrong, but at least

he's not lying
about being Italian.

Look, I'll call it in, but...

I don't know, this place
doesn't look too crazypants.

Mm-hmm.

Are we sure this is the guy?

Well, whoever it is,
he's the guy

who posted
the Dead Dario Dance.

Oh.

Oh, this looks promising.

Oh.

So that's what this is.

Albert or whatever
we want to call him,

he was obsessed
with Dario.

So he adopted a new identity
as a dishwasher

to get close to him. Why?

That, I don't know,
but I'm pretty sure

Dario chose the wrong guy
to nickname.

Look at these dates.
Peter didn't start

researching Dario
till a month ago.

Wow. Guy moves fast.

He's already been
at the restaurant three weeks.

Peter knew his way
around graphic arts.

He created
Albert's fake green card,

his fake Social Security card,
made that fun video.

"Albert" may
be new, but...

I doubt it was this guy's first
time at the fake I.D. rodeo.

I wonder if...

"Peter" is real, either.

He is. I have the transcript
here from Peter Nesicolacci's

most recent criminal trial.

"Most recent"?

We got his whole
tale of woe here

in the pleading.
So, he's assumed

different identities before.

His parents are Italian,

but he grew up in and out
of abusive foster homes

here in Vegas.

Been in and out
of the system ever since.

He ever killed before?

Uh, not that
LVPD knows,

but he has a history
of assault and battery.

What about obsessive behavior?

Stalking?

We think Peter changed
his name and pursued

the dishwashing gig
to get close to Dario.

That would be a new one
for this guy.

But put him

in a stressful work environment
with an abusive boss and...

Oh. Oh. Uh...

Stop! Stop!

Peter!

Wait!

Stop!

Control, H-11.

Requesting backup.

Suspect headed to the roof.

Peter!

Hey!

All right. Hey, Peter,
Peter, Peter! Okay. All right.

All right, there's
nowhere else to run, man.

Can we stop?

Let's stop.

Oh, I can't go back in.

Now, now,
Peter, listen,

just talk to me.

No, you don't
understand.
What?

There's no hope
for me out here, man.

None.
Hey. Okay,
but this was

the plan, right? This-- You
wanted us to know what you did.

Right?

That's why you posted
that video.

That wasn't for you.

Okay.

Who was it for?

You wouldn't understand.

Hey, hey. Hey, try me.

Try me. Come on.

Talk to me. I've seen a lot
of things on this job, man.

We can talk.
We can talk this through.

It's just us, man.

Talk to me.

Peter. Come on, man.

We can talk.

Hey, Peter, don't
worry about them.

Peter.

It's just us.

Peter, talk to me.

No, no.

Peter, don't worry.
It's just us, man.

Hold on.

Hey, hey, Peter,
stay with me. No. No!

After all that,

Albert or whatever
his name was,

he's gone?

Do CSIs always come
around like this,

after the fact?
No.

But, um...

...I think this belongs to you.

I'll tell you this.

Trauma has a way
of bubbling up

when we think
it's buried.

Albert, the guy
you knew as Messy,

had been beaten on
his whole life.

It doesn't
make sense.

But he changed his identity
to get as close

as he could to a man
he looked up to.

I think he really idolized him.

Yeah, a lot of people did.

I think that he
was not prepared

to handle the truth
about who he really was

and how he treated people.

Probably not.

You know, Damien,

I think you and I
came up the same way.

Except I was
on the basketball courts.

And every coach
I ever had...

...they'd just push me.

'Cause I had something,
something they needed.

And then when I became
a coach...

...I-I did the exact same thing.

What happened?

Veronica Butler.

Who's that?

A player
who burned out and quit.

She was the best
college player I ever saw.

And you might
know her name

if it weren't for me
just pushing her so hard.

You know,
it costs a lot

to get good at something.

And it costs more

to become a good leader.

Heavy is the head.

Good luck, young man.

Come on.

Mm.

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