Original subtitles

Is that a menacing lion I see over there?

Or maybe just an angry squirrel.

Okay, got it. Your boyfriend's a big chicken.

Hilarious. Oh, no.

Are there chickens out here, too?

It's snakes I'm worried about, okay?

Not lions, not tigers...

Snakes in the middle of winter?

Why not? They're cold-blooded.

Which is why they're dormant: not enough sun to warm them up.

This is ninth grade earth science, babe.

- I guess I slept through that... - Oh, my God!

Nice try.

What the hell? Joe, get up!

Thank you.

Tên ep

I try and do more than "just the facts, ma'am."

This one is a real page-turner.

It's got mood, intrigue, emotion.

And that typo.

That or you flat-out misspelled the word.

Either way, I caught it.

And what word is that? "Weather." As in:

"Our agents did their best to whether the storm."

I see it. You spelled it W-H, "whether or not."

When in fact it should be W-E, as in, like: "How's the weather?"

Or as in: "I doubt whether anyone would care either way."

I care. I'm not just anyone.

There is a third spelling. W-E-T-H,

like in "bellwether," which means a castrated ram.

And why would anyone say: "We'll castrated ram the storm"?

Uh, just pointing out the nuances of the English language.

I've got some nuance for you.

Grab your gear. Dead petty officer, Great Falls Park.

What is a bellwether?

Well, a "wether" is a ram that leads

a flock of sheep with a bell around its neck.

It's a bellwether.

- Ah, got it. - Okay, cool.

Don't even ask, boss.

Victim is Petty Officer Third Class Logan Braddish,

currently listed as U.A. from his base in Norfolk.

What was he doing way out here?

And what tore him up like that?

Give me a guess, Palmer.

There's a lot of little postmortem bites

from much smaller animals, but his throat and abdomen

were clearly ripped up by something much larger.

Well, park rangers have had black bear sightings

- over the past few years. - Except black bears

aren't known to attack people.

Could have been wolves.

Or coyotes. In these woods?

- Mm. - No way. Oh, got something here.

- Bishop. - Hmm?

That's a claw.

Sure is. Uh, could I have an evidence bag, please?

That could have been a bear after all.

- Could be. - Maybe he

accidentally snuck up on a mother and her cubs?

Only one way to find out.

Spread out, start looking.

Paw prints, bear scat, blood trail. Go.

And by "scat" you mean...?

Does a bear scat in the woods?

Ah. Yeah, that's what I thought you meant.

He was just a baby-faced kid.

Ah. Guess I can add this to the list.

Yeah? What list?

Of the most horrible deaths since I started here.

This ranks somewhere between pummeled with a war stick

and boiled in a hot tub. You know,

technically, our hot tub guy was stabbed before he was boiled.

Yeah, that makes it so much less horrible.

Anyway, please tell me this is your first bear attack.

It is. If that's what this is.

You have this claw and those wounds.

What more do you need?

I need whatever you can find here.

You got it. Quick as I can.

- Hi. - Hey.

There's my favorite son-in-law.

What?

Ed. Hey.

You're busy.

No. I, uh... I-I mean, yes, yes. But I...

Is everything okay? Everyone's super-duper.

I was just in the neighborhood, thought I'd surprise you.

Thank you, Agent Supliski. I've got him.

And actually...

...I thought I'd grab you for lunch.

Oh, gosh. I-I would love that.

Are you sure there's nothing wrong?

Given your reaction, it must be obvious

that we don't do this nearly enough.

Or ever.

Uh, actually, you know what, Ed,

I-I might have to take a rain check for today.

I've just started a rather peculiar case.

Forget peculiar.

We don't get many like this at the funeral home.

I'd be worried if you did.

Wow. Mind if I ask what happened?

Bear attack is the working theory so far.

A bear? How crazy is that?

Maybe a little too crazy, Ed.

There's a lot of claw marks here,

but as you can see, none of them are too deep.

Yeah, I-I think a bear would pack more of a wallop.

Well, they look plenty deep to me.

I could see a grizzly bear out west,

or maybe a polar bear up north, but...

I mean, a black bear attack?

Why not? I hear about attacks all the time,

and, you know, black bears, brown bears,

they all have teeth and claws, right?

Wait a minute. How did I miss that?

Miss what? What is it?

It looks like a knife wound under this claw mark.

Yeah. Yeah, that's about an inch wide.

Partially obscured by this...

torn dermis here. You see that, Ed?

You...

Ed? What's wrong?

This was a bear. What?

Say it was a bear. Please.

Ed, wh-what are you... I promise you, Jimmy,

it's a matter of life and death.

Call it a bear attack. For me.

What do you got, Palmer?

Oh. Agent Gibbs. Well, you know what?

It's Ed Slater. I'm Jimmy's father-in-law and Breena's dad.

It's been a few years. I'm glad you're well.

Undertaker. You remember. See?

Yeah, that's right.

Although I prefer "postmortem coordinator."

Palmer. You need an update?

Still a bear?

Um... yeah. I-It's... it's still a bear.

Keep me posted.

Good to see you again, Gibbs.

What have I done?

Can't believe I just lied to Gibbs.

And for what? Pancakes.

You ever have pancakes for lunch?

What do you say?

Tell me why, Ed,

why, after years of earning that man's trust,

did I just lie to his face because of you.

What is so life-and-death?

I hate to admit, but I've been gambling.

And, well, I thought it was just a weekly friendly poker game

with the other local merchants.

Gambling is not life-and-death, Ed.

But $50K is.

That's what I get for going all in

on four kings, not knowing the dry cleaner had four aces.

You lost $50,000 to a dry cleaner?

Peter hosts the game. Nice guy, or at least he was

until I went to work out a payment plan.

Suddenly he had a favor to ask

that would erase all my debts entirely.

- A favor? - He brought the kid's dead body

to my embalming studio

and told me to make it look like an accident.

Okay, who wants coffee?

Not just yet. Actually...

I'd love a cup.

- Ed. - Huh?

Not just yet. Okay.

Did the dry cleaner tell you what happened?

No, and I didn't ask.

I saw the knife wound and that he was Navy,

so I figured eventually he'd end up

on your autopsy table, so...

So you thought you'd just fake a bear attack.

That's why I worked so hard to make it look real

so that'd make your job easier.

Wh-What, to help you cover up a murder?

That's not exactly what we did.

That is exactly what...

That is exactly what you did, not we.

Unless... What about Stevie?

Is he still helping you out at the funeral home?

Sure, yeah, but Stevie's out of town.

He doesn't know anything about it.

Of course. Your own son stays clean

while your son-in-law gets dragged through the mud.

I swear I'll make it up to you.

Don't. Just... I don't...

Tell me who else plays in this game.

It's me and Peter Liu-- he's the dry cleaner--

Janice, the Froyo lady, Dimitri, who owns a barbershop,

old man DiNozzo, Lenny the bartender,

and... Stop.

Did you just say "old man DiNozzo"?

Anthony. Yeah. He's retired,

but a real old-school raconteur.

- He knows terrific stories. - Okay,

w-was he there the night that you lost?

Yeah. Why? Do you know him?

You bet I do. I'm gonna reach out and see if he can help.

what do you want me to do?

Uh, you just... order your coffee and pancakes

and... I don't know, try not to cover up any more murders till I get back, huh?

Sarcasm doesn't help.

"Derived from the Greek word 'skat' with a 'K,'

meaning 'excrement of an animal'."

Yeah. Wild animals, maybe.

Cows have manure, cow pats, meadow muffins...

Bird droppings, bat guano...

Wait, did you say "meadow muffins"?

Cut the crap. You find any?

No, boss, no, uh, scat at the scene. No paw prints, either.

Then what do we have?

Petty Officer Third Class Logan Braddish, 22.

Served three years, stationed out of Norfolk,

where he never reported back this past Sunday

after weekend liberty.

Navy pals claimed that he left their group

Friday night to check out this trendy nightclub in Georgetown,

and that was the last they saw of him.

- Any family in the area? - No. He was from Vermont.

His family has been notified. His dad is on his way down.

McGee, Bishop, check out the nightclub. Torres,

call the rangers again, find out if they have any bear sightings.

Scat.

Call me back as soon as you can, Mr. DiNozzo. It's urgent.

Thank you.

Hey there.

You finished already?

Yes. And... look who's back.

I... Oh, of course. Dr. Mallard!

Good to see you, too, Dr. Palmer.

You aren't due back for several weeks.

Yes. But this weekend, I have a table at the...

Marine Corps Scholarship Foundation Ball.

So... back I am.

And we're so glad you are. Yes. Definitely glad.

And I discovered he was back because I have some weird news.

- Weird? - Those samples you gave me?

They contain not one trace of bear saliva.

Bear saliva.

This must be the petty officer in question.

That-that is weird, Kasie.

L-Let me take another sample here just to make sure.

May I assist you with that? No, you may not.

What I mean to say is that if I have made a mistake,

I would prefer to correct it myself,

if you don't mind. - Hmm. Of course.

You know, Duckster, I'd, um...

I would love to show you the latest addition to my lab.

Yes! Yes, comfy chairs.

You need to try these out.

I'm, well, I-I'm gonna just, um, swab,

uh, another sample for Kasie and that's all.

Very well. Lead the way, Kasie.

So glad you're back.

Oh, man.

What am I doing?

Can I be doing this?

Is this even happening? Why am I asking you?

Mr. DiNozzo. Thank you for calling me back.

What's up, Brother Jimmy? What's the deal?

Deal? What deal? There's no deal.

Kasie texted me. She said you were stressed.

What's wrong, man?

I just got a lot going on. You know?

And I was just going to meet someone, so, uh...

Who are you gonna meet? Spit it out, dude.

Talk to your boy Nick.

Fine.

You don't happen to know somewhere

where I could get some bear saliva, do you?

I actually do know a guy.

But the guy is super weird,

so this has to be really important.

Yeah, I lied to Gibbs.

- What? - I did it. I lied.

It happened so fast. Please, just don't tell him.

No, I won't. But you know he knows.

He does know, doesn't he? Yeah, he always knows.

Yeah, I knew the second that I told him that he knew.

Worse off, he knows that I know that he knows.

Well, you know how he knows. He knows that...

Never mind.

Why did you lie? Okay, so, it's a long story,

but... Actually, don't tell me.

I don't want to know. I'm better off that way.

You got to fix this, right?

Yeah. I fully intend to.

I gotta clean up something else first.

What's that something else you have to clean up?

Do you really want to know, Nick?

Yes. No.

No. Yes. Actually, no, I don't really want to know.

No, don't tell me. I don't really want to know.

I really want to know.

That's quite a tale.

Yeah? What do you think?

How well do you know this, uh, dry cleaner?

- Peter? Well enough. - Hmm.

Being an excellent poker player

doesn't necessarily make him a killer.

He's not excellent, just lucky.

I'm afraid it's more than I can say for you.

Watching you play that last hand

that night, Ed, was like watching

a car wreck in slow motion.

His raises were way over the top,

and he's got so many tells.

No, I don't. Yes, you do.

I knew something was wrong the second you came in this morning.

Your lower lip twitches. And the eyebrows, huh?

The best of Groucho.

Plus, uh, he's a table talker.

Constantly bragging between hands

about his hotshot son-in-law who runs NCIS.

You tell people I run NCIS?

Well, it's easier than explaining what an assistant ME does.

I've told you seven times, I'm not an assistant anymore.

And-and you didn't bother correcting him?

I'm not a table talker.

But could we get back to the alleged murder?

You're right. I'm afraid

it's more than alleged, though, Mr. D.

The poor kid was clearly stabbed.

But by whom?

I mean, Peter hardly seems like the type.

I could talk to him.

Yeah? And say what?

Well, I'd mediate. Uh, try to get Ed off the hook here

and maybe point us in the, uh, direction of the true killer.

That would be fantastic.

Yeah, I'll take Ed with me,

but I think it's, uh, better if you steer clear.

No, absolutely not. No, this is on me to clean up.

If you go, I go. I wouldn't mind not going.

Oh, no, you're going. We're all going.

Oh, it's a Liu's Hangers.

There's one of these in my neighborhood.

- Must be a chain, huh? - Peter Liu's.

The best in the biz.

Yeah, it's no wonder he can afford to host

such a high-stakes game.

Oh, there are far bigger games than this.

And with some serious high rollers.

Too high for my blood. Hey, guys, before we go in,

I beg you to just stay civil with Peter.

Relax, Ed. The guy's a pussycat.

Hold on.

Your lower lip is twitching. No, it's not.

There go the dancing eyebrows.

All right, Groucho. Spill your guts.

- What are you not telling us? - All right.

Fine. You know what, maybe it's better that you know

before we go in. - Know what?

Peter Liu's got Stevie.

- Stevie? - Ed's son.

Wait, wh-what do you mean, "got"?

Peter's taken him as insurance.

Insurance.

You know, he's not giving Stevie back

until I take care of the dead kid.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

I wish I was, but...

Okay, so-so, Stevie has been taken hostage,

and you're only telling us about this now?

Hey. The last thing Peter said was if I tell anyone,

Stevie's good as dead.

Okay. All right. You know what, guys?

We should just go. All right?

It might be a little late for that.

I hope he can't read lips.

Bear attack. Ridiculous.

I told you to stick with the plan

and just cremate the guy.

I couldn't do it, Peter.

Cremate him, Ed?

I thought he told you to make it look like an accident.

He was also warned not to tell anyone,

but here you are.

The famous son-in-law who runs NCIS.

I may not run NCIS, but make no mistake.

I could have a team of agents down here in minutes.

You're in too deep with too much to lose.

If you weren't, your agents would be here already.

Peter, can we just take a breath?

It's me talking, your old buddy Tony.

I'm sure that you and I can reach a compromise.

You know what, Tony? You are a buddy,

so I'll tell you this once.

Keep your nose out of this or lose it.

How's that for compromise?

Not exactly what I had in mind.

Would you just tell us if Stevie is here?

He's safe.

But he'll only stay that way

if you can sell this stupid bear attack.

Mind you, a simple cremation would've avoided all of this.

Thank your father-in-law for that.

The bear attack wasn't stupid, by the way. It was stupid.

Now go finish this.

Go!

If you'd just told me about Stevie from the start, Ed,

I would've handled this a lot differently.

I was afraid. I panicked.

I panicked a little bit myself in there.

Okay. All right, we are all done panicking.

I know now what I have to do.

You'll sign off on the bear attack?

No! Ed, there's no more bear attack.

What I have to do is much worse.

Good morning, McGee. You, uh, get the footage uploaded?

Just finishing now.

What up, what up? You came through the back way?

I went to see Jimmy, but he's not in yet.

Has he been through here? No. Why?

No reason.

Nick. Ellie.

How'd it go at the club?

No, you first. No.

You first. Nightclub.

- Go. - Well, we confirmed

Petty Officer Braddish was there Friday night.

Club's owner recognized him as one of two men tossed out for fighting.

Owner didn't know either man, but the bouncers said

that both men were drunk and hitting on the same girl.

That's what led to the brawl.

There were no cameras outside the club, so we're looking

for witnesses who may have seen what happened

after they were thrown out. Find the witnesses.

Get the footage down to Kasie.

- Facial recognition. - Got it.

Hey, uh, Gibbs, the kid's father is here

with Sloane in the conference room.

When did you last speak to your son, Mr. Braddish?

Uh, right before weekend liberty.

He'd been working hard.

He was pumped. Last thing I said to him...

The last thing I said to him was, "Be careful."

Why? Was Logan planning to do anything daring or dangerous?

No, no, just letting off a little steam.

Logan was a bit of a hellcat as a teen,

but the navy really turned him around.

Hey, there. Special Agent Gibbs. Don't get up.

We're sorry about your loss.

Thank you.

Not that, uh... not that Logan was a bad kid.

He just... A little bit of a partier, you know?

Too much beer after football games.

He get in many fights?

He had a few scrapes, like anyone.

Why?

Are you trying to tell me that that's how he died?

Was Logan in a fight?

We're still working on that. Please.

The cops won't give me any details.

How did he die?

I'm so sorry, Mr. Braddish. We know this is very difficult.

Can I at least see him?