All language subtitles for CSI.S06E24.Way.To.Go.DVDRip.XviD-SAiNTS

Get the paramedics.

Hang in there, Jim, hang in there.

Right here. Right here.

Good job.

Sir, sir, can you see me?

Sir, can you hear me?

Sir, stay with me. Sir?

He's got a pulse of 120.

55 year-old male,

GSW left anterior chest, entering at the level

of the deltoid and AC joint.

Minimally responsive.

He's a cop.

Tachycardic in the 120s,

BP's 86 over 40 and dropping,

02 stats in the 80s with assisted ventilation...

Okay, we're losing a lot of blood here.

We need two large-bore IV's.

Run the fluids wide, he's extremely hypotensive.

Absent breath sounds on the left.

Likely pneumothorax.

Let's put in a chest tube

and pressors for that BP stat.

He's in V-fib!

Paddles!

Three hundred!

Clear!

Come on. Come on!

Come on.

Three-sixty!

Clear!

I envy these parents who live in ignorant bliss

because I know how my daughter, Ellie, lives.

I know the company she keeps

and I know what she does to get by.

And... anyway, I mean,

I'm... I'm... a couple of nights ago

I'm in LA and sitting in my car on Hollywood Boulevard

watching her work a corner.

And my eyes are playing tricks on me because I don't see

what she's doing, I see what she was.

I see a little six year-old girl

with a ponytail, playing with crayons...

...singing a little tune to herself.

It's... I don't know, all I want to do is save her.

But the thing is, you know,

if something happened to me...

I don't think Ellie would, uh... care.

So I'm asking you to do me this favor.

There's no one I trust more with my life,

or my death... than you.

Captn Brass was shot twice.

First bullet lodged in his vest.

Second entered thrgh his axilla, hit an artery,

and is lodged near his heart.

He's has internal hemorrhaging.

Any neural damage?

We won't know until we stop the bleeding.

If we stop it.

Have next-of-kin been notified?

For medical purposes, I have his power of attorney.

You may have a decision to make.

I'll let you know.

Grissom.

Yeah.

Okay.

DB in Henderson on the train tracks.

I'll take the first watch.

You go work.

I just spoke with McKeen.

I heard it's bad.

Pretty bad.

They're trying to stabilize him.

The last train passed through here an hour ago.

The engineer thought he saw a body

on the track, but couldn't stop on time.

He radioed dispatcher, who called 911.

No ID.

Probably decapitated by the train.

Well, if scavengers nicked his clothes,

they left a nice pair of riding boots.

They probably didn't have time to finish the job

before other trains roared through here.

Well, the engineer isn't saying anything else

until his union rep gets here,

which... could be a while.

I'll let you know.

Great.

You know, there's not a lot of blood on the ground

for a decapitation like this.

Well, we don't know how far he was dragged.

Where's the head?

I'll find it.

Hey, Nick.

Yeah?

I think I found a toupee.

Our vic may be bald.

Thanks, that will help me distinguish it from the other

severed heads I find out here.

Whoa.

What a waist.

David, are you getting the liver temp

or performing acupuncture?

Well, his liver's not where it's supposed to be.

Do you think this is some kind of birth defect?

What do you think?

I think I feel fat.

Yes.

Got the liver.

Suicide?

A guy loses his shirt at the tables,

decides to take a permanent nap on the tracks.

Well, he died with his boots on.

You don't have to go through the dude's mail.

Name's Manny Rupert.

He's a new tenant.

Paid first and last in cash.

We got a lot of party people around here.

You know, so there's loud music every night,

but this dude was pumping tunes at 7:00 in the morning.

You know, I knock on the door, I go in,

that's when I see the dude all laid out on the bed.

Mm-hmm. Uh, figured I better step out, call in the big guns.

That's you.

Um, listen...

if my good citizenship is not going to be appreciated here,

maybe I just don't call the next one in, you know?

Just stay here and shut up.

I'll be back to take your prints,

assuming they're not already in the system.

Um... okay.

Which of the seven deadly sins are not represented here?

Petecchial hemorrhaging.

Could be from vomiting or asphyxiation.

This guy was rolling on all cylinders.

He was bound to throw a rod.

Or somebody threw it for him.

Pillow or a hand on the face certainly could've done the trick.

Well, based on the lack of rigor,

TOD's three or four hours ago;

tell you more after we clean him up and open him up.

Wallet's empty.

You know what they say, it's not a real party

till somebody breaks something.

I got blood.

I got a noisemaker.

Bullet holes.

Somebody shot out the mirror.

No apparent gunshot wounds on the vic.

Let's get busy, boys.

This man's organ were displaced.

It's similar to the way a pregnant woman's internal organs get

re-arranged to compensate for expanding uterus.

Some of these blisters is fresh,

but there's evidence of scarring and irritation

going back years.

It all suggests a consistent long-term pressure on the waist.

So what, torture or self-inflicted?

I don't know.

But either way, it must have been agonizing.

I'm beginning to sense that COD was not decapitation.

There's a bullet hole...

COD, shot to the head

with this.

It looks like lead.

.44 caliber is my guess.

That's a cannon.

We managed to stop the bleeding,

but his condition is critical.

What are the options?

We could try to remove the bullet.

What are the risks?

If we go in, the vertebral arry could be impacted.

He could bleed out or stroke out.

Permanent incapacitation.

And without surgery?

The bullet could migte into the artery

and, again, cause a stroke or kill him.

Or it could stay there for years and do nothing.

He might never wake up.

What are the odds?

Mr. Grissom, this isn't a casino.

I don't give odds.

It's your call.

Do it.

Hi, it's Ellie.

You know the drill.

Ellie, this is Gil Grissom from the Las Vegas Crime Lab.

I'm a friend of your father's.

I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your dad's been shot.

And his condition is serious.

I think you should come and see him.

It would help him a lot.

Please call me at 702-555-4141.

Why the residue on your vic's so-called waist

was topical cortisone, prescription strength.

The guy had an itch.

He was doing more than scratching.

Topical doesn't get absorbed into the bloodstream.

But Henry says that the guy's blood

was flooded with cortisone.

That makes sense,

as much orthopedic pain as the guy was in.

You checking out my waist?

I'm a 32-incher myself.

Same as in college.

Congratulations.

Women aren't the only ones

who feel the pressure to look good.

Time was, having a rotund belly

was a sign of prosperity and success.

Now it just means you're a lazy glutton, not getting any.

Fibers.

The fibers from the victim's long johns

are consistent with the fibers found in the burned-up clothes.

Means those were the clothes he was wearing.

Raw wool, dyed grey.

Did you get a manufacturer?

No one from my database.

But I did find pomegranate berry extract,

used to turn wool dye in the 1800s.

Insect activity all over these fibers.

Maybe moths or mites.

Check it out.

Means that the fabric was old.

Vintage clothing, maybe?

Maybe.

Did you analyze the bone fragments?

I'm only one highly-gifted person.

I'll let you know.

You been to the hospital?

They're prepping him for surgery.

I'll keep good thoughts.

Mr. Party Till I Drop.

His blood alcohol level was 0.28.

Point two-eight?!

That's barely conscious for most people.

That's like falling-down drunk.

Drunk just gets you in the door.

We're also talking cocaine,

opiates, barbiturates, methamphetamine,

MDMA, THC.

Serum was milky white with triglycerides.

Wow.

If it was illegal, fun or nasty, this guy was into it.

Yeah, I'll say.

I just analyzed the secretion swabs you collected from his body.

Was there enough for DNA?

Oh, yeah. The donor's female.

She's consistent with both the blood from the mirror

and the pubic hair from the victim's mouth.

And then I ran the profile through CODIS,

and you got really lucky.

She's a local prostitute.

She's in the system for a trick roll.

There's evidence of sexual activity in every orifice,

including his ears.

You joking?

No.

We've got pubic hairs, vaginal secretions.

Maybe he suffocated during oral sex.

Would you care to move on to stomach contents?

Guess we're done with the appetizers.

Well, the main course was

enough alcohol and cake to cater a wedding.

Well, at least he went out in style, hmm?

Alone, maybe none of it

would've been fatal, but taken all together...

Means he died with a smile on his face.

Among other things.

Hey.

Just came from the hospital.

Oh.

No, no. Traffic fatality.

Sorry.

Where's McKeen?

I sent him home.

Just kidding. He went to get something to eat.

Brass just went into surgery.

You two have known each other for a long time.

We've worked together ever since he came from New Jersey.

Just between you and me,

does he always wear a suit?

Like when you guys go to dinner,

the movies or whatever it is you do when you hang out.

'Cause I got to tell you,

thought of him in a sweater kind of freaks me out.

We don't "hang out," Greg.

No kidding.

I just assumed...

What do you mean consent was given?

Nobody has asked my consent to do anything,

and I'm his daughter.

I understand you're upset, miss,

but there's no need to take that tone.

Look, I'm just here to see my father, okay?

He's a cop.

He's in surgery.

The only thing you can do right now

is take a seat and wait until he gets out.

Excuse me, Ellie?

What?

I'm Gil Grissom.

Thanks for coming.

So I guess you're the one who's in charge.

How long is his surgery going to take?

Probably a few hours.

Look, I just got off a bus, I would really like

to take a shower and change and maybe get a little rest.

Do you have the keys to his house?

No.

Well, you're a cop, right? How 'bout you just let me in?

You know, there's a motel just down the street.

I'll get you a room.

Do you want to check my arms?

Go ahead.

All right? It looks like Daddy already told you all about me.

I don't even know why I bothered to come.

How's it going?

You okay?

I'm okay.

That's a... man in a corset.

Corset-training.

A venerable practice.

Maybe for Scarlett O'Hara.

Since when was it equal opportunity?

In Victorian times, it was considered

a staple of masculine attire.

Students in British boarding schools

were encouraged to lose an inch a year

from the time they were 14 on.

I guess I should feel comforted that sadistic ideas of beauty

aren't restricted to women.

It's called a wasp-waist, which is revealing.

A wasp is from the insect group

hymenoptera.

The notion of hymen indicates virginity.

In predacious wasps, the genitalia no longer functions

as a reproductive organ.

It's used as a stinger.

Go in for sex and get stung.

Pretty much every man's fear.

The victim was shot,

body dumped, clothes burned.

The corset, too.

The bone fragments that Nick found

at the crime scene re whalebone,

which is what they used to make corsets out of.

Where did you learn so much about corsets?

I have my sources.

The embroidery is Chinese, silk.

The lace is made from hand-tatted linen thread.

Ribs are pure whalebone.

They don't make them like this anymore.

I'm sure the whales appreciate that.

How many, if any,

do you sell to men?

More than you'd think.

Many men with back problems have remarked how much better

a boned-tabbed Elizabethan corset feels

than a steel back brace.

Let's focus on your customers that don't have back problems.

Ms. Sidle, people's private lives are their own business.

I don't want to...

Mr. Phillipe, I have a dead man with a 19-inch waist

and no way to identify him.

Any help at all would be appreciated.

Do you have a picture?

I have a head shot.

Oh, my God, that's, uh,

that's Caleb Carson. He comes in

once a year for a re-stitch and reinforcement.

Is he into pain, masochism?

I don't know.

How about cross-dressing?

I seriously doubt that.

How come?

Mr. Carson never spoke much,

but he was the type of man who, when he came into the store,

if I were sitting down, I'd immediately stand up.

He treated me like a servant.

And, truth be told,

he actually made me feel like one.

I'm going to need his address.

Colonel Caleb "C.C." Carson.

1864.

Resembles the victim.

At least from the neck up.

These are Civil War-era photos.

They didn't smile much back then.

Subjects had to hold completely still for five minutes.

Otherwise, the exposure would blur.

It hurt to hold a smile.

Bet these hurt more.

It's the same caliber killed the vic.

They don't make 'em like they used to.

Warrick just called from the hospital.

They got the bullet.

How's he doing?

He hasn't regained consciousness yet.

This fellow seems to have lost his way.

Is this Gettysburg?

You into military history?

My dad was.

Used to spend the summer touring Pennsylvania in an RV,

so I could learn things.

You were a lucky girl.

Pickett's Charge, I think.

The Confederates advanced

from this position to Cemetery Ridge.

They marched to their doom,

but kept their honor.

Carson obviously

was a Son of the South.

Looks comfortable.

Well, he was into discipline and self-denial.

This corset ties from the back, which means Mr.

Carson couldn't have tied the laces by himself.

He had to have help.

Seems to run in the family.

Oh, I don't really know. I...

You know what?

Let me call you back.

Ellie?

Hey.

You know your father's out of surgery.

Yeah. How's he doing?

It's a little too early to tell, but I know

when he wakes up, he'll be happy to see you.

You think so?

I know so. You look good.

Yeah, you mean, I don't look like a crack whore anymore?

That's not what I meant, but no.

Does he ever talk about me?

That's a no.

Look, what do you want me to say, hmm?

It's not really about you right now, okay?

But the fact that you're here is saying a lot.

Yeah, well, thanks for clearing that up for me.

Remember that trick roll that you pled out last year?

I have no idea what you're talking about.

Your DNA in our database says that you do.

We found your blood in Manny Rupert's apartment,

with him lying there dead.

If you Belushi'd the guy,

maybe you didn't mean to.

Now would be the time to say it.

Look, I'm the victim here.

Funny, you don't look dead.

Look, the whole night started out normal, okay?

I mean, he paid for everything.

He was kind of fun.

And he was up for anything.

I mean, there was champagne, E, coke, cake.

And he wasn't even bad-looking.

So, how did it go so bad?

Well, usually, a guy is good for maybe one or two.

This guy wanted more after six, if you know what I mean.

No "off" switch?

No, not even close.

It's getting kind of late.

No, look, you're not... you're not going anywhere!

Okay, honey, you need to get some rest.

No. I paid for the whole night!

Son of a... Ow. Ouch. Ow.

He was whacked out, but he was alive when I bolted.

Well, that's a great story, but it doesn't sound

like it was worth the ten G's that we found in your purse.

I earned that money.

Don't take it personally,

but you are not a $10,000-a-night girl.

Are you finished processing those prints

from Manny Rupert's apartment?

Does it look like I have?

So far, the decedent's prints are everywhere.

Got them on liquor bottles, drug paraphernalia, the gun, the dishes.

Are you looking for something in particular?

We're looking for anything the hooker might have touched.

We're thinking she might have slipped him something

that pushed him over the edge.

I got her prints off of the bedpost,

the chair, and a soda can.

She didn't touch the booze or pills.

Maybe she's in AA.

Maybe she's not a killer.

I just can't believe it.

I've been with Mr. Carson for years.

How do you mean?

Nothing like that.

I was his driver.

I take it you got my fingerprints from my work card?

That's right.

They were on one of Mr. Carson's corsets.

I was also Mr. Carson's dresser.

What did that entail?

In the 19th century,

a dresser's job was to help gentleman soldiers

with their equipment.

So you dressed him in Rebel drag.

If you're asking, did I lace his corset,

of course.

Every morning.

Did it hurt?

Absolutely.

But he controlled the pain.

When was the last time you saw him?

Yesterday morning.

At the house.

No.

At a duel.

A duel?

Where?

Gettysburg.

If all you do is Civil War recreations,

why were you and Caleb Carson having a duel?

Ugh! Apparently, I offended him.

Honey, I'm right in the middle of Cemetery Ridge here.

I care what we have for dinner.

Well, check the cupboards...

Sir!

You dishonor the dead.

Damn it, Caleb, that was my wife I was talking to.

My great-great grandfather spilled blood

on this hallowed ground.

Oh, really?

I didn't know Gettysburg was in Nevada.

I demand satisfaction.

I challenge you to a duel, sir!

Okay. Fine.

Let's do it.

I'd never reenacted a duel, so, uh,

we agreed to meet on the field of honor with our pistols.

And real bullets?

No, no, not in my gun.

No, I figured we were just going to blast some powder

and then go out for pancakes.

Caleb wanted a little more authenticity.

Guns at the ready and...

one, two,

three, four, five,

six, seven, eight,

nine, ten.

But this isn't a recreation, you know.

He really shot me.

Almost nicked the bone.

It's a good thing my second was there.

He's a male nurse.

A man shoots you, and you don't call the police?

He shot me 'cause I was taking a cell phone call.

What do you think he was going to do if went to the cops?

When that bullet hit me,

I ran for my life.

I jumped in my car and got the heck out of here.

What about him?

Oh, we-we carpool.

Colt 44?

Yeah.

Is that your dueling pistol?

We're going to have to take that with us.

Why?

I, too, demand satisfaction.

Ready?

Ready.

One, two, three,

four, five, six,

seven, eight,

nine, ten.

I got blood drops.

Heading way from Mr. Carson.

Consistent with the duelist's story.

I got something here, too.

This could be the blood that we didn't find

at the train tracks... It's a lot of blood.

Maybe Carson was killed here.

Yeah, she's here.

Been drinking a ton of coffee

and going outside for smokes; on her cell.

Not real sociable, you know?

You want me to keep an eye on her?

It sounds like you already are.

Nah. I'm off the clock.

I'll stick around for awhile,

let you know if there's any change.

Thank you, Nick.

Did you compare the bullet from the victim to this pistol?

Uh, no, not yet, but, boss,

I don't think that's your murder weapon.

And you know this how?

Uh, here, I'll let Hawkeye show you.

What is that?

Well, Hodges will have to confirm,

but I'm pretty certain

it's cream of wheat.

So he's a cereal killer.

Snap, crackle and pop.

Uh, the dried powdered wheat particles actually

augments the smoke, and, uh,

seals the gunpowder in the cylinder.

Which would be perfect for Civil War reenactments.

Yeah. I don't think

that Colt's fired a real bullet in quite a while.

Miss Rupert, as far as we can tell,

your brother died from diabetic shock.

What? How?

Well, it seems that he went on a bender.

He consumed a great deal of alcohol, sugar

and narcotics.

Did he party like this a lot?

No. No.

He was just diagnosed as pre-diabetic.

So he was aware of his condition.

Yeah.

Do you like that this was self-induced?

You know, our family has a history

of heart disease and diabetes.

Both our parents died of heart attacks in their 40s.

Two of our grandparents, too.

Well, Manny turned 40 last week

and he acted like it was a death sentence.

You know, but he... he always said,

"You can't fight bad genes. "

You know, he had a vasectomy when he was 22.

Never got married, just didn't see the point.

So he just... gave up?

He quit?

You don't know what it's like

to live with a death sentence hanging over your head.

No. You're right, I don't.

But I've seen what it's like to not have a choice.

And he did.

He could have fought it, but he just chose not to.

You know, I just lost my brother, and you're judging him?

How dare you.

I'm-I'm so very sorry for your loss.

Am I interrupting?

No.

I just got a heads up from a friend in payroll at PERS.

Ellie Brass just called about Jim's pension.

She wanted to know how much there was

and was she a beneficiary.

This girl is circling like a vulture.

Jim doesn't need this kind of energy around him now.

Now... Ellie's been in a lot of trouble with the law.

It wouldn't be difficult to chase her out of town.

Well, I'm sure he'd appreciate the offer,

but I don't think he'd want you to do that.

Excuse me.

I got the DNA results for your decapitated Civil War corset victim,

and the blood from the field is a match to Carson,

but the epithelials on the toupee

from the train tracks are not.

So, were any of your suspects wearing a rug?

I can think of one.

Please be careful.

That's a very expensive piece.

I don't understand why I'm here again.

It's not a crime to lose your hair.

Depends on where you lose it.

If it's on the train tracks

near a decapitated body with the victim's blood on it,

it's usually a crime.

Mr. Kimble, would you like to

revise your prior statement?

Or would you prefer to wait in a cell

while we match toupees?

It was an accident.

Which part?

I suppose mostly the part when I shot him.

I could see the insanity in his eyes.

Mr. Carson, you shot him!

You really shot him!

And I intend to kill him.

Get out of my way!

Please!

He was really going to kill that man.

If it was an accident, you should have called 911.

I couldn't let him be found like that.

His corseting was private.

You're right, it's much better

to have his body found stripped and dumped on some train tracks.

His great-great-great grandfather died trying to stop

a Yankee train from entering Virginia.

Legend has it he stood square on the tracks

firing at the engineer until the train ran him down.

Mr. Carson spoke of it frequently.

He said it was an honorable death.

I was just trying to give him the same.

All right, look, are you guys arresting me or what?

Hey, don't get in my face.

All he told me was bring you here.

Hi. Come in.

This is your dad's office.

Yeah, I can read.

Have a seat.

Why?

Why not?

That's the reason we asked you to come in.

That's like loving a puppy. That's easy.

You know, did you ever think that maybe he's better off just lying there

and not waking up?

A lot easier.

Every patient is different,

but for now, no change is good news.

Excuse me.

Hi, Lindsey.

I know, I told you that I might be a little while.

No, I said that we could try and see a movie.

Hey, you know what?

I've got a friend here who is fighting for his life.

I would appreciate a little understanding.

I will talk about this with you later. Good-bye.

How old?

Fourteen.

Supposedly.

I got one of those in high school myself.

World's pretty small at that age.

It feels pretty small to me right now, too.

Hey.

Hey.

Have some water.

Thanks for not pulling the plug.

Your, uh, fan club is here.

I don't know.

Most people want to die in their sleep, I suppose.

Never know that it's happening.

Like a crime scene.

Surprise, you're dead.

I'd prefer to know in advance that I was going to die.

I'd like to be diagnosed with cancer, actually.

Have some time to prepare.

Go back to the rain forest one more time.

Reread Moby Dick.

Possibly enter an international chess tournament.

At least have enough time to say good-bye to the people I love.

I'm not ready to say good-bye.