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Previously on CSI: Vegas...

Aah! Folsom!

You sent my people into the lion's den.

You okay?

I-I'm fine. I'm perfect. Really.

It's your buddy Trey again.

Trey.

- You killed the guy?
- No.

Richie was a grown-ass man,
man. He made his choices.

And you made yours. It's
called drug-induced homicide.

- You're going in, man.
- This how you treat family?!

Listen...

I know it's been a while.

Just call me back, Mom.

Please.

Hi.

I don't think I've ever heard
you call Jeanette "Mom" before.

Yeah, can't get her to return my calls.

I think Trey told her
that I had him arrested

and she's... she's just probably pissed.

You were just doing your job.

She has to understand that, right?

Yeah, not really. She hates my job.

Law enforcement didn't put
half of your family behind bars.

Well, I think it's
sweet that you still try.

What's the definition of insanity...

like, doing the same
thing over and over again,

expecting a different result?

Yeah. But you only get one mom.

Yeah, no kidding.

So, Professor Sanders,
huh? That's the next thing?

Maybe the next-next thing.

- Mm.
- I think I need a PhD first.

So, you get your night
shift supervisor back Friday.

Claudia's maternity leave is up.

I just wanted to let you
know that'll be my last day.

Greg, I wish I had ten of you.

You are leaving that night shift

so much better than you found it.

Uh-oh.

What fresh hell awaits?

I have to go see a psychologist.

You have to?

That bomb blast last week.

I kind of lost it on the sergeant
who released a scene too soon,

and it almost got Folsom killed.

But apparently he's the
sensitive one, 'cause I...

I was attacked in the
field a while back,

and it was recommended

that I go to therapy then, and I-I...

You didn't?

I tried marriage counseling once.

I'm divorced.

Years ago, I got beat
up on the job, too,

and it put me in a pretty dark hole.

Therapy helped me climb out.

Hey, hey! Stop!

Get back in your office!

What now?

Stop right there! Don't move!

Drop the weapons now.

Go around the other side!

Allie? Rajan?!

Don't take another step.

Rajan?

Don't move!

Drop everything. Get on the ground.

- Gene?
- No, no.

Stay where you are!

Ms. Rajan.

Please.

I've been here since the beginning.

I really want to see how it ends.

People who may

act a little different

or look a little different.

It doesn't make them a bad person.

You have to help me.

I didn't...

I'll get this in the works.

Are... are you all right, Mr. Farrow?

Looks like you're in a lot of pain.

After everything you've put me through

you still can't call me Gene?

EMTs are on their way to check you out.

Just tell us what's going on.

I-I don't remember much.

There was...

a break-in at my great aunt's house.

They wore...

masks.

And they wanted to rob her.

They wanted the combination to her safe.

I didn't know it, and...

and they started...

hurting us to try to get it.

No, don't hurt her, please!

My aunt couldn't remember it.

And I never knew it.

I came to about an hour ago,

and, um, the whole place was trashed.

Why didn't you call 911?

Uh, 'cause I so woozy, and

I think they might have... drugged me.

There's just so much that
I... I can't remember.

It's okay. Gene.

- We'll figure this out.
- Yeah, yeah.

Why were you at your aunt's house?

Uh, I live there now.

Uh...

my whole life fell apart
after you arrested me.

And now, look, I'm sorry

if I scared anyone,
but I-I just... I knew

I needed to get to you.

I need help finding her.

I don't know where they took her.

Are you trying to tell us

your great aunt was kidnapped?

I'll take the upstairs,

you take ground floor. Sounds good.

Sheesh.

Who decorates with fake cobwebs?

Place is straight out
of Edgar Allan Poe.

This woman is related to Gene.

Ugh.

Hey.

What's going on? You all right?

Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.

- This survived quite a beating.
- Uh, so did Gene.

I mean, it looks like
he's telling the truth.

We got signs of a break-in,
evidence of torture

and a missing great aunt.

No. We don't.

Joan Farrow.

Even without her wig...

no question that's the woman
from all the photos in there.

Why would they leave her out here?

Same kinds of injuries we found on Gene.

But he was either wrong
about it being a kidnapping

or he's lying.

Well, why show up to our
lab with a bloody cleaver?

I mean, why show up at all?

Maybe he just went to
the one person he knew

owed him some sympathy.

You think he's telling the truth, Allie?

Or did Gene do this?

Aunt Joan is dead?

I'm sorry, Gene.

She was all I had left.
After you got me fired

and I lost my place, Joan

was the only person
who would take me in.

We're gonna find out what happened,

but I'm gonna need a blood sample first.

How were things with the two of you?

I loved Joan.

You know, she had dementia.

She needed someone to look after her.

So you were what... her caretaker?

Mm, kind of.

It only seemed fair.

She was giving me a place to stay.

What aren't you telling us?

You know, when I was little,

she used to sing to me in the bath.

Hey, Gene, this isn't
the fond memory room.

This is the interrogation room.

You're sitting in here because
you charged into our crime lab

with a bloody meat cleaver.

Did you use it on your aunt?

No! Look, they used it on me, too.

- Who? Who did?
- I don't know.

I-I don't know.

It's all just...

It's all so hazy.

But last night I had some friends over.

You remember my group,
uh, from Necropolis?

- The other haunted house super fans.
- Right.

Four of them came over last night.

Uh, we were, um, watching
old horror movies and, uh,

having a potluck dinner.

What time was this?

Right after 8:00 p.m.

Yes, I had just poured
the Vampire Blood.

That's a Necrop-tail.
See, a Necrop-tail is a...

Cocktail for Necropolites.

Get to the point.

We hadn't even finished
our first round when, um,

everything started to get fuzzy.

I think someone might
have spiked that punch.

Why would someone do that?

I don't know.

Maybe as a... goof?

Or did one of your friends drug everyone

so they could crack that giant safe?

I don't think they would.

What's in the safe, Gene?

Uncut gems.

Hundreds of them.

My Great Uncle Fergus was a
gem dealer... before he died.

He must have done well. House was big.

Oh, he used to have three stores.

But he always kept
some inventory at home,

locked inside that giant safe.

And you still think there's
some inventory in that safe?

Yeah.

Did your friends know about it?

They did, but...

none of them are capable
of something like this.

Of-of... torture?

Murder? No. Necropolites are
the only people in the world

that I completely trust.

Does anyone else know
what was inside the safe?

Not that I know of. P-Please.

Oh, Allie,

promise me you cannot ruin their lives

the way you've ruined mine.

Huh.

All right, Gene, let's move on.

Now, your great aunt's
house is a crime scene.

We're gonna need the names of everyone

who attended your
get-together last night.

I-I don't know their real names.

You don't know your friends' names?

No. Uh, we always just go by

our online handles. You know, like, um,

Mad Rabbit or character names, like, uh,

Gore or, uh, Nosferatu.

You know lying to police...

I am not lying.

We all met online.

- I don't know where any of these people even live.
- Okay,

where did the group hang out

- when it wasn't at Necropolis?
- Oh, you know,

abandoned buildings.

Sometimes, um...

the occasional cemetery.

It's thematic.

Gene needs to be studied in a lab.

Just not ours.

The man's committed to his aesthetic.

Kind of Chain Saw Massacre
meets Silence of the Lambs?

Same stain in the victim's bathroom.

Sure it's a stain?

In this house, it might be décor.

We can't track down corroborating
witnesses from silly nicknames.

It's what I called 'em.

I don't know their real names.

- But Shelly will.
- Who's Shelly?

Shelly Walker. She the
president of our fan club.

She will have everyone's,
um, name and address.

Well, I look forward to
chatting with Ms. Walker.

You don't believe me, do you?

You think I did this to myself?

We'll see.

What we have here is horrific.

Lacerations, contusions,
thermal injuries.

All signs of torture.

The wound pattern seems
quite similar to what we found

on her surviving relative.

This woman suffered a great
deal. So, what killed her?

Electrocution.

What are you doing?

What are you doing? No, no!

Nuclei of her cardiac cells

were elongated, and
these burns are consistent

with what I'd expect from
contact with a car battery.

But they run 12 volts.

- That really be enough to kill you?
- You and I?

No. But an octogenarian?

Didn't take much to send her
frail heart into cardiac arrest.

Lividity in the arms and legs...

... suggests that she
was in the seated position

for hours postmortem.

That's how we found her...
zip-tied to a wheelchair.

- Mm-hmm.
- So we're trying to establish a timeline,

and the only witness
claims that he was drugged.

What can you tell us
about time of death?

The internal temperature puts
it at just about 16 hours ago.

Right after Gene's little
get-together at the mansion.

Yeah, that tracks with his account.

I did find something on the
X-rays that I can't quite explain,

even after direct examination.

Okay.

Do you see these
depressions in the femurs?

The victim was stricken with
osteoporosis, which is enough

- to deform the bones.
- So what causes dents like this?

I mean, this can't be
from torture, can it?

At present, I can't really say.

All right.

I got to step out for about an hour.

- Can you finish up here?
- Mm-hmm.

- Thank you.
- Mm.

Dr. Roby.

Samuel Franklin.

Hi.

Hi. You're late.

Busy day?

Yup. Circus never stops.

So, therapy at a gun range, huh?

Yeah? That's different.

After 38 years of practice,

I am pretty sick of my office

and listening to people talk in it.

Maybe you should just
change your office, huh?

Actually, once I started, uh,

dragging my patients
into the real world,

I found they made a lot more progress.

Towards what?

Is that how it's gonna be?

- You're a skeptic?
- No, no, no.

And just to be completely candid,

I'm gonna knock out these two sessions

and go on with my life, okay?

- I appreciate your honesty.
- Thank you.

- Ah. Ooh. I see you brought your service piece.
- Yeah.

It goes where I go.

And that started after your attack?

Mm-hmm.

Has it made you feel
any safer in the field?

Ooh.

What do you think?

What would you say are your
top three biggest fears?

- Really?
- Uh-huh.

Oh, yes, it's my recipe.

Vampire Blood is cherry
juice, brandy and absinthe.

Absinthe is so underrated.

No, what we're really
interested in is what happened

after the drinks, Ms. Walker.

Gene said no one could
remember anything?

Well, uh, he put on a Romanian
horror film, we served dinner,

and... it does get kind
of fuzzy after that.

Gene reported the same.

Well, it's the truth.

If someone did spike the punch,

there's tests that we can do for that.

Could it be a blood sample?

I love feeling blood leave my body.

Sure.

We're gonna need the
legal names, phone numbers

and addresses of everyone
else at the mansion last night.

Gene said you had those details?

Of course. Anything for my Genie.

How's he doing? Such a gentle soul.

I hope he's all right.

His injuries aren't life-threatening,

so physically, he's doing okay.

All right, that's everyone at the party.

And now for my blood.

Um, where exactly will
the drawing take place?

I'll be processing you in the DNA lab.

Through these doors behind me.

You got any tests that can tell us

what the hell her deal is?

- Science has its limits.
- Hmm.

Still, I'm not so sure
Shelly would be capable

of inflicting those wounds on Gene.

Well, I'm not so sure Gene
didn't inflict them on himself.

Fortunately,

there are tests for that.

Big audience today.

This case has everyone buzzing.

Night shift even has a pool going.

Really?

Team Gene thinks he's innocent.

Team "It's Gene" thinks
he killed that old lady.

- Hmm. Which side are you two on?
- Team Gene.

- Innocent.
- All the way.

Beau and Folsom thinks he did it.

Team It's Gene, yeah.

Uh, torture with
bladed weapons is messy.

A million ways a torturer
could nick themselves.

I didn't find a third person's

blood in that living room.

Then you factor in the
contents of the safe...

Wait. What-what do you mean?

Five grand in cash, no jewels.

I mean, I don't think
it changes anything.

An intruder may just have been mistaken

about what they could expect to find.

Or the guy could have
invented a false motive

after the fact. That's a possibility.

But this... is impossible.

Attaching an alligator clip

right here by myself? Not a chance.

And it's not the only one.
About a third of Gene's wounds

could not have been self-inflicted.

So someone else did this to Gene?

I don't fully believe
anything he told you,

but it looks like we got two victims.

Gene Farrow's not lying.

He didn't do this to himself.

All right, Mr. Crane,
let's start off easy.

When did Gene's party at his
aunt's house begin last night?

Nestor? Uh, Mr. Crane?

Mister...

Nosferatu.

Okay, Mr. Nosferatu, can you tell...

Just Nosferatu.

All arrived around 8:00.

And then what?

Libations led to light-hearted
laughter and letting loose.

And then what, Mister...

May I call you Mr. Williamson?

Of course. Gore is just my Viking name.

Well, you kind of look like one.

Did the cops who picked you up

give you the option to change?

Oh, sorry. I have a tournament tonight.

A tournament.

I will have to catch that on
SportsCenter for the highlights.

So, all five Necropolites

drank the punch, you feasted. Then what?

We had a monster movie marathon.

But after that, the details
of the evening get hazy.

A bit blurry at best.

We think someone spiked the punch.

Any idea who would do that?

Sounds like Gore's kind of mischief.

My punch-spiking days
ended in high school.

My guess is Patricia.

No. No.

Never. But I do have
a phone full of photos.

Whoa.

Gene's aunt made an
appearance at the party?

Yeah. That was a shocker.

Joan was, uh... How do I put this

without speaking ill of the dead?

Let's just say she wasn't
kind, caring or considerate.

So we were all a little
surprised when he wheeled her

into the living room to meet us.

When did this meeting take place?

Must have been 9:00 p.m.,
but I don't really remember.

I only know the time
because of the photos.

Looks like she had fun.

It was a harmless good time.

It didn't stay harmless.

Let's talk motive.

Did you know what was in the safe?

No amount of jewels or
money'd ever make me murder.

How are you, financially?

Well, I was heavily invested in FTX.

You insult me. I'd never
hurt a soul for any reason.

There's a reason none of
them could remember much.

Turns out someone did spike the punch.

They all had gamma-hydroxybutyrate
in their blood.

All five tested positive
for GHB... even Gene?

Yeah, whoever did the spiking
poured themselves a cup, too.

I don't care if you're
a scheming criminal

or a creepy horror fan,
that's just odd behavior.

What's GCMS say about our dark,
sticky residue on Joan's bathmat?

I don't know. It's like a completely
random list of ingredients.

Huh.

Palmitic and stearic acid,

cucuminoids, and a
cholinesterase inhibitor?

Why would someone mix

food products with
Alzheimer's medication?

No clue, but I didn't even see

a cholinesterase inhibitor at her house.

Wasn't in her tox report either.

So, we've just had the GCMS
break this substance down

to the molecular level,
and I still have no idea

what we're looking at here.

Josh, are you all right?

Have you connected with your mom yet?

I keep getting her voice mail.

She will call you back.

She will.

Is that her?

Do I have the power
to predict the future?

No, it's just, uh, my cow bones arrived.

You up for some tool mark analysis?

I'm just waiting on you. Chop, chop.

Well, that's not it.

That's a lot of hacking, slashing,

and bashing for nothing.

None of this stuff made those dents.

Well, I don't think
anything could, at least

not with one... one big whack.

Her bones were too brittle.

That much force would
have just shattered them.

Okay, so if torture didn't
make those dents, what did?

It's almost like she was crushed.

She was calcium-deprived.

Enough pressure applied for enough time

would deform her bones.

Maybe the killer used a heavy object

to restrain her.

On top of zip-tying her?

She was a frail
82-year-old, not Houdini.

Hmm.

How much more restraint do you need?

No, that's it.

None of the Necropo-people's
photos were altered.

So, Gore, Nosferatu and Patricia...
all their photos are clean?

Not a single digital
artifact to be found.

Not a pixel out of place.

I mean, the shadows,
reflections are all legit.

Even the time stamp, the EXIF

and the metadata are authentic.

So, Gene's story is holding up.

Against all odds.

I, uh, checked the social
of every Necropolite.

And I can alibi two of
them out: Patricia and Gore.

Oh, so we can cross the
undead Viking off the list?

Yeah, according to Dr.
Hudson's time of death,

they were chomping on
burgers when Joan was killed.

It's a happy day in Valhalla.

Yeah, but I still don't
think Gene's guilty.

He said after his friends left

the party, two masked
intruders broke in.

What if Shelly and Nestor doubled back?

Hey, Greg.

How goes it? You found any
DNA under those nail trimmings?

Samples are loaded, machine is running.

Should just be a moment.

Okay. Nestor Crane,

aka Nosferatu,

only had dirt under his nails.

Could just be from
the coffin he naps in.

Shelly Walker did have
blood under her nails.

And that blood belongs to...

... Gene Farrow.

- Guess I have to talk to...
- Shelly Walker?

LVPD. We have a search warrant.

Open up.

Keys.

What do you think Ms. Walker did?

We just need to talk to her.

You can go.

Kitchen clear.

Bedroom clear.

Your friend Josh is being a real pill.

Can't even pin him down for dinner.

Oh, he's just worried about his mom.

But I told him "Jeanette
will call you back.

It'll work out."

All clear.

Ready?

Let's start in the bedroom.

- Oh, come on.
- What?

She must have snuck out the window.

Max?

Max?

You okay?

Yeah.

- You sure?
- Mm-hmm.

Because you stepped out of
the elevator a minute ago

and just stood here spacing out.

I wa-I was just thinking
about a case, that's it.

So, uh, did you find
your school, Professor?

All the best programs just got
through their admission cycle.

I've got a while to figure it out.

Longer than I hoped, honestly.

So you're that guy that waits
in line outside the nightclub?

I'm the boss lady
that knows the bouncer.

Come see me later. Hey, Allie?

- Yeah.
- So where are we on the Farrow murder?

- We have a prime suspect.
- Ooh.

Yeah, just can't seem to find her.

Chavez has put out an
ATL out for Shelly Walker.

Though I can't shake the feeling

that Gene is holding
something back, but...

But you know this job
isn't about feelings, so...

So Folsom pulled some more
tools out of the Farrow house.

If we can figure out
what was used to make

those dents in Joan's legs,

we might just figure out who made them.

Okay,

maybe your mom's phone is just off.

Nah, she's been sending
me to voice mail.

Hey, look, my dad is super old school.

He's terrible on his phone.

It can be a real pain to keep
in touch with him. Honestly,

I'd rather not keep
in touch with Jeanette,

but I don't know, it's just...

Radio silence isn't her thing, so...

- What is her thing?
- Well, she's got a few things,

and most of 'em will put you in rehab.

- Was it always like that?
- No. Not until my dad left.

Put it this way.

I didn't see my first needle on the job.

Oh! Oh, that is awful.

Dr. Hudson.

What do you have there?

Putrefaction has
progressed substantially.

This doesn't make sense. None
of this slipskin or marbling

- was present yesterday.
- This is strange.

This kind of accelerated
putrefactive decomp typically

only happens if a body's
been recovered from water.

Bacteria builds up in the corpse.

But consumption of
the host tissue doesn't

get kickstarted until
there's enough oxygen.

So what delayed things here?
I mean, the skin on her face

is comparatively normal.

Her head stayed above the water
while her body was submerged?

That doesn't makes sense.

She would had to have been
underwater for at least a day.

Postmortem interval
doesn't support that.

There has to be another explanation.

Like what?

How about I run what's left
of Aunt Joan through the GCMS,

and try to find out.

The whole night shift
and most of day is now

on Team Gene. Only Beau
still thinks Gene's guilty.

Join me, Folsom.

I can sense the doubt within you.

I would, but Allie's
setting a good example,

holding strong on, uh...

Team Evidence. I'm
gonna follow her lead.

Huh.

The liquid inside Joan's
cells tested negative for GHB.

Hey, you know what?

That's what's not in her cells.

Plenty of other surprising
things were, though.

Uh, palmitic acid, stearic acid,

eicosapentaenoic acid, cucuminoids.

I mean, we're looking
at fish oil, peanut oil,

turmeric and...

Alzheimer's medication?

That's the exact same gunk
I found on Joan's bathmat.

What's going on here? She...
Did she drink the stuff?

I know that Shelly had some
interesting cocktail recipes.

No, Dr. Hudson didn't find any of this

in her stomach during autopsy.

So what happened to this woman?

I don't know what was done to her,

but I think I know... where it was done.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,
whoa, careful, careful.

Over 70,000 accidents happen
in bathtubs every year.

I doubt many of those people
were wearing shoes, Beau.

But safety in all things.

Ah.

Can I have the tweezers?

Thank you.

That looks like the world's most
disgusting piece of bubble gum.

Looks like neoprene.

And that looks like more bathmat sauce.

The edges are irregular.

Almost like it's been
peeled off something.

Something in here or somewhere else?

There's only one other place
we found that sticky residue.

Gene's bedroom.

Believe it or not,

this is less creepy than the last time

I was in Gene's bedroom.

There's no little CSI
dolls staring back at me.

Yeah. Nothing too unexpectedly horrific

popping out just yet.

Well, when you're looking
for evidence of a murder,

that's not exactly a good thing.

What have you got there?

Nothing. It's just, uh...

lint, I think.

Uh, no.

That's polyester.

Stuffing.

I used to autopsy my sister's

teddy bears when we were younger.

Any chance you and Gene
are distant cousins?

Huh.

Time for another autopsy.

All right, Mr. Antler Man.

What have you been eating?

Hmm.

Oh.

A doll eye.

A fossil, oh.

And a cracked watch.

Creepy as hell, but none of
it's related to Joan's murder.

This is.

Alzheimer's medication.

Who's Robert Walker?

Shelly's last name is Walker.

I got something here.

I found these in Gene's closet.

So these old weights

were in Joan's bathtub
with her dead body. Why?

These caused the dents in her bones.

So the killer used them
to hold her underwater.

Not to sound like a
broken record... why?

I think I know what
happened at bath time.

This doesn't make sense.

- What, you messed up the vitreous humor test?
- No.

I tested the left eye two hours ago.

And the right eye just now.

Potassium fills eyeballs at
a constant rate, postmortem.

Well, as long as your math is correct,

the difference in the concentration
should give us time of death.

Huh. Yep, looks right to me.

So when's the potassium say Joan died?

36 hours before Gene
walked into our lab.

So we know that vitreous humor
is a more reliable test, right?

But Joan's internal temperature

says that she died 24 hours after that.

So Aunt Joan died twice?

She only died once.

Dr. Hudson's calculations were wrong

because he didn't know the killer
juked our entire investigation.

He manipulated Joan's
internal temperature.

- How?
- Bodies cool when they die, right?

- But hers didn't.
- The temperatures of inert organic material

trend towards what is surrounding it.

So, you think he put
her in some hot water.

That would solve one mystery,
right? But here's another.

How does a dead woman attend a party?

There he is.

It's Gene.

Party animal.

Why'd you host that
little get together, Gene?

I told you. I just wanted my aunt

to get to meet my friends.
To... to get to know...

What?

I never know when
you're telling the truth.

Fortunately, I don't have to.

You know, our first meeting
taught me something valuable.

Ignore what you're feeling,

focus on what you're finding.

It is all about the evidence.

I don't understand.

Joan didn't like your friends.

She didn't want them in her house.

So, why did she suddenly agree

- to party with them?
- Because she...

Because she was already dead.

Yeah. Turns out Aunt Joan died 24 hours

before your little get-together.

- That... That's not true.
- Oh, it is.

And guess who has an alibi for
the true time of the murder?

Every one of your friends.

Unlike you.Allie.

Please, I-I know that you...

You know, we found a
lot of weird chemicals

on your aunt's bathmat
and in your bedroom.

Including a special one:
a cholinesterase inhibitor.

Alzheimer's medication.

Donated by Shelly Walker.

Swiped from her father, Robert.

We found the pills in your
creepy antler buddy's stomach.

- I don't understand what, um...
- Well, you said

the two men who broke in demanded

the combination to Joan's safe,

but she couldn't remember it.

- Well, she had dementia.
- Oh.

And she forgot a lot of things.

I think you were determined

to help Joan get her memory back.

Hey, Gene, you're gonna like this.

Souvenirs Morts.

You have the poster on your wall.

Dead Memories is a
French horror classic.

A man tries to retrieve
his wife's memories

using electricity and a
bathtub with weird ingredients.

Inspired by the movie, you
tried the same thing with Joan.

But she didn't want any part

of your bizarre memory
retrieval method, did she?

And it cost your aunt her life.

But now you had a problem.

You knew if the body was cold,

we'd figure out the
only person in the house

when she died was you.

So you turned on the hot water
and you weighed her down with this.

- Oh, God.
- The hot water kept

her body temp elevated postmortem.

It threw off all of our
time of death calculations.

It-it... This is all wrong.

You're forgetting that, um,

my friends met her.

Ask them, ask them.

We did.

Everyone remembers
the start of the party.

But after the toast, things got hazy.

- Because you dosed them, Gene.
- Hey, everyone.

And then you wheeled in your
dead aunt to pose for photos

to make it appear that she was alive.

And then when the Necropolites
staggered off home,

from an evening they
could barely remember,

you staged a break-in,
and made it look like Joan

had been tortured.

Now all you needed was a matching set

of wounds, wounds that
you couldn't do yourself.

Enter Shelly Walker.

Here you go.

- Aah!
- Sorry.

- No. No! Shelly is no killer.
- No, I know she's not!

Her big mistake was falling for one.

And getting his blood under her nails.

Why did you do it, Gene?

She couldn't remember
where the gems were.

She could be so mean.

Aunt Joan, so... mean.

You know, she's-she...

she actually told me
that it was my fault.

It wasn't my fault.

When I first moved in to that house,

she told me to clean out
that room above the garage.

It was her idea to throw
out all those old papers.

How was I supposed to know
that the information about

where she kept a safety deposit
box was somewhere in there?

Joan couldn't even remember

what bank her husband
was storing them in.

Dead memories.

I did not mean to kill her.

The battery, that-that...

that was an accident.

You know, even if you
can convince a jury

and they sympathize with you...

... everything you did after
that death was not an accident.

See, you tried to pull off
a mashup of The Hangover

and Weekend at Bernie's.

And that was your big
mistake, Mr. Farrow.

You stepped out your genre.

Let's go.

Jeanette?

Mom.

Jeanette.

Guess you're okay.

Why wouldn't I be?

I've been calling you.

Is your phone service cut off again?

I got your messages.

You're mad about Trey.

I'm mad about October 12th.

It came and went, and
you didn't call, did you?

So why should I call you now, huh?

This is about Dad?

I made my peace with you hating him.

Least you could have done is call me

on the anniversary of his passing.

Why, so we can reminisce about

all the great times we never had?

- Your father was a complicated man.
- No, he wasn't.

Everybody knew exactly what he was.

Everyone except for you.

I'm sorry, I...

I know you loved him.

I should have called you.

I'm sorry.

Oh.

Hey, Jeanette.

What's this? Are you using again?

- What is that?
- Go home, Joshua!

Just go home.

Wherever that is now.

There you go.

Not sure quite what I'm looking at.

But it looks like you won.

- Oh, bocce relaxes me.
- I get it.

Sun is shining.

This counts as session
number two, right?

- Of course. So,
- There you go.

... in our remaining time, tell me...

- did you do our homework?
- I did.

I tried my best to recall

the events of my attack multiple times.

And how did it make you feel?

I didn't have any
feelings. I don't know.

Telling, isn't it?

Shall we pick this up next week?

Whoa, whoa. I do...

I do not know what
you're going for here,

but H.R. said two sessions,

so all I need for you...

is to check this lil' box

and sign right there.

No.

You need much more than that.

I wouldn't give up on therapy.

I'm happy to sign your form,

but if I'm not a fit, you
should try someone else.

The root of your issue
is not the attack.

You're handling that well.

I do not have any issues.

I disagree.

You don't play bocce,

you don't play anything else.

You drink way too many of those.

And you're having trouble sleeping.

The root of your issues

started when you took over the lab.

It's my professional opinion
that you take on way too much,

place too much on your plate,

- more than anyone can handle.
- Excuse me,

I have a big job.

I run a crime lab.

Exactly.

Your job is to run the crime lab,

not be out in the field, working cases.

Great leaders learn to delegate.

Good luck, then.

Take care of yourself.

So, that's the man you
call. His name is Dr. Burke.

He is an old friend from Northwestern.

He heads the chem department,

and he's got an opening

that I think would be perfect for you.

This is...

- amazing.
- Chi-town is great.

- I think you'd really love it.
- I appreciate you letting me play in your lab.

I hope our paths cross again.

You know, um...

you have helped me, too.

And not just in taking
over the night shift.

- Therapy.
- It is possible,

just possible...

... that I have been doing too much.

- You gonna make some changes?
- I am going to

promote one of my level threes

- to day shift supervisor.
- You, uh, got somebody in mind?

Yeah, I do.

Well, good luck, Dr. Roby.

You deserve it.

Hey.

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