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♪

(indistinct chatter)

MAN:
Amanda went all out.

Help yourself.

Can I top you off?

Ask me again
when you turn 21.

Hey, hey, I'm not drinking,
I'm just serving.

- Not anymore.
- Uh, actually,

Virginia law states that
persons 18 years of age

or older are permitted
to serve alcohol.

Oh, really?

Yeah, look, I brought
a copy of the statute.

You know, Nathan,
you'd have a lot more friends

if you didn't do things
like this.

WOMAN: Okay, everybody, get
in your places, here he comes.

Oh, come on,
guys, he's here.

(door unlocking)

ALL:
Surprise!

Welcome home!
Hi, Tommy!

(guests gasping)

Son.

No, Tommy.

♪ NCIS 9x02 ♪
Restless
Original Air Date on September 27, 2011

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

♪

(elevator bell dings)

Uh-oh, did I miss
someone's birthday?

No, this is for Tony.

Huh, what's the occasion?

Well, it has not been the
best of weeks for him,

so I thought he could
use some cheering up.

Yeah, I noticed.

I actually got him
something, too.

It's not much,
but hopefully

it'll take his mind
off things.

I just can't stand
all the moping.

I have not been moping.

Been a little dejected,
apathetic perhaps.

That's actually the definition
of the word "moping."

Is it really?

Well, let's just see what
the dictionary app has to say.

Oh, you're right.

What is going on with me?

My memory is like a...

it's that damn
concussion.

Huh.

Then I guess
you won't be needing this.

Or this.

What are "thises"?

Gifts to cheer you up.

Well, I have been feeling

a little mopey.

Thank you.

Very sweet of you.

Oh.

Two tickets
to female mud wrestling.

Thanks.

Uh, I'll have to put a pin
in that.

And Original Recipe Probie.

Very sweet,

very nice.

Two more tickets to
female mud wrestling.

(laughs)

(chuckles)

How old do you
guys think I am?

Physically or mentally?

What, is this a, a gag gift?

You guys planned this together?

DiNozzo, I got
a gift for you.

Dead body?

Yep.

Grab our gear?

- Yep.
- Thank you, boss.

A gift I can use.

Only thing I need to do
right now is keep working.

See, this is what I need--
work-- keep me busy.

Good, I think
we can still get refunds.

Never said I didn't want them.

Private First Class
Thomas Hill

just returned
from deployment

in Afghanistan the prior week.

The party was
to welcome him home.

Nice welcome.

Yeah, apparently
he was

also going to be
the grand marshal

at something called

the homecoming parade?

They don't have homecoming
in Israel?

DUCKY:
They wouldn't.

Homecoming is a distinctively
American tradition.

Actually it began...

JIMMY: In 1911 at the University
of Missouri

under Athletic Director
Chester Brewer.

Yes, however, it is
interesting to note...

That that year is a matter
of some contention.

In fact...

I'm sorry, Doctor,
I interrupted you.

Please continue.

Can we continue working?

Good idea.

Come on.

I remember
my last homecoming.

The parade,
the game,

stringing Stinky John up
the flagpole by his underwear.

Good times.

Says the man too mature
for female mud wrestling.

DUCKY:
Time of death

is a matter of record, and
we have a preliminary cause.

He's stabbed to death, Duck?

Yes, there are multiple
sharp force traumas.

And there's more
blood outside.

Still have to check the area
to find out where it leads.

So far, no witnesses.

Take Ziva with you.

ZIVA:
So,

what exactly is
homecoming and why

does underwear play
such an important role?

It doesn't,
at least as long

as Tony's not involved.

Homecoming in a
small town like this

is usually a pretty big deal.

Then, if Private
Hill was going

to be this
grand marshal...

Then he was
a pretty big deal, too.

I hope the murder
wasn't too far.

I hate spread-out
crime scenes.

Then I think you're in luck.

Is that a
cell phone?

No, wait, ho... hold on!

- Hey!
- Hold... no, no!

Wait!
No, hold on, hold on!

Stop, stop!

Stop, stop it, stop!

TONY:
Ugh, stinky.

(groans)

(spits)

We'll never find
that cell phone.

Oh!

How many more
are there?

Another 30 or so.

Next time why don't you
just shoot the driver?

(elevator bell dings)
Next time I will.

Here, put these on.

Oh, excellent.

Thanks.

I hate face masks.

They make me
claustrophobic.

Well, so will the iron lung
you're going to call home

when you get silicosis
from all the silica dust.

Wait, aren't you going
to stay and help?

Ah, that is so sweet
of you to ask,

but my job is
to process the evidence,

not to find it.

I would never want
to take that away from you.

(elevator bell dings)

Okay, let's hear it.

As you were.

Private First Class
Thomas Hill--

Tommy Toms
to his friends.

He was abandoned by his
drug-addicted mother as a kid,

spent the rest of his childhood

in the foster care system.
Eventually

he ended up getting adopted
by a military family.

Found the cell phone.

I'll alert ZNN.

Guy's record was
impeccable, boss.

Not one person had anything
bad to say about him,

including
his fellow marines.

TONY: Neighbors.
Superiors.

Everybody loved this guy.

GIBBS:
He's dead, DiNozzo.

Not everybody.

It's my fault
Tommy is dead.

Please stop saying that,
Lindsey.

I was supposed to meet him after
his shift, like, a block away.

It was my job to bring him
to his party, but...

he never showed up.

Whoever did this...
is going to pay.

It's not your fault.

But if I was there, maybe
I could have done something.

Yeah, or maybe your parents
would be sitting here alone.

I wish they were
my parents.

Lindsey came to us
two years ago, two

blessed years.

We're not
her parents,

no, but we are her family.

Just tell us
what you need to know

to find the son of a bitch
who killed Tommy.

I hear he was
a good kid.

Everybody feel
that way?

Never met one
who didn't.

He was the star
quarterback.

Everybody liked him.

Couldn't help it.

Never in trouble
a day in his life.

How about you?

Not nearly as well liked.

Sue me.

Most trouble
I've ever been in was

almost losing
our house last year,

like the rest
of the world.

I did notice something unusual.

Go on.

It was

a few days after he came home
from deployment.

He... something
was bothering him.

He said it was
nothing, but I...

I knew he was lying.

He was

a good kid, Agent Gibbs.

Amazing, remarkable,

totally unbelievable.

What do you got, Abbs?

A newfound respect
for my old homecoming dress.

I loved it
when I wore it

and then I banned its mention
during the next decade,

but I'm kind of
coming around again.

All that's missing
is a dog collar.

Which one was
the lucky guy?

Um, all of them.

They all asked me

to the dance, and I
couldn't bear to say no,

so I kind of talked all three
of 'em into taking me.

Hmm, how'd
that work out?

Well,

let's just say it might be

what got me interested
in my first crime scene.

Speaking of...

this is the cell phone
that McGee found.

I'm operating under
the assumption

that it belongs
to the killer.

Not big on assumptions,
especially today.

I know,

but right now this
is all I've got.

It's been
modified to wipe

its memory if the
wrong password

is entered too many times,

but this blood is PFC Hill's

and the spatter suggests
that the cell phone

was really close to whoever did

the stabbing,
like on his hip.

Am I forgiven?

Get inside,
I'll think about it.

All right, I still have a
few tricks up my sleeve.

However, I did get into

his laptop and I
found something

very interesting.

He spent the last three days
trying to hack

into the Virginia State
Web site.

- Looking for what?
- Good question.

He never got in,

but what's interesting about
the laptop is where it's been.

Its 4G modem
records

location data whenever
it connects to a cell tower.

This laptop
has not left town

except for once six months ago.

The location

is 200 feet off
the nearest hiking trail--

middle of nowhere.

I mean,
not the kind of place

you'd expect someone
to bring a laptop.

I smell foulness.

Liked the dress, Abbs.

Thanks.

(sighs)

Are we there yet?

The more you ask, the
longer it's gonna take.

Oh, really, so there's
some magical connection

between my mouth
and distance?

No, but there is between
your mouth and annoyance.

(beeps)
Ah,

but thankfully
we are here.

Hmm.

All right,
what are we looking for?

I don't know, but

I got a feeling
something is buried right there.

No.

I pulled a dead,
bloated corpse

out of a hot tub
last year, okay?

This is your turn.

I'll give you $200.

Deal.

Though I would've
taken $50.

Really?

Well, let's just
consider the other $150

nerd restitution, huh?

Excuse me?

You must have been teased pretty
badly in high school, huh?

Uh, actually, no, I wasn't.

If you don't want to talk
about it, it's okay.

- Feeling guilty about something?
- No.

I mean, not guilty, just...

...reflective.

I strung this kid
up by his underwear

when I was in boarding school.

- Right. Yes, Stinky John.
- Yeah.

Strung him up by his tighty
whities off the flagpole

20 feet in the air.

Remarkably not cool of me.

No, it wasn't.

Who does something like that?

I'm a big fan of
practical jokes.

'Cause they're funny,
but nobody gets hurt.

I mean, you could really
hurt a kid doing that.

And he was just a kid.

Think about it-- a kid.

Yep. And so were you.

But at least you
finally figured it out.

Ah.

Look at that.
We got something.

There's a lock.

Look at you.

All resourceful.

All right.

Huh.

So that's what Private Hill
buried-- treasure.

Should've seen that coming.

There's got to be
50 grand in here.

Well, I guess our... perfect
kid wasn't quite so perfect.

DUCKY: It was the most exciting
moment of my life.

My heart rate
accelerated wildly,

and my spinal reflexes
were totally disinhibited.

Did she say yes?

Well, of course she did.

And then we had a wonderful
time at the dance.

I went to all
my school dances.

In fact, you know, he and I
have something in common.

We were both elected
homecoming king.

Yes, on what merits
did you get elected?

It was a charter school.

There were only 12 kids
in my class, so...

Still, your fellow students
chose you above the others.

Unless, of course...

The other 11 were girls.

Oh, look! Agent Gibbs.

Ziva said you
found something?

Yes, I did. And I
understand you did as well.

A rather large quantity of cash
associated with this fellow.

Abby's processing it now.

Do we have any idea
where it came from?

Don't you have
a pipette to clean?

Always. Pipettes can
never be too clean.

Jimmy's rule number one.

I haven't begun
the formal autopsy yet,

but an examination
of his epidermis revealed

this small puncture wound.

It's from a syringe.

I was able to retrieve the tip,

which had broken off inside.

Which strongly suggests...

Injection wasn't voluntary.

No. Nor was it complete.

The drug never reached
his circulatory system.

But there was enough material

inside the syringe for
Abby to identify it.

Sedative.

And a strong one, too.

But what interests me the most

is the clotting
around the wound.

It tells me that
the injection

was attempted before
the stabbing.

Attacker wasn't trying
to kill him.

Yes, well, it could be
an attempted kidnapping,

followed by
a struggle.

And then a murder.

If you can find
the rest of the syringe,

you may get a clue
as to its owner.

(people chattering)

What are they doing here?

Their son has just
been murdered,

and they're decorating
a parade float?

Well, people grieve
in different ways.

Those are kids, so try not
to upset anyone, okay?

Thanks, guys.

I know Tommy would've
appreciated it.

Agent McGee, David.

Tell me you found
my son's killer.

We have not
caught anyone.

We just need to take another
look at the crime scene.

Is there anything
we can do to help?

Uh, no, we've got it.

Um, Nathan.

I'm Lindsey's, um...

We're kind of...

We're taking it slow.

Right. That's
what I meant.

Well, Mr. and
Mrs. McCormick,

since you're here, there are a
few things we need to clear up.

Yes, anything.

Did Private...
sorry, uh, your son,

did he ever show any interest
in computer hacking?

Tommy?

(chuckles)

Wouldn't even
pirate music.

He'd spend his whole
allowance every week

to buy a new CD.

Did you notice him having a lot
of extra cash around lately?

I don't like what
you're implying.

I'm not implying anything,
I'm just asking a few questions.

Well, I don't like
your questions.

Me, neither.

Don't you guys have
something better to do?

Yes.

And they were just
leaving to do it.

Um, I'm sorry,
I didn't mean to offend you.

Your shoes
offended me.

Okay, hold on.

Let's just calm down, okay?

You find them
in a Dumpster?

I paid over $200
for these shoes.

GIRL:
You got ripped off.

Like you did with
that haircut.

BOY: And what's with the
bags under your eyes?

Come on, McGee.
Loser.

Let's see if we can
find that syringe.

(elevator bell dings)

No, McGee, you do not have
bags under your eyes.

They're just trying
to get your sheep.

Goat. You sure?

'Cause I've noticed
in the past week.

- I am sure.
- You find a syringe?

Actually, two.

The killer tried to hide it
in a neighbor's trash bin.

We sent the prints to Abby;
she's running them now.

McGee made several new friends.

Couple kids piled on
at the crime scene.

Felt like I was
back in high school again.

I thought you said you weren't
teased in high school.

I wasn't.

Okay.

I-I'm gonna leave it at that,
because I'm your friend.

And if you don't want
to talk about it,

then-then that's great,
and I can respect that.

But I need a favor.

(laughs)
That's more like it.

I'm trying to track
somebody down.

I'm having a little
bit of trouble.

Who?

John.

You wouldn't, by any chance,
be talking about Stinky John?

I would.

His last name is Smith.

You know how many John Smiths
there are?

It's like a million of them.

Why on earth would you
try to find the man

that you strung up
by his underwear?

To do it again?

Well, I just thought
I might want to say hi.

Right?

Maybe, uh, buy
him a beer.

Maybe apologize.

I mean,

maybe just sorry.

Eh, that's weak.

I don't know,
but something like that.

All right, Tony.

I'd be happy to help.

Thank you.

Look sharp.

Hey, boss.

Still, uh, no luck on
where Private Hill's

cash stash came from, but I did
find some interesting-ness.

Hill's parents
were six months behind

on their mortgage payments,

then suddenly paid off
the entire balance.

In cash.
A lot of cash.

And McGee and I were able
to retrieve the missing syringe.

I know. Abby already got a
match on the prints. McGee.

(beeps)

Curtis Beane.

He's got a record
a mile long, but

he hasn't been in trouble
in years.

According to his parole reports,
he's worked

at the same place
since he got out.

DiNozzo, BOLO.
On it.

Ziva, with me.

(horn honking)

MAN:
Sorry, no.

I haven't seen Curtis
in, like, two days.

And, to be honest,
I'm a little bit worried.

Why is that?

He's one of my
best managers.

He's been with me
since the beginning.

Not like him to
just disappear.

You are aware that
he's a convicted felon, right?

Everybody here's
a convicted felon.

That's why it's called
Second Chance.

So what's your
beef with Curtis?

Found his prints
at a murder scene.

No way.

No, must be some mistake.

Yeah, Curtis has been clean
for years.

No, there is no mistake.

This man was murdered
yesterday.

Wow. So young.

You know, I don't know why

Curtis's prints
are at your crime scene,

but there's not
a chance in hell

he was gonna risk
going back to jail.

He had a tough
time in the joint.

If you do, uh, hear from him,

let us know, huh?

Look, I understand your pain.

I mean, no one wants
their secrets revealed.

But you had something
that I needed.

You had something that
Leroy Jethro Gibbs needed,

and that is a man that you
do not want to disappoint.

Never have before, Abbs.

Actually, I have, but
I'd prefer not to go there.

Works for me.
Get the password?

I did. I used a
smudge attack.

- Smudge?
- Attack, yeah.

It's deceptively simple.

Every time a cell phone user
enters their password,

they leave a smudge
on each button-press.

It's virtually
undetectable.

But if you photograph it
at exactly the right angle,

and then you jack up

the contrast,
you get a pattern,

and with that, you can

deduce the password,
which I did.

Are you impressed?

Every time.

Unfortunately, there's not
that much on the cell.

There's no address book.

It's an unregistered phone.

All the calls went
to another unregistered number.

The only thing I did find
were surveillance photos.

PFC Hill?

No.

(computer chirping)

His sister.

Lindsey.

(computer chirping)

Gibbs, I just
don't think that Hill

was the kidnapper's target.

No.

Me, neither.

AMANDA: Oh, my God,
you were being followed?

Are you sure these belong
to Tommy's killer?

Found these
on his cell phone.

So you think it was me
he wanted to...?

ZIVA:
We believe you were

the target, yes,
but we also believe

that the intent was
kidnapping and not murder.

My son is dead.

Most likely because
he attempted to intervene.

Tommy was trying to protect me?

So it is all my fault.

I don't think PFC Hill
would see it that way.

Why would anybody want
to kidnap our girl?

We don't have any money.

What's with the eyeballs?

Well, our records
indicate that you made

a sizable payment to your bank
to prevent foreclosure.

Well, you got
your records wrong.

Yeah, we were looking at
foreclosure a few months back.

But then the bank sent
us a letter saying they

were reducing our mortgage.

We're getting your foster
records, but we'd

rather hear the
story from you.

ZIVA: It may help us find
whoever took these pictures.

LINDSEY:
Yeah. Um...

My birth parents,

they lived with this commune
in Pennsylvania.

They were against technology,
stuff like that.

We moved around a lot.

I got, uh, beat up a lot.

By other kids?

No. My parents.

One day, I had enough
and took off.

Social Services
picked her up.

She ended up with us.

Where are
your birth parents now?

I don't know.

But what if it's them?
What if they want me back?

They can try.

We won't let anything
happen to you.

(murmurs)

ZIVA:
There is very little

on Lindsey's biological
parents in her file.

If they're off the grid, they're
gonna be pretty hard to find.

No cell phone, no car...

Who doesn't
like technology?

Plague-surviving mutants.

You ever see Omega Man?
1971, Charlton H...

Keep it helpful.

Concussion. Okay.

I think we're missing
the big picture.

What's that?

The dead guy buried
50 grand in the forest.

Yes, but the killer was
targeting his foster sister.

Yes! But do I have to
do all the heavy lifting?

Yes, lift.

Private Hill was in business
with Curtis. Something illegal.

The Goody Two-shoes routine
was obviously a cover.

So, what happened next
is what always happens next.

The private got greedy.

Took more than his fair share,
buried it in the ground.

Hill wouldn't say where,

and Curtis couldn't
go to the police.

So he tried to grab
Lindsey as leverage.

Nice assist.

Either way, Lindsey
could still be in danger.

DiNozzo, track down
that commune.

McGee, you got Curtis.

Ziva, I want a copy
of that bank letter.

TONY: Where you going, boss?
I got first shift.

I want eyes on Lindsey
around the clock.

Tony?

I think I found
your friend, Stinky John.

I was able to use your
description of a mole on his chin.

- Yeah.
- Traced him to a clinical trial

for basal cell
carcinoma treatment.

Oh, my God, he's got cancer.

Oh, no, no.
Don't worry about it.

He's fine.
They were able to treat it.

But he is getting on a plane
to leave the country tomorrow.

So, if you want to see him,
you'd better hurry.

Okay. Thanks.

Hi.

Thought you might
want some coffee.

Thanks.

You should be in bed.

Oh, yeah, well,
my bed's kind of crowded.

My mom insisted on
sleeping with me.

She's worried about you.

They're not like the others.

My real parents.

And they're not like
those people who take

as many foster kids as they
can get 'cause they get paid.

They really care.

Yeah, I know.

Five iron tipped me off.

(giggles)

(sighs)

Biggest thing I had to worry
about before this week

was what I'm gonna do
after graduation.

Hmm.

And what is that?

I'm sure the wrong thing.

(nearby clatter)

(grunting)

Ow!

Take it easy! Geez!

Nathan, what are you doing?

I just came to see
if you were okay.

Yeah, and I was gonna swat a
fly off the end of your nose.

Call his parents.

Nathan, you could
get hurt.

I know.
And so could you.

And that's why I'm here.

So am I.

Right. And I appreciate
the assistance, Agent Gibbs.

In fact, if there's
anything I can d...

Hey...

Wait, is that the guy?

Wait, I-I've seen
that guy before.

Where?

He was lost and
flagged me down

to ask for directions
the other day,

and then looked
like he saw a ghost.

And then he just took off.

It was so weird.
(cell phone rings)

Yeah, it's Gibbs.

Hey, boss.
Sorry to bother you.

I've been pulling an all-
nighter, and I've been trying

to find that commune,
but I guess it's moot now.

The guy who owns the taco place
just called,

said Curtis Beane showed up.

(tires screech)

Where is he?

He's up on the roof.
He's talking crazy.

DiNozzo.

Hey, he-he just keeps saying
how he's not going back to jail.

That's never a good sign.

You-you promised you were going
to bring Curtis in safe,

prove him innocent.

Yeah, well, I can bring him in.

That second part's not up to me.

GIBBS:
Curtis! NCIS!

Get your hands in the air!

Get away from the ledge!

Your boss thinks
you were set up.

If that's true,
we can help.

GIBBS:
Don't do it!

He's going over!

McGEE:
Boss...

He was right.

He's not going
back to prison.

I thought for sure
he was going over the edge.

Well, lucky for me, he didn't.
You dug that hole.

Would've been my turn to go
through his pockets.

So was the death accidental
or deliberate?

Waiting for Ducky's report.

With the number of track marks
in his arm, it's amazing

he didn't kill himself
a month ago.

But we're pretty sure
he killed Private Hill.

He had the murder weapon on him.
Open and shut case.

Really? Open and shut, huh?

And all this time, I'm here
thinking we needed motive?

Gibbs, I may have found
something helpful.

This is a copy of the bank
letter the McCormicks received,

informing them their mortgage
was reduced. However...

it is a forgery.

The bank said
they never sent it.

But you know who did.

I found the original file
on Private Hill's computer.

So, he paid the bill,
then forged the letter

so he didn't have to explain
where the cash came from?

No, I do not think Hill sent it.

The file was last modified
while he was deployed,

but the computer
never left the state.

Doesn't leave us
a lot of options.

Well, let me pick one for you.

I just finished running
Lindsey's DNA.

And?

And it matches the blood
from the second syringe

that Ziva found
at the crime scene.

- She was there.
McGEE: Lindsey?

When her foster brother
was murdered,

and she didn't say anything?

Oh, tip. Iceberg.

Per your request,
I also ran a DNA test

that can ballpark
a person's age range.

You were right, Gibbs.
Her coffee was too good.

It has a pretty wide margin
of error, but according to

the telomeres of her DNA,
Lindsey is not 17.

She's 27.

Gibbs!

We widened the range of our
background search and got a hit.

Her real name isn't Lindsey,
it's Roxanne.

And she didn't run away from a
commune two years ago, either.

She was living with a foster
family in Maryland.

She said she was 16.

Spent a few years in the local
high school,

then ran away just
before her 18th birthday.

I got a hit.

Her real name isn't Lindsey.

It's Daisy.

I found almost
the same thing.

Five years ago,
she called herself Daisy.

Moved in with a foster
family in Pennsylvania.

- Said she was 16?
- Yeah.

Spent two years
in high school.

Ran away just before
her 18th birthday.

She's been living a lie
this whole time.

ZIVA:
It is some kind of con, huh?

And maybe Private Hill got
suspicious. He was poking around

Virginia's Social Services
database before he was killed.

Lindsey could've hired
someone to take him out

before he found anything
incriminating.

Pick her up.

Okay.

Hey, guys, um, we ought
to take two cars.

I may... make a little pit stop
on my way back. Thanks.

"With my deepest
apologies..."

(sighs)

This seemed like a much better
idea in the shower.

John...

Ah, somebody's
had a growth spurt.

Oh...

That's better.

You may not remember me...

DiNozzo?

- Yeah.
- Tony DiNozzo?

Yeah.

Yeah, man! Yeah.
How you doing, buddy?

Good to see you.
How are you?

John, uh, listen, I got...

I... I just uh...

I know this is gonna
sound a little crazy,

'cause it's ancient history
and, uh...

I just wanted...

to, uh...

say I'm sorry for what happened
when we were...

in boarding school, because...

you know, it was... it was
inappropriate and, uh...

Well, anything
involving flagpoles

and-and, uh... and underwear.

Wait. Wait,
wait a second.

You're sorry?

Yeah.

Better late than never, right?

Uh... yeah.

Yeah, but I just, I...

not real sure why
you're the one who's sorry.

(door opens)

(sighs)

Uh, your agents said
you wanted to talk to me?

Yeah.

Just not sure
what I should call you.

I don't understand.

It's you,

two years ago, a
senior in high school.

This is you,

five years ago.

Senior in high school.

Each time, the same face.

Just different names.

My name is Lindsey.

Yeah, well,

Lindsey...

...we found your DNA
at the crime scene

where Private Hill
was murdered.

Don't my foster parents have
to be here when you question me?

If you were actually 17,
yeah, mm-hmm.

I am 17.

Yeah, and I'm about
to charge you with murder.

Why did you lie to us?

That money that was buried--
it didn't belong to PFC Hill.

It belonged to you from whatever
con you've been running.

All right, stand up.

Wait. No, I-I was...

I was waiting to meet Tommy
for the party,

like I said, and then,

suddenly, this guy appeared.

He stuck me with something.

The last thing I remember is
Tommy grabbing me

and telling me to run.

I guess I did.

I... I woke up in a field
a half an hour later.

Why didn't you say something
about the attack?

I don't know.

I guess I was scared?

Of what, that we'd find out
about these?

No, there's nothing to find out.

They're obviously fake.

They don't look
like they're fakes to me.

Well, look, I've...

never seen these photos
before in my life.

So, Duck,
she crazy or not?

Crazy is not
a technical diagnosis.

I'm not a technical guy, Duck.

Well, the short answer is no.

I'm convinced
that this woman believes

she is a 17-year-old
girl named Lindsey.

That's pretty nuts.

Belief is the currency of
the delusionist, Jethro,

not the mentally ill.

Yeah, the difference here is
that part of her does know

the truth.

Here's the forged
bank letter,

reducing the
McCormick's mortgage.

The signature is in
Lindsey's handwriting.

So, she's the one
who paid off the bank.

And then
tried to deny the fact.

Such manipulation requires a...
well, a considerable awareness

of her real identity.

It's a lot of cash.

Yeah, the source of which
is a mystery.

You don't think this is a con?

Jethro, this is not
about the money.

Look at the pattern.

She's been in three foster
families before her current one.

Stolen from
none of them.

But then, just
before she turns

18, she runs away,

lies her way
into another foster home,

and enjoys a few carefree years
as a high-schooler.

Then, just before
she has to turn 18 again...

She runs away,
she starts all over.

Everyone has
their addiction, Jethro.

This woman's is childhood.

She covets an adolescence
that was taken from her.

Taken?

And quite violently.

That story about
the Pennsylvania commune

is clearly a fabrication,
but based in fact.

This is her medical file.

Her body is covered in old scars
from multiple beatings.

With such childhood trauma,

it's no wonder that she has
chosen to deny her past,

and if it continues
to threaten her,

then I don't think she's even
capable of acknowledging it.

Sadly, it might have been
different in her new home.

Who knows?

She might even have turned 18
this time.

(indistinct,
overlapping shouting)

Agent Gibbs, here
to take me up on that offer

for the free chili con carne?

No. Wanted you to take
another look at this photo.

You sure it doesn't
look familiar?

Like I said last time, no.

No, I never seen that guy
before.

What about the girl?

No. Sorry.

Really?

Because state records indicate
that she is your niece.

And you got custody of her
after her parents died

in a car crash
when she was 11.

(gasps)

(McGee shouts)

It wasn't me!

It was Curtis!

She ran away years ago,

took a boatload of
his cash with her.

And last week,
he runs into her, total fluke.

He just wanted
his money back.

TONY:
Oh, come on.

Blaming it on the dead guy--
that's a dead giveaway.

Where'd a guy like Curtis
get 50 grand?

From the ex-cons I hired.

They used the deliveries
that Curtis assigned them

as cover to stake out
people's houses.

Then they cut Curtis in on
some of the money they stole.

Really? We spoke to a
few of your employees.

And they said
you were the one in charge,

and the money was yours.

They're lying.

- Let go!
- McGee, let him go.

(sighs)

You want to make a run for it,
go, go.

Go on, get out of here, do it.

You got a gun.

What do I got?

What am I supposed
to do with this?

Oh, I'm sorry.

That's right.

You only use that
on little girls.

TONY:
You got about a half hour

to get your stuff. We need to be
at the hospital by 2:00.

Yeah.

Wouldn't want
to miss my commitment hearing.

It's just an evaluation.

I'm... I'm not crazy.

Can you guys just get my stuff?

They asked to see you.

I don't want to see them.

You know, I don't
need my things.

Let's... let's just go.

You said that you've always
done the wrong thing?

Well, here's your chance
to do the right thing.

We opened our home to you

because we thought
you were in trouble.

I'm so sorry.

Well... as far as
we're concerned...

nothing's changed.

Sweetie.

It's gonna be okay, honey.

Let's go.

Wish my own apology
went that well.

Uh, there was this...

It was nothing,
but I-I had this, uh...

Nothing.

I know.

What happened?

I wrote an apology card.

That's not a good idea.

Rule number six--
never say you're sorry.

(sighs)

Let's just say

Lindsey wasn't the only one
reinventing her past.

Apparently, I didn't
string Stinky John up

by his tighty whities
on the flagpole.

He strung me up.

Which is weird.
Really weird.

Because I...

I've been telling that story
for a long time, and...

...I don't when I...
flip-flopped it.

But I guess...

I don't know, maybe I was
trying to protect myself,

or make things...

Easier.

Easier.

Yeah.

McGee is never gonna let me hear
the end of this.

You don't have to
tell him, DiNozzo.

I know... but I should.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==