All language subtitles for CSI.S10E10.Better.Off.Dead.720p.Bluray.DD5.1.x264-RZF

♪ There's a man going round
taking names ♪

♪ And he decides who to free
and who to blame ♪

♪ There will be a golden ladder
reaching down ♪

♪ When the man comes around... ♪

Hey!

♪ Multitudes are marching ♪

Mom, get down!
♪ To the big kettledrum ♪

I got you covered!

♪ Voices calling,
voices crying ♪

♪ Some are born
and some are dying ♪

♪ It's Alpha and Omega's
kingdom come ♪

♪ And the whirlwind ♪
Ow!

Damn son of a bitch!
♪ Is in the thorn trees ♪

♪ The virgins are all
trimming their wicks. ♪

Yeah, looks like he took
a John Wayne shot.

John Wayne shot?

Yeah, the Duke would
take one to the shoulder

in all his movies,
then he'd just shake it off

like it was a mosquito bite.

Well, this one's more like

a spaghetti Western.

Involving Italians.

Lots of blood.

By the way, the guy they
wheeled out of here,

that's Hank Rinaldi.

He and his mother run the place.

A lot of cops like
to hang out here.

Camera's up there.

We'll get tape.

And this must be
where Hank went down?

That's where we found him,

curled around his Glock.

Guessing this is Mom?

Yeah, that's Dolores Rinaldi.

One tough mother.

Go ahead.

Multiple gunshot wounds.

.45 still gripped.

She went down fighting.

Shooting at him, I'm assuming.

Three gunshot wounds
to the torso, one to the head.

Edward Smith, 40.

Local address.

He's got a fat wad
of hundreds in here.

Must be at least five grand.

Drawer's stocked with cash.

There's lots of antiques here.

Lugers, Tokarevs, old Colts.

Some good stuff here.

Doesn't look like robbery.

Maybe he was a customer,
in here to make a big purchase.

Might have found part
of his shopping list.

"101 SW."
Smith & Wesson?

What about
these rogue footprints,

with the blood here?

Must have been
someone else here.

Look like a small men's size.

Nine? Sneakers.

If he walked
through the blood pool,

had to have been
standing right here.

Guy stands in the middle
of a three-way shootout

and strolls out alive?

Was he just lucky?

Or bulletproof?

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪

♪ I really wanna know ♪

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Oh-oh-oh ♪
♪ Who... ♪

♪ Come on, tell me who are you,
you, you ♪

♪ Are you! ♪

Hey.

Hey. Catherine.

Thanks.

Welcome.

Body's over here.

A couple of teenagers were
cutting through the park

and spotted her.

Thought she was sleeping.

Snug as a bug in a rug.

There's a path
of displaced gravel

coming down the embankment.

High-speed body dump?

Well, if it is,

then this quilt
is awfully clean.

So, how'd it get here?

Covered up after the fact?

There's road rash
under the blanket.

Suspect made no attempt
to hide her.

Yet he made an effort
to tuck her in.

It's oddly tender, huh?

For a body dump.

Act of remorse?

Maybe our killer
has a conscience.

I was in the back room.

I heard them arguing,

Ma and this guy.

It's the guy
in the baseball cap, right?

No, no. Not him.

The other one.

The one in the red shirt.

I didn't get a good look at him.

I just started shooting.

No!
Had to defend my mother.

Not that she's ever
been a sissy.

And this customer,

he starts unloading
at the crazy guy, too.

So, this "guy in a red shirt,"

he takes out you,

your mother and a customer?

One against three?

Sir, there were a lot
of bullets flying.

I don't know who hit who.

♪ Told me
you didn't love me no more ♪

♪ Yes, I heard
of that one before ♪

♪ Same thing, same news ♪

♪ Treat me like a fool
that you can use ♪

♪ Let me tell you,
I won't be kind ♪

♪ You can put it right there
where the sun don't shine ♪

♪ I ain't lying ♪

♪ Where the sun don't shine ♪

♪ You can take this, uh,
put it away ♪

♪ You can use it another day ♪

♪ Just remember,
keep this in mind ♪

♪ You can put it right there
where the sun don't shine. ♪

Okay, here go the lights.

The red lasers
are customer Ed's shots.

These are Dolores's shots.

And these are Hank's shots.

And according to Hank,

the man in the red shirt
was everyone's target.

Which is consistent with
everyone's trajectories,

assuming he was a moving target.

But where
are Red Shirt's bullets?

Well, all of these shots
are misses.

Maybe he fired and didn't miss.

Langston's out of autopsy.

Ed's ammo killed Dolores.

A combination of Dolores'
and Hank's ammo killed Ed.

And the surgeon pulled
one of Ed's nine mils

out of Hank's shoulder.

Well, that answers
that question.

The man in the red shirt
never fired.

So, all three shooters
missed him

and only hit each other?

Warrick and I worked a case once

where two guys were shooting
at each other in an elevator.

Zero out of 25 were hits.

Yeah, but the math is off.

Customer Ed put four
of his nine mils into Dolores,

one into Hank

and ten into the back wall here.

That's 15 shots.

And we collected
16 nine mil cases.

So, we're missing a bullet.

All of Ed's shots missed
in this direction.

And unless it's in Red Shirt,

it's got to be
in this back wall.

Got it.
Straight through the wall

and into the stockroom.

Huh. Ed's nine mil.

All projectiles
now accounted for,

which means
Red Shirt wasn't hit.

That's hard to believe.

Doesn't sound like gun oil.

This can top's been doctored.

At least ten grand here.

It's probably
the Rinaldis' 401AK.

Full-auto sears.

Insert these
into the lower receiver

of a semiauto rifle,

and you've got yourself
a fully automatic machine gun.

Which is why they're illegal,

and fetch a mint
on the black market.

Two excellent reasons
for hiding them.

Ran her prints.

Still a Jane Doe.

Suffered multiple traumatic
events before she died.

C.O.D. is no surprise.

Disarticulation of the
atlanto-occipital junction...

Consistent with her impact
into the rock.

This, however, is the result
of a separate incident.

Superficial bullet wound.

She was shot?

Sodium rhodizonate test
was positive for lead.

The extent of the blood clotting
indicates it was antemortem...

Shot at least an hour
prior to death.

So, he shoots her,
but doesn't kill her,

then dumps her out
of a car an hour later,

which does kill her.

Why didn't he
just shoot her again?

Well, I saw
the crime scene photos.

It's only luck of the draw
that she hit that rock.

Not much logic to it.

Gun shop's camera
was out of focus,

only took intermittent
still shots

and was on
an oscillating pattern.

It's hard to choreograph
a less useful record of events.

However, there were
two helpful frames

before the camera
was knocked out by a stray shot.

This one shows
Ed Smith and Red Shirt

walking into the store together.

You can't see Red Shirt's face.

But it does look
like they're together.

All right, now check this out.

Hank blasting away at Ed.

Red Shirt is in front of Mom.

Not even in Hank's line of fire.

He told Brass he
was shooting at Red Shirt.

Red Shirt is clearly
not Hank's target.

Which isn't
the only thing Hank lied about.

He told Brass that Ed was just
a random, well-armed customer.

Ed was another
customer, all right.

His prints were all over

the cash
with the full-auto sears.

Which explains the five grand
we found in his wallet.

He was there
to purchase more sears.

From Hank.

Whose prints were on both
the cash and the sears.

So, Hank's about
to make another big sale.

Why shoot such a good customer?

Get too greedy
for the green stuff,

you can get yourself hurt.

We know about your little
side business there, Hank,

selling the full-auto sears.

Which is a federal offense
in itself.

You pile on the fact
that you lied to the cops

about killing Ed Smith...

He was robbing us.

I was... I was afraid
if I told you,

you'd take a closer look at him,

find out about the sears.

Honest, I was just
defending our store.

I come out of the back,

and Ed's got my ma at gunpoint.

And not just him... he brought
some partner with him.

So I did what
my mother taught me.

Hey!

Guy kills your mom,

you're okay saying he died
trying to defend her?

You make him out to be a hero.

The truth wasn't going
to bring her back.

And I didn't want to go to jail.

So, you caught him, right?

Ed's wingman,
the guy in the red shirt.

You caught him, right?

That's how you learned all this?

Well, actually...

But we're getting close.

Oh, God.

What?

He's still out there?

You got to find him.

That guy, the way he
was just standing there

with those bullets
flying all around?

He was not human.

He was like the Terminator.

A machine.

I've seen my share of crazies.

But this guy...

Wasn't his first time
at the death dance.

As long as he's out there,
I'm staying right here.

Hey.

Car was parked in
a loading zone off Industrial.

The ticketing officer

saw the blood and towed it in.

I'm hoping it's related
to our body dump.

RO is a Carrie Warren

of Noelle Lane, Las Vegas.

Is that an I.D. badge?

It's our Jane Doe
from the ditch.

She was dumped from her own car.

Clearly, she wasn't driving.

So, uh...

what's going on
with you and Vartann?

I am a trained observer,
you know.

Okay. I see it's still in its,
uh, early investigative stages.

No comment.

Huh.

Same pattern as the quilt
she was wrapped in.

Key's still in the ignition.

Out of gas.

Explains why the killer
left the murder mobile

in plain sight.

Looks like we have
her house keys.

LVPD!

Anybody home?

How's it look?

No sign of forced entry.

All Carrie Warren.

Looks like she lived alone.

I got a blood trail.

It's all clear.

You're not going to like
what you find in the bedroom.

I'm going to check
the perimeter.

Blood spatter on the wall.

This is where she was shot.

Sheets match the quilt
she was wrapped in.

There's no photos of any humans,

but she sure had some love
for this German shepherd.

Yeah. Roscoe.

Oh, my God.

It's Roscoe.

He was shot.

Blood trail ends in the garage.

So...

killer's in the bedroom.

Shoots the dog.

Shoots Carrie.

Takes Carrie and the quilt,

and takes her car.

Control, this is 802 Charlie,
Detective Vartann.

I need Animal Control
to transport a dead dog.

Carrie's tidy.

Strange that she'd leave
food trash in the bedroom.

Maybe the killer likes milk.

Stain on the bed skirt.

Milky vomit.

I'll get it to DNA.

Maybe we'll get lucky
on some epithelials.

There's no pictures
of any boyfriends,

yet she's got
a drawer full of...

tokens of someone's affections.

Mm. She doesn't want
to look at them anymore,

but she can't bring herself
to throw them away.

Maybe Roscoe wasn't
the only man in her life.

Backed over by a car.

Fell down a well.

Attacked by coyotes.

Poisoned by a spider.

Lost in a cave.

Traded for a Mike Schmidt
rookie baseball card.

And my favorite,
given to a farm.

Allegedly.

The tragic fates of the
Phillips family dogs.

Oh.
Mm-hmm.

Okay.

Oh, sorry.

I-I extracted a bullet
from his, uh, dorsal lumbar.

Shallow penetration.

Uh, lack of vital response
in the surrounding tissue

indicates he was shot
postmortem.

Oh, accounts for the lack
of blood at the scene.

No blood pressure, no bleeding.

C.O.D.?

Undetermined at this point.

Huh.

Medium caliber bullet
flattened on two sides.

Double ricochet explains
the shallow penetration.

And the fact
that we have two wounds,

but just one bullet.

I bought my first
Ruger 1022 from Rinaldi's.

Oh, sweet.

Colt single-action Army.
Beautiful.

Oh, this baby's a shooter,
not a collector.

Dang it.

Hey, guys.
I know you're slammed.

This is the round that we pulled

from our female victim's
German shepherd.

You're looking for the
"Truth About Gats and Dogs"?

Little bit of ballistics
humor there for you.

See, 7.62 by 25 mil.

Only a few rare old makes
of gun use this ammo.

Mauser, Tokarev,

Norinco...

Hold on. We collected
a Tokarev from the gun shop.

Here it is.

Whoa.
Whoa.

The case was stuck
in the chamber.

You were supposed to clear
that at the scene, Greg.

I know, but I got it out of
a shattered merchandise case.

Guns for sale are supposed
to be unloaded by law.

It's clear.

And, y'all, there's a piece
of somebody in here.

Must've blocked the slide
with their hand.

Now, there is no way Rinaldi's

would sell a gun

with an expended case
in the chamber

and a hunk of skin in the slide.

Maybe it wasn't for sale.

Wait a sec.

If your vic was shot
with that gun earlier today,

and it wasn't
for sale at Rinaldi's,

then it stands to reason that
your killer brought it there.

There were four players

in the shootout,
and only three known guns.

Maybe the Tokarev belongs
to the man in the red shirt.

Who's the man in the red shirt?

Some guy on a crime spree.

Bobby, can you run
the serial number?

Then we need to compare
my bullet with your gun.

RO is a John Rakow.

Guy lives...

Right behind Carrie Warren.

Mr. Rakow, I see from your file
you served in the military.

And you have a Tokarev
automatic registered to you.

Yeah. I brought that
back from 'Nam.

That gun saved my ass
more than once.

Thank you for your
service, Mr. Rakow.

You're welcome.

Where is the Tokarev now?

I gave it to a friend.

What's the friend's name?

It's a neighbor. Why?

Carrie Warren?

Yeah.

You guys get along?

Well, I ain't particularly crazy

about that yappy mutt of hers,

but we worked that out.

Mr. Rakow, do you
make it a point

to arm your entire neighborhood,

or just the pretty girls?

I had a daughter once.

She was about the age of Carrie.

She moved to New York.

Young girl all alone
in a big city.

I wish somebody
had looked out after her.

So, I look out after Carrie;
I protect her.

Protect her from what?

This armpit of a city.

You know,
when seconds count, you...

you cops are minutes away.

So, you got
a crazy-ass boyfriend,

got some screws loose.

She's always
breaking up with him,

and he's always begging
to come back.

So, how do you fit
into all this?

I chased him off a couple times,

but I couldn't
watch her for 24-7,

so I gave her the Tokarev
and taught her how to use it.

Something happen to Carrie?

She's dead.

Someone shot her and her
yappy mutt with your gun.

I'm done talking.

Okay, let's talk
about something else, then.

What about the boyfriend?

Has he got a name?

Dirtbag.

And I can't recall
his last name.

The man is wearing boots
as big as all of Texas.

There's no way he could cram
those dogs

into size-nine sneakers.

Plus, I observed his hands;
there's no slide bite.

He didn't shoot Carrie.

He wasn't in the gun shop.

He's not the man
in the red shirt.

I got Roscoe's tox panel.

Your German shepherd
was poisoned.

High concentrations of lorazepam
and diazepam in his blood.

Found the same
anti-anxiety drugs

in the milk you collected
from the bedroom.

So, based on
his stomach contents,

Carrie's dog drank
the poison milk.

What about Carrie's tox?

She was clean.
Stomach was empty. No milk.

We didn't find any prescriptions
at Carrie's house.

Red Shirt had to have brought
the drugs with him.

So, he dissolves them in milk
and feeds them to the dog?

The dog apparently regurgitated
some of the mixture

onto the bed skirt,
but not enough to save his life.

Killer premeditates the dog's
murder, but not Carrie's?

Well, not necessarily.

He poisons the dog
to shut it up,

waits for her to come home,

then shoots her
with her own gun.

Well, if that's true,
he knew her. He knew her dog.

He knew where she kept the gun.

No signs of forced entry.

He had to have a key.

Obvious question...
She have a boyfriend?

Oh, yeah.

And I'm betting
he has a red shirt.

I mean, is this what
women really want?

It's what men think women want.

Like candy.

It's sweet and hard to resist,

but sooner or later, we just
want some meat and potatoes.

All the women
I take out just order a salad.

God, I used to have drawers
full of this crap from guys.

Now I just want a
man I can count on.

"My eternal love is yours

in life and in death.
Forever, Sam."

That sure sounds
like a boyfriend.

Although I never wrote
a love poem

to a girl that included
the word "death."

There's something
under that label.

Sam gift-lifted this book
from the public library

and gave it to his beloved.

Classy.

Call the library and find out
who the last borrower was.

♪ ♪

Las Vegas Police.
Anybody home?

Go, go, go, go, go.
Hup.

Who are you?

I'm Detective Jim Brass,

Las Vegas Police.

We're looking for Sam Trent.
Who are you?

I'm Paul Trent, his father.

He's not home.

What happened
here, Mr. Trent?

It was an accident.

Any idea where Sam is?

My son's 27.

I-I don't interfere
with his personal life.

Well, we do. We have a warrant
to search your house.

What's this about?

An overdue library book.

Mr. Trent, I need you
to come with me.

Another accident.
Mm-hmm.

Styron, Plath, Sexton...

Looks like a reading list
for Morbid 101.

Taste in cinema appears
to be much lighter.

These are all romantic comedies.

With the kind of guy
who never gives up

until he wins the heart
of his dream girl?

Of course,
Sam's dream girl is dead.

A photograph of Sam and Carrie.

Proves they
were together.
Mm-hmm.

Does this look like it was taken

from the top of the
Stratosphere to you?

No, it's not high enough.

It's got to be
the Ivory Tower Skydeck.

It's kind of a dumpy old
tourist trap with a nice view

of the methadone clinic
across the street.

I'll take you there sometime.

Gee, thanks.

I have...

at least a dozen ticket stubs

to the Skydeck.

Maybe it was, uh,
Sam and Carrie's favorite place.

Eight bucks a pop.

What do you have?

Letters.

"Sam, meeting you up there,

the city sprawling below us,
changed my life."

This is five days later.

"Sam, I'm sorry, but I can't
be with you anymore."

And then, a few days after that:

"I can't stop thinking
about you."

"I need you.

You're the best thing
that ever happened to me."

"Sam, I hope we
can always be friends."

Light-switch romance.

On and off.

Well, this is from last week.

"You need to respect
my boundaries, Sam.

It's over. Leave me alone, or my
neighbor will kick your ass."

Good neighbor John Rakow?

Diazepam.

Lorazepam.

Both scripts written last week.

Both empty.

That's what killed Carrie's dog.

Mmm.

Some other...

letters here.

This one...

written two days ago.

From Sam to Carrie.

Looks like a early draft.

"Carrie, we have
talked about this.

"I know talking is easier
than going through with it.

"But after the darkness
comes the light.

"In a painless moment, we
can be together... forever."

That sounds like an invitation
to a suicide pact.

She's dead.

Did he change his mind?

You have the results from
the Carrie Warren scene?

I do.
Uh... there was DNA

on the lip
of the tainted milk bottle,

and I just matched it
to Sam Trent's toothbrush

that was sent over
from his house.

Sam drank the poisoned milk?
Yeah.

Which is why
I then ran the vomit,

and it turns out it wasn't
actually the dog's.

The mucosal cells
were a match to Sam.

Sam tried to commit suicide in
Carrie's bedroom, but failed?

Mm-hmm.

What about the tissue
from the gun?

Just came up.

It's Carrie Warren.

You're joking.

She shot herself?

The physical evidence

now supports the
suicide pact theory.

Only Sam didn't die
from the poison,

and Carrie didn't die
from the gunshot.

Okay, check this out.

This is Carrie's house.

This is where we found the body.

This is where you found her car.

And this is Rinaldi's
Gun & Ammo.

I think that Sam
took the gun and Carrie,

got in her car, and I think he
was headed for the gun shop.

The gun was jammed.

It wasn't his gun, so maybe
he thought it ran out of ammo.

Needed more bullets, so he
could finish them both off.

Okay, so why did he dump her
on the side of the road

on the way to the gun shop?

Well, Carrie was dumped
at the apex of a hairpin turn.

And a piece of the quilt

was in the passenger door latch,

which could have prevented
the door from fully closing.

I mean, an accident
would explain

why he wrapped her in a quilt.

Nothing was going
according to plan.

She's dead; he's not.

He's probably feeling
left behind.

Yeah, and now he really needs

to get to that gun shop,

so when the car runs out of gas,

he just walks
the rest of the way.

Suicidal guy enters a gun shop,

desperate for another bullet
to pop into his Tokarev.

If they're not going
to give one to him,

maybe they'll shoot one at him.

Mmm.

So, somehow,
Sam triggered the gunfight.

And just his luck,
he's the only one

that walks out of there
unscathed.

Sara...

the closet door's
been kicked in.

I don't think Sam did this.

Does that look
like a cowboy boot to you?

Texas-sized.

Mr. Trent, if you want
to try to help us

save your son's life,

you've got to tell me
what happened in your house.

There was a knock at the door.

Barely heard it over the TV.

When I went to answer it...

Sam Trent... where is he?
Where is he?

Sam, you son of a bitch!

When he didn't find Sam,

he trashed the place
and stormed out.

Couple of minutes later,
Sammy came home.

Sammy... Sammy,

what happened?

Are you in trouble?

There was a man here.

I... I almost called the police.

No police, Dad.

Everything's going to be fine.

Take my car.

The guy had a gun.

Go on, t-take my keys,
grab-grab my wallet.

Take what you need.

Thanks, Dad.

Sam only wanted eight dollars
from his father?

The price of an Ivory Tower
Skydeck ticket.

Hey, you-you can't park here.

I just received Carrie Warren's
medical records.

She had a history
of bipolar disorder

for which she recently was being

treated at
St. Anthony's Hospital,

101 Southwest Harmony Avenue.

101 SW.

The shopping list
from the gun shop.

Yeah.

It was an address.

Uh-huh.
We just assumed

that he was driving
Carrie to the gun shop.

This is her house...
body, car...

There's the gun shop.

And just to the west of it...

St. Anthony's.

He was headed for the hospital.

Sam was trying to save her life.

Control, officers are moving
into position

at the Ivory Tower.

I need a full rescue
team response.

Detective Vartann and a police
officer are already up there.

You're free to go up.

I don't want any
heroes up there.

Can you hear me, Catherine?

You son of a bitch!

You're a dead man, Sam Trent!

One would think.

Police! Drop the weapon!
Drop it!

John, Sam didn't shoot Carrie.

You're lying.

We found her skin
in the Tokarev slide.

John, you know what that means?
I know you do.

Carrie shot herself.
No, you're lying.
She wouldn't do that.

John, Carrie was bipolar.

She'd attempted suicide before.

You told me that Carrie

needed protection,
but it wasn't from Sam.

It was from herself.

That's not true, John.
I killed her.

You shut up!

I put the gun to her head.

- I brushed away...
- Sam, stop.

I brushed away her hair,
I looked into her eyes...

and I-I just...

John, after Carrie shot herself,

Sam took her to the hospital.

No, that's not true!
I killed her, John.

We found a note

with the address
to St. Anthony's on it.

Sam, you loved Carrie.

You tried to save her.

Sam!

You don't have to die today!

This is meant to be.

You don't have to die today.

The last two people who tried
to stop me ended up dead.

Just give me one bullet, okay?

Just one bullet.

Whatever this takes.

Look, just give me one bullet!
No! God!

Hey!

This is where Carrie and I met.

And this is where
it's destined to end.

It doesn't have to end here.

We know about the pact.

We know you tried to save her.

And Carrie...

She would want us to save you.

Okay, but I have one question.

Was it me or the dog?

What do you mean?

It wasn't... I mean...

it wasn't technically a pact.

I wanted her to come home
and find me.

My whole being
rendered solemn valentine.

There was milk
all over its snout.

Carrie loved that dog.

And when she came home
and found him,

was it the sight of me
or the dog

that made her pull the trigger?

It was you, Sam.

I'm sure it was you.

So nice of you to say that.

Sam!

Situation is Code Four.

One in custody.