Original subtitles

(clanging) (whistling, whooping)

Here, snipe!

Come here, snipe!

Here, snipe!

Come here, snipe!

Snipe!

Where are you, snipe?

Hey, uh, Dad,

what do snipes look like again?

Ugly.

Sharp teeth, beady little eyes.

You'll know one when you see it. Keep looking.

Run up ahead and see if you can scare them out of their holes.

But remember,

they're attracted to loud noise.

Here, snipe! Here, snipe!

(laughter) Here, snipe!

All right, let's see how this snipe's looking, huh?

Yeah, come on. Here, snipe!

(laughter) Here, snipe!

Call the boys.

Hey, boys! Dad, hurry!

I think we found something! Holy cow!

What you got, boys?

♪ ♪

Oh, my God. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Shh.

Don't look, don't look.

It's gonna be okay.

That's not a snipe.

♪ ♪

(phones ringing)

TONY: Well, that's very nice, but, you know,

when I told you to get buffed, that's not quite what I meant.

Go ahead, Tony, let's go.

Come on, I can take it.

Might as well get them all done at the same time.

Nailed it!

(chuckles)

They're gonna keep coming.

Delilah says you cannot spell manicure without M-A-N.

TONY: Good for you, Tim.

Denial is the key to happiness.

Please, like you've never gotten manicures before.

I've seen your cuticles.

Oh, no.

DiNozzos are genetically predisposed

to perfect hygiene.

God's gift, I guess.

Although Dad has started getting pedicures,

but the toes are old.

Oh, hey, Bishop.

We need a little female perspective.

Although Tim is bringing quite a bit to the game.

Not today, Tony.

You two figure it out.

You okay?

Everything back to normal at home?

Jake is safe.

That's all that matters.

Well, that's not the only thing that matters.

You do, too.

Jake went through a traumatic experience.

As did you.

And, remember, he wasn't

in the bombing.

Right, um, you know,

can we just not talk about this right now?

I was hoping for a quiet day.

What?

She said it.

I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner, frankly.

What hasn't happened?

It's an NCIS thing, okay?

You never say "good luck" in the theater.

You never say "Hey, good game,"

to a pitcher who's in the middle of a no-hitter.

And you never,

ever say what you just said in the big orange room.

Wow. Superstitious much?

These are not superstitions. They are facts.

Hmm, okay.

Here's a fact.

We probably won't even get a case today.

Too late.

Dead body in the Virginia woods.

Let's go.

Nice nails, Tim.

Oh, thanks, boss.

You know, Delilah said... Of course.

You can't spell manicure without M-A-N.

(elevator bell dings) See that?

Hmm.

(camera shutter clicking)

(birds screeching) (sighs)

I need to get out of the city more often.

Clear my head.

Yes, a breath of fresh air can work wonders.

Did you know that just listening to the tree branches rustle

in the autumn breeze

can reduce your blood pressure

by about ten points?

For me it's all about listening to the Zen-like call

of a bird.

(imitates birdsong)

(bird repeats song)

That's the warbling vireo, indigenous to these parts.

GIBBS: T.O.D., Duck?

Uh, I'm going to let birdman here

hazard a guess.

He's doing a night course

in the science of human decay.

It's fascinating stuff, really.

My final essay was entitled "Decomposition Composition."

(chuckles)

Let's see here.

Uh, judging by the minor putrefaction of the body

as well as the presence

of maggot larvae on the wound here

and the brown purge fluids

leaking from every orifice, I would have to say

between 48 and 72 hours.

The bullet pierced the trachea

and presumably exited the back of the neck.

And notice how the extremities

have been eaten

by wildlife.

Fingertips, the ears.

Well, no fingertips, no prints.

I'm go go prep a DNA test for Abby.

TONY: State trooper says a car

was towed from the shoulder of the road just down the hill.

They're still running the plates.

I'll cross-check DMV for the Buchanan's manifest.

She was a destroyer

in the Persian Gulf during Operation Desert Shield.

The ship's unofficial motto was

"Defending with Honor."

(camera shutter clicks)

McGEE: Boss.

Bolt-action Winchester, thirty-ought-six.

Definitely been fired.

Okay. Fired at what?

It is deer season.

Guy's not dressed for deer hunting.

Suicide?

Possibly, but the angle is unlikely.

I don't know.

Maybe he was sitting here, just thinking about life,

and thought, "Maybe I can take myself out."

Boom!

Goes right out back through the neck.

Yeah, and it landed where exactly?

Hey, boss?

I found the bullet lodged in this unlucky pine tree.

Dig it out.

Don't damage the bullet

or the tree.

All right. Hey, McGee,

why don't you do the digging?

That seems to be your specialty.

And ruin the manicure?

That's not gonna happen.

Oh.

So if our victim killed himself,

I guess we're looking at an open-and-shut case.

Quiet day after all.

(phone chimes)

And that should be our I.D.

(muttering): Unbelievable.

Ow!

Told you, be gentle.

Splinter? It's like the whole tree went in there.

Look at that.

I better go get the first-aid kit.

There's a lot of bacteria in these old tress, Tony.

Might have to amputate.

Well, dots connect.

Car belonged to retired

Lieutenant Commander Runyan Hayes,

63 years old,

formerly assigned to the USS Buchanan.

Two days ago, his granddaughter

reported him missing.

Did you say Lieutenant Commander Runyan Hayes?

You know him?

Jethro, I need a word with you.

I'm afraid I must recuse myself from this case.

I don't follow.

Well, because I know far more

about this man's murder than I care to admit.

Did you know, Commander, that the trees

in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania,

absorbed thousands of gunshots

in the Civil War?

Historians call them

the "witness trees."

Tree's not a witness unless it testifies, Duck.

What do you got?

Well, Commander Hayes here,

he did not die of a self-inflicted gunshot.

I know. What else?

Oh, speak to a man named Todd Bennett.

He's a fireman in Wolf Trap, Virginia.

That's all I'm gonna to say.

I'm going to call another medical examiner

to take over the case.

I can't let you off that easy, Ducky.

You most certainly can.

How did you know the commander?

Well, it's no secret

that my social life of late

has not exactly been en fuego.

Come on, Duck.

(chuckles)

You still got it.

Perhaps.

I've tried everything.

Online dating.

That was a fiasco.

Speed dating introduced me

to women that I disliked even faster.

So, I decided to try

mental stimulation,

and I joined a group of mystery enthusiasts

who solve cold cases.

Amateur detectives.

We call ourselves

"The Sherlock Consortium for Investigation."

Three weeks ago,

the commander reached out to us.

He was desperate.

He told us that his son, Michael, was serving

a life sentence for a military murder

that Hayes insisted the boy didn't commit.

He said the guilty man was...

Todd Bennett, the fireman.

And he was going to confront Bennett

and get him to confess.

We advised against it.

You think that Bennett killed Hayes to shut him up?

Oh, oh, but, Jethro, keep the Sherlocks out of this.

Anonymity is

of the utmost importance.

Hey, Duck,

next time you're feeling lonely,

read a book.

All right, I'm listening.

Oh.

So, our, uh, victim, boss,

is retired Lieutenant Commander Runyan Hayes.

Fought in three wars on two continents over four decades.

He worked two jobs to support his granddaughter,

Makaela, she's 17.

What is that?

It's a clicker.

No, on your finger.

It's a banana peel.

Tony got himself an owie.

TONY: It's an Abby thing.

She told me that there's

these special enzymes in the banana peel

that help, uh, extract... DiNozzo.

Sit down.

Abby stuff.

Bananas.

Bishop?

That's Runyan's son, Michael Hayes,

inmate number 37260.

In 1999, Michael was a seaman

aboard the USS Saxton, when his division officer,

Lieutenant Junior Grade Brett Swannie,

was strangled and killed.

The original suspect in Swannie's death

was a fellow sailor onboard,

Todd Bennett.

He had an argument with the lieutenant

the night before he was murdered.

Bennett was never arrested.

Hairs found on Swannie's body matched the younger Hayes,

and that was that.

As far as Bennett,

he now works as a firefighter

only two miles away from where the commander was shot.

Bishop, you're with me.

Let's go. ABBY: Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!

Yeah, Abbs, what?

I have good news.

It's weird, but good.

Um, the bullet in the tree

did, in fact, come from Commander Hayes's rifle.

The weird good part is it didn't kill anybody.

Well, how do you know that?

Because there's no human remains on it.

I mean, there's no way that

it could have passed through flesh

and not picked up some tiny little

DNA hitchhikers along the way.

So the commander was killed by another bullet?

Shot by another gun.

DiNozzo, take McGee with you, go back to the crime scene.

Find evidence of another shooter.

Oh, great.

You mean go back to the poison oak and land of splinters.

(clicks)

I'll take it out.

I'm good, boss, thanks.

No, I'm good. (knife blade clicks, retracting)

My version is a lot more civilized.

Not popular with Gibbs.

Look!

The little guy worked its way right...

out of your skin. (squeaking)

Oh!

Good job, little guy.

Good job! Okay...

Dear Noble Eastern White Pine:

Thank you for your brave sacrifice.

And Tony is very sorry

that he attacked you

with his knife.

And we promise

that we will find and punish the person

that shot you.

The end.

Okay.

Abby loves trees.

(woodpecker pecking wood in distance)

I'd like to cut you down and use you for firewood

all winter long.

Okay, don't even joke about that.

You heard Abby,

you know what you have to say.

I don't want to say it.

You're gonna say it.

(inhaling deeply)

Dear Noble Eastern White Pine...

(sighing)

...this is from Abby Sciuto.

She said you would know what to do with it.

There you go.

There, I said it. Are you happy?

I'm happy, and Abby will be very happy.

McGEE: All right.

There we go.

Mm. Trajectory doesn't match.

Well...

body's over there.

This bullet came from that direction.

Anything?

Uh, not yet.

Hey, look,

you're getting it hung up on the trees.

Bullets don't bend, McGee.

I found something.

Ooh!

It's a wallet.

Look at that.

It's the commander's wallet.

Ooh.

So, if Commander Hayes was standing here

when he shot his rifle...

McGEE: Most likely at the killer.

The killer would've fired back,

hitting him in the neck.

Blood spatter would be...

...right there.

There it is. Bullet hole.

TONY: Bet this bullet has the commander's DNA.

All we gotta do is find the gun.

You know what? I'm not too sure there's a bullet in here.

I think someone dug it out.

(laughing): McGee, what are you talking about?

Well, do you see it? Look...

it's hidden by that sticky sap.

Tony, if there was a bullet in there,

I am perfectly capable of... Ow!

(Tony groans)

Trees.

Faster, ladies! You're three seconds behind!

Let's go!

Three seconds could cost a kid his life!

Stop! Let's do it again, no mistakes!

GIBBS: Todd Bennett?

NCIS. Special Agent Bishop

and Gibbs.

(indistinct radio communication in background)

That your truck?

Where's the rifle for the rack?

I have a permit.

That's not what I asked you.

Hmph.

There someplace private we can talk?

There's nothing my boys can't hear.

You know a retired Navy officer named Runyan Hayes?

Yeah, I know him.

He's been accusing me of murder for the past 16 years.

When was the last time you saw him?

Couple weeks back.

He showed up here and wanted me to confess.

Only problem is, I don't have anything to confess to.

And go!

That's when he took off.

And no, I didn't follow him.

And no, I didn't kill him.

Commander Hayes's death isn't public information.

How do you know about it?

Private investigator told me.

What private investigator?

Big government agents

can't even figure out who's working the case.

You got a name?

(sighs) It was a woman. Older.

She left a card.

DUCKY: Membership to the Sherlocks

is a closely guarded secret.

I'll speak to them, personally.

No, I'll speak to them personally.

Jethro, that would be a dreadful... horrible idea.

Why?

(groans) The Sherlocks are some of the most unique

and forward-thinking criminologists

I've encountered!

But...

(quietly): they do not play well with others.

Neither do I.

(doorbell chimes)

(clock ticking quietly)

BUTLER: Dr. Mallard.

Good evening, Stephenson.

Is this somebody's home?

Oh, it's a family residence

handed down from generation to generation.

Hmm.

(door closes)

(clock chiming)

Can we just go in, Duck?

Your secret knock is "Shave and a Haircut"?

Irony.

(lock buzzes, latch clicks)

Donald, you're late.

It looks like we're right on time.

Walt Osorio, consulting detective

for the Sherlock Consortium.

Uh, you must be Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS?

And Special Agent Bishop.

We're looking for Judith McKnight?

Speaking.

And listening, to hear if you have anything worthwhile to say.

(clock chimes)

That's what I thought.

The quiet, brooding type.

Oh, Judith, please!

Anybody want a drink? I need one.

Did you talk to a fireman named Todd Bennett?

Don't answer that, Judith.

You have a very commanding voice,

Special Agent Gibbs.

And big hands.

Oh, boy.

DUCKY: Fellow Sherlocks...

I must apologize for breaking the seal of secrecy,

but NCIS is now formally taking over the investigation

of Lieutenant Commander Runyan Hayes,

so, please, please,

hand over any information that you may have gathered.

Just like that, eh, Donald?

Well, Walter, you've always know that if

my vocation and avocation intersect,

then my loyalties... (wry chuckle)

well, they must remain with NCIS.

Well, according to City Code 348-61,

the Sherlock Consortium is not legally bound

to, quote: engage in

interagency cooperation.

You're not a government agency.

Actually, the Sherlock Consortium

is a federally registered...

Who are you?

I'm Lyle.

Shut up, Lyle.

Gibbs, there are police files, attorney e-mails,

divorce papers,

all private documents-- how did you get these?

What we do and how we do it is our business.

Our business now.

LYLE: Hey, we spent days gathering this evidence.

You can't just take a shortcut

to get to the finish line before us.

Okay? DUCKY: Lyle...

this is not a contest.

You've made your allegiances very clear, Donald.

Special Agent Gibbs, there must be a way we could work this out.

Wait, I just want you to keep it here, just for... Aah!

We're doing this the hard way.

I like the hard way.

(handcuffs ratcheting)

(groans quietly)

So, leader of the wacko brigade is named Walt Osario.

Goes by "Consulting Detective."

Same title as Sherlock Holmes, by the way.

Ex-cop from New Hampshire.

Five years ago, budget cut forced him out.

Playing the role of Mr. Watson

is Judith McKnight.

She has no actual

law enforcement experience.

She's an author of airport

paperback novels.

Don't knock the pulp fiction, Bish.

You're talking about McGee's retirement account there.

That's Judith McKnight.

Judith McKnight?

Diamond Delancy mysteries, no?

14-year-old crime fighting girl, with pigtails?

And... Okay, well,

you're missing out.

McKnight is unbelievable.

Hmm. And boy, did she hit the mother lode.

Oh! Well, if she's loaded...

maybe I can set her up with my dad.

He's broke.

Anyway, moving on to Lyle:

Last name unknown.

Date of birth: unknown.

His only I.D. card...

Hey! He's a platinum member of the Frequent Eater's Club

at Popper's Pizza.

And that's it.

You think he's a threat?

I would say, to a two-topping medium pizza,

he's a severe threat.

Those three lunatics are in the conference room.

Find out what they know and get 'em outta here.

The three of ya.

Go!

Let me get this bad boy autographed.

Thank you.

Here's some marshmallows. They're good.

No, thank you.

Agent Gibbs?

We appreciate you calling us.

This has been a very difficult time.

But as...

friends of the family,

we are honored to be Makaela's guardians now.

The commander was a very special man.

He was like another father to me, in many ways.

We found these in your grandfather's wallet.

I think he'd want you to have them.

MAKAELA (voice breaking): I didn't know he kept this.

Proud of his family.

Proud of you.

(Makaela sniffles)

Everything he did, he did for me or for my dad.

Agent Gibbs, can I have a moment?

I think I should be the one to tell Michael about his dad.

You two close?

(scoffs) We're like brothers.

We served on the Saxon together.

We went through hell together.

Every time I'm in town,

I still visit Michael, once a month.

He's one of the best men I know.

You think he's innocent?

I don't think. I know.

So tell me about Lieutenant Swannie,

your division officer.

(sighs) That son of a bitch still gives me nightmares.

His death?

His life.

He was a sick bastard who wasn't fit to lead.

We were just kids.

He ruined us.

Are you talking about the hazing?

That I could've dealt with.

It was more...

psychological.

He broke us.

And he broke Bennett, too?

There's only two ways to deal with someone like Swannie--

either beat them, or join them.

Bennett joined him.

Commander Hayes was a good man.

A loving grandfather.

All he wanted to know was the truth,

and look where it got him.

Now Makaela's father

is in jail for a crime he didn't commit,

the old man is dead,

and Makaela suffers all over again.

(phone ringing)

I guess we don't always get what we deserve, do we?

Yeah, McGee, what do you want?

Boss, is there any way you can come to the conference room?

The Sherlocks have uncovered something that you should know.

Are you talking about Commander Hayes?

No, actually,

his son, Michael.

We think he might be innocent.

(sighs) (indistinct chatter)

Gibbs, been out forever...

Special Agent Gibbs, we have... Somebody talk to me.

Other than her.

Runyan Hayes's son, Michael,

was convicted for murdering his division officer

and we think the forensic test

that linked Michael to the murder was flawed.

Flawed how?

Discredited, Gibbs.

As in, it's no longer

an accepted part of the legal process.

The murder happened in 1999,

before DNA tests became the standard.

So when the hairs were found on Lieutenant Swannie's body,

a test called

the Microscopic Hair Comparison Analysis

was performed.

The test matched the hairs to Michael Hayes.

And?

And that test couldn't match

a pair of socks.

Take a look at this report

from the National Academy of Sciences.

It calls the hair test "highly unreliable."

And the FBI sent out this press release,

and it says that microscopic hair analysis is bupkis.

That's not technically the quote, but...

In the '80s and '90s, there were more than 3,000 federal cases

involving this hair analysis,

and right now,

the FBI is re-examining every one of them.

Yeah, and that means that my buddy Fornell will be busy.

This is not our problem.

No, Gibbs, it is our problem.

The forensic scientist who performed the test

and testified at Michael's trial...

...was Abby Sciuto.

I knew it. I knew it.

I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.

Abbs...

I knew this would happen.

Ow.

When I saw that press release,

I went back and I found 12 cases where I used

Microscopic Hair Analysis.

I sent them all to the FBI,

and I've been waiting and waiting and waiting for the results.

Take a look at this. Tell me what you see?

Uh...

two hairs, both brown.

Actually, kind of gray.

(chuckles)

Forensic scientists compare ten different attributes

of the hair, including color,

the thickness, the pigment distribution.

I don't see any gray.

I'd say they're identical.

Wrong.

The one on the left is yours, Tony.

The one on the right is McGee's.

How'd you get mine?

I just got it off your jacket when you first walked in.

But that's not the point.

The point is that I should have known.

Or I should have checked.

Or I should have... something.

Just put it out of your mind

until the FBI finishes doing their retesting.

When will that be?

Two weeks!

I can't wait that long.

I mean, this is my whole world.

Can you imagine if I, if I messed up?

What that really means?

It means that innocent people

went to jail because of me.

Because of my mistakes!

(buzzer sounds)

(indistinct chatter)

Michael.

What's wrong?

Who is she, Jason?

I'm so sorry, Michael.

Man, what is this?

Listen, I don't know how to tell you this, okay,

so I'm just going to say it.

Your father's dead.

Runyan was murdered.

When?

Hard to tell.

About a week.

They found him in the woods.

Bennett do this, too?

I don't know, maybe.

NCIS seems to think so.

NCIS?

They're helping us now, Michael.

Okay, th-th-they're working with us.

No, no.

Michael, everybody's just looking for the truth here.

Is she one of them?

Put her on the phone.

Michael.

Do it.

Mr. Hayes,

I'm Special Agent Bishop.

Now you listen to me.

You stay away from my family.

Stay away from my daughter.

We're just trying to help.

Oh, like you helped me

back then?

Like you listened to me all those years ago?

We're trying to find your father's killer.

Like you found

Lieutenant Swannie's killer, right?

(scoffs)

Why don't you just blame me for my father's murder?

Look,

um, Agent Bishop...

right?

You want to help me?

Let me hug my daughter.

This glass, this phone.

I haven't held her hand in 16 years.

I just want my baby back.

Can... can NCIS help me do that?

(dramatic music playing)

(knocking at door)

It's open!

(door creaks open) JUDITH: Special Agent Gibbs.

There is no Gibbs here.

(door closes)

We just need three minutes of your time.

You got two.

Nice place.

Looks like one of those make-believe houses

that they used to nuke in the desert in the '40s.

JUDITH: Mm, I like it.

Just needs a woman's touch.

You know, you're a good sport.

I know you don't want

anything to do with me.

Even though I could keep you

like the triple-crown stud that you are.

How did you find my house?

WALT: Former P.D., remember?

I could find a flea on a rat's anus.

Brought you a peace offering.

Pegged you

as a jerky guy the second we met.

Minute, 30.

I'll get right to it.

Look, we all want the same thing here.

Justice for Commander Runyan Hayes,

and now for his son, Michael, too.

We're asking NCIS to consider

formally reopening the 1999 murder investigation.

What's in the basement?

Hey! None of your business.

Come back here.

Is it your naughty room?

Want to know my safe word?

Kielbasa.

You know what your problem is, Gibbs?

Yeah, the three of you.

The law.

Got to abide by it, right?

But the law can also

be an impediment for those people

trying to uphold it.

Makes things tough to get done,

if you know what I mean.

40 seconds.

The Sherlock Consortium doesn't need to play by the rules.

How do you think we got fireman

Todd Bennett's divorce papers?

He has a history of domestic violence.

My gut tells me he killed Commander Hayes.

Okay, but he's got an alibi

for the night the commander died.

Got 15 witnesses to back him up.

Which is why you couldn't get a warrant to search his house.

But let's say we search his house.

Well, then I'd have to arrest you.

Team up with the Sherlocks.

What do you say?

No.

Well, you can think about it.

Hmm.

(sighs) It's been really nice

talking to you, sunshine.

I hope we get to do it again soon.

Just the two of us.

I'm asleep, right?

This is a dream.

Close your eyes

and keep dreaming.

It gets better

and better.

(door opens)

♪ ♪

You happy now, Bishop?

(scoffs) Two unsolved murders,

Abby's in hell, I'm in pain,

NCIS is teaming up with a bunch of fruitcakes.

It's Armageddon.

I didn't do this. Ha!

Well, the banana peel didn't work this time.

Abby says raisin enzymes do the same thing.

But the splinter's

not coming out.

No. No.

You cannot blame me for your finger, too.

Yes, I can. Absolutely, he can.

(sighs) Okay.

I'm not saying I believe in this voodoo stuff,

because I don't.

But if I did,

is there something I could do to reverse the curse?

No. (mouths)

Well, there is one thing she could do,

but I don't think she'd like it.

No. What?

It's too awful.

(bell jingling)

What do we got?

We've got this. Thanks.

Okay, I give up.

TONY: It's a silicone impression

of the hole in the tree made by the mystery bullet

that killed the commander.

McMoldmaker and I

grabbed it when we were in the woods together.

McGEE: Abby was hoping to use it to figure out striations,

but these grooves did not come from a bullet.

They were made by a car key, probably the only tool

the killer could find to dig the bullet out of the tree.

And what kind of car does that key fit?

Impression wasn't clear enough to pin down.

But Abby made a list of possibilities.

Mostly trucks and luxury vehicles.

Why are you telling me this and not Abby?

Abby's not doing too well.

She locked herself in her lab.

Spent the night there last night, boss.

Yeah, she won't rest until she finds out

if Michael Hayes is innocent.

The FBI is handling that.

Yeah, but it's gonna take two weeks,

so we can either wait for the FBI,

or we can do the DNA tests ourselves, today.

All we need is Michael's DNA.

Prison probably has that record on file.

How far is the prison from here?

Hour and a half.

Start driving.

I'll make the call.

(phone beeps)

GIBBS: Abbs!

Found you.

It's a... it's a little cluttered in here.

Ya think?

I'm just... going over a few...

old cases.

Actually, every case I've ever worked on.

Why?

Triple checking all my work.

It may take a few days.

Days?

(sighs) You want to talk about days?

How about 5,953 days

that Michael Hayes has been sitting in prison because of me.

Because of a flawed test.

A flawed test that I conducted.

It only matters that you did your best.

No... (groans)

Gibbs, no, that is what you say to someone who fails.

I mean, I know... I did my best.

And I know that sometimes mistakes are made.

And I know Michael Hayes might be guilty, anyway.

But if I know all that, then...

why can't I... breathe?

Come here.

All right.

Please...

Gibbs, just... fix this.

You always fix things.

Please, fix this, too.

I'm trying.

I am trying, Abbs.

(indistinct background radio communication)

TONY: NCIS.

You here for the couple? BISHOP: Couple?

What couple?

Well, figure since you're Navy agents, you heard.

Michael Hayes's parents

just came to visit.

Mm... his mother died years ago,

and his father just passed away.

We know.

That's why we detained them.

Who are they?

Won't talk.

Only said they're on a mission for NCIS.

Bring in the couple.

(over radio): Copy that. (sighs)

We searched them.

Lady kind of liked it.

Found a weapon.

A weapon?

Scissors--

said they wanted to give Hayes a haircut.

Oh... (quiet chuckle)

Like we'd ever let them near him.

(lock buzzes, latch clicks)

Oh, here they are now.

(sighs)

So what do you want us to do with these two?

How could you?

You jeopardized our entire case.

There are rules for a reason.

A man's life is at stake here,

not to mention the career of a gifted forensic scientist

who's now adrift in a sea of self doubt.

Sorry... I'm sorry, Donald.

Oh, please.

You should have left them to rot in jail.

Ah, ease up on 'em, Duck.

They did the wrong thing for the right reason.

Well, don't you go soft on me, now.

Hey, just to be clear,

you're yelling at them,

and not me, right?

Oh, shut up, Lyle.

(door closes)

Donald's right, we overstepped our boundaries.

Mm-hmm.

So why are you so calm, Agent Gibbs?

They got Michael Hayes's DNA.

Ms. Sciuto is, no doubt,

running the new DNA test on it right now.

Walt, I will bet you were one hell of a detective.

Peanut butter...

Peanut butter.

What?

Sorry.

I noticed Agents DiNozzo and McGee

uh, had tree sap on their shoes,

from their time in the woods.

Which is pretty observant of me, right?

So, anyway,

I-I researched how to get sap off of leather,

and... it's peanut butter.

It's the creamy kind, not chunky.

(phone beeps) Lyle...

I know.

Shut up?

(phone beeps) No. You just solved a murder.

Hey, DiNozzo,

I need your finger. Where are you?

Did he just say you solved a murder?

Abbs. Gibbs.

It's not a match. I know.

(sighs heavily)

This is a perfectly accurate DNA test.

There's no way it can be wrong.

It's not a match to the original hair.

I know, I know. Michael Hayes is innocent.

What are we gonna do?

I need you to focus. We're gonna catch a killer.

How? If I give you a sample of sawdust,

could you match it to a type of tree?

Oh, yeah.

I can do better than that.

I can tell you the exact tree that it came from.

How?

DNA, Gibbs, it's in every living thing.

(computer blipping)

Actually, DNA from a tree

is very similar to human DNA.

Good! That's great, Abbs, great.

Well, but I mean, to get a match

I would need the sawdust,

and I'd need a sample from the tree that it came from.

Uh... be back in five minutes.

Boss cut me.

Head slaps are one thing, but...

don't you think I've suffered enough, Bishop?

You know what, Bishop?

You're the only one that can fix this.

Yeah...

Okay.

Attention, squad room.

Louder! Louder!

(loudly): Attention, squad room!

I, Eleanor Bishop,

am asking the spirits of criminal science

for a really hectic day.

A-a crazy day, where

lots of things go terribly,

terribly wrong.

There you go.

Thank you.

(elevator bell dings)

Never know, it might work.

(whispering)# Here comes our guy.

Thanks.

JASON: Excuse me.

Agent Gibbs asked me to come in.

Ah, yes, Mr. Tupperman.

He's expecting you.

Hi, Jason. How are you?

Oh.

Would you like a glass of water?

Thank you.

Perfect. Thank you.

McGEE: I noticed, coming in this morning--

it's pretty crowded out there.

Did you find parking okay?

Sure, yeah.

No, I just used your valet.

What is this?

Hey, Tupperman...

...there is no valet.

JASON (recorded): When they arrested Michael, on the ship,

in 1999, I wanted to confess there and then.

And every day, I woke up, I told myself

I was gonna tell the truth, but...

I don't know, I just... I couldn't do it.

I do not regret killing Lieutenant Swannie.

But I do regret allowing my best friend to take the fall.

For 16 years, Michael and I lived the wrong lives.

(recorder beeps off)

So how did Gibbs come to suspect Tupperman?

Tree sap.

Yeah, when Gibbs noticed

the dark stains on Tupperman's shoes,

he didn't think anything about it

until Lyle, here,

saw the same stains...

on the shoes of Agents McGee and DiNozzo.

It's circumstantial.

Yes, until Ms. Sciuto matched the sawdust

in the teeth of Tupperman's car keys

with the splinter...

in Agent DiNozzo's finger.

DNA proved that they both came

from the same White Eastern Pine

that stood directly behind where the commander was shot.

The witness tree...

did, in fact, testify.

And Fireman Bennett had nothing to do with it?

Oh, once a scapegoat, always a scapegoat.

Where's my Gibbs?

He sends his regrets.

Oh.

Oh, it's fine.

I'll be seeing lots of him, anyway.

Agent McGee and I are collaborating

on a new crime novel,

and I'm basing my main character

on a silver-haired devil short on words,

but his eyes say plenty.

(chuckling)

Heavens.

Please, keep me out of it.

Of course.

And, uh... please accept my resignation.

Donald! No!

I'm sorry, Walter,

the-the-the conflict of interest

weighs too heavily on me.

I've made up my mind.

But I-I understand, from the house rules,

I can name an apt replacement?

Is that true?

My house, my rules.

DUCKY: So...

I would like to pass the magnifying glass to someone

who I know shares your unique enthusiasm.

(knocking "Shave and a Haircut") Oh!

There he is now!

(lock buzzing, latch clicking)

Mr. James Palmer.

JIMMY: So sorry I'm late.

I seem to have had a...

an allergic reaction to this wool cap.

Do you have a cotton one?

(buzzer sounds, gate clicks)

(man speaks indistinctly over P.A.)

(over P.A.): Clear your racks, clear the tiers.

(buzzer sounds)

GUARD (in distance): Now! Right now!

♪ ♪

(gate squeaking)

(voice breaking): Daddy!

(gate squeaks, clanks shut)

(keys rattling, lock clanking)

♪ ♪

Thank you.

Thank you both.

I'm Abby Sciuto.

I know who you are.

I'm the one that put you in here.

No.

You're the one who got me out.

♪ ♪