All language subtitles for NCIS - S15E06 - Trapped.en

(honking)

MAN: Well, I felt bad
about coming home late.

So I decided to set the table.

Well, that's
very nice of you.

One would think.

But she got all freaked out
because I used paper towels

instead of napkins.
Same thing.

Thank you.
Yeah.

So I say to her, "You go
get your flippin' napkins.

And while you're up,
get me another beer."

(chuckles): Yeah.
Uh-huh.

What'd you really say?

"Sorry, dear."

(both laugh)

Oh.

Will you
look at this?

Hello?

Where's the groundskeeper?

Wha...

(scoffs)

There... there we go.
(grunts)

Hey, what are you doing?

I am following
the rules of golf.

You play the ball
where the ball lies.

Come on, Hank.
What am I supposed to do here?

Hey, a bet is a bet.

Okay. Fine.

Whoa, J-J...
Hey, Joe,

whoa, whoa, come on.
Be careful.

This hole's worth three bucks.

Yeah.

(engine starts)

What are you...

(clattering, buzzing)

Oh, great.
I think you broke it.

What the hell?

Bet's off.

*

(indistinct conversations)

Hi.
Hi, Nick.

Good morning, Nick.

How are you on this fine day?

Can I just say...
you look great.

Well, I don't feel great.

Long night.

You know what helps me shake off
the cobwebs in the morning?
What?

A brisk five-mile walk.

Better pick-me-up than caffeine.

Oh, yeah. You're here
for that thing, right?

If by "that thing," you're
talking about Inclusion Town,

a charity that builds
playgrounds for kids

with disabilities, then yes,
you're right on the nose.

(sharp inhale) Okay, well,
here's the thing, man--

I don't think
I have any cash.

Way ahead of you, Nick. Now
we can donate electronically.

Hey, hey,
don't touch that.

I already took the liberty of
logging onto the online portal.

You're just a few clicks away
from changing lives.

Wh... Uh, what about Bishop?
Donated.

And McGee?
Donated.

Riggs.
Donated.

I gave a few quid, mate.
It's for the kids.

All right, all right.
How do I do this?

Look, all you have to do--
enter your credit card info...

and the amount.

Bing, bang, boom.

And thank you.

How much is a few quid?

40 U.S. dollars.
We all gave the same.

GIBBS:
Gear up, Torres.

Dead petty officer
at Quantico.

On my way.

Torres! Come on.
Coming, coming, coming,
hold on.

Done. Coming.

REEVES:
Yeah, I'll hold.

Aw, come on.

Hey. What do we have?
Our victim

is Navy Petty Officer
Second Class Jake Miller.

Stationed here
in Quantico.

He, uh, died
playing golf?

He was working. He was a
part-time groundskeeper here

to supplement
his Navy income.
Ooh.

Death by lawn mower.
No thank you.

Palmer.
What do we have?

I don't think
the lawn mower killed him.

Why?
There's not enough blood.
I think he was already dead

when the mower ran him over.
TORRES: Who ran him over?

JOE: We didn't know
he was under there

when we started the mower.
We?

Why'd you start the mower?
Hey, you could have

chipped it out. Come on.
That could have
cost me the hole.

You would've never
made the hole.
You know what, if you just

want the three dollars for me,
I'd give it to you.
Okay, gentlemen...

You'd be lucky if you
triple-bogeyed.
Gentlemen!

Did you see anyone else
on the course?

No, no.
We're the dew-sweepers.

The dew-sweepers-- the first
tee time in the morning.

Yeah, it's just us
and the groundskeepers.

MAN:
It's 7:48 a.m.

I'm in the cart barn,

and my phone won't
stop ringing.

It's Joe and Hank,
freaking out.

We didn't touch
the body.

Miller have enemies?
He's too shy to make enemies.

Or friends.
Great employee, though.

Showed up, did his work,

went to his job on the base.

What time
did he show up?
4:00 a.m.,

like, every morning.
I have his timecard.

Palmer, TOD?

Based on the core
temperature,

I'd say closer to
4:00 a.m. than 7:48.

You want me to get this
mower out of your way?

Not yet, thank you.

Any idea how much longer
you guys will be here?

Nope.

McGEE:
Hey, boss?

What'd you find, Tim?

We're gonna need
an evidence box.
Hey!

You messed up my bunker.

This is a golf course,
you know.

Well, right now
it's a crime scene.

But what should I tell
all my golfers?

Tell them that for today,

it's a 17-hole course.

Agent Gibbs. What brings
you down here today?

You called me.

Yeah, specifically to tell you
that I wasn't ready yet.

Oh.

What do you got?

(laughs)

Uh...

Well, I sent his clothes

up to Abby for testing, and
now I'm just collecting

sediment from around the body,

in case there's a foreign hair
or fiber mixed in.

That there on his cheek,
that's just a birthmark,

but there's some major
bruising here on the neck.

No lawnmower did that.

Yeah, I would tend
to agree.

What about that?
That...

that is a catastrophic fracture

of the second
cervical vertebra.

Broken neck.

No blade marks
on his head.

Yet another sign that he was
dead before he was mulched.

I'll know more
after the autopsy.

I need to get this
up to Abby.

Did someone say "Abby"?

Hey, Abby.
GIBBS: Hey, Abbs.

Oh, Gibbs, Gibbs.

Good, you're there.

I have to show you something.

Okay, this is Petty Officer
Miller's work shirt.

This is the front

of Petty Officer Miller's
work shirt.

And this...

is a very large...

Bloodstain.

Yes.

But it's not his blood.

Whose is it?

Could be a second victim.

Could be his killer.

(printer whirring)

TORRES:
Hey.

Oh, thank you.
Motorcycle photos.

It's a Supermoto.

It's a dirt bike
with street tires.

Is it yours?

It will be. I'm getting
a good deal on it.

Hmm.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Hey.

I guess I can
do that later.

Hey, you get anything?

Miller's cell phone records.

Six of his last
incoming calls

were from a company called
Southeast Sand and Turf.

About what?

Well, they supply

landscaping products
to golf courses.

Could just be work calls.
Surveillance video

from the golf course
parking lot.

Now, between 3:30 and 7:00
this morning,

nine vehicles entered,
but only one left.

4:21 a.m. It's a red
1995 Ford Aspire.

Now, we can't see
the driver's face,

but we enhanced the plate.

Belongs to an
86-year-old woman,

who reported it
stolen yesterday.

Get a BOLO out.
BOLO. Already got it.

I spoke to his C.O.
Said Miller was a 4-0 sailor.

Kept to himself, few friends,
clean record.

That matches what the golf
course superintendent told us.

McGee, Torres, check out
Miller's apartment.

Reeves?
Nothing!

What are you doing?

Just checking
on my mates.

Go with Bishop.

Landscaping company.
She'll fill you in.

(spooky music and sound effects
playing)
(knock on door)

Good, you're here.

Where else would I be?

Oh.

Hey.
Hey.

The infamous Abby Sciuto.
Italian.

Finally.
Jack Sloane.

I know.

I mean, hello.
Hi.

I heard you're the
welcome wagon around here.

I stopped by a few times,
but I keep missing you, so...

Well, that's weird,
'cause I'm always here.

Wow, cool stuff.

Um, don't you usually
go to the coffee cart

around this time?

Usually.
I mean, not that I've been

tracking you or anything.

It was just, you know,
a really good guess.

I'm headed over to the cart now.

Would you like to join me?

Oh, no, no.
I, uh...

I get my caffeine
through other means.

Oh, yeah, I heard about this.
What's it called?

Caf-POW!

Who told you that?

Why are you studying me?

Oh, I'm sorry.

I get it now, you think
I'm here to profile you.

You... you don't know
what I think.

You betcha I don't.

I don't read minds,

and I don't profile
in my spare time.

That would be exhausting.

Not as exhausting as

trying to avoid you
all the time.

(chuckles)
I'm sorry.

Oh...

And you really
get around.

Not that you're
tracking me or anything,

or profiling?

Wait, is that what I'm doing?

Profiling the profiler?

(computer beeps)
Saved by the bell.

ABBY:
We got a match.

A lawnmower case.

Okay, so I've matched

the blood from the rake

to the blood on
Petty Officer Miller's shirt.

The blood that wasn't Miller's.

I get around, remember?

Looks like Miller was
trying to use the rake

to defend himself,
unsuccessfully.

So whoever the killer is
is walking around

with a really nasty rake wound.

And will need a doctor.

(indistinct voices outside)

(dog barking)

Wow, just the basics.
I like this guy.

He worked two jobs.

Wonder what he spent
his money on.

Uh, McGee?

TORRES:
Miller was into something weird.

McGEE:
This is not weird.

This is a ham shack.

Huh? What is that,
code for something?

No. No. Ham radio.

Social media before there
was social media.

One-to-one conversations
to hams all over the world.
Huh.

I take you do this?

I used to. Yeah.

My, uh, my dad taught me.

I used to have a friend
named Mark in Copenhagen.

Know what his handle was?
Hmm?

Dane Mark.
Oh.

Yeah. We used to talk for hours.

When I was a kid, my dad used
to sneak me into the cockfights.

Okay.

Oh. What do we got here?

Miller's call log.

List of all
his regular contacts.

Some of them
might know something.

(door opens)

(dogs barking)
Federal agents.

Ah! Uh...

Who are you?

I'm-I'm just the dog walker.

Please, please don't shoot.

NCIS special agents
Torres and McGee.

(dogs barking)

Sorry, they're
just scared.

You came at us with guns. You
could kill someone like that.

Um, excuse me.

Uh, Benji?

Down. Benji. That's enough.

I don't know
what's gotten into him.

He's usually not like that.

I'm sorry, I'll just, uh,

put Spinks back
and then I'll go.

Wait, hold on.
What's your name?

Rhonda. Uh, Rhonda Collins.

Rhonda. Rhonda Collins.
She's Rhonda Collins.

Rhonda, you think you could look
after Spinks for a few days?

Sure. Um, is Jake all right?

Four phone calls, from here?

BISHOP:
Yep. From your company's line

to Petty Officer Miller's
cell phone.

We handle a lot of orders.

That name doesn't ring a bell.

Your company sold
four dozen bags

of bunker sand to Medal of Honor

Golf Course yesterday.

Miller was the groundskeeper
who signed off on it.

Okay, so that's it.

What's it?

That explains
the calls, right?

Is that a question or an answer?

I don't know what
you're getting at.

Why don't you ask him?

Well, he's dead.

(radio crackles,
man speaks Spanish)

(speaks Spanish)

(phone ringing)

This is Bishop.

Rough day?

Like every day.

You own this company?

Got it from my no-good
ex-husband in the divorce.

He got the cabin in Colorado.

Does that sound fair?

Listen, I'm sorry

about your petty officer.

I wish I could help.

(phone ringing)
Excuse me.

(Evelyn shouts in Spanish)
Thank you.

Got a hit on the suspect's car.

Gibbs is meeting us there.

Cool.

(power tool whirring)
(elevator chimes)

All right. The antenna's
hooked up on the roof.

Did you connect the receiver?

Your dork machine
is ready for action.

(chuckles)

Well, make fun all
you want, Torres,

but I'll tell you what,
ham radio is a lifeline

in times of crisis.

Did you know that after 9/11
and Hurricane Katrina,

ham radio was the only way

emergency responders
could communicate?

Wow. It got less dorky.

This is A45J04
calling CQ, CQ, CQ.

This is Alpha 45 Juliet Zero
Four calling CQ, CQ, CQ.

And we're back at full dork.

You really think
we're gonna

get something out of this?

Miller spent hours
on this radio every night,

and he recorded each comm
in his logbook,

so, hoping someone out there
in radioland knows something.

MAN (over radio):
Roger, A45J04.

I hear you five and nine.

How was work, Jaybird?

"Jaybird"?

Well, everyone on the radio
has a handle.

(laughs softly)
What's yours?

Uh, hear you loud and clear.

What are your call letters?
Over.

Slim Tim.

Tiny Tim.

I'm close, huh?

(radio crackling)

Can you identify yourself? Over.

If you must know,
I was The Timinator.

This is Ricochet.

Who is this?

Let's see. Ricochet...

Miller talked to him for
over an hour last night.

It's his final transmission.

Uh, Ricochet, this is
NCIS special agent Tim McGee.

Can you give me your legal name
and location?

Jaybird is dead, isn't he?

Why would you say that?

Last time we talked,
he said he was involved

in something dangerous.

Did he say what?

Ricochet?

Well, we have ourselves a lead.

(horn honking,
dog barking in distance)

Bishop?

I... I-I don't know.

The-the BOLO said the car
was at this location.

There's no 1995 red Fords here.

Where's the LEO
who called it in?
(tires screeching)

Deputy Allen Smedley.
I'm dialing him now.

(siren wailing)

(car door opens)

(phone ringing)

Special Agent Bishop.

BISHOP:
Uh, yep.

That-that's me,
and that was me

on your phone.

Sorry. I, uh...

I had an 803 in progress.

Where is the suspect's vehicle?

It's... damn it.

I had eyes on it.

It was parked right there
20 minutes ago.

But you left?

Darling, I got a whole town
to patrol,

and I can't be
in two places at once.

I'm sorry.

Uh, what's an 803?

Stolen shopping cart.

Y-You have a code for that?

Well, it happens a lot here.

Excuse me.

(car door opens)

BISHOP:
All right.

We're 46 miles away
from the crime scene.

Our suspect laid low
all morning,

and then drove an hour
to this dumpy strip mall?

Why?

Gibbs?

(phones ringing,
indistinct chatter)

(cat mewing, dogs barking)

(door closes)

Uh, what are we doing?

Abby said our suspect

would need to see a doctor.

Yeah, but...
an animal doctor?

We're all animals, Reeves.

DR. CHO:
Apply the salve twice a day,

and it should heal quickly.

In the meantime, Wiggles will
have to wear the cone.

Thank you, Doctor.

Sassafras?

Dr. Cho?

You'll have to make
an appointment.

NCIS.

There someplace we can talk?

A human? Are you serious?

Yes.
Guys, I'm a vet.

Not an answer.

No. A-Absolutely not.
Not only is it forbidden,

I don't have
the proper equipment.

You don't mind if we take
a look around, do you?

I do mind.
I've got a patient waiting.

Please, I'm gonna have
to ask you to leave.

(sighs) Come on.
What are you looking for?

GIBBS: We'll know it
when we see it.

Don't you need a search warrant
or something?

For the garbage?

Be careful.

There's sharps in there.

BISHOP:
Oh, yeah.

I noticed.

Two broken rake tines?

What a load of bollocks.

What?

Cut the crap, Doc.

Please. I can't say anything.

He'll kill me.

What is it?

Rap sheet.

Unauthorized practice
on a human.

You have done this before.

Please. I could lose
my license forever.

Oh, you're gonna lose
more than that.

One time-- one time--
I helped out a guy

with a bullet in his leg.

Said he couldn't
go to the hospital.

I didn't ask questions,
and he paid well.

GIBBS:
Word gets around.

I knew they weren't
all Mother Teresa,

but the money was good.

When I got caught,
my license was suspended,

so I never did it again.

Until today.

I had no choice.

A guy walked in bleeding.

What guy?

Some guy.
(stammers)

I'd never seen him before. I...

I told him I don't work
on people anymore,

but then he threatened to kill
me. What was I supposed to do?

Call the police.

DR. CHO:
I-I made a mistake, I get it.

But the guy was gonna bleed out,
for God's sake.

I saved his life.
GIBBS: He took someone else's.

You saved the life of a killer.

I didn't know.

I-I want to cooperate.

But I don't have
security cameras,

and it's not like
I got his name and number.

Was he wearing gloves?
Actually, yeah.

How did you know?

So he wouldn't leave
fingerprints.

You're gonna sit
with our sketch artist.

Stick to spaying cats.

It's safer.

So.

So? What do you think?

Well, I got to say,
you get results.

(laughs softly) What's
that supposed to mean?

That you're really good
at what you do.

Are you analyzing him or me?

Believe me, you don't
want me to analyze you.

(chuckles)

So, this isn't
our killer's first rodeo,

but you already know that.

Yeah. I do, but I like
to hear it out loud.

Well, he stole a car
so he couldn't be traced,

which makes him smart.

He knew about
the rogue veterinarian,

which makes him connected.

And he covered his tracks,
which is cunning.

This ain't some two-bit thug
who just got in a fight.

This was premeditated.

Why'd he kill Miller?
That's the missing piece

of the puzzle.

Motive. You'll find it.

We'll find it.

With your help.

Jack.

(elevator chimes)

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Hey.

You are a wonderful human being,
and I love you.

Okay, what are we doing here?

What you did for those kids?

Amazing.

Oh, the donation.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Every little bit helps.

Oh, come on.
Generous and humble?

(laughs)
Okay.

Safe space, Jimmy.
Okay. Just promise me

that you're gonna come
to the grand opening

of the new playground
on Saturday.

Will you let me
go if I say yes?

Yes.
Okay, yes.

Yes.
Yes.

What the hell was that?

That's what generosity
looks like.

How much did you give?

50 bucks.
You had to one-up us, did you?

Aw. Do you want a hug, too?
GIBBS:
Hug on your own time.

No, Gibbs.
No, no-- what happened...

Update on our killer?
The vet said we're looking

for a bald, beefy Latino
with a beard like Bluto.

Yeah, Bishop and Dr. Cho
are with the sketch artist now.

We should have an image soon.

Where's McGee?

He is...

playing with his new toy.

McGEE:
This is Alpha 45 Julia 04

calling CQ, CQ, CQ,

seeking Ricochet.

I repeat, seeking Ricochet.

BOY (over radio):
Roger, A45J04.

Is this The Timinator?
Over.

It is. Who is this?

This is Cody B
from Kid Club 17.

Please stay off this frequency.
Thank you.

(signal disconnects)

Ooh, not going
so good, huh?

Special Agent Sloane,
thanks for coming down.

Glad to help.
Looks like you need it.

Hey, breathe.
(inhales)

(inhales)
Yeah, good.

I needed that.
I'm frustrated.

I'm hitting a brick wall
trying to find

our victim's friend
on the radio.

Goes by "Ricochet."
I think he knows something.

And if you can't find him,
what's plan "B"?

It's a technique called
"direction finding."

You use radio waves to
zero in on a location.

There's a way
to block the signal,

but I'm hoping Ricochet
doesn't know how.

Assume he does.
Well, then we've got
plan "C,"

which is comb through
a master list

of all the ham radio
licenses

within an 80-mile radius
of the D.C. area.

632 names, one by one.

Why 80 miles?

Well, that's the range
of the victim's antenna.

Uh-huh.

I know it's kind of weird,

all this equipment
just to talk to people

you can, you know,

talk to in real life.
(chuckles)

No, I-I know a little bit
about it.

Hams are a unique breed.

For some, it's their
only conduit to society.

Yeah, that's sort of why
I asked if you could come down.

I recorded myself
with Ricochet yesterday.

You think I could
play it for you?

Yeah, sure.
Great.

(computer beeps)

RICOCHET (over computer):
This is Ricochet. Who is this?

McGEE (over computer):
Uh, Ricochet, this is NCIS

Special Agent Tim McGee.

Can you give me
your legal name and location?

What are your call letters?
Over.

RICOCHET:
Jaybird is dead, isn't he?

McGEE:
Why would you say that?

RICOCHET:
Last time we talked, he said

he was involved
in something dangerous.

That's it.
I know it's not much, but...

No, no, no, wait.
Hold, please. I got it.

He's 45, chubby,

and lives with his mother.

You can tell all that?

No, I'm kidding.
I can't.

I wish profiling
were that easy.

Hey, is there a way
I can get into

Petty Officer
Miller's apartment?

It's still our crime scene.

Why, what are you looking for?

I don't know yet.

FEMALE VOICE (over phone):
Press seven now.

I already pushed seven.

Here's me pushing it again.

WOMAN:
Press one to repeat the options.

No. Representative.

I'm sorry, I didn't get that.

Rep-re-sen-ta-tive!

I'm sorry, I didn't...

Ugh!

Can I help you?

Yeah, the bagel place denied
my credit card for $1.75.

Why?
I don't know.

I can't seem to get ahold

of my credit card company.

You don't carry at least
$2.00 in cash?

Let's just focus
on the problem here--

I don't have a bagel.

So, here's something.

I just found out
Special Agent Sloane

used to be in the army.

Really?
You're checking up on her?

No.

Yes.

Not just the army.

PsyOps.

Psychological Operations.

They conduct
psychological warfare.

We... we know what
it is, Clay.

You don't think that's weird?

That you're secretly

investigating her?

Yeah, it is.

I have questions.

You have questions, Nick?
I do.

I wonder who she roots for
in the Army-Navy game.

(entry bell chimes)

Talk to me.

I can say for certain

that Petty Officer Miller
died of a broken neck.

You got anything new?

I do. When I examined
Miller's lungs,

they exhibited
pulmonary edema,

a sign he'd been
deprived of oxygen

before he died.

Choked.
Exactly.

I can imagine it's easier
to break someone's neck

if they're unconscious first.

It is.

Oh, uh, Gibbs,
before you leave,

I told Abby I would call her
when you got here.

Hey, Abby.

Jimmy.

Do you have Gibbs with you?
GIBBS: Yeah.

Abbs, I'm right here.

Good. Okay, so I found
something weird

with Petty Officer
Miller-- cocaine.

That's not so weird.

Weird is where I found it.

It was on his clothes,
in his hair.

It was even in his shoes.

In his blood?
No.

His system was
totally clean.

It's like he-he rolled around
in a giant pile of it.

I've never done
cocaine before,

but I think he was
doing it wrong.

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

My credit card's over the limit.

Ooh. Motorcycle?

No, I didn't even
buy it yet.

Huh. Scroll down.

Uh, well,
there's your problem.

A $5,000 charge to...
Inclusion Town? Wow.

That's Jimmy's charity,
but that's not right,

'cause I only gave 50 bucks.

Did you remember
the decimal point?

The what?

Did you type in
50-point-zero-zero,

or five-zero-zero-zero?

Oh, my God.

Are you telling me
I donated

five grand to Jimmy's charity?

Ha, what a guy, Torres.
Update.

Well, Miller and cocaine
don't connect.

By all accounts,
he was a Boy Scout.

And I checked
with his bank.

He had less than
$2,000 in savings.

And why work two jobs
if you're a drug dealer?
It's a good cover.

Criminal mastermind
selling coke on the radio?

Mm, too risky.
Frequencies are open lines.

Anyone can listen in.

I went back to his apartment.

No drugs, no paraphernalia,

but what I did find was
Agent Sloane snooping around.

Bagging evidence.

The sketch of our suspect
from the vet?
Done.

Torres has it.

Uh, yeah, right here.

No ID on the guy,
but Abby's running

facial recognition.

Who is that, Ricochet?
Uh...

don't know yet,
McGee's still looking for him.

(radio static)
Okay, I'm done looking.

(sighs) I have tried
every trick I know,

and he blocks me
at every turn.

You win, Ricochet.

How many people
signed your yearbook?

I really don't feel like
reminiscing right now.

That's not where
I was going with you, sorry.

I found Miller's
high school yearbook

at the apartment.

Come take a look at this.

McGEE:
Only three signatures.

King of an unpopular kid.

More than unpopular.
Almost invisible.

Think about Miller, okay?

Quiet, shy...

As a quartermaster
in the navy

and a groundskeeper
on the golf course,

he worked alone.

And he took anxiety medication,

probably just to
get through the day.

And don't forget about
the birthmark.

The one on his face?
I barely noticed that.

Don't dismiss it.

When you're a child and
different, kids can be cruel.

Some people never
get over it.

The radio was his salvation.

He could let his guard down,
become a different person.

He was confident, gregarious,

anonymous.

He got to use
his best asset--

his voice.

Listen to his outgoing message.

MILLER'S VOICE (enthusiastic):
Hello, hello!

You've reached Jake
"Jaybird" Miller

of A45J04.

Leave a message, and until then,
see you on the radio.

Wow. Same guy,
different person.

Exactly.
Wait a minute.

Jake used the name
Jaybird on the radio.

My handle was
The Timinator.

Awesome, I know.

Now, what if Ricochet

is a play on his real name?

Same but different?

Ah...

SLOANE:
Rick O. Shea.

Let's see, Virginia address.

Four miles from
Petty Officer Miller's.

Nice work.
Wanna come?

You betcha.

There he is.
Get over here.

Let's save the hugs.
What's the matter?

(clears throat)

Okay, um...

it's your charity.

I'm sorry, there's been
a big mistake.

I over-donated.

Oh.

I-I was gonna
maybe say something,

but I thought maybe
you'd been inspired.

Yeah, nobody's ever
that inspired.
It's okay.

It's okay. Uh, how much
of the 5,000 do you want back?

$4,950.

Mm-hmm.

Oh, come on, Jimmy,
don't make this

more awkward than
it already is, man.

No, no, I mean,
I-I should have said something.

It's-it's fine. Uh...

five grand is a lot of money.

Yeah, it's a lot of money.

I mean, enough to buy
a Supermoto.

Mm.

Hey, I just...

I've been saving
for a year.

Yeah.

It's just an honest
mistake, man.

Yeah. You're right.

You're right.

Hey, Jimmy...

I-I should do it in person.

(knocking)

(dog barking)
RICOCHET: Who is it?

Mr. Shea?

NCIS Special Agent
Tim McGee.

We spoke on the
radio yesterday.

(dog barking)

Sir, it's vital that
we talk to you.

RICOCHET: I've got to put
some clothes on.

There's a reason why
stereotypes exist, McGee.

Yeah, well, this guy has
no driver's license,

no home phone,
no cell phone,

no reportable income
since 2007.

So I think this guy's
gonna be exactly

who you picture when you
think of ham radio weirdo.

Got it.

Bet you he doesn't
open the door?

Hmm. Well...

Oh.

I was wrong.

RICOCHET:
You so stipulate that

all words and actions
will be recorded

and uploaded live
onto a secure server.

No problem.
Understood.

And any illegal
search and seizure

will be documented
and recorded.

We're just gonna ask you
a few questions.

"No person shall be held
to answer

"for a capital or otherwise

infamous crime."

Mr. Shea, you don't need
to recite

the Fifth Amendment.

"...unless on a presentment

of an indictment
of a grand jury."

Ricochet. Hey,
buddy, listen.
Yeah.

It's okay, all right?

Yeah.
I know it's scary

to have federal agents
in your house.

Yes.
Everything's okay.

(dog barking)

All right, is your dog okay?
He's just very curious.

Um, I don't get many visitors.

Are either of you allergic?

No.

It's very kind of you to ask.

Thank you.

I love dogs.

Yeah.
Could I meet him?

Yes.
Great.

(quietly): I'm really
not that into dogs.

Here, Benji.

McGEE:
Benji?

I know this dog.
I met him yesterday

at Petty Officer Miller's house.

We use the same dog walker.

He was jumping
out of his skin

to get to me.
Now he seems just fine.

He did that to you, too?

Yeah. Who else
did he do that to?

Jaybird.

Petty Officer Miller.

Yeah, it's the strangest thing.

He's, uh, usually
very well-behaved.

Wait, is that what you and
Miller were talking about

on the radio the night
before he was killed?

Yeah.

Where did you get Benji?

I adopted him
after he retired from the TSA.

A canine agent?

A drug dog.

McGEE:
Ricochet?

I'm gonna need to borrow Benji.

Um...

It'll be okay.

(barking)

Hey, boss, you know that pile of
cocaine Abby was talking about?

I found it.

So, this sediment was taken
directly from the bunker.

Looks like just
plain old sand, right?

Wrong.

Mixed in is pure-grade cocaine.

And you're gonna help me
separate it out.

Hmm. With colanders?

Actually, it's a sieve.

"Colanders drain,
and sieves strain."

HGTV.

(clears throat)
ABBY:
Okay.

Well, Martha Stewart,
you're gonna end up

with the final product.

All we have to do

is progressively strain out
finer and finer particles.

BISHOP: It's basic
separation science.

Well, I don't know.
Turning sand into cocaine

seems more like magic to me.

ABBY: I mean, there's
more sophisticated ways

to separate out cocaine,
but this will do the job.

All right, Bishop.
Shake your money maker.

McGEE: I have seen Abby extract
trace amounts of mercury

from nanometer-sized
cerium oxide particles,

so this should be easy.

I'll bet Delilah can't
keep her hands off you

when she hears you
talk like that.

Actually...
Oh, come on.

Mm, it's like
I'm prospecting for gold.

TORRES:
Yeah. White gold.

Enough to kill for.

We got our motive.

(computer beeping)

And we've got our suspect.

I ran facial recognition

on all the employees for the
golf club's landscaping company.

(typing)

That's our match.

His name is Ramon Moncada.

He's a delivery guy

at the Southeast
Sand and Turf.

Same place

that kept calling Miller
the day before he died.

Pick him up.
McGee and Torres

are out looking for him now.
Next cell call he makes,

they got him.
Where's he get his coke?

Well, we think

it's being smuggled in
from Mexico.

Southeast Sand and Turf
get their sand

from a quarry
outside of Nogales,

so it's not hard to imagine

someone lacing the sand
with coke,

shipping it across the border
to Southeast's warehouse,

where it's separated and sold.

Oh. But somebody screwed up.

Yeah. Seems a bag of coke sand

ended up on
Miller's golf course

instead of the street.

Which is probably

why Moncada kept calling Miller.

He needed his drugs back.

But then, Ricochet's
drug-sniffing dog

clued Miller in
to what was going on.

That dog did the same thing
to McGee.

Miller became
The Man Who Knew Too Much

and Moncada took him out.

(phone ringing)

Yeah, Torres?

Bring him in.

We got our guy.

He's at a bus station, with
a one-way ticket to Toronto.

Hmm. Headed far away
from Mexico.

(camera shutter clicking)

TORRES: So you're saying
this is not you, Moncada?

McGEE: We've got you dead
to rights for the murder.

Your blood
is on the victim's shirt,

and the teeth of the rake
he used to defend himself.

The veterinarian that stitched
you up made a positive ID.

That's your rap sheet.

You haven't been
a very good boy.

And with murder and
drug smuggling, well,

that's gonna be a short trial.

Hey.

Do yourself a favor.

Cooperate.

You tell us who else
is involved,

we might be able to make
that 25 years to life

a little more comfortable.

If I talk, they'll kill me.

Who are "they"?

I won't be safe anywhere.

Especially in prison.

I assume you're talking
Mexican cartel?

He's definitely
not management.

He's probably just a worker and
muscle for when they need it.

Well, he's right
about one thing.

If he does talk,
he won't last long in prison.

RAMON:
You can't protect me.
Mm.

La jefa.

Evelyn Gomez.

She's the owner of
Southeast Sand and Turf.

She takes orders
from someone

in Mexico she calls El Gato.

That's all I know.

He'll send somebody to kill us.

She'll never talk.

She's as scared of this
El Gato guy as he is.

So we use

that fear against her.

Ah.

Why just settle
for the little fish?

(Spanish hip-hop song playing)

TORRES:
Hola, Evelyn.

Gato?

Because you
were careless.

Now you have to pay the price.

Please. Please don't kill me.

Give me another chance.

Ooh, I don't give those.

Only El Gato can do that.

(crying)
Call him.

Beg for your life.

(beeping)

(phone ringing)

EL GATO:
Yes?

It's Evelyn.

(crying)

Pineapple.

Oh, NCIS. You're under arrest.

(gasps)

We got El Gato's number.

I'll trace the location.

(handcuffs clicking)

Butterfly?

Oh, come on, Gibbs,

you can do better than that.

Big moth?

That's better.

Need a level?

No, thanks.

What?

Crooked.

It's close enough.

I'm hanging a picture, not
building a boat in my basement.

Your office.

One that I hope to finish
moving into soon.

Ah, red.

We tracked El Gato.

Suarez Cartel.

DEA's got him now.

Ah. So we nailed a killer

and shut down
a major cocaine pipeline.

Not a bad couple of days, Gibbs.

You worked well with the team.

Most of them.

Ladybug.

You're really not
very good at this, are you?

(children clamoring)

BOY:
Whoa!

(laughter)
It's okay.

That's a good one.

That was good.
That was an excellent slide.

I'll see you later. Go that way.
Hey, Nick.

Hey, uh, I want you
to meet the founder,

Catherine Scott.

It is so great
to meet you, Nick.

Oh, you, too.

Well, this place is...

it's incredible.
CATHERINE:
Thank you.

We do our best.
Yeah, that was my
first reaction, too.

I never knew that kids
with disabilities

never got to actually play
at your typical playground.

And here, they can just be kids.

CATHERINE:
Uh, so, Nick.

Jimmy said that you wanted to
talk to me about your donation.

Oh, I... I do?
JIMMY:
Yeah.

About the mix-up? You
know, with the amount,

and your credit card.
CATHERINE:
Oh.

Oh. If there was a mistake,
don't worry.

We can refund
your credit card right away.

Um, no mistake, no.

We're good.

(gasps)

Okay.

No dirt bike?

Next year.

All right. The-the hugging
thing, really...

(laughs)

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