Original subtitles

♪ Jeremiah was a bullfrog ♪

♪ Was a good friend of mine ♪

♪ I never understood a single word he said ♪

♪ But I helped him drink his wine ♪

Oh, scusi. Hey! Idiot!

♪ And he always had some mighty fine wine ♪

♪ Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea ♪

♪ Joy to you and me ♪

♪ If I were the king of the world ♪

♪ I tell you what I'd do ♪

♪ I'd throw away the car and the bar and the war ♪

♪ Make sweet love to you ♪

♪ Sing now, joy to the world ♪

Ah, buongiorno, Silver. ♪ All the boys and girls ♪

Prego.

♪ Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea ♪

♪ Joy to you and me ♪

♪ I'm a high life flyer and a rainbow rider ♪

♪ A straight-shootin' son of a gun ♪

♪ Joy to the world ♪

♪ All the boys and girls ♪

♪ Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea ♪

♪ Joy to you and me. ♪ Was I right?

Somebody knock it down to negative ten?

Yep.

Still got it.

You can take the girl out of Chi-town...

You know, I came up solving frozen-body cases like this.

I did everything you do, plus...

Walk ten miles in the snow?

As a matter of fact...

Where are your damn coats?

This is a coat.

That's a glorified jean jacket.

All right, you're gonna end up like this fella,

whoever he is.

Do we know?

Do we know?

Max, come on.

That's Dario Donnelly, as in Dario.

Of Dario.

Uh-uh. Come on, Michelin-star chef

of the restaurant we're standing in.

Huge social? Oh.

Yeah, oh, that Dario.

You seem pretty excited.

It's kind of creepy.

So is this knife wound.

Mr. Dario barely bled from it.

It's almost like he was stabbed after he was frozen.

Blood does freeze at about the same temperature as water.

Yeah, but the blade's not very deep.

Stuck right between ribs seven and eight.

I don't think it killed him, either.

Could be somebody was just decorating.

Who would do something like this?

The man was a massive talent.

He helped feed the unhoused.

He had incredible bone structure.

Looks like he was chiseled by Michelangelo.

Goodness gracious. This must be really hard for you.

To lose someone you follow on TikTok.

I think I'm being perfectly professional about this.

Look, I'll check with security, but...

it's a pretty good spot for a murder.

Out of sight of the cameras out front.

Uh-oh, look at this.

"I'm so sorry"?

Wow.

Nice of the killer to sign his work.

But not sorry enough to confess.

♪ 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! ♪

You're gonna be sorry, bub.

Hey, fanboy, get a shot of this.

"Fanboy."

Why do you think they took off his shoes?

Couldn't tell you.

Don't be so sure the killer did that.

None of y'all ever heard of paradoxical undressing?

Never seen it, but I suppose it's possible.

What's possible?

Go on. Freezing to death makes

your circulatory system stop working.

Blood stops pumping to your core,

warm blood collects in your arms and legs,

making your extremities feel scalding hot by comparison.

Your brain's not getting enough blood, either.

You become delirious.

You start shedding clothes. Yeah.

All right, so we can dust for prints, but...

Dario probably took off his own shoes and socks.

That is textbook peripheral vasodilatation.

Kind of hard to say what happened first.

He was definitely trapped in here long enough

to freeze solid.

And it doesn't take that long.

Yeah, uh, could we do Corpsicle 101 outside?

Uh-huh.

I don't want to become one.

Oh, man, I just can't warm up.

Oh, me, neither.

Okay, come on, you guys, circle up, circle up.

Okay, the thing you gotta realize,

subarctic temperatures can be a blessing and a curse.

Yeah, the ice man giveth, the ice man taketh away.

Yes, let's start with "taketh away."

You cannot autopsy a block of ice, right?

Uh, last time I called the Butterball hotline,

they had some pretty simple tips on defrosting.

But we ain't making dinner.

If we warm Dario over 38 degrees,

his flesh will start to decompose

while his internal organs are still frozen.

Ugh.

What about time of death? Cause?

I mean, are we gonna have to wait, like, days

till he warms up?

On some answers, yes.

But we will roll with the evidence that we do have.

Well, maybe I can pull a print

from the message the killer left us.

Mm, we might find some on Dario himself.

That's something ice is good for.

Holds a latent, locks it in.

We should print the whole staff

since this was probably an inside job.

Yeah, you and I could go outside,

where the sun is shining.

Uh, question. What's that?

Is someone feeling chilly?

Get out.

Get out. Come on.

Go to the fridge, get Dario,

take him back to the crypt.

And make sure you hold him upright.

I don't need that man breaking in half, okay? Yep.

Am I a...

You think I...

You're not a suspect, Albert.

These are elimination prints.

We know you touched Dario when you found him. Yes.

I go to help, but I see his eyes open.

I can never forget, you know?

Do you know if anyone in the kitchen was angry

at your boss? No.

Week before last, I-I start,

but I don't know anyone who hates Dario.

But he a tough man.

He remind me of, uh... of my father.

Most of us hated Dario.

But those same people loved him, too.

He was tough, but he also cared.

Look what he did for the unhoused of this city.

Dario was just... a lot.

When's the last time you saw him?

Last night, after we closed.

He made family meal, like always,

then we all went home.

Who else has access to the kitchen?

Just us, the staff.

The customers were all gone.

You need an I.D. to get in through the service tunnel.

It had to be one of us.

You don't seem upset.

Of course I'm upset.

I had so many plans for Dario.

I was going to make his life hell.

He cheated on me. Me!

You do know you're being questioned

for a murder investigation, right?

Now I'm never gonna get the chance to get back at him.

It's so sad.

So you-you are sorry he's dead?

Of course I am.

He used to make this grilled cheese...

Whoever killed him, they never had that sandwich.

That man was a culinary genius.

But his whole public schtick-- Saint Dario--

that was 180 degrees off.

He was a raging egomaniac.

Nobody who worked in his kitchen was ever good enough.

And you're the sous-chef,

so you got it worse than most, right?

See this?

"Silver."

That's what Dario called me.

Second place, 'cause I'd never be a head chef.

But I wore it.

He knew how to motivate. Motivated somebody

to put a knife in his ribs.

A knife with your initials on it, right, Damien?

I saw it. It was mine.

But I left my knife kit here last night.

Anyone could have done it.

I'd never hurt that man.

Is that a luggage cart?

Uh-huh.

I explained what it was for to the valets.

They said I could keep it.

I can't believe I'm about to say this, but...

It's not cold enough? Not even close.

It must be some kind of cooking oil to still be semi-viscous.

Okay, well, we need it frozen solid

if we're gonna make a cast to look for latents.

Compressed air should make it easier

to make the Mikrosil cast.

Okay.

You know what's crazy?

Some people love this kind of weather.

They go skiing, they go snowboarding.

They move to places like Chicago.

And they love it.

Yeah, 'cause they can't hack the heat.

That must be what it is. It totally is.

I mean, if you think about it, we're the tough ones.

We're not the tough ones, are we?

People move to the desert to help with their arthritis.

Of course we're not.

Jack, come on.

Have you ever seen frozen eyeballs?

I'm not not gonna look.

He doesn't like being stared at.

He didn't mention anything to me.

Did he say something to you? Because I...

Hey. Am I interrupting?

Well, we're working and you're not,

so kinda.

I've offended you in some way.

Not yet. Okay, well,

we're gonna solve this little mystery another day,

but right now I'm here to check on our friend there, Dario.

I thought Dr. Roby was running point on this case.

She is, but she's still coming back from injury, so I...

You want to help her. Yeah.

That's actually kind of sweet.

It's ridiculous but sweet.

Why is it ridiculous? Because you lack

a magic wand to wave away Newton's law of thermodynamics.

Frozen dude's gotta warm up slowly.

This poor man's blood vessels

have not only been stabbed and shredded by ice crystals,

but his cells are also dehydrated,

causing the membranes to collapse and weaken.

The faster Dario thaws, the faster those ice crystals

fuse and squeeze his cells into even tighter spaces,

ultimately deforming them.

Do you want us to deform Dario's cells?

Uh, no, I don't want to deform Dario's cells.

Then my assistant will let you know

when this man comes up to temp.

Jack. Jack will let you know.

In the meantime, you guys mind if I take some pictures?

Be my guest. Thanks.

Jack, could you help me out here?

Uh, yeah. My pleasure.

All right, nice.

Great. Neck.

So, if I adjust the contrast,

we should be able to see...

One second here. What?

I may not have a magic wand,

but I do have a buddy that's gonna help me pull those prints.

Thanks.

Try thinking warm thoughts.

I'm thinking roaring fire. Thicker socks.

Some more socks on top of that.

Oh, come on.

Weird. The Mikrosil cast

gives us prints but not on every letter.

Maybe the killer wrote certain letters faster?

I guess it doesn't really matter.

We got plenty to work with.

Nice.

Is this your natural state?

You're just chugging coffee all day?

Caffeine's got nothing to do with my mood.

Oh, that's not crack, is it?

Ruthenium tetroxide.

That's the real fun stuff here.

One of your favorite unstable molecules, is it?

I'd put it on my Mount Rushmore.

Probably number three.

If we want to find out

who touched Dario around the time that he froze solid,

there's nothing quite like this temperamental diva of a crystal.

All right, show me what your Diana Ross of rocks can do.

Mask up.

Three, two, one.

Nice prints. Ruthenium tetroxide?

Yours are pretty crisp, too.

Mikrosil cast? Mm-hmm.

I can't remember the last time we pulled

so many usable prints from a scene. Mm.

The ice man giveth.

What's wrong?

The killer didn't leave us that message.

Dario did.

Those were his prints in the oil.

Dario the victim?

He's the guy who wrote "I'm so sorry"?

That's sad, isn't it?

To die so full of regret.

But what was he apologizing for? Mm-mm-mm.

Maybe he spat in someone's food.

I mean, that is what we all worry happens back there.

Right? I am now.

Actually, that might explain...

Hey, look at the oil from the message.

What are all the flecks mixed in it?

That's what I've been wondering.

But since Dario wrote the message, not the killer,

now I'm thinking it might just be

some sort of cooking spice.

If it all went down in the kitchen,

I guess it wouldn't be surprising. Mm.

Not so fast. Frozen body cases will surprise you.

They always do.

Here's something. Hmm?

The prints on Dario's body belong to Valerie Bianco.

The hostess.

Chavez did say Dario was cheating on her.

Maybe she...

And Damien Pak.

The sous-chef? Wait a minute.

He did have beef with Dario.

The guy even tattooed his name...

And Albert Santoni. Well, the dishwasher.

I mean, at least we know why his prints are all over him.

And Holly Prince.

The doe-eyed server?

I'm sorry, you mean to tell me

after all that work and freezing my nose off,

all we know is half the kitchen staff could've killed him?

I didn't say it'd be a good surprise.

I don't know what to tell you.

Dario really made my, uh...

appetite whet last night.

Yeah, we found your fingerprints all over his face.

You can probably find even more, uh...

you know.

You seemed pretty upset when you told me he was cheating on you.

You find that out before

or after you slept with him that night?

I'll be honest. It was after.

He wouldn't tell me who, but I know

it was someone at the restaurant.

A love triangle.

That sounds complicated.

I'm not proud of it. I slapped him.

That's all I did to him.

You had motive, access.

So did this other bitch, whoever she is.

If you find out who it was, will you tell me?

No. No.

So, what was the nature of your relationship

with Dario?

We worked together.

Mm.

We found your prints on his hands,

on his jacket and on his neck.

We fool around s-sometimes.

It wasn't serious.

It just started a few weeks ago. No one knows.

Actually, the other woman Dario was sleeping with also knows.

What other woman?

There was another woman?

Wh... Who?

Yes, I touch, uh, Dario many time

when I find him. We know, Albert.

You had every reason to help your boss when you found him.

But some of your prints were on his neck.

Under his collar.

And that-that didn't make sense to us.

I don't, um... I...

Sorry, uh, my English...

Where'd you learn Italian? You study abroad?

I studied an Italian gentleman before my ex-husband.

He's talking about Damien,

the sous-chef? Mm-hmm.

Ask him how things were between him and Dario.

Everybody's had an excuse so far except for Mr. Pak.

He's the only one that didn't show up today.

He's at the restaurant.

Yeah, Valerie's story seems plausible.

They all do, actually.

He close to temp yet? No.

Not even gonna check?

You've got unrealistic expectations

about corpse thawing.

Yeah, you kind of do.

I just thought, 'cause he's starting to smell.

What? I haven't smelled anything.

Did you bring shrimp empanadas for lunch again?

It was one time. Wrong, Jack.

It wasn't. Because shrimp juice is forever.

No, no, it's coming from Dario, and it's not shrimp.

It smells like, um...

nuts?

I swear I'm not crazy.

I can't smell anything,

but do you mean like almonds?

Yes! Almonds. That's exactly it.

But if you can't smell it, then how'd you know that?

Well, Dario's body still doesn't have

bluish postmortem lividity.

A corpse at room temperature will experience livor mortis.

Blood succumbs to gravity and pools at its lowest point.

That's when the deoxygenation of the hemoglobin forms

deoxyhemoglobin. Body turns blue.

But that never happened with Dario

because he was frozen.

He remained pink because... Gravity couldn't do its thing.

The fact that he's still pink tells us

there's something else going on here, though.

Because hemoglobin and oxygen can't detach from one another.

As Dario thaws, his body starts to release

hydrogen-based gases.

Gases that neither Jack nor I apparently can smell.

Which means that Dario may have actually died from...

Really?

I-I swear, I was following you until two seconds ago.

If the gas smells like bitter almonds...

It means you two are in the 25% of the population

that can't smell benzaldehyde. The chemical that gives

a distinctive smell to both almonds and...

Cyanide.

So this guy wasn't just stabbed and frozen.

He was also poisoned.

Someone really wanted him dead.

So, which method was the cause of death?

I'll let you know.

In about three days.

Hey, Damien.

What you got there?

Some mint?

And rosemary and marjoram.

Gonna make a pork loin special. That's right.

You're taking over the restaurant

now that Dario's gone.

Is that why you were too busy to come answer our questions?

Ooh, you mind if I take one of these?

Kind of what I was hoping to find.

Why's that?

You grind down enough peach pits,

and you get this compound called amygdalin.

And do you know what that breaks down into?

Uh, no.

Cyanide.

I'm gonna test this to see if it's the same kind

that Dario ingested.

Come on, you didn't know that?

Cooking is chemistry, Damien.

I-I don't, uh... I didn't...

So Dario was poisoned? And frozen.

And stabbed. And choked by you.

I'm not gonna apologize for that.

He apologized to me.

Back up.

We fought sometimes, yes.

Uh, physically. A shove. A smack.

I grabbed him by the neck when he came at me the other night.

Why'd he do that?

I told him I was leaving.

I got a job interview, and I was gonna...

Baby bird's leaving the nest.

Yes, okay?

I saw him like a father. That's why I would never hurt him.

You must be unfamiliar with the stats on patricide.

No, no, no, we got over it.

We always do.

We made up by family meal. You can ask anyone.

What about Valerie the server or Holly the hostess?

Would either of them have a reason to hurt Dario?

Actually, Valerie's the hostess, and Holly's the server.

And as easy as it would be for me to point fingers,

I really doubt it.

We all loved him best we could.

Can I go now? Yeah.

Excuse me.

You doing okay?

I only ask because you confused Holly and Valerie.

Yeah, I got, like, 12 cases on my desk.

It happens.

Sure. But I'm just curious, though.

You sleeping okay? Since your attack.

I'm just wondering. I've seen this kind of thing before. Uh-huh.

Actually, I've been there myself.

I know nights can be the hardest part.

Detective Chavez, this is none of your...

You were colder than me in that freezer,

even with your coat.

Your circadian rhythm's messed up,

and now you're a little foggy.

Wow, you got all the answers, huh?

I'm just gonna tell you, try humming. Mm-hmm.

Uh, it releases melatonin or something.

It worked for me. Mm.

Thanks. You're driving.

Oi-oi, there he is. The man with the golden nose.

Cyanide, huh? That's the theory.

Unconfirmed.

We still can't test his body.

Hello, Chris. How are you?

Oh, I'm fine, Chris. Thanks for asking.

He won't get off his phone.

I think it's generational.

You're one year older than me.

So, I was thinking, even though we can't

test Dario, maybe we can still figure out

how the poison got into his body.

Run some tests back at the kitchen?

Something he ate or drank at that last supper they had?

Maybe. But the cyanide only affected Dario.

I mean, no one else got sick.

Hey, what if Dario absorbed the cyanide

through his hands?

See, look. Dario was famous for his spice rub.

No one knew what was in it.

No one was even allowed to touch it.

So, if the spice rub was laced with the cyanide,

Dario easily could have absorbed it through his skin.

I did find traces of a spice in some of the letters

in Dario's message in the fridge.

And Dario always prepped the next day's meat

at the end of dinner service, so I've learned.

We should make sure no one eats that meat.

A hundred percent.

Also, I cannot believe I'm saying this, but...

thank you

for spending the last 20 minutes on your phone.

It's a service I provide.

Beau.

Oh, you look broken.

Okay, hotshot, you try adjusting the GC/MS sensitivity

so it has a chance of detecting a compound

with a molar weight lighter than carbon dioxide.

Mm, that's okay.

Now, it took a whole pot of coffee,

both PhDs to calibrate it, but at 27.0253 grams per mol,

we'd never find the cyanide if we weren't looking for it.

Okay, so let's look for it.

Let's do this.

♪ I'm having vivid dreams ♪

♪ That you're all over me ♪

Thank you.

♪ You got me hooked ♪

♪ You got me hooked ♪

♪ You keep on reelin' me in ♪

♪ Keep, keep on reelin' me in ♪

♪ You got me hooked ♪

♪ You got me, got me, got me, oh. ♪

Oh, that feels good.

Confirmed.

The rub was laced with cyanide.

But not enough to kill him.

What do you mean? Dario's DL50 number.

That's the measurement at which half the people his weight

would die, and half would survive poisoning.

It's nine grams.

Well, what's the concentration of the spice rub?

Seven-point-two.

I mean, it would knock him on is butt,

but it wouldn't kill him.

With that much cyanide, it might cause seizure

or cardiac arrest.

Definitely loss of consciousness.

So Dario was alive, just paralyzed,

before someone locked him in the fridge

and froze him to death?

So, we're starting to get a clearer picture

of how Dario Donnelly died.

He was exposed to a nonfatal level of cyanide.

Boss? Seriously? Hmm?

You are just as bad as he is.

I have some news here.

Yeah, sorry.

So do we.

You know I'm all over Dario's social?

Look what someone just posted.

Somebody's really enjoying themselves.

Okay, freeze right there. No pun intended.

That is not a picture

a killer took of a dead man.

You're right. He has a little stubble here.

This is just shot to make him look frozen.

I want to know where he got that photo.

What makes you so sure it was just one killer?

We have prints from four different people,

most of whom had motive. Right.

More than one M.O., too.

Knife, freezer, cyanide.

Maybe one person started the job,

someone else finished it? Maybe.

Or maybe when one killer didn't succeed,

he was taught to try, try again.

Look at his handle.

"LookPa, IMadeIt"?

Someone had daddy issues.

You think?

All right, this picture of Dario

came from Damien Pak's birthday party.

You don't say.

It was posted on a public account.

Anyone could've grabbed it.

Or maybe it was just birthday boy himself.

You know, Dario also made his Michelin-star grilled cheese

for family meal before he died.

So...?

So you get to go tell Sonya we're tired of waiting.

And...

that should do it.

You love your job, don't you? I do.

All right, Jack, you're up.

All right. Watch and learn.

All right,

no pressure, Jack.

All right. You want to take a look at this fella's

last meal?

And...

we are in, baby.

Respect.

This guy could put it away.

Yep. There's the grilled cheese.

His entire last dinner's here, and it's completely undigested.

Which means Dario had to have been poisoned

right after family meal

with the staff. Given how little

of this meal actually was digested,

the killer must've put him on ice right away.

They got him in the fridge...

...lowered the temp to negative ten,

left him to die and the deed was done.

Or so they thought.

But the concentration of cyanide was too low.

Wasn't even enough to keep him sedated.

You think Dario woke back up in the fridge?

He had to. That's when he took off his shoes and socks.

And that's when he wrote the message on the glass.

At some point, the killer realized

his plan had failed...

...grabbed a knife from Damien's kit...

...stuck it between Dario's ribs...

...hoisted him on the meat hook and left him to freeze.

Yeah. I buy that order of events.

Still doesn't tell us who killed him.

Or why Dario wrote "I'm so sorry."

Maybe he just regretted eating the entire damn kitchen.

We got cheese, beef...

lamb.

Could be lamb. Could be beef.

It's hard to tell. There's peppers, onions...

Jack, no one cares.

Really?

A great chef's last supper. Not interested?

Oh, what-what were you saying?

About the beef and the lamb?

Uh, just that they look

exactly the same but they're completely different...

Thank you! Got to go!

...animals.

Hmm.

You're right.

All the letters in the message with Dario's prints

also have traces of the rub.

But the letters without Dario's prints

are spice-less and smooth.

They're completely different animals.

So Dario didn't just write some letters faster.

It's... almost as if an entirely different person

wrote them.

While wearing a rubber glove.

So, we know he wrote the "Y."

And an "S."

And the "M."

And another "S." But not in that order.

"M."

"S."

Ooh. Wordle?

No. Just trying to figure out what Dario was telling us.

Oh. CSI Wordle.

Looks like that man,

in his dying moments, wrote...

"...messy."

"Messy"?

That's all you got?

Yeah. Final answer. "Messy."

You're just missing the "E."

He was dying.

Freezing.

Maybe he forgot to write it.

Actually,

look.

Between the "M" in "I'm"

and the "S" in "so,"

there's a... little smear.

There's your "E."

Somebody wiped it away.

Messy.

Messy. Messy.

What do you think it means?

That's dead plate number six, people.

It's not GBD if you just let it die on the pass.

Yes, Chef!

Look who's top chef now.

Damn it, Sancho, the board hasn't moved.

Come on. Sorry, Chef.

Funny how that works, huh?

He's got the demanding boss playbook.

I don't have time right now.

No, no, no. That's not how this works.

You're living the dream here, huh, Damien?

You got the kitchen, the title, the power.

You kidding me? I am short-staffed.

You people confiscated my meat.

The kitchen's a mess.

And everyone's forgotten how to cook rib eye medium rare.

So you don't like the kitchen a mess, huh?

Got to have Messy or it gets messy.

Whoa, what-what are you talking about?

She's talking about half our freaking problem.

Messy's not here, and we need him.

Washing dishes, Johnny-on-the-spot, you know?

Messy is a person?

Yeah. You met him.

Guy hasn't shown up to work since Dario died.

Said he's too shaken to work after what happened.

God, he's such a delicate paisan.

Wait a minute, so Albert is Messy?

Does everybody call Albert "Messy"?

Most of us. It's the nickname

Dario gave him.

"It's Messy. Where's Messy?

Come here, Messy." I don't think

he ever bothered to learn Albert's real name.

Why?

Dario was telling us who killed him.

Yeah.

Until he got caught.

Hey. Hey.

LVPD has an ATL out for Albert Santoni,

but no bites yet.

You got anything?

You mean proof? No.

Just questions.

What do you mean?

Okay.

Like, how does someone

with a thin grasp of the English language

have the wherewithal to change "Messy" into "I'm so sorry"?

That's a good question.

It's not like he had much time to think about it. Right?

I checked cameras. Mm-hmm.

He was out the door before half the staff exited the casino.

There you go.

Yoga or Pilates?

Pilates.

Does that help you with, um...

what you're going through?

Usually.

Breathe. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

He's talking to himself. After we left.

Breathe.

Just give it a minute.

Then we'll stroll out of here like Keyser Söze.

What happened to his accent?

And who mutters in a second language?

Using pop culture references.

Who is this guy?

A killer who lied to the police.

We got to get a warrant.

Nicely done.

Yeah.

Took me long enough.

Yes, hey, it's Max.

We need a warrant.

Hey.

I'm just gonna say it--

it's an awfully nice place for a dishwasher.

Same address

on Albert's W-2, but...

the name doesn't match his mail.

You think he's using a fake identity to wash dishes?

Who does that?

Peter "Nesico-lotchy,"

apparently.

Hey.

I think you're gonna need to update that ATL.

Peter "Nesico-lossy"?

I think you're both pronouncing it wrong, but at least

he's not lying about being Italian.

Look, I'll call it in, but...

I don't know, this place doesn't look too crazypants.

Mm-hmm.

Are we sure this is the guy?

Well, whoever it is, he's the guy

who posted the Dead Dario Dance.

Oh.

Oh, this looks promising.

Oh.

So that's what this is.

Albert or whatever we want to call him,

he was obsessed with Dario.

So he adopted a new identity as a dishwasher

to get close to him. Why?

That, I don't know, but I'm pretty sure

Dario chose the wrong guy to nickname.

Look at these dates. Peter didn't start

researching Dario till a month ago.

Wow. Guy moves fast.

He's already been at the restaurant three weeks.

Peter knew his way around graphic arts.

He created Albert's fake green card,

his fake Social Security card, made that fun video.

"Albert" may be new, but...

I doubt it was this guy's first time at the fake I.D. rodeo.

I wonder if...

"Peter" is real, either.

He is. I have the transcript here from Peter Nesicolacci's

most recent criminal trial.

"Most recent"?

We got his whole tale of woe here

in the pleading. So, he's assumed

different identities before.

His parents are Italian,

but he grew up in and out of abusive foster homes

here in Vegas.

Been in and out of the system ever since.

He ever killed before?

Uh, not that LVPD knows,

but he has a history of assault and battery.

What about obsessive behavior?

Stalking?

We think Peter changed his name and pursued

the dishwashing gig to get close to Dario.

That would be a new one for this guy.

But put him

in a stressful work environment with an abusive boss and...

Oh. Oh. Uh...

Stop! Stop!

Peter!

Wait!

Stop!

Control, H-11.

Requesting backup.

Suspect headed to the roof.

Peter!

Hey!

All right. Hey, Peter, Peter, Peter! Okay. All right.

All right, there's nowhere else to run, man.

Can we stop?

Let's stop.

Oh, I can't go back in.

Now, now, Peter, listen,

just talk to me.

No, you don't understand. What?

There's no hope for me out here, man.

None. Hey. Okay, but this was

the plan, right? This-- You wanted us to know what you did.

Right?

That's why you posted that video.

That wasn't for you.

Okay.

Who was it for?

You wouldn't understand.

Hey, hey. Hey, try me.

Try me. Come on.

Talk to me. I've seen a lot of things on this job, man.

We can talk. We can talk this through.

It's just us, man.

Talk to me.

Peter. Come on, man.

We can talk.

Hey, Peter, don't worry about them.

Peter.

It's just us.

Peter, talk to me.

No, no.

Peter, don't worry. It's just us, man.

Hold on.

Hey, hey, Peter, stay with me. No. No!

After all that,

Albert or whatever his name was,

he's gone?

Do CSIs always come around like this,

after the fact? No.

But, um...

...I think this belongs to you.

I'll tell you this.

Trauma has a way of bubbling up

when we think it's buried.

Albert, the guy you knew as Messy,

had been beaten on his whole life.

It doesn't make sense.

But he changed his identity to get as close

as he could to a man he looked up to.

I think he really idolized him.

Yeah, a lot of people did.

I think that he was not prepared

to handle the truth about who he really was

and how he treated people.

Probably not.

You know, Damien,

I think you and I came up the same way.

Except I was on the basketball courts.

And every coach I ever had...

...they'd just push me.

'Cause I had something, something they needed.

And then when I became a coach...

...I-I did the exact same thing.

What happened?

Veronica Butler.

Who's that?

A player who burned out and quit.

She was the best college player I ever saw.

And you might know her name

if it weren't for me just pushing her so hard.

You know, it costs a lot

to get good at something.

And it costs more

to become a good leader.

Heavy is the head.

Good luck, young man.

Come on.

Mm.

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