Original subtitles

* You gotta beg, steal or borrow *

* Ooh-ooh-ooh my

* Hey, hey, hey, hey

* Beg, steal or borrow

* My love...

*

Oh, you are flagging, Christopher.

I'm trying to keep up with you.

Don't bother.

I used to go dancing four nights a week

before I suffered a radial meniscal tear last year.

Well, how'd you do that?

Dancing four nights a week.

Oh, great!

That was fabulous!

Oh, who's next? Pride...

I learned a long time ago

that my two feet can't keep up

with your two feet, Loretta.

I hear you.

Young people! Join me.

Oh, the kids like EMD, so...

It's EDM, sir.

Whatever it's called,

you can't convince me

that a laptop's a musical instrument.

LASALLE: Agreed. PRIDE: Right?

WADE: Sebastian... Here's the thing.

You see, I'm, uh... I'm currently on a break

from funk music,

unless it's soul funk, you know,

like the Isley Brothers or...

Help, help, somebody help me.

Oh! I'm undaunted.

I will not quit until I find a rear admiral

willing to shake his

rear admiral. PRIDE: Whoa, Loretta!

Ms. Loretta dancing with Navy brass?

Not gonna miss that.

I'm right behind you.

Maybe they'll play "Between the Sheets."

She looks great, doesn't she?

Spitting image of her mother.

Want me to take this?

I'll put it back at the table.

Thank you.

Quite the Southern gentleman you got there, Ms. Laurel.

Thanks to you.

I'm glad I gave him a second ch...

Come on. Come on.

This way. It's okay.

This way. It's okay.

King!

Laurel.

PRIDE: Laurel.

Laurel?

: Oh, my God.

Oh, my God. Baby...

He's really hurt.

I-I don't know what...

Daddy... Daddy, he's hurt.

I don't, I don't know where

the blood is coming from. It's okay. Let go.

I... I c... I can't, I don't know... All right.

I don't know what to do. Laurel, listen to me.

I don't... I can't... You gotta let go.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

* Boom, boom, boom, boom

* Bang, bang, bang, bang

* Boom, boom, boom, boom

* How, how, how, how

* Hey, hey

* You gotta come on.

He's still in surgery, but you should know--

he suffered a Class IV Hemorrhage.

Lost 40% of his blood volume.

That said, we've managed to control the external bleeding,

but the contusions sustained at the explosion

have caused gross internal hemorrhaging.

But you're doing everything in your power

to stabilize him, right?

Yes, we are.

And Orion seems like a fighter.

Mm-hmm.

We'll keep you both posted.

Thank you, Doctor.

Dad, just... just tell me that he's not gonna die.

He's not going to die.

I wish, just this once,

you were a better liar.

You called Orion's family yet?

Go do that.

Thanks for running back to the morgue to get my kit.

How's everyone holding up?

I think we're all feeling badly shaken, but

very lucky.

Where would you like to start?

I guess this is where Pride would say,

"Let's review what we got so far." Yeah.

The victims are Herbert Walker

and Allison Lacroix.

Mr. Walker appears to have had his anterior jugular

severed by a piece of flying shrapnel.

Ms. Lacroix has multiple lacerations, center mass.

Walker worked in the office of city planning.

Lacroix was the civilian wife

of Naval Captain Patrick Lacroix.

I got witnesses that put both of them

in the same general area as Orion when the blast occurred.

Based on the site map, that's somewhere

in the vicinity of tables 14, 15 or 17.

Now, table 14 was sponsored by

the New Orleans Office of Homeland Security.

Table 15 was Fender and Cohen, defense attorneys,

and table 17, group of naval commanders.

LASALLE: What we need... BRODY: Nature and

precise location of the bomb.

Tons of cameras. I'll get the footage.

At autopsy, I'll likely be able

to pull chemical traces

off of the shrapnel. See this?

I'm guessing this is part of the detonation device.

If you get me more of these,

I might be able to reconstruct it.

And as for suspects,

we all had to go through security to get in here.

Bomber had to bypass it to get that device in.

Maybe event staff?

Caterers, florists...

I'll get a list of everyone who worked the party.

All right.

Let's go learn things.

PATTON: I've been on the Web,

monitoring all this chatter-chatter,

and this sound of silence

is giving me a migraine.

Nobody in the terrorist crowd

want to take the credit for making things go boom.

Look, I appreciate you rushing down here, Patton, but

there's no indication there's a Web angle in this case.

Like I care. I'm either here helping,

or I'm at home trying to hack some free crap out of QVC.

Excuse me.

Hypothetically speaking.

Come on, Brody.

Let me go all deep Web on whoever these crazy asses are.

Okay. Of the 62 members

of the staff, only 56 have gone through

a pat-down and search. Of the six that didn't,

only one is still unaccounted for after the blast-- a waiter.

Okay, hit me with a name.

Bertrand Willis.

Okay.

Bertrand Willis.

What database are you running his name through?

I created a way

to consolidate municipal, federal,

state and even international criminal databases.

Do I want to know how you do this?

You most certainly do not.

Whatever you're doing, put it on hold.

Girlfriend of the band was recording their set--

caught the exact blast site. Where was it?

LASALLE: We had Patton digitize the footage.

Angle catches the tables closest to where the bomb went off.

PRIDE: Well, what am I supposed to be looking at?

Time code was 7:12 p.m.

That Orion?

We were slightly off

in our original guess of where the bomb was.

Table 19, seat eight.

We were at table 19.

And you were seat eight.

Bertrand Willis-- that's the name of the missing waiter?

Yeah. Sound familiar?

Doesn't ring a bell.

We searched our NCIS files.

He didn't show up in any of our cases.

Does have civilian priors-- drunk and disorderly,

domestic disturbance.

Patton. Yeah?

King, I'm gonna set up a security detail for you.

Look, somebody tried to kill you once.

They might try it again.

Set up something here for Laurel.

But I'm not giving whoever

the satisfaction of me running scared.

BRODY: Thanks, Patton.

Got him. Bertrand Willis has a day job

at a mechanics shop in Chef Menteur.

We'll call you when we got him cuffed.

SEBASTIAN: I'm thinking about the bomb and its parts.

Detonator, accelerant.

Shrapnel.

Pretty sure this baby came from the detonation device.

Cell phone? It's my best guess,

but I've got barely anything to work with here.

Where the hell's the rest of you, huh?!

Sebastian, yelling at the evidence is rarely effective.

Sorry. I was punch-drunk.

Aren't we all? As for the accelerant,

I tested those metal pieces you gave me.

Lawn fertilizer and diesel fuel.

It's a crude concoction

I've dubbed "Big Joe's Garage Cocktail."

Meaning any average Joe

with a love of lawn care and muscle cars could make one.

Yeah, and there's shrapnel.

Now, I've pulled a series of small metal shards,

likely from the casing.

I'm thinking a deep fryer.

And then... there are these.

Come to Papa.

Heavy grease residue,

spherical chrome steel composition.

Ball bearings.

Okay, detonator unknown.

Accelerant crude.

Shrapnel identified.

We've framed a picture.

Let's find who painted it.

Bertrand Willis. Yello.

Agents Lasalle and Brody.

What can I do for you?

You can turn your ass around and hope you got thin wrists.

What the hell?! What's this about?

It's about the catering gig you did the other night.

Navy and Marine Relief Gala at City Park.

It's where the bomb went off.

Where you disappeared.

Oh, hell, this will never end.

Look, six weeks ago, my wallet was stolen.

Credit cards. Someone started charging me up

to the tune of thousands of dollars.

Any proof of this story?

Sure. Call my credit card company.

I was on the phone with them for hours.

Look, I never catered in my life.

And as for City Park, I don't much care for crowds,

and I like grass even less.

Credit card companies confirm

the story Bertrand Willis told us.

I got two witnesses that put him at Cooter Brown's

the whole time the gala was going on.

Double-P bringing the intel.

Note-- there's always a hackers angle.

Beyond the stuff in his wallet,

Bertrand's driver's license and his SSN were compromised.

Which is how our bomber was able to fill out an I-9,

pass a background check and get access to the event.

So, it could be anyone from any case Pride has ever had at NCIS.

Connection predates my days at NCIS.

Hey, how's the kid doing?

He's out of surgery.

He's critical but stable.

His family's flying in.

So, Loretta sent me info on the bomb.

There is a signature.

It's the Broussard Syndicate.

The Broussards?

But they're defunct.

'Cause I shut their asses down two decades ago.

Quick bit of New Orleans history.

In the early '80s, the biggest Mob element in the city--

guy named Carlos Marcello.

He was put away on federal racketeering charges.

Suddenly there's a vacuum

as to who would control the deep and dark

that came in and out of the city.

Broussard Syndicate moved in, filled that void.

Fiercely territorial, unafraid to flex their muscles.

Dominated drugs, weapons, counterfeiting.

PATTON: Those some bad dudes.

My last assignment with the sheriff's office--

roll up the Broussards.

First day of trial, bomb went off outside my JPSO district.

Fertilizer and diesel fuel, ball bearings...

Packed in a deep fryer.

Intention was to intimidate me.

Had the exact opposite effect.

All of the adults in this picture are

incarcerated or dead.

Which means the torch has been passed

to the new generation.

Sasha.

Ashley.

Michael.

Dante.

Frank.

I'm telling you,

one of them is behind what happened.

Everything you need to know...

is in here.

King, where you going?

To see an old friend.

Deputy Pride.

Haven't been "deputy" for a long time.

Let's talk, "Baitfish."

Haven't been "Baitfish" in a long time, either.

Take a break.

I'm in the middle of a rush.

All orders are on hold until further notice!

The rush is

now over. Just 'cause I'm an ex-con

doesn't give you the right to push me around.

I'm rehabilitated.

I don't drink or drug no more like before.

For real. Look.

Clean and sober.

I'm thrilled for you. Bomb at City Park.

Got your old bosses written all over it.

I don't know anything.

Yes, you do. I don't.

I swear. On my word.

That supposed to mean something to me?

Come here.

Sasha,

Ashley, Michael, Dante, Frank.

Which one is it?

I told you I don't know.

I put you away once.

I'll bet my last dollar if I look, just a little,

I'll find a reason to send you back.

Now, which one?

Sasha, Ashley, Michael, Dante, Frank.

Dante called me about a month ago asking for help

getting a false identity. I assumed he wanted to give it

to a mule to move contraband.

The number he called you from, write it down.

He's got, like, a dozen phones, rotates 'em around.

He's not an idiot.

That point's debatable. Write it down.

You'll protect me, right?

That privilege? Long gone.

I get it, but you don't understand.

If this gets back to him, Dante will kill me.

Then you better hope I find him first.

You hear from Dante, I'm your first call.

This isn't just about drugs or the bombing.

He's trying to make alliances with gangs,

branch out into weapons.

Dante, he wants to put the Syndicate back together.

Not gonna happen.

Not in my city.

Dante Broussard.

In and out of Rayburn

over the last five years.

Petty things.

Burglary, assault.

But in the last six months, my old friends at JPSO confirm

he's trying to move white.

Confirm from who?

That friend you went to see?

Guy predates you. Not important.

Okay, but, like always,

the more I know, the more I can help.

BRODY: BOLO's out on Dante. Nothing so far.

Patton's working the cell number you gave him,

but likely it's...

Burner? Yeah.

We need to start putting pressure

on the other Broussard kids.

Ashley Broussard is dead.

Boating accident in 2011.

Michael, he's in prison in Laos.

Laos? Porn thing.

I saw photos, which I'm gonna need a quart of brain bleach

to cleanse from my memory.

What about Frank and Sasha?

Following in the footsteps of the others,

Frank's also fresh out

of prison after 15 months on a car theft rap.

We've got a lead on his last place of residence.

LASALLE: And a work address,

warehouse in Harahan.

And Sasha?

WOMAN: Sasha's saving you the trouble

of having to darken her doorstep.

I'd say

it's lovely to see you again, Dwayne,

but, given the circumstances, I doubt you'd agree.

My family,

they've been ruining my life since I was in utero.

And...

growing up a mobster's daughter is...

not as cool as advertised in the brochure.

How do I find Dante?

I don't know.

I'm sorry.

You got to understand,

I keep my distance. But when I heard

about the bombing

and I realized your connection to one of the victims,

then I thought

that I should come over as soon as possible.

He's...

your daughter's boyfriend?

Names.

Cell numbers. Addresses.

Doesn't matter how far back.

Anything that might lead to your brother's capture.

If this

is really him...

then it doesn't surprise me.

After my father went to prison,

he was... obsessed.

Said you ruined us.

Said that he would make good

on what our father couldn't.

By killing me?

By making you... back down.

I have spent every

waking moment trying to change

people's association with my last name.

I'm aware of your charity work.

And yet you've never accepted my offer

to be on any of the boards.

Tad awkward.

Can't blame a girl for trying.

It's ironic

how our worlds are intertwined.

Your legacy is the albatross around my neck,

and our fathers...

Same cell block for a few months, right?

If we need anything more, we'll be in touch.

Frank Broussard?

Who wants to know?

NCIS.

We're gonna ask you questions about the City Park bombing.

Where's your cousin Dante?

Don't know. Don't give a crap.

Even if I did, wouldn't tell you.

Well, tell us this, where were you last night?

Last night?

Go ask at Jackfish Jordy's Grill.

It's Wing-it-Wednesday from 5:00 to close.

Where's Jackfish Jordy's located?

Google it, bitch.

Now, that was the wrong answer.

Y'all don't have probable cause.

You can't just break into my stuff.

You had your chance to play nice.

This is what happens when we use the B-word.

LASALLE: Looks like a false bottom.

That was already there when I got this job.

Looks like old Frank's got a...

raging case of the herps.

What can I say? The ladies love cool Frank.

Doubtful.

Using it as a cutting agent for Dante's coke, ain't you?

Black market for Benzocaine

sometimes fetches as much as cocaine itself.

Whether you're mixing or selling,

I'm sure your parole officer

will be intrigued.

Your cousin Dante.

Help us bring him in,

I'm gonna let you slide on the Benzocaine.

We haven't been meeting directly lately.

As a precaution.

If I call him, he'll know something's up.

He told me to contact him once I've lined up

and vetted a major buyer.

We'll make one up.

No.

No, a real buyer. Someone on the grid.

Dante won't show unless he's sure of who he's dealing with.

I got a buyer who's on the grid.

No. No. Hell no, man.

It's not a request.

You're gonna make a buy,

help me draw this guy out.

Cocaine's that hard stuff, man.

Even playing with that's dangerous.

He's been blowing people up.

Making my point for me.

It's people I care about.

Copy that.

What's in it for me?

Well, you get to keep your safety net-- me.

So, unless you want to revisit

those weapon charges...

At this point, man,

I deserve some frequent-flier miles or something, man.

FRANK: This guy legit?

'Cause like I said, if this is just some cop

dressed up to look like a hood...

I don't know which I should get more offended by--

the "cop" part or the "hood" part.

Pipe down, both of you.

Hey, how come I don't get a vest just in case this get ugly?

Yeah, that'd be comforting. And a dead giveaway.

What? They don't make vests that look like regular clothes?

What, y'all ain't got the technology for that?

In prison, we made armor out of book covers

so people couldn't shank us.

See? Prisoners get more protection than us.

That's informants abuse, man.

Well, you can file a grievance with the CI union later.

All right, shut up.

Look alive.

Where's Dante?

Don't know.

He must've sent his minions.

I smell a setup.

Wouldn't make much sense.

I set you up, I'm back in prison.

All right, new plan.

After they show the merch, we pop them

and then get them to roll over on Dante.

Yo.

Where's Dante?

He regretfully couldn't attend, but he sends his regards.

Pure Colombian.

Uncut, free-trade, organic.

Looks like y'all are Real Deal Holyfield, huh?

And you're under arrest... Hands behind your back!

DEA! What?

Hands behind your back. Hold up, man. What you...

Frank!

This is a sting!

Lasalle, what's going on, man?

No, this is a sting. Frank!

NCIS.

My bust...

went bust.

While we were running a sting on Dante,

DEA was running one on my guy Ross P.

Apparently he'd been selling ecstasy and they thought

he was looking to move into selling coke.

Did you know about the ecstasy?

News to me.

Now Ross P. is downtown and Frank Broussard

is gone and gone.

And my guess is if Dante was thinking about

showing up for the buy at all, he's spooked.

All right, put a BOLO out on Frank,

see if someone can make up for DEA crashing your party.

Should I ask?

If you wave at it,

it waves back.

Brody and I brought it for, uh, Patton's kid.

Pride.

SASHA: Uh, I'm sorry.

I didn't know who else to come to.

What is it?

Paul Jenks. He showed up at the charity offices.

Threatened me. Said if Dante

goes after him, he's coming after me.

Who's Paul Jenks?

I got this.

You threatening people, Baitfish?

You said you wouldn't protect me, so

got to watch my own back.

After Dante showed up, hell yeah, I had to do something.

Wait, wait, wait. Dante showed up and you didn't call me?

What the hell you want me to do?

They think I'm helping anyone,

let alone you, they'll cap me.

Now, wh... when exactly did he show up

and what exactly did he say?

Dante wanted to know if I could get to you.

Said he's planning...

What Planning what?

Oh, God.

I... I-I got to get out...

Paul! Damn it!

WADE: Might as well call it a pig roast, but

height and size suggest what's on the I.D.

Shrapnel's consistent with

what we found on the two victims at the gala,

ball bearing fragments.

Back at autopsy, I'll be able to

confirm a match for the accelerant, but, again,

if I were playing Final Jeopardy!,

I'd bet everything I had.

You were first on the scene.

On my way here already.

So you knew him, and yet I don't detect

the slightest bit of remorse.

Not all dead are worth grieving for.

King, can I borrow you?

Keep me posted on Laurel's boy.

It's Dante, ain't it?

Goes after me,

goes after anyone who talks to me.

Found this by the blast site.

It was clearly not meant to be shrapnel, so...

Maybe it's part of the detonator.

Damage patterns this side of the room suggest

the blast started next to the furnace.

Assuming Dante didn't want to take any chances this time.

If the blast wasn't going to kill our victim,

the ensuing fire would seal the deal.

And burns up the evidence in the process.

Not all of the evidence. I found this.

Crystallized.

Stuff wasn't at the first bombing.

All right, get a sample of that and that motor

and get it to Sebastian.

BOTH: On it.

King, hold up a sec.

I've been thinking,

with nothing substantial to go on and Dante planting bombs

all over the city, we might want to take a flyer...

On?

Grease wheels at Orleans Parish, spring Ross P.

His getting popped only gives him more street cred.

Ross P.'s fine where he is.

I'm just saying, maybe we can pull Dante into another buy.

We'll find Dante another way.

Every angle.

That's what you've hammered into me for the past ten years.

And you won't let me spring Ross P.?

I don't get it, King.

We got a guy in there

that's fried to a crisp,

maybe because he knows you,

and I'm totally left in the dark.

You and I--

I thought we kept no secrets.

Get in the car, Christopher.

LASALLE: Where we headed?

Out of the darkness.

Paul Jenks was my CI.

How you shut down the Broussards.

Yeah, two-bit hustler.

And I used him to gather the evidence

to bring down the family.

Along the way,

Paul got himself in all kinds

of trouble, which I scrubbed,

'cause he was the bait,

and I needed him to reel in the big fish.

Well, it worked. Yeah.

For a while.

Here.

Once the Broussards were away,

Paul tried to start his own crew,

holding up liquor stores, grand theft,

home invasion.

November 3, 2002,

Paul tried a grab-and-dash.

Thought he'd get TVs and computers.

Instead, he got Martin Brooks, ready to defend his family.

BROOKS: Get the hell out of my house! Get out!

PRIDE: Martin chased Paul.

Took a couple shots...

Missed badly.

And then,

when Paul fired back...

Stray bullet.

Bedroom window.

Inside, Sophie Brooks.

My baby!

Nine years old. MOTHER: You shot my baby!

My baby!

It wasn't your fault, King.

Fault? No.

But the cost of looking the other way.

Paul's in a cell, what happened here...

doesn't.

One question.

If Paul killed that girl, why was he out?

Gun was never recovered

and only a partial fingerprint

put Paul at the scene.

I knew the case for murder was never gonna make,

but I'd be damn sure he went down for something,

so I dumped everything I had on him.

Put him away.

Too little.

Too late.

Got to go.

I'll drop you off.

I got good news, bad news

and kind of gross news.

Good news is that I identified that piece

of hardware you found at the blast site.

It's a gear. A mini-gear, actually,

from some kind of motor. What kind?

Not sure. But we can rule out a cell phone as the detonator.

Won't find a mini-gear in those. Nope. I'm leaning towards a

timer mechanism, but, bad news-- I still don't have enough

to definitively identify the detonation device.

That leaves us with the gross news. Yes.

So, that white crystallized substance you found is actually

uric acid crystals. See,

birds and reptiles, they don't, uh, go number one...

in a mammalian sense. They excrete uric acid.

When uric acid is heated past its boiling point,

it crystallizes.

So our bomber tracks in bird or reptile pee.

How is that supposed to be helpful?

Well, because, lucky for you, Agent Brody,

I did a urinalysis and found a high concentration

of omega-3 fatty acids,

the kinds that are found in, uh, digested mackerel and sardines.

It's a bird? It's a plane,

it's Superman. I'm sorry.

That's a reflexive reaction there.

Anyway, the, uh, brown pelican is the most

common waterbird in the region.

I would bet dollars to diatoms

that is where your substance came from.

How are we supposed to figure out where it is

with pelican pee?

The Audubon Society created a sanctuary

in Terrebonne Parish for birds

who were hurt in the Deepwater Horizon spill.

There's plenty of brown pelicans there.

And lots of square footage.

Oh, let me help you with that.

You know what, no matter how many times I tell a bad guy that

cell phones are gonna undo them, they never seem to learn. Okay.

Now, Dante seems to cycle

through ten or 12 phones. He uses one phone,

then he shuts it off, then he's on to the next phone.

So, no one phone will be useful

in pinpointing him, but

if we use the numbers that we got

from Paul Jenks, Sasha Broussard,

and the number that Frank Broussard

used to set up the sting,

plot the points...

you'll see a theme start to develop.

That's your cell tower.

Less than a mile away from the sanctuary.

Looking at properties in the area.

Closest building-- an abandoned structure.

And I'll bet he's not building birdhouses.

Hey, baby.

They, um, induced a coma

to reduce swelling in the brain, they said.

Got you something to eat.

I'm not hungry.

Your mother was always worried about me bringing my work home.

That bomb was intended for me, Laurel.

Is that what all the security is about?

I'm sorry for...

...getting you and Orion wrapped up in all this.

Just tell me.

Are you trying to make the city a safer place?

I am.

That's good enough for me.

NCIS!

Hands in the air!

BRODY: Hands on your head.

Now!

Give me your hands.

Let me put this in terms you'll understand.

Make another move, and the gun goes boom.

You tried to kill Dwayne Pride.

Much as I'd be fine and dandy with all that,

I didn't have anything to do with either of these bombs

you seem so obsessed about.

Take it you got nothing to do with the 20 kilos of cocaine

you and your boys were boxing up, too?

BRODY: Got to say, I admire your sense of nostalgia.

Both the devices you used

match the explosive recipe your father used during his reign.

I was six when my father went to prison.

I didn't write the formula down with crayons.

Not hard to figure out for a smart guy like you.

You've heard of the Internet?

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, that's that place

with all those naked ladies, right?

Ah, well, there goes your case.

How's that?

Bombing was on Wednesday?

Well, I was elsewhere.

AirTrans round trip,

first class.

Fountain Blue Hotel in Miami, Presidential Suite.

I got receipts.

What were you doing?

I was importing...

...drugs.

Your microphones got that, right?

Speak.

I need to think about something else.

We pinned Dante to the cocaine,

but he can't actually be the one

that planted the explosive in City Park.

Using a drug buy as an alibi for murder.

First time for everything.

Hey, guys.

I, uh, brought some violas for Orion.

They're a good anti-inflammatory and antipyretic,

meaning they treat fevers and bacterial infections.

Also, they smell nice.

Thank you.

But you didn't run all the way down here

just to deliver flowers.

No, I figured it out.

It wasn't a timer or cell phone that triggered the explosions.

It was motion.

More specifically a motion sensor.

You see, in the first explosion, Orion dropped

Laurel's jacket at a distance of two and a half feet

from the explosive device,

which is the maximum perceptive range

of this infrared sensor.

And, given the proximity

of Paul's body to the second device,

that explosion was triggered from the same distance.

Do we know where the bomber got it?

No, see, that's the thing.

I can't find a serial number or design specifications

that get me to its place of origin.

I'm sorry to let you down.

No, we'll find something.

I need... I need to go clear my head.

Will you... will you all just watch Laurel for me?

You're gonna pay for that, right?

I need you to do something for me.

You here?

FRANK: Thanks again, Sasha.

I know we've never been close,

but you're doing me a solid here.

The least I could do.

Ah. Man, I thought I was screwed.

Been hiding out in a shed.

Didn't know where to go.

I'm gonna set you up.

Money, passport, transport out of the country.

Family's got to stick together.

Yeah.

The thing about that

is...

I've had enough of this family.

NCIS.

Nice to see you again, Frank.

Sasha.

Really?

Let me guess. He denied it.

He's going with "framed," but it doesn't matter.

The shed in the back-- ball bearings, chemicals,

two more of these.

Bomb squad disarmed it.

Oh.

You okay?

I'm free... of all of them.

Finally.

And... maybe so are you.

Excuse me.

Sure.

Hello?

LAUREL: He's awake, Daddy!

Orion's up.

Sorry to call you in, but this couldn't wait.

Oh, it's okay.

I was just bringing Laurel a change of clothes.

What is it?

The dental records for this body don't match Paul Jenks.

Jenks had fillings

in the third canine and the second premolar.

This mouth-- full of decay, no fillings,

like the person never saw a dentist.

I'm thinking transient.

You sure?

Never been more so.

I don't know who this is, but...

Paul Jenks is most probably alive.

And likely the one who bombed City Park.

* Smiling faces sometimes

* Pretend to be your friend

* Smiling faces show no traces

* Of the evil that lurks within *

* Can you dig it? * * Smiling faces

* Smiling faces sometimes

* They don't tell the truth

* Smiling faces, smiling faces

* Tell lies and I got proof

* Oh, yeah

* They don't tell the...

* The truth is in the eyes

* 'Cause the eyes don't lie, amen... *

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