Original subtitles

- Okay, on my way.

Adam 10-35. Mary.

- We are fascinated by murder.

TV shows, movies, books, podcasts,

24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

With all this constant fascination, it's no surprise,

we're also terrified of being murdered.

We take self-defense classes,

install triple locks on our doors,

and security cameras in our windows,

and, of course, we've got plenty of guns.

But the reality is this,

cheeseburgers kill more people than people do.

Cancer, Alzheimer's, diabetes.

Every single one of these has

a higher mortality rate than homicide.

Today we are live

and we are talking about the "Odds of Murder."

I'm Cassidy Smith, and this is my "Crime Scene."

Hey, John.

Oh, what's up KH? Good to see you again.

JJ, Marcus.

SMH199.

The odds that you'll die a violent death

at the hands of a deranged murderer are extremely low.

So, next time you see a shadow on the wall,

no matter how certain you are,

it is someone coming to kill you...

It's just a tree branch.

That is a statistical fact.

Nobody is watching you.

Nobody is after you.

Nobody is in the closet.

Or under the bed.

You are going to live a long,

boring,

uneventful life.

Unless you're not.

Sometimes the noise isn't the wind.

Sometimes the shadow isn't a tree branch.

And 1 in 100 million,

there actually is a killer waiting in the dark.

In that case,

fight as if your life depends on it,

because it does.

- It was a sunny summer afternoon

in Leesburg, Pennsylvania,

when Wendy Whitaker decided

to leave her home to visit a friend.

It was a 10-minute drive.

She left at 1:15 PM.

By 1:45 PM she had not arrived.

Wendy's friend became worried.

Wendy had gone missing before.

She also had a history with the local police

and had been arrested for petty theft and prostitution.

No one was worried about Wendy Whitaker.

But her friend had a nagging suspicion that-

The phone is ringing.

The phone is ringing.

Answer the phone, Cassidy.

- Hello?

- Hi. Cassidy Smith? - Yeah.

- This is Detective Vega from

the LAPD, Commercial Crime Division-

- I didn't do it.

- Excuse me?

- What can I help you with, Detective?

- I need to ask you a few questions

about a Taylor Li.

- Taylor?

What about her?

- I'm sorry to be the one to inform you,

but Taylor was the victim of a homicide.

- You said commercial crime.

- We are handling the device processing.

You were the last person

Taylor was emailing before she was killed.

- I haven't talked to her in five years.

- She thought your podcast was "kickass."

Her words.

You two were friends?

- We were roommates for like one semester in college.

I don't really know what to tell you.

- Any reason why you were roommates

for only one semester?

- It was like half a semester.

Is there a reason that matters?

- Just trying to get a full picture of Taylor.

She was a only child. Both parents deceased.

Few friends and a lot of money.

- Yeah, I don't know anything about that.

- Maybe you know some of her other friends?

Perhaps a Mark Bennett.

- Like I said, it's been five years, so...

- Nicole Tang?

- No.

- How about a Jessica Lebow?

- Can I call you back? I'm actually late for work.

- Sure.

Sure. This number goes right to my cell.

Give me a call anytime.

- Jesus Christ.

- Hello, Tinglers. It's me, Tinglee.

How's everybody doing?

Today we're gonna go back to some oldies,

but goodies

for sleep triggers.

- Vega.

Jerking off to her videos

isn't gonna do anything for me.

Unless you're gonna jerk me off too.

- I'm a team player.

- Sure you are.

That's why you're down here.

Jesus.

I've got kitchen drawers bigger than this.

Listen, Vega,

this ain't a hole you can dig yourself out of.

But you do your time, maybe,

maybe you can work your way back.

That's it.

- Oh. Friendly advice, huh?

Go fuck yourself, Brant.

- Yeah? How about this?

Don't fuck with my case

or I'll make sure that you never get out of here.

- You gave me this shit, remember?

I didn't ask for it.

- Did I ask you to get the Emmy's report?

And don't tell me you're not asking about that.

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- Sure, you don't.

Stay in your lane, Vega.

- Jesus Christ. Man, look at me.

I am clearly in my lane.

What the fuck else do you want from me?

- Okay.

What do you got?

- Not much. Just typical troll shit.

- What about the email?

- Old college roommate. Cassidy Smith.

Doesn't seem to know much about nothing.

- But?

- She has a true crime podcast.

- Oh Christ.

Goddamn cyber sleuths.

I fucking hate cyber sleuths.

- The victim was watching it when she was killed.

- You sure?

- Yeah. I'm pretty sure, it's a livestream.

- Huh?

Well, then we can clear her.

Lose her number. We don't need her anyway.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa.

You got somebody you like already?

- That's for us. homicide detectives to know

and former homicide detectives

to find out like everybody else.

Enjoy the view.

- Damn it.

Hey, Eddie. How are you doing, man?

How's your mother?

Let me ask you something.

Did you fucking rat me out? Huh?

You two-faced lying mother-

- What? No.

- Don't fuck with me, Eddie.

Don't fuck with me.

- Who said that?

- Fucking Brant. Who else?

- I didn't say shit to Brant.

He's fucking with you. He does...

You know he does that.

- Fine, all right, all right. All right.

So what's the deal?

He's got somebody lined up he likes or what?

- Yeah.

Housekeeping staff, blood print.

He was the one who found her so, makes sense to me.

But what do I know?

RHD is freaking out over it.

Guy's got prior or some shit.

You still want the report?

- What?

Yeah. Yeah, whatever.

- I hope you got a strong stomach.

- I've seen cut up bodies before, Eddie.

- Not like this.

I ain't even seen anything like this.

And I've seen some shit.

72 stab wounds.

Ripped her guts out.

Cut the fingers off one hand and well,

we found something inside of her.

- Crushing it isn't enough today, people.

You've got to demolish it.

Pulverize it. Incinerate it.

Fucking infinity gauntlet bad shit.

In the shape of a picture, in the form of a drone.

We are in a post-digital age.

People do not trust digital anymore.

Wet signatures, hard documents.

We are in the forefront of this space.

So, somebody tell me how CAA's

multimillion dollar packaging deal

ended up in a fucking LA river?

Are we boring you, Cassidy?

- Oh, no. Just taking some notes.

- Alright. Right. Good.

Let's wrap it up for today, people.

Fix those glitches.

Otherwise, we'll all be looking for work in a month.

Go. Fly. Fly my pigeons.

Make us all millionaires.

Look, your work is always on point and on time,

but during the meetings,

I always feel like you're not listening.

- Sorry, boss.

- I don't feel like you're living up

to your full potential, Cassidy.

- Okay.

- Like, I...

I feel like you're not being your authentic self.

This is just a job to you.

- Are you firing me, boss?

- No, no, no, that's not what I'm saying at all.

I'm saying you're not like the rest of these sheeple.

You are a creator, an innovator, a founder.

You just don't know it yet.

I see you, Cassidy.

Look, let me help you.

There's going to be a dinner meeting on Thursday night.

A couple of investors and founders,

and I think you should come with.

- Come with? With you?

- As my protege.

- I'm flattered. Thank you, boss.

I don't know about Thursday.

Can I get back to you?

- Yeah, sure. You can get back to me.

Just get me those new graphics as soon as you can.

- Working on it as we speak.

Fuck Marlow.

Are you okay?

- That's my line.

- You gotta keep that left hand up.

- Yeah. Well, mom's a sucker puncher, so...

- Those who can't fight, fight dirty.

Still got a couch with your name on it.

Let me know.

- You got enough trouble.

- Trouble's my business.

- Pretty fucked up.

- If it's real.

- "Hush" only posts if it's real.

It's kind of their thing.

"Truth in Tabloid Journalism,"

or something like that.

- Yeah, well, I'd like a second source.

- For the podcast?

- I'm not sure.

I mean, it's not really my thing, you know?

I don't do current events.

- Well, the cyber sleuths do.

She was one of them. One of us.

She's what we all wish we could be.

- Brutally murdered?

- Famous and rich.

- Yeah, be careful what you wish for.

Marlow, what's wrong with this picture?

- Which one?

- All of them.

- Blood.

A lot of blood.

Too much blood.

- And what do we call that?

- Eddie, what's up?

- They kicked the hotel worker.

Airtight alibi.

Thought you'd want to know.

I told you, nobody listens to me.

- Yeah, thanks.

- Hey, I thought you'd be happy.

There's still a killer out there that needs to be caught.

- Yeah. I'm ecstatic.

- Peter?

What's troubling you, Peter?

- I don't want to come anymore.

- But you know you have to.

It's part of the court order.

- I don't want to come to you anymore.

- But you see,

that's the progress I'm talking about.

You've transferred your hatred for your mother to me.

I know it's uncomfortable,

but it's also very positive.

- You just keep twisting it around.

You keep twisting everything,

no matter what I say.

- Control yourself, Peter.

- I won't!

- Peter, sit down!

I am twisting nothing.

I'm straightening what your mother twisted in you

and what you keep twisting in yourself.

Now, apologize to me for your outburst.

Peter? Apologize.

- I'm sorry.

- I know how you feel.

I'm not your mother, but I am a mother.

I know how a young man struggles to control his impulses.

Most dirty thoughts racing around in his mind.

The filthy fantasies he desperately wishes

to inflict on the most innocent of victims.

The weak, the desperate.

He is a danger.

You are a danger.

You must control yourself.

- I try.

- Did you watch those videos I suggested?

The ASMR.

- Yes.

- Did they help at all?

- Yes, but,

I don't want to come anymore.

- What would they do, Peter,

if I told them you missed three appointments?

- I haven't.

- They would issue a warrant.

They would have to check my records.

Would you like me to do that, Peter?

Shall I check my records?

- No.

- You're broken, Peter.

You'll always be broken.

But I will never give up on you

and I won't let you give up on yourself.

Now I'll see you at our regular session, okay?

Close the door behind you, please.

- At just 23 years of age,

Taylor Li was an internet celebrity

who practiced the art of

Autonomic Sensory Meridian Response, or ASMR.

Under the screen name, Tinglee,

a reference to the sensation many feel

when experiencing ASMR,

Taylor had garnered over 4 million subscribers.

On the night of March 4th,

one of these subscribers may have been her killer.

- You're not real.

- Of course, I'm not.

- What do you want?

- I want what you want.

I'm not real, remember?

- I want to go to bed.

- Then go to bed.

- Fuck.

Testing, testing. 1, 2, 3.

Hey guys, my name's Cassidy Smith,

and this is my "Crime Scene."

For this video,

I want to change up the format a little bit.

No thematic discussions,

no deep dives into past crimes and criminals.

For this video,

I'm going to do something I've never done before.

For reasons I can't really go into right now,

we're going to talk about a current investigation.

Social media star and internet celebrity, Tinglee,

was murdered in her downtown Los Angeles hotel

two days ago.

Her real name was Taylor Li.

Most of you already know this,

and most of you have seen the leaked crime scene photos.

But what you don't know is this wasn't the act

of a jealous ex-lover or psychotic fan.

I don't have any proof,

but the most important thing I'm going to say

is, it is with almost certainty

that this was a white male in his 30s

with above average intelligence.

To be able to sneak in and out of a 5-star hotel,

pass security cameras, key card locks,

security systems, all to enact

this insanely violent fantasy.

The fact that he did this without being detected

is fundamental and makes it extremely likely

that he's killed before.

And even more likely that he will kill again.

- Oh, fuck.

Yeah?

No, I stopped talking...

No, I lost her number, like you said.

What?

Alright.

Okay. All right.

All right.

Fuck!

- I thought I purged you.

Why are you here?

- You know why I'm here.

- Do you make coffee at least?

So, let's walk through it.

Overkill is using more violence

than is necessary to kill a victim.

There's a lot of data on overkill.

What stands out about Taylor's murder is not

that it was overkill, which it was,

but that its circumstances don't fit

a typical overkill scenario.

If it did, her killer would already be in jail.

- Check.

Mm, check. Check.

Hello everyone. Pop duty here.

I've missed you guys.

I hope you're all doing very well.

Happy.

And healthy.

For today's video,

I'll be trying some new things.

Finding some new sounds just for you.

Sorry, I think I hear some interference.

Get off me!

- I thought there would be more people.

- Yeah. Fame ain't what it used to be.

- I guess not.

You really think he'll come?

- They sometimes do.

- Why?

- Excites them.

Makes them feel like they have some sort of power.

Like they're invincible. Untouchable.

And they've been so clever to get away with it.

- Cassidy Smith.

- Detective Vega.

Here to pay your respects,

or are you looking for suspicious characters?

What happened?

- Your podcast.

You were right.

All right.

Something for you. Something for me.

And then some food. Go ahead, eat up.

You don't wanna look at these on an empty stomach.

Trust me.

Oh, yeah.

Oh, yeah.

That's a good burrito.

- Why are you showing me this?

- Well, everything is fucking politics.

I got boxed in.

- Boxed in?

Oh, is that the nice way of saying officially reprimanded?

- Yeah. Something like that.

- What'd you do?

- Well, allegedly,

I placed an AirTag in someone's vehicle

in order to advance my career, right?

- The lieutenant stalking his former girlfriend.

- Goddamn it, it wasn't me, all right?

They were looking for a fall guy.

I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

- You know, that's not cool, right?

Stalking?

- Yeah, of course.

I get it, okay?

Fucking "Me Too," remember? Me too.

- So, why me too?

- Well, you knew who he was before anybody else.

- I mean, it's not magic.

I mean, plenty of people smarter than me

will know who he is when they look close enough.

- Yeah, well, I don't have them.

They have them. I've got you.

Help me catch this guy.

- I like him.

- Our task force is comprised of 25 officers,

as well as members of the Federal Bureau

of Investigation Behavioral Analysis Unit.

We have no persons of interest at this time,

but many promising leads.

What we can confirm is that we believe

that the person responsible for the death

of Taylor Li is the same person responsible

for the death of Anna Brown.

Why we believe this to be true,

at the moment, we cannot discloze.

But we are confident in that assessment.

- It's the hairbrush.

- Maybe.

- What else? It's his signature.

- I know what it's called.

- Ask Vega. - Vega is busy.

- Don't get distracted, Cassidy.

- I'm not getting distracted.

I have to pay bills.

Something you don't have to worry about anymore.

- Why am I here, Cas?

- I don't know.

- Why am I here?

- Cassidy, I'm sorry. Please.

- Fuck. - I know you're there.

I can hear you.

I heard your phone. Please.

- What the fuck did I tell you about this?

- I said I'm sorry.

- You've got to keep track of your shit.

- I do keep track. I-

- What? Do I look like a doorman to you?

- No. Christ, don't make it like that.

- But it is like that.

See, you grew up having people do shit for you,

so you never learned to do things for yourself.

Well, I'm not here to do for you.

- I know. I'm sorry.

- What's going on?

- Mary Poppins lost her keys. Again.

- I didn't lose them. I forgot them.

I know they're here.

- Jesus fucking Christ.

I mean, keep them in your Gucci bag, okay?

Put them in your fucking Jimmy Choo.

- Stop it, Cas. It was a mistake.

- No, no, no. It's not a mistake, okay?

People don't make mistakes.

People reveal themselves.

If you fuck up, you're a fuck up.

If you do stupid shit, then you're stupid.

Okay?

I won't let you in again. Got it?

I'm not your fucking servant.

- Whatever.

- Jesus.

- Eddie.

Oh, Eddie.

You're not answering my texts, Eddie.

I need that Anna Brown report.

- I can't.

They're gonna shitcan my ass, if they see me talking to you.

They already think I wiped down

that fucking air tag before we processed it.

- But you didn't.

- No, of course I didn't.

- Anna Brown. Now.

- I can't.

They're restricting my access.

Don't seem to trust me anymore.

- Just give me the highlights.

Quickly.

- No overkill.

Okay? Just one cut to the throat.

Deep cut and,

signs of strangulation.

- Doesn't make any sense.

It's a completely different M.O..

Why are they so sure it's the same guy?

- The hairbrush. They found another one.

Same exact place.

- Same color? - Same exact brush.

I guess the guy buys them in bulk.

Everybody's freaking out about that, for sure.

- The gaffer tape for Taylor Li.

- What about it?

Are you working with somebody else on this?

- Was it hers?

- I don't know.

We're still processing some things.

Why wouldn't it-

- Check! Fucking check, Eddie.

- I've been thinking about your request.

- What request?

- To see another therapist.

I think you should.

- You do?

- Yes, I do.

- Why?

- I just...

I just do.

- You think I murdered those girls?

- Peter? Don't be ridiculous.

- I watched their videos

and you told me to, didn't you?

- I didn't...

I didn't tell you, Peter, I...

I didn't. I...

I told you to watch.

To find calm.

Decrease your anxiety.

- Well, it didn't work.

All that whispering,

drives me out of my fucking mind.

- Parents at work.

Brother in school.

Nothing found on the Ring cam in front.

We think he entered through the...

- So, Derrick moved on.

Yeah. Good for him.

You know, I don't think he ever really understood

what it takes to run a startup.

You know, what I go through, what I've given up.

He's got no empathy.

I need people on my team with empathy.

That's what I expect.

That's not too much to ask.

It's a basic human emotion.

I mean, without empathy, what are we?

Yeah, think about it,

without empathy, what are we?

All right.

Yeah. Let's call up there for today.

We need some early adopters.

So go out and find some.

Cassidy, can you...

Can you hang back for a sec.

Cassidy. - Okay.

- Okay?

- My plans changed for the night so I can go to

that dinner if the invite's still open.

- Oh.

Yeah. Great. Good.

Well, okay. Well, I will...

I will pick you up at 7 o'clock.

I'll see you tonight, Cassidy. Have a good night.

- That wasn't a good idea.

Do you think that was a good idea?

- I doubt it, but it's got a lot of precedence.

I'm tired of living paycheck to paycheck.

Okay, drinking cheap gin,

playing chicken with the gas bill.

- You're going to meet a bunch of creeps.

- It's a creepy world. They're hard to avoid.

- No overkill?

He cut her in the throat and then strangled her.

- It's a different M.O..

- Why would they change their M.O.?

- Lots of reasons. Sometimes they evolve.

- Bundy evolved over years.

Golden State over decades.

My murder and Anna's murder,

were only two days apart. Next.

- Sometimes they change their M.O. to avoid detection.

- What else?

- Sometimes they respond to media.

- A reporter thought the fact

that the beltway snipers only kill

during the weekdays was a clue into their lifestyle.

Their next kill was on a Saturday.

A local politician said that kids

were safe inside lockdown schools.

Their next victim was a kid

who got shot while being dropped off at school.

He's watching you, Cas.

- Little light reading?

- I got a lead you don't have.

The gaffer tape. - The gaffer tape.

I know about the gaffer tape.

What the fuck does the gaffer tape prove?

It's fucking LA.

Everybody's in the industry.

You know who's not in the industry?

The killer.

- Bullshit.

- I got a CODIS hit,

a hair, believe it or not,

from a relative of a juvie we had on file way back.

Mother's a psychologist.

Guess where her offices are?

Five blocks from here.

She does court-appointed cases.

One of them,

this guy.

Peter Hewitt.

Violent rapist and pedophile.

Hey, maybe you'll share a cell together.

Eddie is fired. Did you hear?

Oh yeah.

Up on the 10th floor right now.

He hasn't said much yet, but, oh, we know Eddie.

He will.

You are so fucked, Vega.

So why don't you help yourself out a little bit?

You're working with somebody on this.

Who?

- Don't Cas. It's dangerous.

There are plenty of other ways to punish yourself.

- My name is Cassidy Smith

and this is my "Crime Scene."

And this is what's called a signature.

It's also called a clue.

If I were you,

I would cool off for a while,

or better yet, turn yourself in.

No matter what you do,

it will never get any better, ever.

So it's time to stop.

Vega is gonna be pissed.

- Cassidy!

Cassidy.

You know, I'm a bit of a onomastic.

- A what? - Onomastic.

It means I'm interested in names,

particularly last names.

For instance, my last name, Randall,

it's derived from Rand,

which means like shield or wolf.

Coincidentally, Smith is from the same era.

- Oh yeah? - Yeah.

It's derived from Smid, which means

to hit or strike like with a hammer.

- That's fascinating.

- You know the Whisper Killer?

Sorry, I was just looking over and I saw it.

- You're following it?

- Yeah. It's crazy.

People are saying he's a necrophiliac.

You know, that means- - I know what it means.

- It means he has sex with them after they're dead.

- Yeah, like Kemper, Dahmer, Bridgeway, Bundy.

- You seem to know a lot about necrophilia.

- Well, it was my major in college.

- Your resume said Communications.

Ah, you are joking.

- Yeah, I'm joking.

Where did you hear that

the Whisper Killer is a necrophiliac?

- Oh, I don't know. Online somewhere.

- You said this was a meeting with founders, VCs?

- Yeah. That got pushed.

Didn't Kevin tell you?

- No, Kevin didn't fucking tell me.

Who is Kevin?

- He's the new guy. A lot of empathy, he's great.

- Sit down, boss. - Call me, Todd.

Let me just get this off my chest, please.

Look, I feel like there's something between us.

And I know you've felt it too.

And I know I'm your boss,

and generally that's not cool.

But here's the thing.

I'm the boss. I make the rules.

It is cool. So that's not an issue.

And you know, if you don't feel that way, then okay.

But if you do feel that way, then it's okay too.

Okay?

That was a weight off my chest.

You know, I'm pretty nervous.

Normally, I don't get this nervous

about expressing my feel- - Boss.

- Todd. Yes?

Yeah.

- Todd.

You know, I didn't see it before,

but I do see a few things between us.

One of those things is a lawsuit.

See, you don't make those rules, Todd.

I see a labor lawsuit,

a sexual harassment. lawsuit-

- Whoa, whoa.

I've never sexually harassed you.

- The other thing I see between us is a butter knife.

Do you know how much pressure

it takes to pierce human skin?

Hmm.

100 pounds per square inch, give or take.

Maybe 120 with a butter knife but,

I think I can make it work.

Third degree murder, manslaughter.

Not premeditated.

I could even argue unintentional.

- What the fuck are you talking about?

- Maybe you lunged at me.

Maybe I was defending myself.

I mean, you are a wolf after all, Randall.

So I had to hammer this butter knife

into your fucking chest.

This isn't how it's done, boss.

This is not how you ask someone out.

It's dangerous, it's sad,

and absolute worst, it's lazy. Okay?

People don't want figure this shit out anymore.

Maybe they do, but, I don't know.

- If I had actually asked you out,

would you have said yes?

- I don't date people who sign my paychecks.

You shouldn't date people you pay.

I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow.

- Cassidy's evening did not go as planned.

So she left the restaurant and ordered a ride.

On the ride home,

Cassidy received a text message from a friend

checking in to make sure she was okay.

When Cassidy got home, all she wanted to do

was get into a hot bubble bath

and forget about the evening.

Cassidy was confident that

despite the provocative nature

of her YouTube video taunting a dangerous killer,

the killer would not have had time

to concoct a plan to get to her,

which meant her guard was down.

She went into the bedroom,

changed into something comfortable,

watched her favorite show, then fell asleep.

But something must have woken Cassidy

in the middle of the night.

Something which distracted her from the closet

where the killer suddenly emerged

and slipped a rope around her neck.

She fought for her life,

but the Whisper Killer was too strong.

Cassidy Smith was dead.

Shoe marks on the floor indicated

that the killer stood over the body

for an extended period of time.

It was then that the killer proceeded

to strip off her clothes

and perform what had become his signature.

Necrophilia.

- We got another one over here.

- Oh fuck.

- Fuck you, Brant.

Cassidy!

Cassidy!

- So did you see Jessica?

- This is Cassidy Smith,

and this is your "Crime Scene."

Well, you know where that goes, don't you?

- Fuck you. - Fuck me?

Fuck me?

Really?

You really want to tease me like that right now?

You're not sitting behind a screen anymore.

Your audience...

Can break...

The fourth wall.

- Everyone on earth sits behind a screen.

Even you.

- My mother would have liked you.

You have spirit.

I didn't have spirit.

I had what she called...

Ideas.

All manner of ideas. Did you know that?

What kind of ideas do you think she was talking about?

Cassidy!

- What?

- We're having a conversation.

What kind of ideas do you think my mother was talking about?

- Dirty ideas.

- Yes, that's exactly right.

You really do know a lot about this stuff, don't you?

- How old were you?

9, 10? - Shut up.

I ask the questions.

You don't ask the questions.

I was 5, if you must know.

A dirty, filthy-minded 5-year-old.

She tried to reprogram me.

But do you know what happens when you think

that your 5-year-old has a filthy mind?

Your 5-year-old develops a filthy mind.

I sense a question. You may speak.

- Do you think that means it's not your fault,

what you've done?

- Oh, no. I know it's my fault,

but I came to terms with that long ago.

My mother came to terms with that yesterday.

When I cut off her head and put myself,

my most private self, in her mouth.

Wasn't as good as I thought it would be.

But she deserved it.

You all deserve it.

You act like you know me.

You whisper to me and open your eyes on me

and make me trust you.

But it's all a lie. It's all a lie.

- You don't have to watch.

- But I do. We all do.

That's my whole point.

- What's your whole point?

- People believe what you say.

Every word, every look.

Lying is a sin and there are consequences.

Pick up the hairbrush, please.

Pick up the hairbrush, please.

I want you to remember that I asked you nicely.

Cassidy!

I'll fucking deal with you, Cassidy!

- Come on!

- Cassidy!

- It's me. It's me. It's me.

Are you all right? Are you hurt?

- No, I'm fine. I'm fine.

- What about the other guy?

- It's just his hand, I think.

- All right. All right. Come on.

Come on, follow me.

- Are you lost?

- Shh.

- The odds of you being murdered tonight?

100%.

- What's your passcode?

Hey Vega, what's your passcode?

- Yeah, I know.

What's your fucking passcode?

- Laura.

Murder.

What are the odds?

Pretty slim in the scheme of things.

But it happens.

It can happen to you.

It can happen to anyone, anywhere.

No matter how many locks you have,

or cameras, or how many guns,

murder can find you.

But,

so can love,

and joy,

and friendship.

The odds?

One of our better drunk poets once wrote,

"We are here to laugh at the odds

and live our lives so well,

that death will tremble to take us."

So, cheers to that.

I'm Cassidy Smith and this has been my "Crime Scene."

Until next time,

peace.