Original subtitles

People sing around

Now people gather round

Now people jump around

Get your freak on, get your freak on

Get your freak on, get your freak on

Get your freak on

Get your, get, your, get your freak on

Get your freak on, get your freak on

Get your freak on...

(music stops)

The last time I was out here, this was all desert.

One day, I'm looking at cactus; the next day a mini-mall.

What brings you all the way out here?

Work.

Stop!

(tires squealing)

Miss, you okay?

Stay here.

Hey!

(shouting)

Where do you think you're going?

Get out of there!

(shouting encouragement)

(screaming)

(siren wailing)

Where's your posse?

I have no idea.

I was actually on a date.

Hmm?

My God. What am I looking at?

Taxi hit a kid crossing the boulevard.

The crowd over there saw the driver...

Rajeeb Khandelwahl... trying to get away.

So they pull him out

of the front seat of the cab

and they beat him up.

I mean, they... they beat him up bad.

He was on his way to Desert Palm.

His insides are on the outside.

Did you move this body, David?

No, sir.

Auto Detail hoisted the cab off the kid.

Yeah, but I supervised.

No one's touched him.

Have you ever seen anything like this?

What do you mean?

Well, how many

hit-and-runs have you pulled?

Too many to count.

How many times have you seen

the victim's viscera exposed?

First time.

There's a first time for everything.

My teacher used to say

that your small and large intestines

could stretch across the Brooklyn Bridge.

But in reality?

Only 25 feet combined.

Fiction is often more compelling.

We've got the eyewitnesses lined up, ready to go.

Testimonials, Jim?

I don't consider that evidence.

But easier to clean up.

Keep them all together, David.

I'll tuck the viscera in a biohazard bag.

Good plan.

I picked up the taxi at McCarran.

I'm in town on business.

Staying with my cousin, just a few blocks away.

Did you see the pedestrian?

Crossing the street.

I don't think he saw the cab.

Did the cabbie see him?

No. He was looking at me.

What brings you all the way out here?

I think I yelled, "Stop," but it was too late.

And that's when Rajeeb, the taxi driver,

tried to leave... to drive away?

No, no, no, no.

He got out of the cab to see what happened

and... then he freaked and he got back in

and he reached for his radio.

That's when the guys attacked him.

His radio?

He wasn't fleeing the scene?

No. He was calling for help.

Okay. What can you tell me

about the men who attacked him?

You always think you'll be a great witness but...

(all yelling)

There were so many of them, and it happened so fast...

He was just begging for his life.

I couldn't see their faces,

but I know it was them; all of them.

They were the only ones around.

We're heroes, man.

They have no respect for our laws.

Who?

The damn cabbie!

Why? Because he's not from Vegas?

No. Because he's not from here... this country.

Oh, and you know that because you saw his birth certificate?

We didn't exactly need to see it.

Tell me what you did see.

He hit the boy.

Then he hits his brakes, and I figured

he's going to stop and do the right thing.

Instead, he jumps back into his cab.

Hey, if it weren't for us, he'd have gotten away.

Citizen's arrest, yo!

People are going to want our autograph.

I don't want your autograph,

but I would like a photo

and a bit of your DNA.

So line up.

What?!

Look, the guy that you "arrested"

is in critical condition.

That makes you all suspects in a battery.

Figures. We do something good,

you guys try to turn around and pin it on us.

Yeah. If we were wearing badges,

you'd be throwing us a ticker tape parade.

If you're wearing badges,

I'm playing left-wing in the NHL.

I know my rights. I don't have to give you squat.

Oh, yeah. You're the lawyer.

Let me tell you how this goes down

if you don't cooperate.

You all get a free ride in the cruiser

down to the station,

where I hold you there

until the warrants clear.

So what's it going to be?

It's your choice.

Line up... single file.

Say, "Cheese."

Open up, please.

Thank you.

He's critical.

Ruptured spleen, collapsed lung,

fractured ulna, possible intracranial bleeding.

Doctors are still waiting on the labs.

Do you have his clothes? His personals are bagged...

top shelf.

They're ripped up pretty bad.

That's good. That'll help.

He said he killed a boy... ran over him?

Did he say anything else?

No. That was it.

Gene Rayburn.

What?

Point of reference.

Uh... Match Game...

Nipsey Russell, Fannie Flagg...

Game Show Network.

Look, I don't have time for your humor.

Ecklie's got a multiple,

Warrick tells me his home invasion is my top priority,

and I'm still backed up on Catherine's no-suspect rape.

One servant, many masters.

You know what I'm saying?

Greg... this is your DNA lab.

You are the master.

We serve you.

Well, your stuff just moved to the top of the pile.

What do you got?

Individual DNA

from a mob attack on a cabbie...

and the cabbie's clothes.

"Get ready to match the stars."

Okay, Doc, tell me something I don't know.

Okay.

In fourth grade, I dropped out of karate class

because a kid half my size made me cry.

About the body.

No pedestrian fracture.

Almost without exception,

when a pedestrian's hit by a car,

there's certain expected wounds in his lower extremities...

most significantly, the pedestrian fracture.

Tip of the triangle

always points in the direction the car was moving.

His tibia's intact.

In fact, there's no bruising to the lower extremities.

So, no fractures, no bruising.

Cause of death?

Chest was crushed.

Multiple rib fractures.

And hence the white bucket

that you and David filled with his intestines.

They literally popped out.

So he wasn't hit by the taxi; he was run over?

Well, he would've died anyway.

He was stabbed.

Olean incised wound

to the abdomen,

five inches deep.

So how much time elapsed between when he was stabbed

and when he encountered the taxi?

I can't give you an exact time frame

except to say it wasn't immediate.

And, before you ask, we don't have an I.D.

But Missing Persons called.

A woman called and said

her son didn't come home last night.

She's on her way in.

You know you pulled me away

from a forensic anthropology seminar, right?

It's required.

It's part of the continuing education program.

Well, I'm sorry, but everyone seems to have something to do today.

I have a teenager who was run over by a taxi.

He wasn't hit by it; that's not what killed him. He was stabbed, fatally.

For now, I have no I.D., no suspects,

and no primary crime scene.

I need you.

How can I help?

Hey, Grissom?

The directionality of this drop

is facing the boulevard.

I think your primary crime scene

is this way.

Blood trail.

Want to go for a walk?

(camera shutter clicking)

Blood leads into the grass.

Trail's obscured.

Okay.

So where do we pick up the trail?

Well, vic's in his teens...

Probably wasn't on the playground.

My money's on the basketball court.

He crossed Lake Mead Boulevard at 8:15,

and it gets dark at 5:00.

He was here after dark.

I don't see any lights.

Droplets and castoff.

This is our primary crime scene.

So, maybe the killer tossed the knife.

It's a big dump site.

Yeah.

I'II, uh... order up some scent dogs...

get some uniforms.

That's him.

That's my boy.

I'm so sorry.

How did something like this happen?

He's only 14 years old.

Mrs. Branson, I'm afraid

you'll have to talk with the detectives.

Hey, Sara?

Hey.

You working that case

where some mob beat up an Indian cab driver

for hitting a kid?

Cabbie didn't actually hit the kid.

He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

You think it was racially motivated?

Yeah, I do.

White mob, white kid, dark-skinned cabbie...

I don't like the math.

Yeah.

We got to wait

for the science, don't we?

I'm trying.

That's the job.

Good luck.

Captain, there's a Mrs. Branson here to see you.

Oh, good. Send her in, Joe. Thanks.

Mrs. Branson, thank you for coming in...

Have you arrested that taxi driver?

He's in intensive care.

How did he not see my son?

That's a well-lit intersection.

My son is five foot six!

Please, Mrs. Branson... please, sit down.

Um...

(clears throat)

Your son was stabbed in Haskell Park,

and you live on Loring Avenue.

My best guess is that he was on his way home

when the accident occurred.

I... I don't understand.

The taxi didn't kill your son,

but someone did.

Did Todd have any problems that you're aware of?

Any problems at school?

No, no. Nothing like that.

He's a... he's a great kid.

He's... he's athletic. He's popular.

He's, uh... he's a good student.

We... we moved here from Portland nine months ago.

He fit right in.

Did you know he was in the park

after sundown? No.

I thought he was at a friend's for dinner.

He was supposed to call me, but you know teenagers.

Yeah, I do...

and they don't often confide in their parents, I know.

Uh... I've been on the run

from my ex-husband.

He's threatened to kill me and my boys.

I just try and stay one step ahead of him.

When was the last time you saw him?

In Portland.

He showed up outside of Todd's school.

The boys and I were on a bus that evening.

You know, a couple days ago, the phone rang.

I answered it.

It was him.

I don't know how he found us here

but, this weekend, the boys and I were going to disappear.

Why didn't you call the police?

Because you knew we couldn't protect you.

(metal detector humming)

(humming continues)

What have you got?

You got the gloves on.

Looking for a knife; uncover a gun.

What is happening to our parks?

(barking)

(barking)

Officer...

Back the dogs off, please.

Dead body found 20 yards from where our vic was knifed.

You think they're related?

Well, they're related by geography.

But, for now,

it's just a dead guy in the park.

Hey.

Hey.

Thought you had a couple days off.

I do, but I left these on my desk.

I'm on my way to Circus Circus

with five nine-year-olds.

It's Lindsey's birthday.

Got to wrap a Bridal Barbie.

What's a Bridal Barbie?

Funny.

Oh, blue... gunshot residue.

On our stabbing victim's jacket.

So it means that he may have fired the revolver

that you and Grissom found in the park?

Yeah. Too bad GSR testing

can't tie the vic to a particular gun.

Right.

Hmm... but maybe Grissom can.

Grissom?

Yeah. I just passed him in Ballistics.

He was meditating on your revolver.

Didn't even look up.

Excuse me.

Mm-hmm.

Have fun.

Thanks.

You know, you could have waited for me.

Take a look at this.

Looks like burnt skin.

I think maybe someone palmed the cylinder gap.

Todd Branson had GSR on his jacket.

If we could get his DNA off this revolver,

we could tie him to this.

Burnt skin is useless

for DNA.

Yeah, but what about sweat?

There's a 17% chance of DNA recovery

from a shooter's perspiration.

17%?

Yeah. New paper out of Australia.

You haven't seen it?

17% chance of DNA recovery

from the grip of a gun, 67% chance from a cigarette,

32% chance from the brim of a hat.

Would you like a copy?

I don't need one.

I have you.

Swab the pistol grip; get it to DNA.

Albert, did you notice if Todd Branson had

any burn marks on his palms?

No.

What about this guy?

Negative. What are you looking for?

A specific injury.

Well, I can't help you with burns,

but you'll want to check out this guy's right palm.

An incised wound.

Well, that's a common injury

sustained by knife-wielding killers.

So, assuming that this is the man

who stabbed Todd Branson, what killed this guy?

A bullet.

It's lodged in the left ventricle.

I was contemplating

my method of extraction when you arrived.

You reach in and pull it out.

Not if it's only a jacket fragment.

Maybe a frangible bullet

designed to fragment on impact?

That would explain

the mystery of the shattered femur.

It's covered in copper dust.

I'll remove the heart, peel back the myocardium,

and get you what's left of that bullet.

Did he have a dislocated shoulder?

Yeah. Torn musculature, but no inflammatory response.

It happened postmortem?

Excuse me. I'm headed over to the hospital.

Taxi driver didn't make it.

Another one for my table.

Emerson once said, "The mob is man

voluntarily descending to the nature of the beast."

The beast is up for murder.

Hey, buddy, how's it going?

I'm Detective Jim Brass from Las Vegas Police.

Your mother home?

No.

What's your name?

Eric.

Sorry about your brother, Eric.

Mom's out getting more boxes.

Yeah, she said that you were moving.

Where you going to?

You know, when I was a kid,

we moved around a lot.

It's not easy.

So you're going to be seeing your dad?

My dad's dead.

Died when I was two.

Hey, Eric, will you do me a favor?

When you see your mom,

ask her to give me a call, okay?

Okay.

Take care.

Is that the frangible?

Yep.

These were originally used in indoor shooting ranges

where lead buildup's a problem.

Copper's less toxic than lead.

Take a look.

On the left, bullet from the vic's heart.

On the right, bullet test-fired

from the revolver recovered at the scene.

Wow. Serendipity. Yep.

Hey.

Just made a match to your revolver.

Nice.

I ran the serial number through NOIO.

It's registered

to a Jonathan Ruark of San Jose, California.

John's my ex.

Is he in Las Vegas?

Well, we, uh...

we found a gun registered to him

in the park where your son was murdered.

But, when I spoke to your son Eric,

he told me that his father died years ago.

That's what I told both my boys.

I told them that John was killed in a car accident.

It's not easy to lie to them like that,

but every time I move I have to make up some crazy story.

I just want them to be able

to sleep at night.

Ms. Branson,

we also found a dead body in the park...

a white male in his mid-30s.

You think it's John?

We have no I.D., but we have a photograph.

No...

No, this...

This isn't John.

This isn't my ex.

This is Stewart.

It's Stewart Bradley.

He's my boyfriend.

Where have you been?

I went back to the park.

I kept thinking there must be some physical evidence

connecting the stabbing to the shooting.

Drag marks?

Leading from the basketball court

to Stewart Bradley's body.

We know Todd was bleeding,

but there were no blood drops around the drag marks.

So you're thinking someone else was there?

Now, the revolver was registered to the boy's biological father,

but they haven't seen each other in ten years.

Assuming Todd fired the gun, how did he get ahold of it?

Well, maybe Dad gave it to him behind Mom's back.

Or... maybe Todd wasn't the shooter.

True.

Presence of GSR only places Todd in the vicinity of the gunfire.

And, since there were no burn marks on Todd's palms,

evidence is suggesting someone else fired that gun.

Which brings us back to Dad.

You know something, John, you don't scare me.

According to your ex-wife, you're some kind of monster...

threatening her life,

setting her car on fire in Boston,

breaking and entering in Chicago,

showing up at your kid's school in Portland...

I don't know. I mean,

I thought maybe you'd be like the guy

in Sleeping with the Enemy.

You're more like Gumby, aren't you?

Look, if this is about my ex...

cop pulled me over outside Moapa.

Jane lives in Vegas.

I didn't violate any damn court order, all right?

You know where she lives.

Is that a crime?

Yesterday, your son Todd was murdered,

and that is a crime.

Hey!

John, baby,

I'm not talking about the weather here, man.

I'm talking about your son.

I haven't seen that kid since he was in his diapers.

Geez, I didn't kill him, if that's where you're going to.

Hey, what about Stewart Bradley?

Yesterday, he was murdered, too. He wasn't stabbed.

He was shot with your gun.

Which one?

Revolver. Smith & Wesson.

No, I don't have a Smith & Wesson.

It's registered to you, John.

Has your name on it.

That got stolen.

Oh. You file a police report?

But I know, you're busy.

You forgot. That's okay.

You know what I think happened? Here's what I think.

You called up Todd, you said, "Hey, Todd,

"why don't you meet me down at Haskell Park?

You know what? Why don't you bring Mom's new boyfriend along?"

No, no. Come on, man, whoa, whoa, hey.

You know what?

Last night, I was in Taos, New Mexico, okay?

I didn't cross over until...

it was in the afternoon in Nevada.

Check it out.

Adobe Inn.

Watched pay-per-view, and I had a pizza, okay?

(sighs)

May I see your hands, please?

You better do what he says.

He's in Crime Lab.

Can you hold him?

He's got some unpaid speeding tickets.

There's warrants have been issued.

Is three days good enough?

For now.

What do you weigh?

Uh... that's between me and my trainer.

Do I have to get a scale?

A buck 95, give or take a doughnut.

Don't even ask. I'm not telling you.

Warrick, would you lie down on the floor?

I don't get paid enough

to play dead.

Please?

(sighs)

Sara, grab Warrick's right arm.

See if you can drag him across the room.

This does have something to do with the case, right?

You don't trust me?

(sighs)

(grunts)

(Brown groans)

You're such a drag.

(Sidle chuckles)

Stay there a minute.

Excuse me. Hi.

Judy, right? Judy, would you

like to be part of a little experiment?

L-I'm a secretary.

Besides, I heard what you did to Greg's feet.

You'll keep your shoes on, I promise.

Can I get up?

No. Spin around.

Judy, would you take Warrick by the right arm

and try and drag him across the room?

Hi, Judy.

Hi.

(grunting)

Hey, I like it gentle, okay?

(grunts)

Thank you, Judy. You've been a big help.

Thanks.

You can go back to the water cooler.

You want to tell me what's going on here?

Stewart Bradley had

a dislocated shoulder postmortem.

He's about the same weight as you.

How does your shoulder feel?

You saw her dragging me around.

You know, I'm glad I could help.

I, uh... I'm late for the chiropractor's.

I'll send you the bill.

I get it.

I'm bigger than Judy.

In order to get momentum, she had to start and stop.

Which could explain Stewart Bradley's

postmortem dislocated shoulder.

Especially if he was dragged by somebody

with limited upper body strength.

Where does that get us?

Well, maybe Jan Branson.

She's about Judy's size.

Why would Jan Branson shoot her boyfriend?

He stabbed her son.

Motive?

I don't know.

But mothers protect their children, don't they?

Okay... okay, so...

she sends Todd home, not knowing the severity of his wound.

She buries her boyfriend's body.

She ditches the knife, which we still haven't found.

She hides the revolver...

So perhaps the evidence is in Mrs. Branson's hands.

Mrs. Branson, you got a minute?

Uh... Eric and I are leaving town.

Well, your ex has been picked up on an unrelated matter.

Even if he makes bail, you still got a day or two head start.

Good.

Ms. Branson, may I see your hands?

Excuse me?

Could be important. Palms up, please.

Hi, pal.

Hey, Eric. Hi.

This is Mr. Grissom. We work together.

May I see your hands, please?

We have to get going.

As soon as Eric shows Mr. Grissom his hands,

you're on your way.

Palms up.

Eric...

I need to know how you burned your hand.

Look at Mr. Grissom, Eric. Not your mother, okay?

Ms. Karpell.

Eric, it's okay to answer the question.

I burned it on an iron.

I think something a lot more dangerous

than that burned your hand.

We recovered a gun...

in the park.

Your burn indicates that your hand

was over this gap when the gun was fired.

(gunshot)

I followed Todd to the park.

Todd, I got your e-mail. What's up?

We're not moving again.

I want you to tell Mom you're passing on that promotion.

You should discuss this with your mother.

She'll do whatever you say. You don't understand.

I am not leaving my friends 'cause of you!

Todd, this has nothing to do with me.

Todd, no!

(gunshot)

(gunshot)

Gotta get home.

(gun clatters)

Hide the body.

I was just looking out for my brother.

I swabbed the pistol grip of the revolver.

The DNA from the suspect's perspiration

isn't a match to Todd's,

but it is male,

with eight markers in common,

and familial relationship.

We found gunshot residue

on Todd's jacket.

We assumed that Todd fired the gun.

But I think maybe he was standing next to you

when you fired the gun.

You didn't go to the park to stop Todd, did you?

He went to the park to stop you.

Eric, what's up?

TODD: Whoa! Eric, Eric!

Eric, don't be stupid.

I'm not moving again! Not 'cause of him!

(gunshot)

Go home!

Where did you get the revolver, Eric?

From me.

Ms. Karpell...

Eric, why don't we step out in the hall for a few minutes.

So the gun was in your possession,

and you didn't say anything.

I, um... I had it in a lockbox.

And, uh... when I got that call from John a couple of days ago,

I took it out and I put in my nightstand.

I didn't even know it was missing until this morning.

And then I thought that John

must have gotten in the house and taken it.

I was so sure that he was the one who killed Stewart.

I've spent the last ten years

looking over my shoulder every day.

Your boyfriend was found

carrying a knife the night he died.

I spoke to some of his friends and associates, and no one ever

remembers him carrying a knife.

Ms. Branson?

You warned your boyfriend about your ex-husband, didn't you?

He asked me what was wrong,

and I shouldn't have said anything.

He panicked.

He overreacted.

He started carrying a knife.

What's going to happen to Eric?

He'll be remanded

to a juvenile detention center, awaiting trial.

And then?

If he's convicted of a homicide,

he'll be sent to a state custodial facility

until he's 21.

Where we at, Greg?

I paged you, like, ten times.

I was busy.

Well, so was I.

First, I processed Mr. Khandelwhal's clothing.

Then I compared the DNA

I lifted from said clothing to the DNA from

the Dirty Dozen.

All I see is a sheet.

But what I do is art.

And now, I'm ready to unveil it.

Welcome to the new and improved Match Game.

Now, Graham Cooper grabbed Rajeeb's collar...

(men yelling angrily)

Claude Allen

and Barry Lawrence used their fists...

(men clamoring and blows landing)

Joey Gillman, Bill Kendal

and Rick Midgen got into it, too.

Very nice presentation, Greg.

What about the others? They all participated.

They even bragged about it.

Well, only six of the 12 left behind their epithelials

when their skin made contact with the vic's clothing.

I've got no physical evidence to tie the others to the crime.

(indistinct conversation echoing eerily)

Stop!

(tires screeching, body thudding)

Hey!

(mob yelling)

The mob mentality...

relieves individuals

from having to distinguish between right and wrong.

Anonymity shields them from prosecution though.

Yeah, six of them, to be exact.

Unfortunately, physical evidence is limited by human action.

Well, nothing's absolute, Gil... even forensics.

Yeah, well...

this is as far as we can take it.

It's up to you guys.

The physical evidence confirms that you're the "hero"

that pulled the driver out of the cab.

I'd do it again, too.

Mr. Cooper, why don't we just hear

what Captain Brass has to say.

You're looking at first degree murder.

What?!

Mr. Khandelwhal didn't make it.

(sighs)

And, for the record, he didn't hit that boy.

He wasn't trying to flee the scene.

He was reaching for his radio

trying to call for help.

You know who the real hero of this is?

Rajeeb Khandelwhal.

The taxi driver.

So...

what does that make you?

D.A. Willing to deal?

(heavy sigh)

(over speaker) We want your buddies.

I mean, either you talk or they'll talk.

I mean, it doesn't matter.

And the clock is ticking.

Everything

Everything in its right place

In it's right place.