All language subtitles for CSI.Crime.Scene.Investigation.s03e18.WEB-DL.720p

(distant siren wails)

(helicopter whirring)

(distant bird screeches)

(thunder rumbles)

(engines rewing)

(yells)

(grunts)

Billie!
(groaning)

Oh, my God, Billie,

are you okay?

What did you hit?

So, according to the girl,
one minute

she's blasting through the mud
and having fun,

everything's great,

the next thing
she knows,

she's lying upside
down in the dirt,

staring at
chemical waste.

She called Hazmat.

Now, it's not toxic.

They saw the barrel
was buckling,

they thought it
might explode,
so they opened it.

Ugh!

Yeah, whoa-ho.

(coughing)

Soap mummy.

Adipocere,

a.k.a. Mortuary wax.

This is what you get
when fatty tissue decomposes

in an alkaline
environment with
limited oxygen.

All you need
is a little moisture

and enough time.

Anaerobic bacteria
digest body fats,

converting them
into a waxy solid.

Kind of like the way
they make vegetable shortening.

I may never eat
another French fry.

How long you think
he's been in there?

How do you know
it's a he?

Five, six weeks,
minimum.

With all this wind and weather,

any evidence of the dump
is long gone.

We got evidence.

Signed, sealed and delivered.

Gentlemen, saponification
occurs most frequently

in infant burials.

That's because
their bodies

have more fat,
and their bacterial flora

aren't fully developed.

Slowly...

Hold it.

Huh.

Look at this.

Something for Catherine.

All right, let's pull
the rest of this out.

Now, historically,

saponified corpses that maintain
their physical features

were looked upon as, uh,
incorruptible, even saintly.

So, when it happened
to children,

it just reinforced that notion.

Hand me that foot there,
would you?

Okay.
(gagging)

You know,
interestingly enough,

since formaldehyde is alkaline
and American caskets are sealed,

there are more bodies
in this country

turning to soap now

than at any other time
in human history.

We are, in fact,

the adipocere
capital

of the world.

USA... we're number one.

(horns honking)

Are you serious?

David lost a body?

It happens.

When I was working
in Minneapolis,

we had two John Smiths
come in on the same day.

Sent the wrong one
back to Canada.

Anyway, our body's
still in the morgue.

David finally processed
his ten card.

Guy's name is Keith Mercer.

When did he come in?

11 days ago.

Found him in an alley

off of Fremont

in a pile of garbage
next to the dumpster.

11 days ago.

I guess we got no more
crime scene to process, huh?

Initially, the police
thought he was homeless.

He hadn't bathed,

no wallet,
watch or keys,

and he has scars
on his lower legs.

And a nice laceration

right here, with ecchymosis
on his left temple.

Yeah, cause
of death was

blunt force trauma to the head.

Could have been
an accident.

Could have been a lot of things.

Evidence without context
is ambiguous at best.

Did you ever chop wood,
split a log?

I've seen it done.

You should try
it sometime.

I find it relaxing.

Mm.

The blow here was
delivered in a
similar fashion.

The temporal
bone was hit,

driven down hard.

Upper palate smashed.

Most of the teeth gone.

What about the foot?

It looks as though
that's been sheared off.

Yeah, by something
fast and powerful.

Industrial accident?

No, industrial accidents
are messy.

These cuts
are too clean.

My guess...

single impact.

How about an axe then?

Possible.
I'll cast the tool marks.

Body in a drum in the middle

of the mountains.

Well, if the head
and hands were missing,

I'd be saying
mob hit.

Could be ritual
mutilation or
fetish murder.

So, ID from dental records
is out.

Right.

How about DNA?

Bone marrow
may still be viable.

My thoughts exactly.

The preferred sample
is a large bone

with a portion of joint,

then we freeze,
grind and sequence.

Want a breast
or thigh?

It's your kitchen.

(whirring)

Hey, Sara, I don't want
to cross any lines here,

but, uh,
I've got this buddy

who's not going out
with anybody...

No. No, no,
forget it.

Hey, Grissom bailed.

You guys are with me.

Good.

He's a cool guy.
No.

I mean, you don't...
No, Nick.

Listen, just hear me out
for a second.

(grinding)

(high-pitched whirring)

Gone but not forgotten.

DNA hit
on the soap mummy?

Yeah. His name was
Christian Cutler.

You got to love
CODIS.

What's his felony?

He wasn't in CODIS.

Department of Defense Registry.

He was in
the Army.

An E-5 sergeant,

honorably discharged
three years ago.

The guy drove tanks.

Well, that fits.

You know that fraternity ring?

It's not a fraternity ring.

Omega Zeta Alpha
is a mechanical engineering

honor society.

Hard-core mechie.

Hey, hey...

want to know
where his drum came from?

(distant siren wails)

Chemical companies serialize
all their shipping containers.

That way, if hazardous waste
ends up where it shouldn't be,

they know where it came from.

(loud techno music playing)

This place seems lively
for a warehouse.

A good place for
a rave, though.

Hello.

The cover's
25 bucks

each.

I got a coupon.

(crashing
and loud music playing)

One minute to go,

and Slaughter the Bot
pulls into the lead!

Robot Rumble.

Demolition derby
by remote control.

They got a show
on cable TV.

And here comes Spiker Chick.

The death blade goes up,
and the death blade comes down.

Oh! Slaughter
the Bot is made

of titanium, but how
much damage can he take?

Uh-oh, it looks like a jam-up,
but with this much horsepower,

it won't last long.

Slaughter's driving Yellow Belly
into the wall,

trying to shake him off.

Oh, it's mayhem in the middle.

Yeah! Yeah!

...on his back,
taking a pounding.

Watch out for Spiker Chick
with the death blade.

Oh, no! We got
a Spiker Chick sandwich!

Spiker Chick
is going for Slaughter.

Oh, again and again!

Oh, and in a dazzling array
of skill and deception...

Metal weapons,

money, competition,
testosterone.

We got a roomful
of murder suspects.

Your winner:

Slaughter the Bot!

Whoo! Whoo-whoo!

(beeping)

Bots fight all over the country,

on TV, all over the world.

This is an informal venue

where competitors can come

to hone their skills
and their machines.

You have
a gaming license?

I don't need one.

See, I just put on a show.

If people bet,
that's their business.

You're the only house in Vegas
that doesn't take a cut.

Hey, my daddy ran
an independent
shipping company.

He ran it right
into the ground.

He died broke,
but he left me

a bunch of empty warehouses.

I needed revenue,

so I developed a new market.

Hey, Jimbo, you looked
ferocious out there.

Thanks, Ginger.

We lost.

Yeah, but I like a guy
who goes down with style.

Look available, be unobtainable.

Keeps them coming back for more.

Want to tell me

what this is all about?

That's Chris Cutler.

He's dead.

We found his body

stuffed in a chemical waste
drum from this warehouse.

When was the last time
you saw Christian?

God, about six weeks ago.

Robot Rumble, big free-for-all.

Smash-N-Burn
was on fire that night.

Dismantled three or four bots.

Yeah! (laughing)

He had the kind of night

that most of these
boys dream about.

Using the thing that he built

to destroy the thing
that the other guy built.

It's a basic male drive.

That kind of puts that whole

weapons of mass
destruction thing

into perspective.

I take it this Chris
was not well liked.

Let me put it to you this way...

nobody likes
a winner who needs

to shove it
in your face.

We're going to need you

to identify the guys
he fought with that night.

As well as their bots.

We can't have a murder
without a murder weapon.

We'll take them all.

Keith went to Yosemite
to climb El Capitan.

The Shield Headwall.

Did you go with him?

I drove to Taos
to see my sister.

And got back when?

Ten days ago.

Keith's gear was in the living
room, but he wasn't there.

What did you do then?

I called his cell phone.

I called his office.

And then I called the Park
Service, and all they said

was that Keith had been by
to pick up his permit.

So then I checked the hospitals
up there and nothing.

And then I called
the hospitals in Vegas.

And then I called the police.

I did everything I could do
and nobody would pay attention.

Mrs. Mercer...

you have my attention.

And I'd like to see your house.

Looks like his gear's all here.

I don't see a sleeping
bag, though.

It looks like someone

was trying to clean up, too,

but forgot to use

their Murphy's Oil Soap.

Yeah.

Luminol.

You called it.

Positive for blood.

And a trail
of bloody footprints.

I may have blood here, too.

Grissom.

I think I might have
just found our murder weapon.

Spiker Chick,

Donsueme,

Slaughter 10?

You really think
one of these things
killed your vic?

They're fast,
they're powerful,

and the weapon
characteristics fit,

so I can't rule them out.

Well, you know what they say...

it's what's on the inside
that counts.

(drill whirs)

Well put.

I got blood.

Yeah, join the club.

I'll take these to Greg.

I'll get going
on the tool marks.

(saw whirs)

Any luck?

No.

Tool marks don't match
the vic's wounds.

Mm.

Could have saved you the time.

DNA beats tool marks
every time, you know.

I ran your blood samples.

Got a match,
all three of them.

Victim's blood,

on three different parts
from three different bots?

That doesn't
make any sense.

Well, where did
the parts come from?

I buy and sell and trade
parts all the time.

From all over the place.

Salvage yards, swap meets, eBay.

They usually have blood on them?

I don't check.

Doesn't matter
if they're clean or dirty,

only that they work.

Look, me and Chris
are partners.

I built the bot,
he drove it.

We kicked ass,
made good cash.

Why would I
want him dead?

You know, Brian,

I mean...

your best buddy
drops off

the face of the Earth

for six weeks...

You get a call
or e-mail

or postcard? No.

But you care
so much about him

that you do absolutely nothing
to find out what happened.

You can understand why we're
here, so straighten us out.

There was nothing weird about
Chris being gone like that.

He did stage effects
for Pyrotechnica.

Had some pretty good tunes.

Worth listening to.

Or not. Anyway...

when Chris
is on the road

he's a vapor trail.

He's not a phone call
kind of guy.

That's a nice ATV.

You ever take it
to the mountains?

Yeah, sometimes.

I, uh, I dabble
in ambient music.

She wants her daddy.

Yeah, I get some
pretty good samples

out in the mountains,
especially at night.

(baby crying)

Oh. Shh, shh, shh.

You know, you got a lot
of hobbies, Brian.

Oh, you don't have hobbies,
you go nuts.

Human beings are designed
to make things.

It's hard-wired
into our brains.

We make things and build things
to make more things.

It's what sets us apart
from the other animals.

Except monkeys.
Primates in general, I guess.

Brian, Brian.

Yeah?

Hobbies take up space.

You, uh, you don't seem to have
a whole lot of that here.

Do you have a workshop?

Uh, I rent a space.

(saw whirring)

All right, guys,
we got to clear the room.

Come on, let's go.

Excuse me, bud, you
want to shut that down?
Yeah.

Need you guys
all here to
clear outside.

Step out, would you?

(chuckling)
Oh. Okay.

Slow day oppressing the weak?

Don't scuff your jackboots,
Heir Commissar.

Just keep moving.

Hey, Nick.

All right,
we're all clear.

Is this
a machine shop

or a junkyard?

I guess, this is what passes
for pinups for these guys.

This is Brian's bot right here.

Smash-N-Burn.

And it's got
a spinning weapon.

I'll take it in
for tool marks.

It's missing parts, too.

So this is Hammer of God.

Or at least what's left of it.

Hammer of God
is against the ropes.

Rust stain.

23 inches.

That's standard diameter

for a 55-gallon drum.

(metallic clink)

Catherine, I've got spatter.

(saw whirring
and man screaming)

I think we've got
our murder scene.

I think we just got Ginger.

(distant siren wails,
horn honks)

We traced the machine shop back
through a holding corporation.

To me.

I own it.

It's a rental
property.

It's a good one.

It's popular
with the bot boys.

I would have told you
if you'd bothered to ask.

Well, we found this

in Brian's station...
your fingernail.

They break.

Yeah, they also scratch.

There were skin scrapings
under the nail.

We tested the epithelials.

They're Christian Cutler's.

Your shop,

your fingernail,

your waste drum
with a dead guy in it.

I stop by every
now and then

to make sure my
clients are happy.

Chris was there alone
one night working.

He kind of got
the wrong idea.

Play time.

No, Chris, knock it off.
It's not funny.

Shoving that rack
in my face ain't
too funny, either.

Stop it! Knock it off!

And you didn't think
this was... worth mentioning?

Hey, you guys
asked me

when I saw him last.

This happened the day before
the big free-for-all.

So, that's the price
of doing business?

Yeah, you could call it that.

Here's the way

I'd
call it...

Give me that,
you son of a bitch.

Hey, hey easy
with that.

(screaming)

Listen, I let the geeks
fantasize about me.

And most of them are harmless,

happy to stare and then go home
and spank the monkey

like good little college boys.

But Chris was
a dumb, vicious
Army grunt.

And maybe I wasn't
as careful around him

as I should have been,

but that doesn't mean
that I killed him.

Mrs. Mercer,
we found this statue

on your mantle.

It had your
fingerprints on it.

It was a wedding gift.

Well, we also found
your husband's blood

on the base of it.

Did you touch
or move this statue

at any time
in the last ten days?

Keith hated that thing.

He was always trying
to toss it.

When I came home,
I found it on the floor.

I thought
he'd put it there.

I found it in the hall closet,
in the garage.

I even found it in the car once.

It was like a game
for us.

Look, I came to you.

You guys have been
giving me the runaround

for over a week.

Could you tell us

what you kept in this box?

We inherited a coin collection,
and we figured...

we'd save it
for a rainy day.

(beeps)

No "Cutler-comma-Christian."

Ring's not his.

Never went to college.

That part wasn't in
his service record.

Scroll up.

Check the K's.

Hmm.

Hold it.

Bingo.

The rings belongs to you, Brian.

You must have dropped it

when you stuffing your buddy's
corpse into a barrel.

(panting)

Here's the way
this is going to play out.

This is the
best-case scenario.

We arrest you
for murder.

The, uh, the jury
likes your face,

and, uh, you get Man One.

Then you get to spend
the next 15 years

staring at your wife and kid
through a wire glass window.

Maybe if you're
lucky, uh...

when you get out,

you can take her
to the prom.

She's going to be
so proud of her daddy.

(sobbing)

(sobbing)

It was an accident.

You want a tissue
or something?

No.

Hmm.

We were in the shop.

It was real late,
no one else there.

I'd made some changes
to Smash-N-Burn's program.

We were testing them out.

Smash was acting...
really flaky.

Sluggish, and then...

(screaming)

It just went crazy.

With all that blood.

And... Chris...

in the middle of it
just lying there.

I had to make
it go away.

Hey...

Hey, Brian.

If it was an accident,
why didn't you report it?

It was my fault.

I was... I was so scared.

You disposed of the body.

Cleaned up the scene,
dismantled the bot,

and sold the parts.

All I could think about
was my wife,

and my little girl.

My little girl.

I didn't want
to lose them.

You got to believe me.

It was an accident.

(sobbing)

I'm so sorry.

(sobbing)

I'm so sorry.

The bank flagged Keith
Mercer's ATM card.

Really?

Somebody tried
to use it.

(laughs)

I guess the machine ate it, huh?

Yeah, but we got
the stomach contents.

Wicked.

(beeping)

(beeps)

(beeping)

(beeping)

You're not Keith Mercer,
but you have been

using his credit cards.

Do you care to tell us
about that?

He lent me his stuff,
told me

to have a
good time.

When did he tell you this?

Yesterday.

Yesterday?

Mm-hmm.

Mr. Mercer's been
in the morgue for ten days.

So unless
you were at a seance...

I found him, yeah...

Did you find
that suit there as well?

No. I-I bought the suit.

With this credit card?

No. Um...

I used this one.

It's not a platinum.

It's a... it's a gold.

So this is Willy
Reddington's original gear.

This guy was classy.

He goes into a store,
buys new clothes,

and leaves the old ones behind.

And they tossed them
in the Dumpster.

I wish these people would
start checking IDs.

This is Vegas, baby.

Anybody can get lucky.

So, blood?

Not a drop.

No blood on his clothing.

The shoe treads don't match.

And the guy's got no car.

Yeah, how do you dump
a body with no car?

What did he do, drag
Mercer down the Strip?

And if you're robbing a house,
why don't you take more stuff?

Everything was still there.

Except that
coin collection.

I think the killer knew
what he was going to steal.

Smash-N-Burn isn't some
cyborg death machine

with a mind of its own.

I mean, you got
to drive them.

Well, we prove it
didn't happened

the way that Brian
said it did,

you may have your killer.

Yeah.

(whirring)

Okay, here we go... I think.

It's not responding. It's...

Man...
(drill whirs)

You got a
transmitter module
in the remote

and a receiver
module in the bot.

They work
as a pair.

Yeah, and in every competition,
each team

is assigned a different
numbered frequency.

That way, each driver
can control their bot

without interfering
with anybody else's.

Or vice versa.

This is Smash-N-Burn's receiver.

And this is
Brian's transmitter.

The numbers don't match.

Okay, so when Christian died,

Brian wasn't controlling
the bot.

Somebody was.

Brian claims the
bot malfunctioned.

Well, we know it didn't.

It was responding

to a different
control frequency.

I don't think
he knew that.

If he did, he was
protecting somebody.

Hey, boss.

Um, I wasn't able
to pull any DNA

off your vic's
personal effects,

but I did find
something else.

Uh, those yellow spots
on his belt...

I ran them
through the GCMS.

You ran it?

Yeah.

They're sulfur.

Now, Warrick
mentioned something

about a missing
coin collection.

Now, some dealers...
bad ones... use sulfur

to polish up
coins for sale.

Shake and bake.

So I figure
that your killer

is either a coin dealer
or a collector.

And he transferred
the sulfur to the body

when disposing of it.

Are you a numismatist,
Greg?

Oh, my grandpa started me off
with a 1909 V.D.B.

"S" Lincoln penny.

Often referred to as a V.D.B.

Because it bears the monogram
of its engraver,

Victor D. Brenner.

It's a low mintage.

So, let's see, you surf,
you scuba dive,

you're into latex...

you like fashion models

and Marilyn Manson.

And you also have
a coin collection.

Weird, huh?

Well...

I raise cockroaches.

Look available,

be unobtainable.

Except when you're trying
to beat a murder rap.

Excuse me?

Whatever you
did worked.

Brian's going
down for you.

Oh, so, first you accuse me
of whacking Christian.

Now you're accusing me
of doing Brian?

Well, you are the queen bee.

The drones line up

to service you.

What the drones do
is make bots and break bots.

And while they're up wiring
and soldering all night long,

you know where I am?

I'm at home.

With this.

Does it have a name

or did it come with the wallet?

Pretty funny for a scientist.

Let me make it easy
for you.

And in case you can't spell,

that "E-S-Q" means
he and his entire law firm

are going to be
all over your ass.

Next time you want
to talk to me,

talk to him.

(knocking)

Hey, I was able to pull

the cell phone records
for our vic.

Most of the calls
went to the office,

two went to the wife.

But there are two
who are interesting.

Jones Collectibles.

Guy is a small-time fence.

That mean anything to you?

Does now.

(door buzzing)

Anything I can help you with,
let me know.

I heard that you dealt in coins.

Really?

From whom?

Grissom.

He's a friend of mine.

We work together.

I'm looking to see
what you got.

I'd like to make a trade.

Why the flip?

I've been meaning
to get it slabbed.

(sirens blaring in distance)

Not bad.

No hairlines.

No fly specks.

You got yourself a slider.

I'd like to get myself
a 1916 "D" dime.

Been all over Vegas,
can't find one.

You got any?

I might have one,
but it's pricey.

Well, so is mine.

1907 Saint Goddins

double eagle gold piece.

I've only seen that in books.

And that's as close as you get.

If you want to deal
for the "D" dime, it's yours.

I'll take it.

The bot was on
a different control frequency,

which means someone was using
a different transmitter.

Puppet master.

Somebody else
pulling the strings.

That would explain
why the bot was sluggish.

I think she's sick, Brian.

Maybe something's jammed.

So, what's the range of
those controllers anyway?

It's limited.

Definitely not outside
this building.

So, if somebody hijacked
Brian's bot,

they'd have to be nearby,
but... obviously,

out of sight.

Well, there's a good place
to hide up there.

Opportunity.

STOKES:
Maybe we've got motive.

Check it out.

Ooh, proud papa.

The man who built

Hammer of God.

Which leaves us
with... means.

Transmitter modules.

Yeah, check out
the 80s.

81, 82, 83... 85,

86?

And look what's missing: 84.

(Stokes chuckles)

I bet I know who's got it.

Guy came in a couple
of weeks ago

with this collection
looking to sell.

I bought it.

There must be $50,000 worth
of coins in here,

isn't there, Greg?
(indistinct police radio
transmissions)

At least.

You must have a record
of the transaction.

I know I got it somewhere.

Maybe it's in your car.

Mind if we help you look?

No, go ahead.

I got nothing
to hide.
(tosses keys)

Ten-inch subs.

400 watts.

Four channels?

That's state-of-the-art.

Those hot, too?

It kind of looks
like the DeLorean

from
Back to the Future.

Trace amounts of sulfur.

You don't artificially

tone your coins,
do you, Mr. Jones?

Hey, my merchandise
is authentic.

Well, you may have
some authentic blood

in your car as well.

Yeah, well, I cut my finger
the other day.

Hmm.

That's Keith Mercer's blood.

You know it and when
I get back to the lab,

I'm going to prove it.

I think you're busted.

So... what happened?

I lost.

You didn't lose.

You were destroyed.

(laughing harshly)

Ooh!

You got nothing left, Luke!

(laughing)

(horn blows)
Yeah!

And you wanted revenge.

You couldn't kill
Christian's bot

so you killed Christian.

I heard Brian killed him.

This is the
transmitter

from Christian's robot.

So?

So... it's got your DNA on it.

Brian wasn't in
control of the bot.

You were.

(metal clattering)

(whirring)

(screaming)

Oh, my God!

I can't turn it off!

(screaming)

The bot wasn't
the only thing you
manipulated, Luke.

Chris!
Chris!

Oh, my God.

What did you do?!

It was an accident.

The bot just... Oh, my God!

Oh, we've got
to call the cops!

If you do that,
they're going to think

you did this.
I didn't do it.

They're going to put you
in prison for life.

I'll keep this quiet, but you
have to get rid of this body.

(grunting)

Brian gave you up.

No place to hide now.

I know what it must've been like
for you.

Having created
something,

only to lose it.

Let me guess.

You have a kid?

Yes, I have a daughter.

And you think just because
you squeeze a baby out

from between your legs,
you know how I feel?

That's biology.

Any animal can do that.

Uh-huh.

But I took a thought
from my head and I made it real.

It was... perfect.

I guess the
only flaw then

was you.

How's it look?

Oh.

Blood in the car
is the victim's.

Keith Mercer
made a bad call.

Yeah, it sounds like
a pretty nice collection.

How about I come by Saturday
and take a look?

Uh, this weekend's no good.

My wife and I are out of town.

Hey, what are you doing?

Told you that dude was busted.

What happened
to your enthusiasm, Greg?

Well... every time I make
another DNA match in here,

my world gets a little smaller.

Out there... felt large.

Out there means a pay cut.

I'm not about the money.

That's good to know.