All language subtitles for CSI.S05E16.Big.Middle.720p.WEB-DL.DD5.1.H.264-DNR

Hide beetle.

This guy's been here at least two weeks.

Number four buckshot, maybe?

Well, his pockets are empty.

There's no wallet or any other kind of ID.

What'd be the point of blowing someone's face off

if you're going to leave their driver's license?

Well, he's all yours.

Hey, Cath.

What's the deal?

You're coming to my crime scenes before I get to them now?

Weren't you on a 419 in North Town?

Guess you missed me.

I'm just documenting, then I'm leaving.

- Lot of animal activity.
- Well, out here,

I guess that's rodents, coyote, buzzards...
occasional mountain lion.

What do we have here?
A little ice?

The end of Rainbow Canyon.

And this must be the pot of gold.

Las Vegas...
Greenbacks?

American Football Franchise Association.

That league folded about 20 years ago.

Now, that's what I call a rat hole.

Shotgun wounds tend to be separate hits from individual pellets.

But only if the shooter's far enough away from the target.

This guy was shot at close range.

Right between the numbers.

I don't get it.

Grissom calls me up, I come out here, and I find you.

Things were a hell of a lot simpler
when we were all on the same shift.

You saying you don't like me as your boss?

Whatever.

I got a shot cup.

Doesn't make any sense,
'cause our vic was definitely shot point blank.

Yeah, a shot cup coming out of a shell
is like throwing a potato chip.

It doesn't really go that far.

Another casing.

That's got to account for at least two more shots.

Typical pump-action.

Holds four in the mag, one in the pipe.

This was a chase.

We know where it ended, so... let's find where it began.

There's not much out here to do for a couple of guys,
other than hike or hunt.

And the vic wasn't dressed for either.

So they were up to no good.

Is that a trail over there?

What you got?

- C-note in a beaver dam.
- Hang on.

Damn.

This beaver's doing nice work.

They should do a commercial for the city.

Las Vegas...

where even the beaver can strike it rich.

Please tell me I finally got a hooker roll.

Sorry.
Maybe next time.

Coroner was just here.

Maurice Hudson, 37, lives in Tahoe.

$14,000 in cash, and credit cards are accounted for.

That much cash?
Guy must have been a gambler.

Casino W-2s.
Looks like we got a winner.

Name tag printed at the Tangiers.
Probably a convention.

I'll check it out.

So tell me about the body.

Well, livor mortis is settled,

which means the body's been laying in this position for a while.

Pronounced petechiae on the chest from lack of oxygen.

Guy was struggling to breathe, pressure built up,

and it popped the blood vessels.

Yeah, I saw that purple fiber.
I was going to collect it.

I just work on my own rhythm.

I don't see anything purple in the room.

This table's cracked.

And we have what appears to be ejaculate.

Me, too.
This guy was a machine.

And he got around.

Have Sara process the sheets,
and then pull the hotel surveillance.

Got you.

We want to see who came... and went.

Any luck?

Hotel gave us copies of the surveillance tapes
from the time Hudson checked in.

I'm all the way up to last night, and he's always solo.

Until Mia processes the sheet, there's no way to know

whether the semen is the result of self-service only.

No way.

Soft porn couldn't crack that table.

If he had a partner, that would explain

the unusually large sweat stain I found on the sheet.

No cell phone.
No calls out.

Always alone.

Who was he with?

Maurice Hudson is a perplexing subject.

Check out his eyes.

Bulbar hemorrhages.

And petechial hemorrhages on the chest.

- Asphyxiation.
- Yep. Lividity,

dark blue-purple, settled in the posterior area.

Well, that makes sense.
We found him face-up.

Yeah? So then explain the additional blanching patterns
on the chest and thighs.

Blanching happens when something's pressed against the area,
displacing blood.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking,
but the body wasn't moved.

And these two lividity patterns taken together

are consistent with him being on his back.

So there was something on top of him?

Compression asphyxia?

It took at least two to three very long minutes to kill him.

And whatever was on him remained there until livor set,
about eight to ten hours.

Well, whatever it was was gone when we got there.

I want two people in the room at all times, double counts, every pile.

If you don't agree, do it all again.

I know the drill, boss.

I think an ID off the victim's ring.

Let's hear it.

The AFFA. It only lasted a few years,
and only one player wore the number 12 for the Greenbacks.

- He was a wide receiver.
- Okay, what's his name?

Gabe Miller.
Fits the general description.

All right, well, give it to Brass.
We'll follow up.

Minimal hemorrhage around the head wounds suggests
the heart was destroyed first.

Close-to-contact SGW caused

extensive pulpifaction on the heart and bilateral hemothraces.

Yeah, and that was embedded in the back of his skull.

Not uncommon for a close-range shot.

I think the guy used a sawed-off shotgun.

- How can you tell?
- Check out the stria.

- Yeah, what is it?
- Impatience.

Sawing off the barrel of a shotgun is hard work.

Those that do it are usually in a rush in to get it done.

Leaves a burr on the edge of the barrel.

So every time the weapon fired,
the burr on the barrel raked the shotcup...

...before the pellets blasted holes into Mr. Gabe Miller, here.

- That's the vic's name?
- Yeah, why? Is it that funny?

It's the same name as our new councilman from Ward Seven.

Interesting story. The guy played pro football...

Yeah, wide receiver for the Vegas Greenbacks, right?

Right.

Well, his team ring was on this guy's finger.

Yeah, then you mis-ID'd the vic.

Gabe Miller's still alive.

As much as a politician can be.

- So, this is your ring?
- Yeah, that's my old number.

Haven't seen that ring in a long time.

Why is that?

Every cent I earned playing ball went up my nose
or on some dog at Las Vegas Downs.

I was a real mess until I accepted Jesus Christ
as my personal savior.

Do you got a problem with that, Captain?

No. No, no. No, I...
No, I'm just listening.

Well, there's no need to keep talking
unless you're gonna speak your mind.

Okay, Councilman.

Say you're an alcoholic.

One day you decide to give up the bottle.

And, more often than not, you're gonna trade in the shot glass

for a dozen Krispy Kremes and start pounding
them away with both hands.

You know what I mean?

So you think I'm an addictive personality.

Only now I'm into God instead of greyhounds?

No. I-I'm really not making any judgments.

When the Lord cleaned up my life,

I promised Him I'd always remember the man that I used to be,

so I'd never be that man again.

I dedicated 20 years of my life to playing football.

And I pawned my championship ring for a $50 parlay.

Sir, they're ready for you now.

You can file a claim at our office and get
the ring back any time you want.

I don't need trophies anymore, Captain.

Good luck on your case.

Take a look.

Based on birefringence,
your fiber's the product of a bivoltine moth.

- You could just say it's silk.
- Fine.

Acid washed, dyed, Tasar silk.

Color's unique.
Not found in our database or the Feds.

- That's it?
- That's it.

It's not like you to get right down to business.

Even I have off days, Sara.

There's only one convention at the Tangiers this weekend.

It's the same name tag
as the one we found on the vic's clothes.

A hogs 'n heifers convention.

Hudson wasn't fat. What was he doing here?

Maybe he used to be.

Or maybe he was a chubby chaser.

Hey, some men like curves.

There's curves, and then there's rolls.

Look, have tons of fun.

I got a murder-suicide to cover.

Something heavy killed our vic.

Heavy object, heavy person.

Listen, pass this photo around the registration desk.

Who knows.

Maybe he did like big girls.

Where are you going?

I'm going dancing.

Excuse me. Have you ever seen this man before?

Excuse me, ladies.

Have you ever seen this man before?

Excuse me.
I'm with the Crime Lab.

- Have you ever seen this man before?
- Never seen him before.

Do you see something you like?

I'm sorry. I...

I noticed your lovely purple undergarments.

I bought it here at the convention, honey.

You did? Thank you.

Fat girl, gay guy.
It's not unheard of.

Yes, he's been to some of our events.

We've exchanged hellos.

Was he here last night?

I'm pretty sure I saw him at the mixer.
Why?

We're investigating Mr. Hudson's death.

- Was he with anyone?
- I didn't notice.

But you could check the message board.

Message board?

When you see somebody you like,
you leave them a note.

If they respond, you're in luck.

If they don't,
it's softer than face-to-face rejection.

We get that enough as it is.

Roughly 25,000 in cash,

money bands from five different sports books,

some assorted trash and junk, and these.

Without the vig, these are both $5,000 bets.

Duke minus 17 on a Tuesday,
and Louisville plus 23 on a Friday.

They winners or losers?

You know what? I don't follow college roundball anymore.

Most of the good players go pro right out of high school.

The Mirage.

The Stardust, The Golden Nugget, and Sam's Town.

It's down the Strip, across Fremont, upup Boulder Highway.

It's a classic runner's route.

Well, if he was placing bets for a bookie,
maybe we can find out who it is.

So I tracked down the football ring
from the pawn shop records.

The ring was bought by Kelvin Russell.

Get this.

Russell worked for the VSL.
The Vegas Sports Line.

Yeah, I've heard of them.

They set the spread for almost every sports
book in Vegas.

Now, if the vic worked for the VSL,

he's legally prohibited from sports gambling.

I mean, that guy should be nowhere near a betting ticket.

Five? A lousy five?

This is the best left-handed shooter in the country.

Yeah, you're right, Mitch.
My research has me at six.

Six? They'll cover that at halftime.

Where are you morons getting your information?

Seven and a half. Seven and a half is a good start.

Let me hear. Scotty, come on, beam me up.

- I want some numbers.
- Ten.

Good. Okay, we're going ten here.

Mitch, add a hook for me.

That's the game. Call it into the books.

Hey, Mitch.

So I see you're still the man with the plan?

Yeah, I am.

I'm here about one of your employees, Kelvin Russell.

Then we got the same problem.

That kid's been a no-show for two weeks.

By the way, if you see him,
you let him know he's fired, okay?

I don't think you have to worry about him coming back to work.

He's dead.

We're gonna need statements from everybody.

- Who knew him best? - That'd be Scotty.

Scotty who?

All right, Scott, so,
you and Kelvin were buds, right?

No, not even.

I was just the only guy that would talk to him.

So, he wasn't the favorite?

He was cocky.

Well, there's nothing wrong with a little confidence,

especially in your line of work.

Yeah, well, I guess the guys didn't think he deserved
to be cocky just yet.

I mean, Kelvin was new here,
and Mitch Urbana's the man.

And you know what I mean?
His number is the number.

- You taking drugs, Scott?
- Yeah, it's for my Tourette's.

So, when was the last time you saw Kelvin?

Monday.

Yeah, it was the morning
after the Duke-Louisville game.

He-He sort of just came in and left.

- What was the big rush?
- He didn't come in to work.

He-He came in to gloat.

Hey, Mitch, you picked Duke minus 15, right?

How'd that game turn out?

Just like I called it, old man!

Hey, you weren't even close!

Then he left.

That was the last time I saw him.

Hi. Can I leave this message for Melody?

I'm from the Crime Lab.

There's potential evidence on this board.

I need the messages for Maurice Hudson.

Crime Lab?

Something happen to him?

Yes. He's dead.

A few ladies here are going to be in mourning.

He was popular.

Don't know why. Guess some people like pigs.

- I take it you knew him.
- Well enough to keep my distance.

Bastard liked doing fat girls,
but didn't want to be seen with them.

There are some women around here who spend
all their time and energy

giving pleasure because they think they aren't worthy.

You don't have to be large to have low self-esteem.

Did he check his messages last night?

He and Regina Owens
played message tag for a while.

- I figured they hooked up.
- Where can I find her?

She's a vendor. Intimates.

- That's some tickler you got there.
- Excuse me?

You got everything you need to please a woman.

Fine.

Regina,

um, can I ask you, is this silk or synthetic?

That's 100% silk.

How many sets of these have you sold?

Four pre-orders and another 15 commissions.

I even made a set for myself.

- Men love purple.
- Do they?

It's Purple Rain.

Prince. Sexy.

Custom color. You want it for the wife?

- I'm not married.
- Girlfriend?

- You want one?
- Yes, I do.

I'd also like copies of your customer receipts.

Yeah, this is the guy.

Time-stamps match what were on the tickets.

Looks like a runner to me.

Got that right. Name's Lou Barnes.

Yeah, we were kind of hoping those babies
wouldn't show up.

- Why, because they're winners?
- Yeah.

Those little pieces of paper are
worth ten-five each.

Game hit us hard.

Yeah, I hear that book's the only place
where casinos actually lose money.

I worked here a long time,
never seen anything like it.

Not even ASU-Washington in '93.

That's when the players shaved points.

Any indication that this game was fixed?

Well, gaming commission investigated.
They didn't think so.

I figure we just got caught in a good steam play.

A lot of one-way action?

Minute VSL opened the line.

Yeah, it was weird.

Those guys are usually right on.

I mean, that's what we pay them for.

The sharp number keeps you guys
from getting hit too hard?

Not this time.

Number went all over the place.

Money was rolling in so fast,
guys were fighting for position in line.

We lost over a million on that game.

Could I get a printout of the line moves?

You got it.

So Brass got a home address
on the runner, Lou Barnes.

He's looking into it.

What are you still doing here anyway?

I'm studying the game that our vic got rich on.

These are the craziest line moves I've ever seen.

Line moves?

Got to say, the only thing that sports book
means to me is guys without showers.

- That's actually true.
- Yeah, I know.

Okay, well, let me see if I can break it down.

Monday morning,
the week of the Duke-Louisville game,

VSL sets the line at Duke minus 15.

So if I were to place a bet on Duke,

they would have to win by more than 15
in order for me to win the bet.

Right. Now according to the manager of the book,

the moment that number went up,
cash came rolling in on Duke.

The professional bettors were all over the number,

dispatching runners in every book in town.

Now, remember, money moves the line.

So, by the middle of the week,

the tourists and local suckers caught wind
of what the pros were betting,

pumping the line to Duke minus 25.

Yeah, everybody's throwing money on Duke.

- Big favorite.
- This is where it gets weird.

By Friday, all sorts of cash starts rolling in,

but this time on the underdog...
Louisville plus 25.

Which means that Louisville could lose by 24
and still win the bet.

So, why would you bet on the underdog
if you had already put money on the favorite?

Well, here's why.

Our vic had Lou Barnes lay 17 points with
Duke, and take 23 with Louisville.

And the game... landed 22.

How do you think he did it?

He got more than 17 and less than 23.

He won both bets.

All that action created this big "middle,"
so he was able to win on both sides.

I think Kelvin Russell sold VSL's numbers,
and got killed for it.

Lou Barnes. Big money runner.

Still living at your mom's house?

Hey, buddy, focus.

You all right?

Guess not.

Pulled this out of his calf.

Been in there at least a week.

The guy was septic. He's lucky to be alive.

Number four buckshot.

Barnes was at Rainbow Canyon with Russell.

Russell knows the line's going to move on a big game,
and he wants to cash in on it.

But he can't go near a book without being reported,

so he hires Barnes to place the bets.

They win big, and both wind up on
the wrong end of a shotgun.

We're looking for a third guy.

Hey, Lou. Lou.

You want to tell us who filled you full of lead?

I want a lawyer.

Walk softly.

Don't cause a stampede.

I am going to remember that you said that, Metcalf,

especially after these ladies sue you
and the police

for discrimination, you genius.

Could you clear the halls for me, please?

Come on, guys.

Hi, there.

I'm Sara Sidle; I'm with the Crime Lab.

I would like to apologize for him.
That was really out of line.

They all were, and so are you, unless you've got

a good explanation on why we've been hauled down here.

Well, as you know,
this is a homicide investigation.

We've recovered evidence consistent
with custom-made lingerie that all of you own.

I'm no lawyer, but that sounds flimsy, even to me.

We also ran DNA on evidence
that we found at the crime scene

that proves that two women had sex
with the victim prior to his death.

I would like to rule you out as suspects,
so I'm asking for a voluntary DNA sample.

- You think one of us killed Maurice?
- Who's Maurice?

You know, Maurice Hudson.
Big ego, little scab.

If I could just swab the inside of your cheek.

The answer is no.

I can easily get a court order with what I've got.

So, get one.

Let's go.

Jill?

I don't want this humiliation made more public than it already is.

And I definitely don't want to come back here.

So, you do what you want,
but this ends for me right here.

You told us that you didn't really know the victim.

I didn't want to get involved.

I still don't.

You were in his bed. I'd call that involved.

Look... Maurice wasn't a nice guy,
but I slept with him anyway.

I could service him all night,
and he wouldn't even ride the elevator with me.

I bet that hurt.

Enough to kill him?

He was better when I left than when I got there.

What time was that?

I went to his room around 7:00.

Stayed just long enough to get mine and go.

He knew how to have fun.

And that's why we all come to Vegas, isn't it?

I'm fat, Ms. Sidle.

I am a fat woman.

I've tried diet after diet, joined gym after gym,
done obesity programs,

obsessed about drastic surgery,
and I'm still fat.

I didn't get my high school crush.

I did his homework.

Didn't get the one in college, either.

He became my "friend. "

But Maurice left a note in my slot
on the message wall.

And he made me feel special... sexy... wanted.

Did you know about the other woman?

When I went up to his room, she was leaving.

And you slept with him anyway?

I thought about turning around,
but it's not like I've had a lot of chances.

It wasn't till afterwards...
that I started to feel... angry.

At myself.

For letting him take advantage of me.

Did you argue with him? Was there a fight?

I waited for him to fall asleep.

Then I smothered him with a pillow and
held him down until he stopped moving.

Across town on a homicide, you guys call me
out here for an abandoned vehicle?

The car was reported stolen last week.

The R.O. is Mitch Urbana.

It's been picked clean.

You guys popped the trunk?

Waiting for you; pop it.

What do you got?

Feels like metal.

The dust in your trunk is high carbon steel
mixed with chrome...

consistent with a shotgun barrel,
like the weapon used to kill Kelvin Russell.

Look, my car was stolen,
and I reported it, okay?

End of story.

I don't know nothing about no shotgun.

Maybe the punk who stole my car must have
put it there.

You and Kelvin weren't on the best terms, eh?

Oddsmaking's a little art and a little science, you know?

Russell was... he was all mouth.

- Hey, he nailed the Duke game.
- He got lucky.

You know, there's about 30 games a day, and...

Look, let me try to explain it to you, okay?

Inside each game is a number.

Once in a while, I'm, I'm a little off.

But most of the time, I'm right.

I work very hard to be right.

I chisel through stacks of statistics,

I sweep away all the irrelevancies.

I try to get to the bottom...
You know, where the truth is.

And yeah, I want to know what
the quarterback had to eat that day,

and if the point guard's going through a messy divorce.

All these things, they come together,
and all of a sudden, bang...

a number just jumps out at you.

And within an hour,
every sports book in Vegas

got that number up on their board.

My hard work displayed up there in lights.

That's what I do.

Let me tell you what I think.

Kelvin made you look bad.

He made you look stupid.

And for a guy who thinks highly of himself,

who clearly needs to be right,

where there's a tremendous amount of ego involved,

that's motivation for murder.

Kelvin Russell didn't know what hard work was, okay?

He was a loudmouth major pain in the ass.

You think I killed him?

Prove it.

Brenda Morgan is claiming that she smothered
the victim to death with a pillow.

He wasn't killed with a pillow.

C.O.D. was compressed asphyxia.

She admits guilt, but she's hiding something.

Maybe she's covering for someone else.

We know that Regina Owens was in the room.

She claims she left the victim alive,
and Brenda is backing her up.

Yeah, but she's a liar.

Brenda got off the elevator at 7:30.

Regina got on.

They knew each other,
so things must have been uncomfortable.

The tape confirms Brenda's account.

What time did she leave?

Spent the night.

She didn't leave till the next morning.

Doc Robbins ball-parked the victim's death
at sometime between 9:00 p. m. and midnight.

That means she slept with a dead guy.

She's not only a killer,
she's a necrophiliac.

That's what I call enjoying your work.

Hold on, hold on.
Back up the tape, please.

There. Stop.

She's trashed.

Maybe she passed out.

How drunk do you have to be to sleep next to
a decomposing body?

The smell alone's an alarm clock.

Not next to him.

On top of him.

- Who do you like?
- Charlotte.

My mom grew up in North Carolina.

All right, I'll give you Charlotte plus two.

What do I get if I win?

How about a fabulous dinner?

- I'll take your action.
- All right.

So, unless we find our murder weapon,

the case against Urbana is circumstantial at best.

But he's involved. I feel it.

Those sports betting types...
they'll lie to their own kids

about a game that hasn't been played yet.

You were a sports betting guy.

Yeah, and I lied when I was.

My team loses, but I still win that bet.

Really? Well, thank you.

That was the manager of the sports book.

Says a guy filed a lost ticket claim for the
tickets that you found at the Beaver Dam.

- What's the name?
- Cesar Dabo.

No wants or warrants.
Address in Lincoln County.

That's near Rainbow Canyon.
That's where you found the body, isn't it?

Yeah. Professional boxer from '79 to '85.

After that, he spent a lot of time in Vegas
as a bouncer, bartender, handyman.

Just another one of those broken down,
punch-drunk bums.

It says Dabo was a Welterweight contender.

A title match against Archie Archman was
his biggest fight.

Lost by a split decision.

Check this out.

The only judge who called the fight for Dabo
was Mitch Urbana.

So maybe Urbana hired his former boxing
buddy to do his dirty work.

Dabo takes them out to Rainbow Canyon.

Murders Russell, but Barnes gets away.

Dabo grabs most of the cash,
goes back to Russell's body,

takes the wallet, ID, takes off his face.

And Urbana reports his car stolen to cover his ass.

Let's put out a broadcast.

Let's go.

Las Vegas Police.

Cesar Dabo?

Put your hands on your head.

Listen, Cesar, you know, you're looking at a lighter gig

if you tell us who paid you to kill Russell.

Nobody paid me to kill him.

What about your buddy Mitch Urbana?

He called a fight for you back in '79, right?

Yeah. I won that fight.

Mitch was the only judge that got it right.

But you're willing to do time for that?

Mitch said the kid was selling his number.

He asked me to follow him,
see what was going on.

So, why were you driving Mitch's car?

What? Was I supposed to take the bus?

My ride's been out all month.

All right, how much you get paid for the hit?

It wasn't a hit.

I did it on my own.

I saw the money that runner was taking
out of those books.

Making Mitch look bad.

He deserved it.

They weren't so happy with a shotgun in their face.

I drove them out to Rainbow Canyon.

I took the cash and stuff. I came back here.

I called Mitch and told him what went down.

I said I'd kill him, too, if he said anything.

I knew you guys would find me sooner or later.

Dabo, tell me something.

Why didn't you take the kid's ring?

That was worth something.

Man, I thought it was a Super Bowl ring.

Freakin' AFFA.

That's my luck.

How much does this thing weigh?

240 pounds at the moment.

We'll increase the weight incrementally
until you can't move.

I can't lift that.
And if I can't, you can't.

This is a safety issue.

Well, that's what the pulley is for, Greg,
so relax and lie down on your back.

You know, this is exactly like a dream I had once,
except it wasn't in a garage.

And Grissom wasn't watching.
That was a different dream.

How's it feel, dreamer?

Like 240 pounds of pure woman.

How's your breathing?

Limited.

Okay, add another 40 pounds.

Ready.

Well, the position's consistent with the victim.

Face up, right arm is pinned.

If we could leave the dummy on long enough,
we could actually match the blanching.

Yeah, guys, help.

280 pounds.

Brenda's just shy of three.

How long have you had Type II diabetes?

A few years. What difference does that make?

You also have hypertension.

Do you always ask questions
you already have the answers to?

The night that Maurice Hudson was killed,
you'd been drinking.

There was enough sweat on the sheets
to run a tox panel.

I don't drink a lot.

Well, it doesn't take a lot for someone to
pass out who's on Propranolol and glucophage.

It was an accident, wasn't it?

Wake up. Wake up.

I just couldn't bear the jokes.

Be some comedian's punch line.

I would rather admit to murder
and go to jail...

than to ever be that.

I've finally regained feeling in my spine, thanks for asking.

A little technical reading, Greg?

Yeah, I guess I just wanted to see
what the big deal is.

Attraction is subjective.
It can't be analyzed.

Yeah, I consider myself
to be pretty open-minded.

Find other peoples' predilections very intriguing.

What do you like?

What gets your juices flowing?

Someone who doesn't judge me.