Original subtitles

I've never seen so much money spent

on so little actual fabric.

Well, you're always saying

it's what's inside that counts, right?

Yeah.

Look where that gets me.

Look, well, maybe you should try wearing

something less "granny" than the flannel PJ's.

Hey, they keep me warm!

You know what else can keep you warm?

Yeah, coffee.

There's a place on the third floor. I'll pay.

Oh, man, I just can't decide...

No, I mean, if you just wait two weeks,

you can get it for, like, half the price.

Yeah, but you're missing the point-- I want it now.

Fine. So pay the money.

No. You're right. I'll wait.

You're always right.

So we'll go get coffee,

and then we'll go back and get it.

Aw...

So cute.

We said we'd be there at 4:00.

Do you think we'll make it?

Oh, we'll get there by 4:00.

Eva, your hair...

What? There's a huge piece

missing out of the middle of your hair!

What?! What?! Somebody's cut it.

I have no idea.

Would you...? Where? Where?

How much is it?

How much is it? I don't know. I don't know.

How much is taken off?

I feel so violated.

I would, too.

I mean, it's sick.

Isn't it?

Yeah.

Four days ago, a girl in a mall.

At least that have reported it.

I'm sure there's more.

The sheriff is pissed; bad for the tourist trade.

It's the same story--

chunk of hair cut off in a public place.

They never even feel it.

Any of the women see anything?

So far, no.

Guy's a ghost.

Yeah. Well, at least I have nothing to worry about.

Yeah.

The whole thing is creepy.

Ms. Bingham, this is CSI Russell.

Thanks for coming in.

This shouldn't take too much longer, right?

I'm just gonna run a comb through a couple of times,

look for some loose-cut hairs.

It could help us out a lot. So...

you were sitting in a movie theater.

That's right.

Wow. I haven't been to the movies

for so long.

Which one was it?

Excuse me?

You a Matt Damon fan?

Uh...

I'm a... Daniel Craig girl.

Me, too.

The, uh, tuxedo

and the gun, right?

Hard to beat.

So, Paula, you want to tell me what happened?

I-I didn't... I didn't realize it until I got home,

so he must have cut it during the movie.

But I don't get it. Why my hair?

Honestly, I have no idea.

You do have great hair.

Well, there is that.

You didn't get a look at the guy?

No. Just...

Daniel Craig.

I'm all done.

Yeah, I just have one more question.

Anything else strange happen lately?

You know, purse stolen?

Missing keys? Tires slashed?

No. Okay.

Good, good.

Well, I am glad to hear that.

Okay. Uh, bottom line,

some creep took your hair--

don't let him mess with your head.

Thanks. I'll see you out.

Hold on a second.

Let me give you... let me give you one of these.

Call me...

if you, if you need anything.

Thanks.

Yeah.

Well...

looks like she feels better.

And based on your performance in there, so do I.

Yeah, I just hope this little fetish doesn't turn into

something more.

You should start playing the ponies.

♪

♪

"The Most Beautiful Girl in the World."

A little mood music, I guess.

Hell of a mood to set.

♪

Eva Byron.

Four days ago, she and her sister filed

a police report.

Our hair freak

took a souvenir at the mall.

I guess it wasn't enough.

Not anymore.

He made her a blonde.

He took her eyes.

That sick bastard.

Why?

Hell with why.

I want to know who.

♪ CSI 12x13 ♪ Tressed to Kill Original Air Date on February 8, 2012

♪ Who... are you?

♪ Who, who, who, who?

♪ Who... are you?

♪ Who, who, who, who?

♪ I really wanna know

♪ Who... are you?

♪ Oh-oh-oh ♪ Who... ♪

♪ Come on, tell me who are you, you, you ♪

♪ Are you!

Guy gave her a pretty freaky makeover.

Liver temp puts T.O.D. around 10:00 p.m.

Cause of death?

Other than her eyes, there's no apparent wound or trauma.

You'll have to wait till autopsy.

He blinded her.

What do you think?

Killer didn't want her to see him.

There's something in her mouth.

Please don't be her eyes.

Oh, that's nasty.

Hair braid.

Shoved down her throat.

Could be our C.O.D.

Definitely a calling card.

Have you talked to Catherine?

Yeah. Yeah, have you?

Yeah.

She, uh, sounded good.

Yeah.

She'll show those FBI boys how to fly straight, huh?

She did it for me.

She did it for all of us.

Well, Quantico isn't that far, right?

No, not really.

Well, that can't be good.

So, our hair fetish freak is now a homicidal maniac.

Eh, that's just great.

What do we know?

11 women have come forward to report

they were snipped by this guy.

Including the dead girl? Yeah.

I got my guys doing welfare checks on the other ten.

But we need to assume that

there are more women out there that didn't report it.

Well, let's hope they're just shy, not dead, too.

Well, best way to know that is to reach out to the press.

And create a panic? In my city?

I got enough problems.

This one, you need to solve.

I think she was looking at you when she said that.

Yeah, right.

Chain is busted, but the lock is intact.

She trusted him enough to open the door to him.

Never had a chance to realize her mistake.

Looks like this is where he did

his extreme makeover, psychopath edition.

Blow-dryer and curling iron are still plugged in.

Traces of makeup and hair dye in the sink.

So he snipped Eva's hair at the mall.

Obviously, he was attracted to it for some reason.

Certainly not the color.

He turned her into a blonde.

You should watch yourself.

Well, he dyed her hair.

You should watch yourself.

True.

Where is the packaging?

You know? The products?

Guess he was smart enough to take them with him.

Smart enough to wipe down his prints, too.

Suggests planning.

Guy's not just sick, he's dangerous.

When we reported what happened at the mall,

the officer said it was just some weirdo,

and now my sister...

I'm sorry for your loss.

It's the same guy, isn't it?

You people should have warned.

Listen, if I could bring your sister back, I would.

But I need your help right now, so we can

keep this from happening to someone else, okay?

Now, after the mall incident,

did your sister receive any strange phone calls?

Did she think somebody was following her?

Anything like that? No.

Do you recognize this dress?

Those sunglasses?

No. Why?

Your sister was wearing them when we found her.

Those aren't hers.

You sure? I know Eva's style.

She hated retro.

Even as a kid, she refused to wear hand-me-downs.

He dressed her up?!

What else did he do to her?

I found no sign

of sexual assault, and besides

the facial lacerations caused by the door,

there were no other apparent injuries perimortem.

So the eyes were gouged out postmortem?

Tissue is withdrawn, nonresponsive.

Cause of death?

Well, it wasn't the braid in her throat.

She died of a morphine overdose.

The killer injected her in the carotid artery.

Death was relatively quick.

Boy, I didn't see that one coming.

Okay, so our guy forces his way in, kills her,

then he has his fun--

eyes, makeover, braid down the throat.

And that wasn't the only hair he left behind.

The killer used hair extensions

to repair the area he'd cut off in the elevator.

Not quite the same shade as the dye job.

So what do you think it all means?

He breaks her so he can fix her?

♪

You ever see that Japanese movie The Ring

about that creepy girl

who lives in a well and vomits hair?

I thought the only Japanese culture

that you knew about was octopus porn.

You should be nicer to me.

Why?

I'll tell you.

The braid you fished out of your victim

I sorted and meticulously measured.

Henry ran mitochondrial DNA,

and it turns out that the hairs

in the braid are from

26 different women.

Twenty-six?

Including the 11 who reported

having their locks snipped by our hair stalker.

I know what you're thinking-- holy hairball.

That's not what I'm thinking.

What I'm thinking is, this braid may be more than a calling card.

Like a list of future victims?

If you're braided, you're branded.

Mm.

Still doesn't tell us who's next.

So what do we do?

Follow up with the list of names we do know and see

if anyone's noticed someone looking over their shoulder.

Don't need to be a profiler to see it.

Slender, 20s, long hair...

and these are just the ones we know about.

How are we supposed to protect these girls?

Well, we can't put a car 24-7 in front of every house.

You just need to catch this guy.

Any no-shows among the women who came forward?

Joyce Debernardi.

Henderson address.

I left a, a message on her cell.

Brass.

He was checking up on her.

Hey, Jim.

Joyce Debernardi just showed up.

Day shift got the call.

Similar crime scene, same M.O.

She was found just like this?

Déjà vu all over again.

Not quite.

Eva's eyes were gouged out.

This is different.

Proteins in the cornea are coagulated.

Bastard used ammonia to blind her.

They, uh, found vomit in close proximity to the body.

Reaction to the chemical.

Unlike Eva,

she was alive when he did this.

Alive but helpless.

They also found partially digested pills--

Succinylcholine in vomitus.

That's a paralytic.

That's how he's getting better at the makeup.

He's taking his time, he's savoring it.

He's getting more confident.

Which means he's getting harder to catch.

Help...

Two women--

both have their hair cut by this nut-job, now they're dead,

dressed up like some '70s fantasy.

When did we get the first report

of this guy cutting hair?

Three weeks ago, Sheriff.

Three weeks?

Clearly he didn't just step over the line.

This guy's escalating. Fast.

What are you two doing about it?

Well, right now, we're listening

'cause he's, he's talking to us.

He's sending letters now, what?

No, these... found in the throats

of our two victims.

That braid has hair from 26 different women,

including our two murdered ones.

He's given us a list of who he's going after.

11 of the names we know,

15 we don't-- women whose hair has been cut

but they never came forward to report it.

All of these women

are in danger and they all deserve to know it.

I came here to be briefed, not told what to do.

I understand, but I think

we need to go to the press.

You know, any panic this may cause--

it's worth it if we can save just, just one life.

I'll talk to the mayor.

Thank you.

That's my job.

Do yours.

Dresses our victims were found in

are both vintage, no retro imitations,

the real deal, circa 1978.

What?

I... I can't talk to you behind that dress, man.

Looks like you're wearing that thing.

Oh.

So, '70s, huh, you sure about that?

Yeah, I spoke with an expert.

Oh, yeah, who's that?

My mother. Mm.

She's a bit of a clotheshorse.

Still has the figure for it, though.

I'll take your word for that.

Well, anyway, uh, hand- stitching on the sleeve,

original label, real silk,

all beautifully preserved, thanks to dichlorobenzene.

You mean mothballs.

Exactly.

So I doubt that the killer found these

on a rack in a thrift store.

No, he probably had 'em in storage,

then pulled 'em out and put 'em

on our victims.

Perhaps these dresses belong to somebody he knows.

Yeah, it's starting to add up now.

Maybe it wasn't somebody he knows

but someone he was trying

to turn these women into.

The mayor and I wish to assure the city

that we are doing all we can

to bring this perpetrator to justice.

As a woman,

parent,

I understand your fears, and I appeal

to anyone who may have been a victim

of the Shear Stalker or who may have any information

regarding his identity, to please call 911.

Shear Stalker-- wow, they already have a name.

You got the sheriff

to go public.

Very impressive.

I appealed to her sense of civic duty.

And her fear of voters?

There's a lot riding on this.

We'll catch him.

Hodges, um, told me about the dresses.

I mean, we may not be getting a picture of our killer,

but maybe we have a picture of his obsession.

Blonde, size-six.

If she were in her 20s in the 1970s,

she'd be 60-something now.

What do you think this guy's deal is--

fear of women,

something deeper, maybe "Mommy never loved me"?

Personally, I always tend to go to my Psycho place

when killers start playing dress-up.

I always go to my Ted Bundy place--

predator, narcissistic,

dissociative identity disorder, woman hater.

I'm not so sure.

Tox came back on our second victim--

same as the first.

C.O.D.-- morphine overdose.

I mean, tha-that's oddly gentle.

He's putting them to sleep, you know?

Plus, all the care he's taking to,

to remake them, to redress them.

Where are going with this?

You know, put it all together, maybe it doesn't spell hate.

Maybe it spells love.

Love?! Really!

Well, he's still gouging their eyes out.

That's true.

These are the hair extensions Doc Robbins found

on our victims.

The hair...

all came from one person.

I compared it to the 26 other hairs we found in the braids.

Guess what?

No match on any of them.

So, if the braid is a to-do list,

then this person is not a target.

Henry run DNA?

Yep, hair and dress match.

Okay, killer definitely had access

to clothes and hair from the same person.

The person he's making our victims into,

and I'm assuming that this mystery woman is not in CODIS.

No, so I ran isotope ratios on the hair.

I can't give you an exact timeline, but it looks like

our mystery woman has been doing some traveling--

Japan, Germany, Southern Nevada.

She gets around.

And not for pleasure.

I also ran tox.

Every time she traveled,

readings would spike in alkylatic antineoplastic agents

and antimetabolites.

Cancer meds. Turns out

Hamburg, Tokyo, and Las Vegas all have hospitals

that specialize in rare cancers.

Which hospital in Vegas?

Dr. Bill Ryan?

That's right.

Hi. Uh, CSI Sidle.

This is CSI Brody.

From the crime lab-- we called.

How can I help you?

We are looking for a patient who is-- was under your care.

We know that the, uh, patient is female.

She was treated previously at clinics in Tokyo and Hamburg.

You know who we're talking about?

I'm sorry, even if I did, doctor-patient confidentiality

would preclude me from confirming it.

Of course.

Have you watched TV lately?

The killer who is cutting people's hair?

Does this patient you're looking for

have something to do with that?

She may be our only way to identify that killer.

Yeah, doctor, um,

Do you have a wife?

Daughters, a sister?

Women all over this town are absolutely terrified right now.

I carry a gun, and you know the first thing I did

when I stepped off your elevator?

I checked my hair.

I looked behind me to make sure nobody was there.

Look, I'm going to go grab a coffee.

When I get back,

I hope that file is still here.

Thank you, Doctor.

Her name's Lucinda Kemp.

Cancer patient, Desert Palm Hospital.

She may be our killer's muse.

Muse? Muse how?

Well, he's dressing the victims up in her clothes.

He's making them up to look like her.

A younger version of her.

Really?

A dying cancer patient?

That's some theory you got going on there.

Well, I'm feeling a hell of a lot better about it right now.

What do you think?

Two dead young women.

And your muse is a dead ringer.

Paula?

Hey, uh, you said I could call you anytime.

Is something the matter?

I think somebody was inside my house.

The sliding door is open a little,

and there's someone banging on my door.

Could you have left it open?

No... I don't... Maybe?

There's somebody knocking at my door.

Paula, listen to me.

Can you see who it is?

Hold on.

It's a delivery guy.

I'm scared.

Do not open the door.

Tell him you'll pick up the package later.

I'll send a car over to check on you right now.

Okay.

Everything's gonna be okay.

I promise.

Thanks.

I did a welfare check

on Paula Bingham.

She's okay; really was a delivery guy.

But I can't blame her, though.

Everyone's scared.

Sooner we catch this guy, the better.

I'm just hoping that Norma Desmond

can I.D. her secret admirer.

Talk to you later.

Mrs. Kemp, do you recognize these women?

No, I don't think so.

Should I?

They were murdered.

After that, the killer

gave them a makeover.

Dyed her hair blonde, red lipstick,

mascara.

That's... horrible.

Truly, but...

why are you showing them to me?

Those are your dresses, right?

Well, I mean, they certainly look like my dresses.

They're my style.

My style never goes out of style.

I don't understand

why you're showing me these.

I don't, either.

On the phone, you said you

needed me to answer some questions.

Now, I come down here,

and you're treating me like a common criminal.

These two women are dead.

And the evidence suggests

that you're our only link to our killer.

Evidence? What evidence?

Well, Adam,

the women were staged

in dresses that had residual DNA.

That DNA matched hair extensions

that were attached to the victim's heads.

Hair that came from your mother.

My hair?

No, that's impossible.

Well, ma'am, in this day and age,

everything's possible. Really, Captain.

It's not.

No one has taken my hair.

Because the cancer already took it.

Three months ago, my mother finished

her last stage of chemo.

You can see the results.

I'm... sorry.

I'm not.

I'm done being sorry.

Or... afraid.

Or reflective.

I am in remission.

Thanks to Dr. Ryan.

And to Jeffrey's positive attitude.

And who is Jeffrey?

Jeffrey Fitzgerald.

Beautiful man.

Inside and out.

Mrs. Kemp, is that wig

made from your real hair?

When I started to lose my hair,

someone recommended a wig maker.

I did my homework, and Jeffrey.

When your insides are eroding,

your outside's all you have left.

Your, uh, wig maker, Jeffrey,

was he was the one who collected your hair to make the wig?

No. I did.

I brought it to his studio.

It's out near Silverado Ranch.

Along with some of my dresses.

As inspiration.

Inspiration?

Jeffrey is an artist.

He asked me when I felt the most beautiful, so that he could

repaint my life.

He knows hair

like Monet knows light.

When was the last time you saw Jeffrey?

Just a few days ago.

He still comes around to give me a comb-out.

He sounds

very devoted to you.

Mr. Fitzgerald! LVPD!

Mr. Fitzgerald?

Police department!

Let me see your hands!

Let me go! Let me go!

What did you do to her?

Stop looking at my hair.

Sorry, I can't help myself.

Hey.

You're just lucky your client's not pressing charges.

Charges?

I was performing a service, which you

interrupted. A service?

That's what you're calling it?

My client is...

how shall we say...

a professional woman

who lost a valuable asset,

her hair,

but doesn't have the assets to afford a proper transplant.

And so, I offered her an affordable,

stitching acrylic hair

directly into the scalp. And do you

have a license to do that?

I'm certified in body modification.

However, my main trade is wig making,

for a clientele that needs restorations,

not only of the hair, but of their self-esteem.

Yeah, we've seen your work.

You're quite the artist. Thank you.

I, uh, I like to think that I give back

what God hath taken away.

Well, you hath a very inflated idea

of yourself, Mr. Fitzgerald.

Image is everything.

I knew this guy on days.

He had a hair phobia.

Any time there was a crime scene involving hair,

he'd puke his guts out.

He'd hate this.

I got one of those.

Really?

What's your kryptonite?

Braids.

You got a hair thing, too?

No.

Braids.

Jeffery Fitzgerald had a thing for braids.

And vintage clothing, too.

What?

That dress look familiar?

I do smell mothballs.

And I...

smell a serial killer.

I smell conviction.

So, um...

when are you two crazy kids

gonna let me know why I'm here?

Lucinda Kemp.

One of the lives you "restored."

Yeah, yes,

I gave her back her hair, restored her beauty.

And you're still doing that.

You give her a comb-out every week.

Is combing out a crime now?

You know what I think all this is for him?

Foreplay.

Before you have

your real fun with these girls, am I right?

Do you recognize that morphine?

We found morphine in two dead women.

I've never seen it before.

Our guys just discovered it in your studio.

Just so I'm clear:

You found unmarked morphine,

in a place that I rent,

after you let yourself in without an invitation.

I'm sorry, I just don't see

how that problem relates to me at all.

Legally speaking.

Fitzgerald can play cute

all he likes.

We still hit the mother lode.

Lucinda's dress, Lucinda's hair, the morphine.

We got him.

What about hair braids?

Greg's running them now, along with the rest

of the hair from Fitzgerald's studio.

You do not want to go into trace lab right now.

Where I don't want to go is into court

without a DNA match on the hair.

I mean, all morphine and dresses in the world

won't matter at all if we can't connect

Fitzgerald directly to the victim.

I hear you.

We got this. Okay, okay.

Paula?

Please, help.

I got free, but I can't see.

He forgot something downstairs.

I think he's coming back!

Paula!

LVPD!

♪

Russell.

♪

♪

You okay?

Guy was interrupted.

Panicked.

Killed her quick.

He knew we were coming.

There's nothing you could've done.

Our best suspect was in custody.

Well, he's not our best anymore, is he?

But I want to know who is.

♪

I don't know.

But he left a mess.

We'll find something.

♪

Hey, Russell, we just got the call-- what's going on?

Process this scene with a fine-tooth comb.

Every inch of it.

Call me.

Yeah, you got it.

Man... I really thought we had this guy.

Well, who says we don't?

Maybe our wigmaker

isn't working alone.

The hairs say we don't.

All of the wigs, the braids,

the-the bales of hair from his studio.

None are a match to our victims.

Well, somebody really went after these women.

Yeah, somebody who had to have had a connection

to Lucinda Kemp.

I got some short brown hairs here.

Obviously didn't come from her.

From our killer? Could be. We should

be able to get a good DNA sample.

Hairs have tags that are pulled out at the root.

Might've happened during the struggle.

Mm-hmm.

Got what looks like

a corner of a photo.

Well, where's the rest of it?

Here it is.

Killer might have jammed it up here

for reference.

Wait a minute, now.

Now, does that look like a young Lucinda Kemp to you?

Sure does.

Well, if Jeffrey Fitzgerald

isn't our killer,

maybe it's someone who's even closer

to Lucinda.

You think it's the son? You talked to him.

Hm.

Looks like we might have a pretty good print here.

We'll figure it out.

I'm sorry.

Where are we? Henry's running DNA

on the hair, and Nick's working on the print--

we should have an answer soon.

When I was in Seattle, we had some guy running around...

killing coeds...

and my daughter was...

...roughly the same age at that time.

Every crime scene was like walking into her dorm room.

Did you catch the guy?

Yeah.

We're gonna catch this guy, too.

Yeah.

Can I tell you something crazy?

You know how kids are always bumping into something

or falling onto something

and they got those cuts and scrapes?

I've been saving my kids' Band-Aids for years.

Keep them in the refrigerator.

DNA reference.

Yeah.

It's not so crazy.

I know somebody who used to work here.

She used to do the same thing.

♪

Henry ran DNA on that hair we found

in Paula Bingham's bathroom.

Yeah? Compared it to Lucinda Kemp.

No familial match.

It's not Adam.

Are you sure about that? Yeah.

'Cause I ran it again myself.

Her son's not our killer.

So we're down to the print.

Moment of truth.

That's our guy?

What, not even a courtesy call this time?

Not this time.

Perhaps we should have this conversation

in my office. I think we

should do it down at the station.

First we thought this was

a picture of Lucinda Kemp, but it's not, is it?

It's your mother, back when she was...

young and healthy. And beautiful.

Before the cancer took it all away.

Hospital records show,

uh, your mother died at age 51.

Yeah, but I'm sure she looked

a lot older by then-- a lot like Lucinda Kemp.

That's when all this started, isn't it?

Lucinda came to you for treatment,

and it was like your mother was coming back.

Hey, Doc!

We searched your house.

We found the hair products.

We found the makeup.

Same brands Lucinda uses.

You washed her hair; you helped her with her makeup.

Must have been great to have Mom back again, right?

Right up until you didn't. Until Jeffrey

the wig guy gave her something that her doctor couldn't.

I wasn't just her doctor; I was everything to her.

Lean back...

Yeah, but then she left you, right?

Just like your mother did?

No, actually, not exactly like your mother did.

Because you didn't put Lucinda

out of her misery, the way you did Mom.

Found that in the medical records, too.

"Death by morphine overdose."

Hospital investigation proved inconclusive,

but you were interning

at the same hospital, right?

Wow.

You killed your mother.

I ended her pain!

Yeah.

Just like you did those other women--

Eva...

Joyce, Paula...

All attempts to recreate your mother.

We found the hair that you cut

from all those women, with the date and place

when it was taken.

You are a very meticulous...

man, Dr. Ryan.

You're kind of a mama's boy, actually.

Do you think you know me?!

You don't know me at all.

You know something? You're right, I don't.

I need to step out for a minute.

You're done, Doc.

Hey, Catherine.

I didn't wake you up, did I?

No, I know, I know, I'm gonna go home in a minute.

I'm just not quite ready yet, you know?

One of those days.

No, we're fine, we're fine.

Uh... my wife and I have a little contract between us--

there are certain things I don't bring home from work.

And, u..

well, today, um...

I lost one today, Catherine,

and, uh...

you know, I can't stop seeing her-her face,

and... can't stop feeling like, you know,

there's something I should have done, you know, something more.

No, I know, I know.

I-I will, I will.

It's, um...

I just wanted to talk to you.

Knew you'd understand.