LARRY DUNBY: The topic on every New Yorker's mind?
The monster the press has dubbed the Cabbie Killer.
A serial murderer who has brought the city
to its knees by creating commuter chaos
not seen since the last transit strike.
The phones are popping.
Let's go to Jason on line six.
JASON: Mayor better get off his ass and do something pretty soon.
People are angry.
Buses are packed, D train's a joke.
My 20-minute commute takes two hours now.
LARRY: You and eight million others, Jason.
Let's go to Wendy on line three.
WENDY: We got 30,000 cops in this city, Larry.
Why can't they catch one crazy cab driver?
Ah, he's nasty.
His breath smells.
Makes prom night in the back of my father's Caddy
with Bianca Difazio seem like it never happened.
Back of your father's Caddy?
Come on, Roland, time to make the doughnuts.
Was either that or my Pontiac Sunbird.
Let's go, pal.
(grunts)
(grunting)
(screeching tires)
Flack!
(shouting)
He's dead.
(bystanders murmuring)
I lost him.
Don...
Jersey City PD.
You think it was him, the Cabbie Killer?
Well, if it was, he just upped his game.
The son of a bitch killed a cop.
(tires screeching)
♪ Out here in the fields ♪
♪ I fight for my meals ♪
♪ I get my back into my living ♪
♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. ♪
Captioning sponsored by CBS and CSI NY PRODUCTIONS
TAYLOR: You catch a license plate on the cab?
No, it didn't have any tags.
What about the car?
No, it didn't have any tags.
What about the car?
Make, model, year?
I don't know, maybe Ford.
BONASERA: Any dents or distinguishing marks?
He was going too fast, I was running.
Come on, give me something-- anything.
Look, I know I sound like an idiot.
It was a yellow cab, that's all I got.
I get within 20 feet
when he jumps the curb,
cuts the corner, and he's gone.
(sniffs) That's motor oil.
Must have cracked his oil pan.
Can't get far if he loses too much.
I was this close.
I could've seen his face.
(tires screech)
Don't worry about it.
We have every cop in Manhattan
looking for this cab.
What the hell?
Ants-- what are you guys, crazy,
eating this stuff?
Eh...
Bright red blood.
Consistent with carbon monoxide poisoning.
Certainly matches our Cabbie Killer's M.O.
Right down to the carvings on the neck.
They appear to be postmortem.
Flack said he pushed him out
of the cab while it was still moving.
That's pretty brazen to kill a cop,
but then to dump him out in front of the precinct?
The Cabbie Killer's mocking us.
Or daring us to catch him.
Quinn, I see Jersey City
sent its finest.
This is the Cabbie Killer's handiwork, right?
Appears to be.
His first victim was from Hoboken.
Appears to be.
His first victim was from Hoboken.
Now he's killed a Jersey City cop?
I'm working the case with you.
The maniac's killed six people.
Let's hope this is the last one.
(sighs)
Did you work with him, Quinn?
I'm sorry.
TAYLOR: No holster, no gun.
Probably wasn't carrying.
The Cabbie Killer murders
have been front page news for weeks.
Why would anyone, let alone an unarmed cop,
get into a taxi in New York City?
The motor oil Danny swabbed off the sidewalk
where the cab jumped the curb...
Guess why all the ants were lined up
like it was a buffet.
I give up.
It's derived from animal fat.
Now, it's called G-OIL, a brand-new,
environmentally friendly motor oil.
Can't be a lot of cab companies using it.
There's only one.
FLACK: All right, boys, everything gets checked.
If it makes you look twice, I want to see it.
We got company.
MAN: What the hell is this?
We have a warrant to search the premises.
Now what? You guys are here every other week.
Uh, there's a killer out there
and he happens to drive a cab.
And who you think is paying the price for that, huh?
The whole city's a victim.
Cab come in recently with a broken oil pan?
No? Anyone call for a tow last night,
early this morning?
No, nothing like that.
All your cars accounted for?
Yes.
All your cars accounted for?
Yes.
Every single one.
Well, now, that's odd.
'Cause a man was murdered and dumped
out of a cab that was leaking G-OIL.
Yours is the only cab company in the city that uses it.
Care to explain that?
You're the detective.
Ain't that your job?
FLACK: Yes, it is.
And I plan on staying here
while every cab is processed
and every logbook checked,
and if I find out
that either of you two are lying to me,
you're gonna find out just how well I do my job.
What do we got, Montana?
Haven't heard that in a while.
Just slipped out, sorry.
It's okay, I kinda miss it-- I, uh...
I processed Officer Chameides' clothing, and I found
a light brown smudge on the jacket
that looked consistent with blood.
You ran it through CODIS?
Got nothing-- right now,
You ran it through CODIS?
Got nothing-- right now,
I'm just trying to narrow it down to a specific species.
Species? It's not human?
The DNA came back as primate.
♪ ♪
TAYLOR: These look random.
They're certainly not consistent
with the markings
on the previous five victims.
Also,
on the previous five victims.
Also,
these appear to have been made
with a bladed instrument.
The wound tracts on James' neck are deeper
and much more clearly defined,
and the wounds are absent
the trace of sycamore, slate
and ash I found in the others.
QUINN: Are we looking at a copycat?
TAYLOR: Information the Cabbie's victims
had carvings on the back of their necks
was never released to the press.
Whoever did this wasn't just guessing.
I noticed some bruising.
He was beaten pretty badly.
The size and shape of the bruises indicate multiple sources.
We're looking for three attackers.
Everything I've seen so far says the Cabbie Killer acted alone.
So he didn't murder Jimmy.
No,
So he didn't murder Jimmy.
No,
but there are three guys out there
who want us to think he did.
ANGELL: Patrol found the cab
20 minutes ago.
MESSER: Nice.
Can you give me your flashlight?
Few more hours, somebody would've been living in it.
Oil pan's cracked.
Yep, that's the cab.
All right, I'll have it towed back to the lab.
Gloves?
Flack.
Five Brothers Cab Company.
What? We seized every document
in that garage-- there was not a cab unaccounted for.
Looks like our friends are trying real hard to cover their tracks.
And missing paperwork doesn't put them at the scene.
ANGELL: Guys?
This case just got a lot stranger.
Our Jersey cop was moonlighting as a cab driver.
So Jimmy Chameides was dumped out of his own cab?
♪ Down in position... ♪
♪ This is something different ♪
♪ You are witnessing ♪
♪ No time for asking questions ♪
♪ No time for wondering ♪
♪ We've heard enough from you now ♪
♪ We've heard everything ♪
♪ Right down till the end ♪
♪ Right up 'round the bend ♪
♪ It's time to meet your master ♪
♪ It's time to meet your master... ♪
TAYLOR: We've been looking
at Jimmy Chameides' case the wrong way.
We thought we had a dead cop.
What if what we're really looking at
is a dead cab driver?
Okay.
So our cabbie is beaten up by three guys.
But then, they kill him with carbon monoxide,
and carve into his neck.
Maybe they gave him a taste of his own medicine.
Jimmy was a cabbie, cabbie's been
terrorizing the city, putting hacks out of business.
That's why they dumped him
in front of the precinct.
They delivered him to us like a gift.
This is vigilante justice.
Still doesn't explain how the killers knew
about the carvings on the back of the victims' necks.
Or why they thought
Jimmy Chameides was our Cabbie Killer.
(Jordan sighs)
Can either of you help me explain to the mayor how
sensitive information about an active serial killer case
ends up on an internet blog?
What sensitive information?
The existence of carvings on the victims' necks.
TAYLOR: Are you accusing this lab
of leaking information to the press?
I'm simply asking for your help.
The investigation of this leak has landed in my lap.
Well, plenty of people right on up
to the mayor's office were privy to that detail, Jordan.
BONASERA: Did you question them, or
was it just easier coming in here and accusing us?
That's not fair, Stella.
I'm looking for answers.
I'm not pointing fingers.
The last thing I would do is question
the integrity of the two of you.
But this administration's at the breaking point.
If this leak came from this office,
I can't help you.
Mac,
it's Reed.
TAYLOR: Reed was at the scene, but from
where he stood, he couldn't have seen the carvings.
He couldn't have known.
(horns honking)
Who's your source, Reed?
Who told you about the carvings on the neck?
I don't know his name.
How do you get in touch with him?
He contacts me.
What's he look like?
I can't tell you that.
You can, and you will.
I can't tell you that.
You can, and you will.
Look, when I wanted a story, you stayed true to the code
of your office, and now, I'm staying true to mine.
This is not a game.
An innocent man is dead.
What are you talking about?
Your blog.
You accused a driver named Jimmy of being the Cabbie Killer.
I didn't accuse anybody.
I reported the information that I was given.
Without confirming it.
Jimmy the cab driver was also known as Police Officer
James Chameides.
He was moonlighting as a cabbie out of Five Brothers Garage.
No, wait a minute.
I thought Chameides was the work of the Cabbie Killer.
He was... He was dumped from a cab.
His own cab after he was brutally beaten
and murdered by three men.
Vigilante justice.
Now, where do you think they got the idea
that Jimmy was the Cabbie Killer?
You're not blaming me for this guy's death?
I'm blaming you for putting a target on his back.
How'd it go with Reed?
How do you think it went?
Oh! I think you pushed, and
he got mad, and refused to give up his source,
and then one of you stormed off.
Well,
if you told me that before, you could've saved me the trip.
Come on, Mac. He's 23 years old.
It's his first real job.
He just wants to succeed, and can't see beyond that.
Is he really any different than you and I were at that age?
People are dying.
I don't have time for the understanding approach.
Okay, well,
Reed found out about those carvings.
We need to find his source.
Don't let your pride get in the way.
MONROE: Hey, Stella.
The primate DNA on Officer Chameides' jacket?
I traced it back to a rare species.
It came from a white throated monkey.
I noticed the sample was diluted, and a lot of
the cells had lysed, so it was most likely
frozen at some point.
So, it wasn't transferred from a live animal?
I'm thinking it was actually somebody's dinner.
White throated monkey
is a popular bush meat.
It's illegally imported from the jungles of Africa and Asia.
In some cultures, it has spiritual significance.
In others, it's a delicacy.
But there are health risks involved
with ingesting the meat.
CDC has seen cases of
intestinal parasites,
Ebola, monkey pox.
Problem is, I don't think this gets us any closer
to finding our cop killer.
(sighs)
Now who do you think is paying the price for that?
Actually, Lindsay, it leads us right to him.
Looks like you had
a pretty bad case of monkey pox a while back.
Common for someone who's eaten illegal, tainted bush meat.
The man you and your friends killed--
he had DNA from a white throated monkey on his clothes.
See, we call that secondary transfer.
FLACK: And I'll bet when we get
a search warrant for your house,
that we'll find bush meat in your freezer.
Lots of people eat it.
Look, Artie, I'm not in a good mood here.
A cop's dead.
Whoever killed him almost ran down me
and my partner with a cab from your garage.
The same cab you so smugly swore to me was not missing.
I was mistaken.
No, you were lying.
Make a fist.
What is this?
I said, make a fist.
The men
who murdered Officer Chameides--
they left very distinct bruises on his body.
I'm about to match the size and shape
of your knuckles to some of those bruises.
You didn't know he was a cop, did you, Artie?
Chameides always kept to himself.
Acted like
he didn't belong there.
Like he was better than everybody else.
Whose idea was it?
Jeff Conte
pulled up a blog on his computer.
It said it was a driver named
Jimmy at our garage that was the killer.
Everything pointed to him.
The cops weren't doing anything.
We were starving for fares.
People have to eat,
you know?
We thought we were delivering the Cabbie Killer.
We did.
It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
We didn't know.
Please, you've got to believe me.
Please.
I have a judge ready to issue an order
of contempt if Reed Garrett doesn't give up his source.
You what?
The source knew things
that were never released to the press.
He may know the killer.
No, don't. Don't go to a judge.
Why not? Mac,
this Garrett kid is the only lead we've got.
We can force him to tell us.
(cell phone dialing)
Where are you?
I'll be there in ten minutes.
You know him.
It's a long story.
One I'm gonna need to hear.
Look,
just give me a couple hours.
Quinn?
One hour.
CABBIE: Yo, that's 35 blocks!
CABBIE 2: Go anywhere you want!
Hey, lady, need a cab?
Cab, lady?
(dialing cell phone)
(vibrating hum)
Reed, where are you?
Call me back right away.
(muffled groaning)
(groaning)
(loud groaning)
(panting)
CABBIE: Can I give you a lift?
WOMAN: No, thanks.
Come on, give a guy a break.
I'm not gonna hurt you.
Just trying to make a living.
Got three hungry little mouths to feed at home.
I think I'll just wait for the bus.
(groans)
Get you home before the next bus even gets here.
(groans)
Get you home before the next bus even gets here.
Chances are, it's gonna be packed,
and you're gonna have to wait for one after that.
You're probably right.
Let me guess.
Upper East Side?
Impressive.
(horns honking)
All right. Why not?
(muffled groaning)
So, how old are your kids?
I don't have any children.
But you said you...
WOMAN: What are you doing?
Stop the car!
Don't do this!
No!
Stop!
(gravel crunching)
(brakes squeaking)
(footsteps approaching)
(muffled groans)
TAYLOR: He left his keys
in the door, his backpack on the stairs.
There's no question this is foul play.
You call his parents?
They haven't talked to him since yesterday.
BONASERA: You think someone's
trying to take revenge for the dead cop?
I can't get a signal.
Reed's cell is turned off and there's
something wrong with it, because even
the phone company can't turn it on.
We can't help him if we can't find him.
Hey, Mac.
He's posting on his blog.
"For weeks, I've been investigating
"the Cabbie Killer murders with a certain morbid
fascination."
This is in real time.
I'll create a GUI interface using Visual Basic.
See if I can track an I.P. address.
REED AND TAYLOR: "What I never anticipated...
"was becoming part of the story.
"At this moment, I'm sitting
"face to face with the brilliant criminal
"who has made the greatest city in the world his victim.
"He wants you to understand.
He wants me to give you his message."
Reed's source is the Cabbie Killer.
Now the son of a bitch has him.
Why can't you see who I am?
I'm trying.
Please, okay. I'm trying
so hard, I just...
The newly dead who have coins to pay for the ride
must be taken across the river,
or they'll wander
the banks for a hundred years.
Okay, do you want me to... do you want me to write that?
Is that what you want me to say?
No!
Don't you see?
They think I'm insane.
They call me the Cabbie Killer.
Use your words.
Let them see me
deliver the message...
...to the doomed.
Make them understand.
Are you gonna kill me?
Only those who have the golden branch can cross the river
while still alive and return to this world.
Type!
Now!
REED: The pall of death is overwhelming
as I watch him carve into her once-pristine neck.
I don't even know her name.
HAWKES: This white powdery trace could be something.
May be transfer from anywhere Reed
stopped on his way home.
It's on the top
of the backpack. Mac said some blew off
when he picked it up.
All right, so any other movement would've
when he picked it up.
All right, so any other movement would've
caused it to plume, so it must've
fallen onto the backpack at the time Reed was abducted.
Yes.
What the hell's going on?
I just heard he's got Reed.
And another female victim.
REED: Claire.
I'll call her Claire.
No one should be written about with anonymity.
But then, she shouldn't be dead.
If Reed's using Claire's name in his blog,
he's got to be sending you a message, Mac.
QUINN: Mac...
Who is Reed to you?
He's Claire's son, Quinn!
She gave him up for adoption before we met.
When he came
looking for his biological mother, he found me.
Unaware that she had died.
DANNY: Look, I know you're busy,
but you got to hear this.
This is Reed's interview with the Cabbie Killer.
CABBIE KILLER (on tape): I'm not sure I should tell you.
I got a family. If he finds out...
REED: If you tell me what you know, then we can stop him.
Okay, they'll take him away.
He can never touch you.
Sounds like they're in his cab.
He'll know it's me.
I can't.
Wait a minute, I was supposed to meet
someone on that corner and they never showed.
That was you.
That was you. You want to do the right thing.
You want to tell me.
I can't keep this inside anymore.
He thinks they're doomed,
carves in the back of their necks.
REED: What?
What does he carve?
CABBIE KILLER: I don't know.
It's his message. What he wants them to understand.
How do you know all this?
You know him, don't you?
You know him. What's his name?
Tell me his name.
CABBIE KILLER: Jimmy.
That's all I know.
Drives for Five Brothers.
And you're sure that's him?
Trust me.
He's your guy.
It stops after that.
The interview was a test.
And when James Chameides
ended up dead within a matter of hours,
the killer realized that Reed's blog
was a conduit to the world.
With people everywhere as his captive audience,
waiting for the next post,
he has the ultimate control.
Explains why he took Reed, but...
why would the killer want to turn people against Jimmy?
Where's he blogging from?
Somewhere in the city.
That's all you've got?
Reed's typing,
but it's not streaming. He completes a whole post,
then he hits enter; it travels in a matter of seconds.
It's happening too fast to get an exact fix on an I.P. address.
We're running out of time, Lindsay.
Here we go.
TAYLOR: "Her eyes are vacant.
"There's so much she'll never get to see: the glaciers,
a falling comet. Guess I won't either."
He's picking a funny time to get creative with his writing.
"I always wanted to go back to Australia
where I was born. I left so young."
Reed was born in Australia?
No, he's from Chicago.
So what does this mean?
He's blogging from somewhere in Midtown.
Best I can do is the West Side.
What've you got?
I processed the powder we found on Reed's backpack.
Saccharomyces cerevisiae.
Yeast?
Could be from anywhere: bakery, brewery.
Please tell me how we can have
all this technology at our disposal,
and we can't get a location on Reed.
Well, as long as he keeps blogging
at least we know he's alive.
It's not enough!
I should never have given him access to the case.
Mac, there is nothing you could've done to prevent this.
Look, another post.
REED: He likes killing passively.
Claire's the passive one now.
To think-- just hours ago, she was having breakfast,
like any normal day.
I wonder what she had: Corn flaked? French toast?"
"Corn flaked"?
QUINN: Could be a typo.
Stella, scroll back up.
You got it.
What do you see?
Hawkes found yeast trace on Reed's backpack.
It's not corn flaked,
it's flaked corn.
Glacier and comet are hops.
Australia is a type of wheat malt.
And flaked corn is an adjunct.
All ingredients used to brew beer.
We're looking for a brewery.
Quinn, find me a brewery on the West Side in Midtown.
We're heading in that direction.
(distant sirens wail)
QUINN: Mac, I've got a location for you.
Doohan's Brewery, West Side Highway and Evergreen.
It was closed down six months ago by the health department.
(tires squealing)
That's the cab!
TAYLOR: Stop right there!
NYPD.
Mac!
I need you down here now!
Flack, get on your radio. I want every available unit.
Shut down the West Side Highway if you have to.
Central, I need
a level three mobilization
at West Side Highway and Evergreen.
In the vicinity of Doohan's Brewery.
Suspect is on foot.
Dispatch aviation.
My hand-- my hand is too small.
All right. Reed?
Hang in there, Reed.
Don't die on me.
Bus is on its way.
Reed?!
Don't die on me. Come on.
Reed!
(siren wailing)
Okay, let's go, let's get him out.
(indistinct voices)
Yeah, it's weak, but we got a pulse.
This cab needs to go to the garage immediately.
There's no bed or food here--
nothing that indicates this is where he lays his head.
Probably just his "office."
Picked a place of opportunity.
Unfortunately for him,
this place is no longer available.
Where's Mac? Is he at the hospital?
What can I do to help you, Jordan?
There's a press conference in five minutes.
I mean, how's the mayor going to stand out there
before a panicked public and report that a killer
whose body count has reached seven has eluded capture?
I don't know how to answer that.
I guess he'll just have to tell the truth?
I'm not trying to give you a hard time here, Stella.
Don't make me the villain.
I'm on your side.
I just wish you were on mine.
What's that supposed to mean?
Why am I the last to know
that Reed is practically Mac's son?
It wasn't my place to share that information.
Yeah...
Look... (sighs) The mayor plans to assign
the FBI's forensic team to the case.
Well, until he does, I got a lot of work to do.
Hey, Jordan...
Thanks for the heads-up.
Sure.
(sighs)
MONROE: Try something else.
MESSER: We've tried everything else.
Maybe it's the presets on the radio.
How about now?
Nothing.
What about now?
(exhaust hissing)
Hold on. I think you've got it.
Pull over!
Innocent people died
right in the back of this cab.
(beeping)
Hawkes?
The prints on the knife used to cut Reed are in the system.
Did you get a name?
Just a match to a set of prints
Did you get a name?
Just a match to a set of prints
Danny found Jimmy Chameides' cab
All right, proves the connection between Chameides
and our Cabbie Killer; but it doesn't explain why Jimmy got into the cab.
You know what? I don't think he did.
Damage to the killer's front fender
and the paint transfer are a match to Jimmy's cab.
They got into a car accident.
(tires screech, metal crunches)
Buddy! Yo!
What are you doing, man?!
BONASERA: So Jimmy Chameides probably wanted to report the damage,
but the Cabbie Killer couldn't risk that.
I mean, police would've been all over his cab.
Instead, he uses Reed's blog
to set Jimmy up as the Cabbie Killer.
So we got a dead cop
because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
WOMAN (over P.A.): Dr. Bard, Radiology. Dr. Bard...
(weakly): Hey, Mac...
Hey, hey...
Hey.
Don't try to talk.
How you doing?
You're going to be all right.
I need your help.
I need to know what you remember.
I know you can do this
'cause you led us to him the first time.
You were in the trunk.
He abducted you outside of your apartment
in the West Village.
And he drove. For how long?
Okay, so ten minutes of street driving
and 25 on the highway.
(gravel crunching)
You heard gravel under the tires.
He pulled into a building and put the woman in the trunk?
You saw a Fendi billboard through high windows?
How long were you there?
(muffled groaning)
Half hour?
Wait. Water running for that long?
Took a shower; that must be where he lives.
What else? What else did you see, hear, smell?
QUINN: Candy corn?
He was adamant, it was candy corn.
I knew someday there'd be an advantage to living in Jersey.
There's a candy corn factory in Fort Lee.
I get nauseous every time I drive by it.
TAYLOR: The brewery is where the killer carved them,
but it's likely the place that he stopped is home.
Reed said the highway driving totaled 25 minutes.
West Village to Fort Lee? Middle of the day-- no way.
He didn't have to go to Jersey to smell it.
Prevailing winds are eastward.
Washington Heights.
So a Fendi billboard and a gravel road,
in or near Washington Heights.
I processed the hose
used to divert the carbon monoxide in the cab.
It's made from a durable, woven cotton
that's consistent with the kind used in fire hoses.
He could've bought it or got it from a building.
I don't think so.
It showed signs of stretching from repeated use.
How often does a building use their fire hose?
Nobody's going to buy or sell an old, worn fire hose.
It's more like something that was left behind.
(typing)
Now, our Cabbie Killer seems to like buildings
that are no longer in use.
Here we go.
An abandoned fire house at Pineview and 181st.
(sirens blaring)
(tires screeching)
FLACK: Drop to your knees! Put your hands behind your head!
I am Charon...
the son of Erebus and Nyx.
Yeah?
Well, even the gods can't help you now.
Don't you see?
I had to.
"All human beings that are doomed
lose the right to be redeemed."
"They must be put to death."
Leviticus, 27:29.
L-2-7-2-9.
Get up.
TAYLOR: He was a ticking time bomb-- alone, delusional.
The faces on the billboards made him angry.
He saw their slogans as false promises and lies.
His victims were sinners
who were doomed and in need of redemption.
The only way to be redeemed was to be killed,
and then given passage across the River Styx.
He saw himself as Charon, the Greek God,
also known as Ferryman.
His duty was to offer that passage.
The city was a hostage to fear, to panic,
to turning against one another,
all because of one man's rampage.
Now that he's locked up forever,
New York can begin to heal.
We all can begin to heal.
♪ ♪
Taxi!
Captioning sponsored by CBS
and CSI NY PRODUCTIONS
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org