♪ Holla! People, sing around, now, people, gather round ♪ ♪ Now, people, jump around ♪ ♪ Get your freak on, get your freak on ♪ ♪ Get your freak on, get your freak on ♪ ♪ Get your freak on, get your freak on ♪ ♪ Get your, get your, get your, get your, get your freak on ♪ ♪ Get your freak on, get your freak on ♪ ♪ Get your freak on, get your freak... ♪ ( music stops ) The last time I was out here, this was all desert. CABBIE: One day, I'm looking at cactus; the next day, a mini-mall. ( both chuckle softly ) What brings you all the way out here? Work.
Stop! ( tires squealing ) ( grunts ) ( gasping ) What was that? ( chattering ) Miss, you okay?
Stay here.
See? What's he doing? He's going. Hey! ( shouting )
No! Help! I didn't mean to! ( shouting ) ( grunting ) ( shouting ) ( screaming ) ( shouting ) ( screaming ) ( screaming )
Go back to your own country! ( shouting ) ( grunts ) ( siren wailing ) Where's your posse? I have no idea. I was actually on a date. Hmm?
My God. What am I looking at? Taxi hit a kid crossing the boulevard. Now, the crowd over there saw the driver, Rajeeb Khandelwahl, trying to get away. So they pull him out of the front seat of the cab and they beat him up. I mean, they... they beat him up bad. He was on his way to Desert Palm. His insides are on the outside. Did you move this body, David? No, sir. Auto Detail hoisted the cab off the kid. Yeah, but I supervised. No one's touched him. Have you ever seen anything like this? What do you mean? Well, how many hit-and-runs have you pulled? Too many to count. How many times have you seen the victim's viscera exposed?
First time. There's a first time for everything.
♪ 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 ♪ ♪ Oh, you! ♪
My high school science teacher used to say that your small and large intestines could stretch across the Brooklyn Bridge. But in reality? Only 25 feet combined. Fiction is often more compelling. We've got the eyewitnesses lined up, ready to go. Hmm? Testimonials, Jim? I don't consider that evidence. But easier to clean up.
Keep 'em all together, David. I'll tuck the viscera in a biohazard bag. Good plan.
I picked up the taxi at McCarran. Um, I'm in town on business. Staying with my cousin, just a-a few blocks away. BRASS: Mm-hmm. Did you see the pedestrian? WOMAN: Crossing the street. I don't-- I don't think he saw the cab. Did the cabbie see him?
No. He was looking at me. What brings you all the way out here? I-I think I yelled, "Stop," but it was too late. And that's when, uh, Rajeeb, the taxi driver, tried to leave-- to drive away? No, no, no, no. He got out of the cab to see what happened and... then he freaked and he got back in and he reached for his radio.
That's when the guys attacked him. His radio? He wasn't fleeing the scene? No. He was calling for help. Hmm. Okay. What can you tell me about the, uh, men who attacked him? ( indistinct transmission ) You always think you'll be a great witness but... ( all yelling ) But there were so many of them, and it happened so fast... He was just begging for his life. ( men laughing ) I couldn't see their faces, but I know it was them; all of them. They were the only ones around. We're heroes, man. They have no respect for our laws. Who? The damn cabbie. Why? Because he's not from Vegas? No. Because he's not from here-- this country. Oh, and you know that because you saw his birth certificate? We didn't exactly need to see it. Tell me what you did see. He hit the boy. ( groaning ) Then he hits his brakes, and I figured he's gonna stop and do the right thing. Instead, he jumps back into his cab. ( panting ) Hey, if it weren't for us, he'd have gotten away. Citizen's arrest, yo. People are gonna want our autograph. I don't want your autograph, but I would like a photo and a bit of your DNA. So line up. What?! Look, the guy that you "arrested" is in critical condition. That makes you all suspects in a battery. Figures. You know, we do something good, you guys try to turn around, pin it on us. Yeah. If we were wearing badges, you'd be throwing us a ticker tape parade. If you're wearing badges, I'm playing left-wing in the NHL. I know my rights. I don't have to give you squat. Oh, yeah. You're the lawyer. All right, let me tell you how this goes down if you don't cooperate. You all get a free ride in the cruiser down to the station, where I hold you there until the warrants clear. So what's it gonna be? It's your choice. Line up... single file.
Say, "Cheese."
Open up, please.
Thank you.
NURSE: He's critical. Ruptured spleen, collapsed lung, fractured ulna, possible intracranial bleeding. Doctors are still waiting on the labs. Do you have his clothes? His personals are bagged-- Do you have his clothes? His personals are bagged-- top shelf. They're ripped up pretty bad. That's good. That'll help. NURSE: He said he killed a boy-- ran over him? Did he say anything else? No. That was it.
Gene Rayburn. What? Point of reference. Uh, uh... Match Game... Nipsey Russell, uh, Fannie Flagg-- Game Show Network. Look, I, uh, don't have time for your humor. Ecklie's got a multiple, Warrick tells me his home invasion is my top priority, and I'm still backed up on Catherine's no-suspect rape. One servant, many masters. You know what I'm saying? Greg... this is your DNA lab. You are the master. We serve you.
Well, your stuff just moved to the top of the pile. What do you got? Individual DNA from a mob attack on a cabbie... and the cabbie's clothes.
"Get ready to match the stars."
Okay, Doc, tell me something I don't know. Okay. In fourth grade, I dropped out of karate class because a kid half my size made me cry. About the body.
No pedestrian fracture. Almost without exception, when a pedestrian's hit by a car, there's certain expected wounds in his lower extremities-- most significantly, the pedestrian fracture. ( tires screeching ) ( yells ) Tip of the triangle always points in the direction the car was moving. His tibia's intact. In fact, there's... there's no bruising to the lower extremities.
So, no fractures, no bruising. Cause of death? Uh, chest was crushed. Multiple rib fractures. And, uh, hence the white bucket that you and David filled with his intestines. They literally popped out. So he wasn't hit by the taxi; he was run over? ( tires screeching ) Well, he would've died anyway.
He was stabbed.
Clean incised wound to the abdomen, five inches deep.
( sighs ) So how much time elapsed between when he was stabbed and when he encountered the taxi? I can't give you an exact time frame except to say it wasn't immediate. And, before you ask, we don't have an I.D. But Missing Persons called. A woman called and said her son didn't come home last night. She's on her way in.
You know you pulled me away from a forensic anthropology seminar, right? It's required. It's part of the continuing education program. Well, I'm sorry, but everyone seems to have something to do today. I have a teenager who was run over by a taxi. Wasn't hit by it; that's not what killed him. He was stabbed, fatally. For now, I have no I.D., no suspects, and no primary crime scene. I need you.
How can I help?
♪ ♪
Hey. Grissom?
The directionality of this drop is facing the boulevard. I think your primary crime scene is this way.
♪ ♪
Blood trail. Want to go for a walk?
♪ ♪
( Sidle exhales ) SIDLE: Blood leads into the grass. Trail's obscured.
Okay.
So where do we pick up the trail?
Well, vic's in his teens... Probably wasn't on a playground.
My money's on the basketball court.
♪ ♪
He crossed Lake Mead Boulevard at 8:15, and it gets dark at 5:00. He was here after dark. I don't see any lights.
Droplets and castoff. ( groaning ) This is our primary crime scene.
So, maybe the killer tossed the knife.
It's a big dump site. Yeah. I'll, uh... order up some scent dogs... get some uniforms.
That's him. ( shudders ) That's my boy. I'm so sorry. How did something like this happen? He's only 14 years old. Mrs. Branson, I'm afraid you'll have to talk with the detectives. Hey, Sara? Hey. You working that case where some mob beat up an Indian cab driver for hitting a kid? Cabbie didn't actually hit the kid. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You think it was racially motivated? Yeah, I do. White mob, white kid, dark-skinned cabbie-- I don't like the math. Yeah. We got to wait for the science, don't we? I'm trying. Mm. That's the job. Good luck.
Captain. Yeah. Captain. Yeah. There's a Mrs. Branson here to see you. Oh, good. Send her in, Joe. Thanks. Mrs. Branson, thank you for coming in... Have you arrested that taxi driver? He's in intensive care. How did he not see my son? That's a well-lit intersection. My son is five-foot-six! Please, Mrs. Branson... please, sit down. Um... ( clears throat ) Your son was stabbed in Haskell Park, and you live on Loring Avenue. My best guess is that he was on his way home when the accident occurred. I... I don't understand. The taxi didn't kill your son, but someone did.
Did Todd have any problems that you're aware of? Uh, any problems at school? No, no, no. Nothing like that. He's, um... he's a great kid. He's-he's athletic. He's popular. He's, um... he's a good student. We... we moved here from Portland nine months ago. He fit right in. Did you know he was in the park after sundown? No. I thought he was at a friend's for dinner. He was supposed to call me, but you know teenagers. ( clicks tongue ) Yeah, I do... and they don't often confide in their parents, I know.
Uh... I've been on the run from my ex-husband. He's threatened to kill me and my boys. I just try and stay one step ahead of him. When was the last time you saw him? In Portland. He showed up outside of Todd's school. And the boys and I were on a bus that evening.
Um, a couple days ago, the phone rang. And I answered it. It was him. I don't know how he found us here, but, this weekend, the boys and I were gonna disappear. Why didn't you call the police?
Because you knew we couldn't protect you. ♪ ♪
( sniffing ) Okay. Go.
Come on. Come on, girl. Okay. ( steady beeping )
( metal detector beeping, humming ) ( humming continues )
SIDLE: What do you got? You got the gloves on.
Looking for a knife; uncover a gun. What is happening to our parks? ( barking ) ( barking )
Officer... Back the dogs off, please.
Dead body found 20 yards from where our vic was knifed. You think they're related? Well, they're related by geography. But, for now, it's just a dead guy in the park.
♪ ♪
Hey. Hey. Thought you had a couple days off. I do, but I left these on my desk. I'm on my way to Circus Circus with five nine-year-olds. It's Lindsey's birthday. Got to wrap a Bridal Barbie. What's a Bridal Barbie? Funny. Oh. Blue... gunshot residue. On our stabbing victim's jacket. So it means that he may have fired the revolver that you and Grissom found in the park?
Yeah. Too bad GSR testing can't tie the vic to a particular gun. Right. Hmm... but maybe Grissom can. Grissom? Yeah. I just passed him in Ballistics. He was meditating on your revolver. Didn't even look up. Excuse me. Mm-hmm. Have fun. Thanks.
You know, you could've waited for me.
Take a look at this.
Looks like burnt skin.
I think maybe someone palmed the cylinder gap.
Todd Branson had GSR on his jacket. If we could get his DNA off this revolver, we could tie him to this. Burnt skin is useless for DNA. Yeah, but what about sweat? There's a 17% chance of DNA recovery from a shooter's perspiration. 17%? Yeah. New paper out of Australia. You haven't seen it? 17% chance of DNA recovery from the grip of a gun, 67% chance from a cigarette, 32% chance from the brim of a hat. Would you like a copy?
I don't need one. I have you.
Swab the pistol grip; get it to DNA.
Albert. Hmm? Did you notice if Todd Branson had any burn marks on his palms? No. What about this guy? Negative. What are you looking for? A specific injury.
Well, I can't help you with burns, but, uh, you'll want to check out this guy's right palm.
Incised wound.
Well, that's a common injury sustained by knife-wielding killers. ( groaning ) So, assuming that this is the man who stabbed Todd Branson, what killed this guy? A bullet. It's lodged in the left ventricle. I was contemplating my method of extraction when you arrived. You reach in and pull it out. Not if it's only a jacket fragment. Maybe a frangible bullet designed to fragment on impact? Hmm. That would explain the mystery of the shattered femur. It's covered in copper dust.
I'll remove the heart, peel back the myocardium, and get you what's left of that bullet.
Did he have a dislocated shoulder? Yeah. Torn musculature, but no inflammatory response. It happened postmortem?
Excuse me. I'm headed over to the hospital. Taxi driver didn't make it.
Another one for my table. Emerson once said, "The mob is man voluntarily descending to the nature of the beast." The beast is up for murder.
Hey, buddy, how's it going?
I'm Detective Jim Brass from Las Vegas Police. Your mother home? No. What's your name? Eric. Sorry about your brother, Eric. Mom's out getting more boxes. Yeah, she said that you were moving. Where you going to?
You know, when I was a kid, we moved around a lot. It's not easy.
So you gonna be seeing your dad? My dad's dead. Died when I was two. Ah. Hey, Eric, will you do me a favor? When you see your mom, ask her to give me a call, okay? Okay. Take care.
Is that the frangible? Yep. You know, these were originally used in indoor shooting ranges where lead buildup's a problem. Copper's less toxic than lead. Take a look.
On the left, bullet from the vic's heart. On the right, bullet test-fired from the revolver recovered at the scene. Wow. Serendipity. Yep. Wow. Serendipity. Yep. Hey. Just made a match to your revolver. Nice. Yeah. I ran the serial number through NCIC. It's registered to a Jonathan Raurk of San Jose, California. John's my ex. Is he in Las Vegas? BRASS: Well, we, uh... we found a gun registered to him in the park where your son was murdered. But, when I spoke to your son Eric, uh... he told me that his father died years ago. That's what I told both my boys. I told them that John was killed in a car accident. It-It's not easy to lie to them like that, but every time I move, I have to make up some crazy story. I just want them to be able to sleep at night. Ms. Branson, we also found a dead body in the park-- a white male in his mid-30s. You think it's John? We have no I.D., but we, um, have a photograph.
No... No, no, this... This isn't John. This isn't my ex. This is Stewart. This... It's Stewart Bradley. He's my boyfriend.
♪ ♪
Where have you been? I went back to the park. I kept thinking there must be some physical evidence connecting the stabbing to the shooting. GRISSOM: Drag marks? SIDLE: Leading from the basketball court to Stewart Bradley's body. We know Todd was bleeding, but there were no blood drops around the drag marks. So you're thinking someone else was there? Well, the revolver was registered to the boy's biological father, but they haven't seen each other in ten years. Assuming Todd fired the gun, how'd he get ahold of it? Well, maybe Dad gave it to him behind Mom's back.
Or... maybe Todd wasn't the shooter. True. Presence of GSR only places Todd in the vicinity of the gunfire. And, since there were no burn marks on Todd's palms, evidence is suggesting someone else fired that gun. Which brings us back to Dad. BRASS: You know something, John, you don't scare me. According to your ex-wife, you're some kind of monster-- threatening her life, setting her car on fire in Boston and breaking and entering in Chicago, showing up at your kid's school in Portland... I don't know. I mean, I thought maybe you'd be like the guy in Sleeping with the Enemy.
You're more like Gumby, aren't you? Look, if this is about my ex... cop pulled me over outside Moapa. Jane lives in Vegas. I didn't violate any damn court order, all right? You know where she lives. Is that a crime? Yesterday, your son Todd was murdered. Now, that is a crime.
Hey! John, baby, I'm not talking about the weather here, man. I'm talking about your son. I haven't seen that kid since he was in his diapers. Geez, I didn't kill him, if that's what you're going to. Hey, what about Stewart Bradley? You know? Y-Yesterday, he was murdered, too. He wasn't stabbed. He was shot with your gun. Which one? Revolver. Smith & Wesson. No, I don't have a Smith & Wesson. It's registered to you, John. Has your name on it. That got stolen. Oh. You file a police report? No, I know, you're busy. You forgot. That's okay. You know what I think happened? Here's what I think. You called up Todd, you said, "Hey, Todd, "why don't you meet me down at Haskell Park? "You know what? Why don't you bring Mom's new boyfriend around? We'll have a little..." No, no, no, no. Come on, man, whoa, whoa, hey. We'll have a little..." No, no, no, no. Come on, man, whoa, whoa, hey. ( chuckles ) You know what? Last night, I was in Taos, New Mexico, okay? I didn't cross over until... it was in the afternoon in Nevada. Check it out. Adobe Inn. I watched pay-per-view and I had a pizza, okay?
May I see your hands, please? You better do what he says. He's in Crime Lab.
Can you hold him? He's got some unpaid speeding tickets. His warrants have been issued. Is three days good enough? For now.
WOMAN ( over P.A. ): CSI Owens, you have a call on line 12. Owens, line 12. What do you weigh?
Uh... that's between me and my trainer. Do I have to get a scale? A buck 95, give or take a doughnut. Don't even ask. I'm not telling you. Warrick, would you lie down on the floor? I don't get paid enough to play dead. Please? to play dead. Please? ( sighs ) Sara, grab Warrick's right arm. See if you can drag him across the room. This does have something to do with the case, right? You don't trust me?
( sighs ) ( grunts ) ( Brown groans ) You're such a drag. ( Sidle chuckles ) Stay there a minute.
Excuse me. Hi. Judy, right? Judy, would you like to be part of a little experiment? I'm a secretary. Besides, I heard what you did to Greg's feet. You'll keep your shoes on, I promise.
Can I get up? No. Spin around. Judy, would you take Warrick by the right arm and try and drag him across the room? Hi, Judy. Hi.
( grunting ) Hey, I-I like it gentle, okay? ( grunts ) Ooh. ( grunts ) ( exhales ) Thank you, Judy. You've been a big help. Thanks so much. You can go back to the water cooler. You want to tell me what's going on here? Stewart Bradley had a dislocated shoulder postmortem. He's about the same weight as you. How does your shoulder feel? You saw her dragging me around. You know, I'm glad I could help. I, uh... I'm late for the chiropractor's. I'll send you the bill. I get it. I'm bigger than Judy. In order to get momentum, she had to start and stop. Which could explain Stewart Bradley's postmortem dislocated shoulder. Especially if he was dragged by somebody with limited upper body strength. Where does that get us?
Well, maybe Jan Branson. She's about Judy's size.
Why would Jan Branson shoot her boyfriend? He stabbed her son. Motive?
I don't know. But mothers protect their children, don't they? Okay... okay, so... she sends Todd home, not knowing the severity of his wound. She buries her boyfriend's body. She ditches the knife, which we still haven't found. She hides the revolver... So perhaps the evidence is in Mrs. Branson's hands.
Mrs. Branson, you got a minute? Uh... Eric and I are leaving town. Well, your ex has been picked up on an unrelated matter. Even if he makes bail, you still got a day or two head start. Good. Ms. Branson, may I see your hands? Excuse me? Could be important. Palms up, please.
Hi, pal. Hi. Hey, Eric. Hi. Hey, Eric. This is Mr. Grissom. We work together. May I see your hands, please?
We have to get going. As soon as Eric shows Mr. Grissom his hands, you're on your way. Palms up.
Eric... I need to know how you burned your hand.
Look at Mr. Grissom, Eric. Not your mother, okay? Ms. Karpell. Eric, it's okay to answer the question.
I burned it on an iron.
BRASS: I think something a lot more dangerous than that burned your hand.
We recovered a gun... in the park.
Your burn indicates that your hand was over this gap when the gun was fired. ( gasp ) I followed Todd to the park. Todd, I got your e-mail. What's up? We're not moving again. I want you to tell Mom you're passing on that promotion. You should discuss this with your mother. She'll do whatever you say. You don't understand. I am not leaving my friends 'cause of you. Todd, this has nothing to do with me. Todd, no! No, come on! Let go! ( gunshot ) ( yells ) ( grunting ) ( grunts ) ( gunshot ) ( grunts ) ( gunshot ) ( groans ) Got to get home. You got to hide the body.
( grunting ) I was just looking out for my brother.
I, uh, swabbed the pistol grip of the revolver. The DNA from the suspect's perspiration isn't a match to Todd's, but it is male, with eight markers in common and familial relationship. GRISSOM: We found gunshot residue on Todd's jacket. We assumed that Todd fired the gun. But I think maybe he was standing next to you when you fired the gun.
You didn't go to the park to stop Todd, did you? He went to the park to stop you. Eric, what's up? TODD: Whoa, whoa! Eric, Eric! Eric, don't be stupid. I'm not moving again. Not 'cause of him!
Todd, let go! ( gunshot ) ( grunting ) Give it to me! ( grunts ) ( groans ) ( yells ) ( groaning ) ( groans ) ( panting ) ( groans ) ( panting ) Go home!
Where'd you get the revolver, Eric?
JAN: From me.
BRASS: Ms. Karpell... Eric, why don't we step out in the hall for a few minutes.
So the gun was in your possession, and you didn't say anything. I, um... I had it in a lockbox. And, uh... when I got that call from John a couple days ago, I took it out and I put in my nightstand. I didn't even know it was missing until this morning. And-and then I thought that John must have gotten in the house and taken it. I... I was so sure that he was the one who killed Stewart. I've spent the last ten years looking over my shoulder every day. BRASS: Your boyfriend was found carrying a knife the night he died. I spoke to some of his friends and associates, and no one ever remembers him carrying a knife. SIDLE: Ms. Branson? You warned your boyfriend about your ex-husband, didn't you? He asked me what was wrong, and I shouldn't have said anything. He panicked. He-he overreacted. He started carrying a knife.
What's gonna happen to Eric? He'll be remanded to a juvenile detention center, awaiting trial. And then? BRASS: If he's convicted of a homicide, he'll be sent to a state custodial facility until he's 21.
♪ ♪
Where we at, Greg? I paged you, like, ten times. I was busy. Well, so was I. First, I processed Mr. Khandelwahl's clothing. Then I compared the DNA I lifted from said clothing to the DNA from the Dirty Dozen. All I see is a sheet. But what I do is art. And now I'm ready to unveil it.
Welcome to the new and improved Match Game.
Now, Graham Cooper grabbed Rajeeb's collar... ( men yelling angrily ) Claude Allen and Barry Lawrence used their fists... ( men clamoring and blows landing ) Joey Gillman, Bill Kendal and Rick Midgen got into it, too. Very nice presentation, Greg.
What about the others? They all participated. They even bragged about it. Well, only six of the 12 left behind their epithelials when their skin made contact with the vic's clothing. I've got no physical evidence to tie the others to the crime.
( labored breathing ) ♪ Get your freak on, get your freak on, get your freak on ♪ ( indistinct conversation )
Stop! ( tires screeching ) What was that? ( chattering )
Check that out. Yeah, you see him over there? Check that out. Yeah, you see him over there? Check it out. ( shouting ) Hey! ( shouting ) Hey! Don't let him get away! Where you thinking you going?! ( mob yelling ) No! Go back to your own country! No! Go back to your own country! ( screaming ) ( grunting ) GRISSOM: The mob mentality... relieves individuals from having to distinguish between right and wrong. Anonymity shields them from prosecution though.
Yeah, six of 'em, to be exact. Mm. Unfortunately, physical evidence is limited by human action. Well, nothing's absolute, Gil... even forensics. Yeah, well... this is as far as we can take it.
It's up to you guys.
BRASS: The physical evidence confirms that you're the "hero" that pulled the driver out of the cab. I'd do it again, too. Mr. Cooper, why don't we just hear what Captain Brass has to say. You're looking at first-degree murder. What? Mr. Khandelwahl didn't make it.
( sighs ) And, for the record, he didn't hit that boy. He wasn't trying to flee the scene. He was reaching for his radio, trying to call for help. You know who the real hero of this is? Rajeeb Khandelwahl. The taxi driver. So... what does that make you?
D.A. willing to deal?
( heavy sigh ) ( over speaker ): We want your buddies. I mean, either you talk or they'll talk. I mean, it doesn't matter. And the clock is ticking. ♪ Everything ♪ ♪ Everything... ♪ ♪ In its right place ♪ ♪ In its right place. ♪ they'll talk.