All language subtitles for CSI.S10E13.Internal.Combustion.720p.Bluray.DD5.1.x264-RZF

Victim's name is Trevor Beck.

Caucasian male, age 17.

Five-foot-11, 154 pounds.

Senior at Sagebrush Valley High.

Appears to be well nourished
and in overall good health,

without any abnormal skin
coloring or pigmentation.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

There are several
light abrasions

and contusions on the knuckles
of his right hand,

consistent
with a recent scuffle.

Yeah! Fight! Fight!

Want to fight me?

Fight! Fight!

Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!

But there do not
appear to be any

external wounds consistent
with severe trauma.

Internal organs appear healthy.

No signs of trauma or disease.

Heart muscle...

is free of scarring
and necrosis.

And there's no evidence
of any cardiac event.

Healthy young men like this

don't simply drop dead
for no reason.

I concur.

Which is why I am still looking.

Whoa!

Oh!

That is one massive
cerebral edema.

The meninges don't appear to be

discolored or inflamed,

so I think we can safely
rule out meningitis.

Did he suffer any
blows to the head?

There's no evidence
of any injuries to support that.

According to the police report,

he was shoved at school
this morning and collapsed.

And even if he sustained
a blow during the altercation,

that's not nearly enough time
to cause this much swelling.

And what does that
leave us with?

Drugs? Toxins?

Or a prior injury
we don't know about.

Not yet.

♪ 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! ♪

Mrs. Beck,
please sit down.

Okay.
Okay.

There's just a few things
I have to ask you, all right?

Was Trevor injured recently?

Injured?

How?

You know, uh...
a bang on the head.

Even a little bump? Anything?

No. No,
I mean, not that I know of.

No? Was he complaining
of, uh, headaches

or blurred vision, nausea...
Anything like that?

Uh, he-he's been
a little grumpy lately.

I mean, this morning,
he couldn't find his car keys,

and he... he threw a fit.

And then, he realized
he'd left them in the car.

But, um, I think
that's just 'cause he's...

he's not getting enough sleep,
you know?

He's... he's a teenager.

Sure. Sure.

Sure, we all do that.
I understand.

Was he in a fight recently?

Trevor doesn't fight.

He's a, um...
he was a good kid.

Well, even good kids
have bad days.

Did somebody do something
to Trevor...

that-that killed him?

We can't say anything
definitive.

We're just looking
at possibilities.

But it would be helpful
to have a diary of Trevor's

comings and goings
in the last week.

That would be good.

How do you know anything
about a kid at his age? I...

Well, we could ask his friends.

You know, maybe they could help.

He didn't have a lot of friends.

You know, when-when Trevor
wasn't doing his schoolwork,

he was...
he was working on his car.

You know, he always said

that he was going to be
an artist.

I mean, I thought that would be

like a, you know, a painter

or sculptor or something,
you know?

Not a gearhead.

He said that a car was art

that could move.

He started seeing a girl...

Cindy... about a week ago.

She came home with him
last night.

Yeah? What time was that?

Let's see, they went up
to Trevor's room about 9:00.

But, um, there was no
sleeping over, so she left

about, uh, 11:00, I think.

But I-I didn't see her go.

Do you have her phone number?

No. I don't.

It's okay.
That's all right.

We can find that.

That's easy for us.

Hey! If you want Cindy,

well, too bad,
'cause you can't have her.

You don't look
nearly busy enough.

Well, thank you.

It is my gift to look relaxed
while doing many things.

Unlike Hodges,

who has the ability
to look overwhelmed

while really doing
nothing at all.

I'm waiting on
an A.G. waiver

- on a cell phone for...
- Cindy Warner.

It just came through.
Start relaxing.

You got it. Okay.

You know, I heard the victim's

brain kind of exploded
in his head.

Kind of.

What does this girl
have to do with that?

No one's seen her since the
night before Trevor Beck died.

She lives with her brother,

a construction worker
out of town on a job.

I sent some unis
over to their apartment

for a welfare check
and she wasn't there.

I mean, her boyfriend drops dead
in front of the whole school,

and she's nowhere to be found.

That qualifies
as suspicious to me.

Hmm.

Oh, okay.

Her cell is registered
and active at a tower

on Washington Boulevard
between Oak and Maple.

Sagebrush Valley High.

Well, it is a school day.

According to the office,

Cindy was not in her homeroom
this morning.

Well, according to my daughter,

some kids just go to school
to hang out.

Never set foot in a classroom.

Oh, I have her schedule.

I will beat the bushes
and see what turns up.

Bye.

Cindy?

Sorry?

This is Cindy Warner's locker.

Yeah, and mine. We share.

Oh, uh, well, I'm Sara Sidle.

I'm with the crime lab.
What's your name?

Renata Clarke.

I'm going to need
to get in there, Renata.

Like the teachers say,

no expectation of privacy.

So did Cindy do something wrong?

Have you seen her today?
No.

I mean, not since
the other night.

Actually, before what happened
with Trevor.

And I've been texting
her like crazy,

and Cindy's my biff,

and we always talk before bed.

She text you back?

And you're not worried
about her at all?

Of course I'm worried about her.

Her boyfriend, like, died.

But, I mean, half the school
went home after that

and I figured Cindy did, too.

She just wasn't ready to talk.

And I can't even imagine
how she was feeling.

You think Cindy
ran away or something?

We don't know.

Well, I'm going to be
late for class.

Oh, uh, no problem. Go ahead.

But, um, could
you do me a favor?

If Cindy does get in touch
with you, could you

call me please?
Sure.

Thanks.

- Hey!
- Hi.

What are you doing here?

I called Impound for this.

Yeah, they're still sorting out

a multi-car pileup on the 15.

Thought I'd save them
some trouble,

take care of this one
in the field.

Nobody mentioned
it was electric.

So?

So this is
a 1958 Porsche Speedster.

So?

So, it's a classic.

James Dean had one of these.

Putting an electric motor
in this is sacrilegious.

Not to polar bears.

Did you process the interior?

No, no, not yet.

Uh-oh.

Looks like we've got
some more blasphemy here.

Yeah, I saw that.

Fresh yellow paint scrape
on the passenger side door.

Already collected for trace.

Hmm.

You know, these
EVs have diagnostic

modules up the wazoo.

They log range,
speed, acceleration,

state of charge...
All that stuff.

Well, I guess the electric
motor's good for us, too.

Phenelzine.

Antidepressant.

Sadly, very popular
with the high school set.

Got a pink cell here.

Cindy Warner's phone.

They say the only way

to get a teenage girl
away from her cell phone

is to pry it
from her cold, dead hand.

Well, whoever "they" are,
let's hope they're wrong.

♪ ♪

Ow!
Let go!

What are you doing?!

What's the matter with you?
Stop it!

Stop!
Yo, dude, that's it.

Miyamoto Takahashi?

Nah, man.

It's after 3:00.

I'm not a truant.
Oh.

Wouldn't that be your lucky day?

I'm a homicide detective, man.

How'd you get that shiner?

This'll help.

- Ow!
- Let go!

What are you doing?!

What's the matter with you?
Stop it!

- Stop!
- Yo, dude, that's it!

Looks pretty self-explanatory.

Boy, I don't know
what's going on today,

but everybody's
giving me attitude.
Hey, you know what?

I'm the victim, man.

You're not the victim
when the guy who did that,

17 hours later, ended up dead.

The gentleman in question
died at school.

Probably bored to death.

So what was your beef
with Trevor?

No beef, man.

Amateur got in my face.

I let him slide.
A tough guy like you

didn't hit back?
Come on.

Let who's ever up there decide.

You know,
for such a man of peace,

you have a funny way
of showing it.

You know what I think happened?

I think it all had
to do with Cindy Warner.

I'm perplexed.

An educated guy like you?

Come on.

Cindy used to be my lady.

Then she started keeping
his passenger seat warm.

But you never know
when history's

going to repeat itself...
That's the way I saw it.

The way I see it is, uh,
you get in a fight with Trevor

to win Cindy back,
and then Trevor kicked your ass.

17 hours later, he ends up dead
and Cindy goes missing.

She's missing?

Yeah.

Where is she?

If we knew where she was,
she wouldn't be missing.

Now, where did you go
after Trevor decked you?

Back here.

Look, I swear. Ask my boss.

I was helping with inventory.

When was the last time
you saw Cindy?

You're looking at it.

It looks like his brain stem

has been jammed into his spine.

Essentially it has.

It's a rare condition known
as Chiari malformation.

It's a deformity of the skull

that displaces the cerebellum

and the brain stem
into the spinal canal.

Most people don't even realize
they have it

until they've experienced
some kind of trauma

or vigorous neck flexion.

Like a blow to the head?
Exactly.

If that happens,
the condition creates swelling,

edema, resulting in massive
intracranial pressure.

The headaches can be
excruciating.

According to the mother,

Trevor had been irritable
and wasn't sleeping very well.

It's got to be hard
to sleep when your brain's

blowing up in your skull
like that, huh?

Trevor was also taking

antidepressants, MAO inhibitors.

I know they spike
blood pressure,

but wouldn't they have worsened
the swelling?

Definitely.

The existing Chiari,
the antidepressants

and whatever struck his head,

all combined to create
an acute hypertensive crisis...

A perfect storm.

So whoever gave him the drugs

was also contributing
to his death.

Yes.
We
still don't know

what hit him
or who or where it happened.

Well, the diagnostic modules
in Trevor's Franken-Porsche

did give us
a little something there.

On the night before
his last drive from home

to school, Trevor drove

about 14 miles in the course
of an hour and a half

without turning his engine off.

That's seven miles out,
seven miles back.

Seven-mile search radius.

And just before
he made that trip

is the last time
that Cindy Warner was seen.

I've got a bad feeling
about this.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Guys, she's pretty messed up.

And it's not just from the tree.

Compound fractures
of both shins.

A lot of internal injuries.

And her uniform is missing

the skirt, which could
suggest sexual assault.

Possible body dump.

You know, I haven't seen
any blood in the vicinity

or footprints, other than ours.

Or any sign of a struggle.

No, if this is a body dump,

and Trevor's death
was some sort of twisted

karmic retribution,

then why didn't he try to hide
the body any better than this?

There's no tire treads
coming off the road,

no signs of another vehicle
even being out here,

much less another person.

It's like she just...
fell from the sky.

What do you think?

Kids head out

to the desert for a
little sneaky-touchy.

Things start getting
hot and heavy,

clothing is removed.

Then things go

terribly, terribly wrong.

Definitely wrong.

That is not what happened.

Do you see how the tibia
is snapped clean?

The X-ray shows the posterior

is beveled.

This is a pedestrian fracture.

She was hit by a car.

David said that there was no
evidence of that at the scene.

Maybe not in the immediate
vicinity of the body,

but if you take a car
traveling at highway speed

and you hit someone just right,

a girl this size
and this weight...

She could fly the length
of a football field.

We need to widen our search.

♪ ♪

♪ So you... don't talk,
don't mock, don't squawk ♪

♪ So close to me ♪

♪ And you... don't push,
don't pull, don't be a fool ♪

♪ So close ♪

♪ To me ♪

♪ On call, on edge, on point ♪

♪ But don't point ♪

♪ That close to me ♪

♪ You're livin'
on nothin' but pride ♪

♪ You can wile out
as much as you like ♪

♪ It's your day in the sun,
so walk right ♪

♪ Walk right, walk right. ♪

There were yaw marks
up and down the road,

but no clear tread marks,
so I obliquely photographed

areas where I thought
tread marks might be

by using a light source
at different angles,

different contrast.

Each angle revealed portions
of otherwise invisible treads.

By layering the shots,
I was able

to come up with a complete set
of tread mark impressions.

Very impressive, smarty-pants.

Two distinct sets.

Both originating in the same
general vicinity here.

The yellow scrapes
and blood on the road

appear to be from Cindy's

point of impact, which was

roughly 1,300 feet

from the starting point.

We found her body 300 feet
from where she was hit.

Two cars, dead of night,

a girl on a lonely stretch
of quarter-mile straightaway.

This was a drag race.

Come on! Beat him!

With Cindy at the finish line.

In every sense of the word.

The treads on the left are

a thin five-bar tire
that's consistent

with the ones on Trevor's car.

Treads on the right are
from his mystery opponent.

They're 17-inch, Goodyear Eagles

with a wheel width
of approximately 70 inches.

A lot of cars on the road today

that fit that description.

Hodges was able

to I.D. the yellow flakes
in Cindy's wounds

and the point of impact.

It's Flatz uranium number two.

And it is the same paint

as the yellow scrape
that we found

on Trevor's door.
Okay, so...

the two cars race,
one swipes the other.

The yellow car loses control
and takes out Cindy.

That would explain
why there was no damage

to the front-end
of Trevor's car.

So we're looking for

a yellow street racer
in Las Vegas? Great.

That should narrow it down
to just a few hundred suspects.

Well, maybe Trevor's drug dealer

can help us out with that.

I tracked the lot number on

the phenelzine pack you found.

It's from a local pharmacy.
I called the owner.

His son works as a stock boy,

and he goes to Trevor's school.

A drug dealer?

Me?

Do I look like
Tony Montoya to you?

Damn it, Rishi,
stop messing around.

That's good advice.

We know that you're dealing.

I never took any cash
from Trevor.

We were in auto shop together.

He was, like, a genius,
and I have this mental blockage

when it comes to things
mechanical,

so I exchanged
my goods for his services.

Tutoring.

All this and you're failing
auto shop, too?

That's right, Dad!

I'm never going
to be an engineer.

Strip me of my Indian.

The night before he died...

who was Trevor racing?

No one.
Come on.

I'm telling you,
Trevor wasn't a racer.

Tell the police the truth!

He wasn't a racer!

Not as far as I know.

That car was like his baby.
Well, racing

is what a car like that
is built for.

We know that Trevor was out
in the desert drag racing

a yellow car,
which killed Cindy Warner.

Do you know somebody
with a yellow car?

I don't think you're aware
of what's going on here.

The pills that you gave Trevor

helped kill him.

No-no-no, he... he asked me
for the painkillers.

But that stuff's addictive,
so I gave him the uppers.

Which are controlled substances.

Trafficking them is a felony.

Hey, I'm still a minor.

But your father isn't.

He's responsible
for those medications.

And if he's found
criminally liable,

he could lose his store.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Rishi, what have you done?

The yellow car...

it's got to be a Demon.

They're a gang;
their color's yellow.

That's all I know.

I swear.

I'm sorry, Dad.

I'm sorry.

All right.

The Demons have been
around for a while.

They're a legitimate car club,
but they've diversified

into distribution
of narcotics, chop shops,

protection rackets...
Things like that.

Well, we can't exactly
round up every Demon in town

who's driving a
yellow car, can we?

Well, maybe we don't have to.

I know where a lot of Demons
are going to hang out tonight.

♪ Back into the breeze ♪

♪ Get my Cracker Barrel on ♪

♪ And focus on the cheese ♪

♪ Cheddar come, cheddar go,
cheddar spend ♪

♪ I'm showing up in heaven
with a nut, let us in ♪

♪ The airport,
the four-point Sheraton ♪

♪ Holding 50 G's
in the duffel for a friend ♪

♪ He better come get it,
a friend is a friend ♪

"Street Rumble"? That's catchy.

Brass says the department
sets this thing up

to keep racers off the streets.

Ten dollars buys
anyone into a race,

and it's all legal.

Well, it looks
like it's working.

Yeah, it does, actually.

Well, at least one
day a week anyway.

Regal team
members to the queue line.

Regal team members
to the queue line right now.

Here we go.
Check it out.

Pretty nice ride you got here.

17-inch rims?

Ooh, look at that.

The lady can appreciate
the finer things in life.

Nissan 350Z.

This is a race car.

You can't keep it caged up.

You got to let a canary sing.

Ask Sergeant Jenkins.

This is the ride that beat
his ass here last week.

Bumper looks a little
beat up, though.

This baby's pristine.

You know Officer O'Malley?

Got smoked two weeks ago
on Las Veg...

on the track.

Your old Crown Vic's
just no matchup.

Hey, no disrespect, but any
scratches get on that shine,

there's going
to be problems, man.

No, there's not.

Besides, I was just
admiring the color.

Weren't you, Sara?

The color is nice.
What is it?

Uh, Flatz uranium number two?

Don't know.

Is this your car?

I'm watching it for a friend.

What's this about?

What's your friend's name?

Don't know.

You don't know the guy's name,

but he lets you baby-sit
his car? Why is that?

What can I say?
I got a trustworthy face.

No, you don't.
We're looking for

a yellow car in
connection with a murder.

Mitch!

Johnnie! We got a runner!

Stop, LVPD!

Stop now!

Step aside! Please!

LVPD! Stop!

Get out of the way!

Back it up!
Get down on the ground!

Now!

Get down.
Get your arm back.

Get down!

Back it up!

Maybe in your car,
you would've had a chance.

You're under arrest.
Get him up.

Let's go.

Oh...

What is it, Greg?

I was just thinking about
the time I went joyriding.

You? Really?

I was 12.

My, uh, Papa Olaf
bought a red 280-ZX.

Man, it was love at first sight.

And I have no idea what made me
think I could get away with it.

But when Papa O went down
for his afternoon nap,

I swiped the keys
and took it for a spin.

Where did you go?

Around the block... twice.

And when I was rolling it
back into the driveway,

I almost ran over my foot.

Papa Olaf woke up, had no idea.

He never found out.

Hmm...
you're a little car thief.

Yeah, guess I am.

So, listen,
Miyamoto lawyered up.

But according to the guys
in the gang unit,

he's been involved in stuff
like this before.

He got busted in a chop shop
raid last summer,

but since he was a juvie,

and not principally involved,
they turned him loose.

I'm pretty sure
he's involved in this, too.

Well, unfortunately,
his car isn't.

Well, his wheel width matches.

So do the tires.

And Hodges confirmed the paint...
Flatz uranium number two.

That may be so,
but while at the crime scene,

I collected broken glass
associated with the impact.

Turned out to be
headlight glass.

These headlights are plastic.

There is no way that this glass

came from that car.

Is that Trevor?

Looks like he was more
of a racer than people thought.

Where did you get to this?

Well, that photo
was on Cindy's phone.

It was taken
at the winner's circle

of Street Rumble,
so I searched their site

and this came up.
It's from nine days ago.

Check out that paint
job on the other car.

Yellow flames.

How much do you want to bet
it's Flatz uranium number two?

Ouch.

He got whiplashed
in that spinout.

That's probably what setoff
his Chiari.

Which means that his death

was probably an accident.

Yeah.

Wait a minute.

That is Renata Clarke...

Cindy Warner's best friend.

So, Trevor smokes Renata
in an organized race.

Maybe the desert was a rematch.

All right, you hear
that light ticking sound?

That's the hot solid lifter cam.

Valves need adjusting.

Shut it down.

See, if you listen,

your car will tell you
everything.

There's no guesswork.

Unlike your girlfriend,
she'll tell you exactly

what she means, but you have

to listen, because...

if you don't, your car's
just a noisy heap of metal.

Take care of those valves.
Okay, Gus.

Hi. Can I help you?

Hi there. Mr. Davis?

Yes.

We're with the crime lab.

I understand that
you're Renata's legal guardian.

I am.

I'm her uncle
and her shop teacher.

We're going to need to take
a look at her car.

Sure. Uh, yeah,
it's right over here.

Only, it's not for sale.

Renata? Come on out.

Uh, these people want
to take a look at the car.

What's this all about, Gus?

I don't know.

No signs of blood spatter
or body damage.

Even the tires look clean.

But the headlights are glass.

Well, the wheel width is right.

There's no way we're
off base on this.

Hmm.

Maybe we're not.

Check it out.

Yellow paint overspray.

This area's been recently
repaired and repainted.

What are you looking for?

Renata...

where were you the night
that Cindy went missing?

Um, I went to Giant Burger

to meet up with some friends
for dinner.

When the fries got cold,
I came home.

Studied calc and fell asleep
on my textbook.

True story.

What were you calling Cindy
about at 1:00 in the morning?

Around midnight, I woke up...
Ink on my face and everything...

And I watched
the Gossip Girl I DVR'd

and called Cindy to go
over the pertinent details.

Did you make plans to meet up?

"Meet up"?

Th-There's no meeting up.

Cindy and I talk every night.

This is nothing
out of the ordinary.

Wait.

You couldn't possibly think
I was there when Cindy...

When Cindy what?
You think I killed her?

Cindy was my best friend!

I would never hurt her!

Never!
Renata.

What's this all about?

Evidence consistent
with this car

was collected at a
crime scene, Mr. Davis.

This vehicle
will now be impounded.

Impound?!

What, because of some stupid
measuring tape?!

You can't take it!

You can't let them take my car!
You don't

actually have a choice
in the matter.

Hey, fine. Look.

She was at home.

I was with her.

And we're done talking.

Okay, you guys are looking
for fibers,

blood, hair... any transfer
that would confirm

this is the vehicle that struck

and killed Cindy Warner, okay?
Okay.

The suspect hides the murder
weapon in plain sight,

in her auto shop class.

That's pretty sophisticated
for a high school girl.

Right.

She's definitely more
sophisticated than the ones

you chat with on the Twilight
message boards.

Wait.

So, I'm guessing that about

a million grubby
teenagers probably

pawed their way
all around this thing.

So how exactly do we put

Renata behind the wheel
when Cindy was killed?

By going over it
with a fine-tooth comb.

If we can rule out
other drivers,

then we can build
a pretty good case.

Right.

What if the other driver
was wearing gloves?

Helping or hindering, Wendy,
which one's it going to be?

I am helping.

Attagirl. Thanks.

What do you got there?

Kids.
Gross.

There are only two ways
to get to the drag

where Cindy was killed.

One is an exit off the 95.
Mm-hmm.

And the other's a turn
off Blue Diamond Road,

which is the way to get there
from Henderson.

And where both Trevor
and Renata live.

Is there a traffic camera
or video surveillance

at the Blue Diamond
intersection?

I am just going
to check that out.

Good. PD's doing
their part.

Somebody's bound to get lucky.

This is a 1933 Ford Roadster.

It was involved
in a street race that resulted

in the death of a teenage girl.

Now, we have reason to believe
that the street gang known

as the Demons aided the driver

by chopping the parts
of this car

immediately after the incident.

Now, the gang unit has supplied
you with a list of the known

Demon chop shops,

several of which are fronted
by legitimate businesses.

Now, the job is
to locate and recover

any and all parts
from this vehicle.

And when you do so,
give CSI a call.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Cindy Warner's sweater
made quite the impression

on the hood of Renata's car.

There was so much
kinetic energy transferred

in the collision that when
the fabric came into contact

with the hood, it actually

deformed the clear coat
and the paint.

After that, she takes
the car to the Demons,

who replace the parts and
paint everything to match.

And she pretends
the whole thing didn't happen.

Were there any other prints

besides hers
on the steering wheel?

No. No, we got her
as good as we can.

You know, there's one thing
that I still don't get.

So, Renata loses to Trevor
in a legal, organized race,

and then a week later,
they have a rematch

at an illegal drag
in the desert.

Why not just wait
until the next Rumble?

Racer mentality
runs in her family.

Her guardian
was on the stock car circuit

in the '70s.

Made a bit of a name
for himself.

Back then, guys used
to build their own cars

and race them for pink slips.

He obviously passed
the bug on to Renata.

Uh, guys, we got a problem.

These were taken
by a traffic camera

on Blue Diamond Road
the night of Cindy's death.

That's Trevor's Porsche

with Renata behind the wheel.

That doesn't make any sense.

It blows up our whole theory.

Trevor wasn't in the desert.

It wasn't a rematch.

So then what...
He let Renata borrow his car

to... what?

Race who?

Her car was already there.

We're missing something.

Okay, but what?

I think I know.

Want a piece of gum?

Piece of gum, Gus?

We know you didn't race
Trevor in the desert, Renata.

Finally. It was starting
to feel like harassment.

You were racing each other.

We found a wad
of chewing gum stuck

on the back of the steering
wheel of Renata's car.

I know you're a fan
of Chuck Yeager. So am I.

Chuck used to snag
a stick of Beeman's

from his mechanic before
he did a test flight.

And then he'd take
the gum, right?

And he'd place it...

right on the cockpit.

So it'd be there
on his safe return home.

And I guess, uh,
in your racing days, you'd leave

a wad of gum on
the steering wheel?

Just like Chuck.

Well, once we match

your DNA to that chewing gum,

it's like the checkered flag
for us.

So, I chew gum.

Renata and I work together

on that car all the time.

That doesn't prove anything.

The morning that Trevor died,
he couldn't find his car keys.

But he said he found them
later inside his car.

So I think that you
got your BFF Cindy

to steal the car and
bring it out to the desert

so you could race it.

And after Cindy got killed,

you drove the car back
into Trevor's house

and left the keys
inside the car.

We...

We-We didn't mean to...
We didn't do

anything.

And we're leaving.

No, you're not leaving.
Well, wait a minute.

Actually, you can leave.

But you're going to stay.

You're under arrest.

Cuff her.
Read her her rights.

Charge is felony murder.
She was there.

You want to give her a hug,
buddy, now is a good time.

- No, wait, wait, n-now stop.
- It's okay, Gus.

I'm going to be okay.
No.

Don't.

It's my fault.
Don't!

It was my fault.

What the hell happened
out there?

That guy's never raced
a day in his life

and he beat you?!
His car runs
like it's on jet fuel.

There's no beating that.

Hey, you were slow
on your gear changes.

If you had the guts
of a real racer,

you would have beaten him!

His car is better
than ours, Gus.

Get over it!

I saw Trevor's little toaster

all the time in class.

It's not about
what's under the hood.

And I had to show

Renata that what matters most
is the heart behind the wheel.

Cindy was dating Trevor.

I got Renata to convince Cindy
to steal Trevor's car,

so I could prove my point.

I don't know what came over me.

I just never liked
to lose to anyone.

Cindy!

Cindy!
Get in the car!

Get in the car!
Oh, my...

No! We have
to find her!

All right, I will,
but I want you out of here.

Take Trevor's car back
and go home.

I tried.

I tried to find her,
but I couldn't.

But I felt that hit.

There was nothing
I could do for her.

I gave that Miyamoto kid
500 bucks

to make the car like new
overnight.

This is on me.

No.

It was my fault.

If I hadn't had Cindy
steal Trevor's car,

she would never have been
out there in the first place.

You did.

She was.

Who won?

Brass said the D.A.'s

going to charge them both.

There you go...
Two lives ruined,

two dead kids, and for what?

So some old-time race car
driver could show off?

It's a shame.

When you're young,
you think you're immortal.

And when you get older,

you just want to remember
how that felt.

Driving crazy fast
on an open road.

We're not getting
that old, are we?

Good night, Nicky.

Good night, Catherine.
I'll see you tomorrow.