All language subtitles for CSI_ Vegas (2021) 2x17 - The Promise (English)

High drama in low tides
at Lake Mead this morning.

A shallow diver searching
for hidden treasure

found more than what he bargained for,

deadly remains. Sir?

I'm here now with
Jeremiah Beck, the diver.

Sir, what were you
looking for down there

besides the shock of your life?

Oh, uh, buddies of
mine have been finding

all kind of cool stuff
since the lake dried up.

Mm.

Y'all waiting for an
engraved invitation?

There are human remains down there.

Let's get to work.

What?

It's a child.

Go for Roby.

Look, it's a dollar
bill in a sealed baggie.

Oh, look, they doodled on it.

- Little smiling little egg.
- Yeah.

Whoa, look at that date.

1982.

Hey, Greg.

Dr. Roby. You rang?

I get it. Count Sanders
'cause I asked you

to be on the "vampire
shift." Yeah, you funny.

- I vant to make you proud.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah,

I know, I know.

Seriously, though, I'm happy

to pinch-hit for your
nightshift supervisor.

Thank you. I thank you.

Claudia thanks you.

Her new little baby thanks you.

I think I can lose some sleep

over one new mother's maternity leave,

but I thought my reunion tour of duty

didn't start till tonight.

Okay, sorry to tap you early,

but I'm in the middle
of a waking nightmare.

Let Count Sanders
guess, body in a barrel.

- Mm-hmm.
- Rumor has it, it's an early '80s mob hit.

It's not a mob hit because
the body belongs to a child,

and what I really need

is an anthropologist. You got one?

Let me grab my cape.

- You've come to the right vampire.
- Come on, Count.

- Well, hello.
- Dr. Roby.

Oh, and you must be Dr. Hudson.

I'm Dr. Heather Chumani.

Thanks for coming on such short notice.

Someone show me a pelvic bone.

Boy, you guys did a nice
job of setting this out here.

Thank you.

Mm...

Oh... poor girl.

It's a girl.

It's difficult to determine
morphology of race,

but I do know that we're
looking at a female child.

Based on the...

non-fusion of the basilar suture,

I'd say your girl was around
eight to ten years old.

Hmm...

What's less certain is the
cause of this outer scrape,

the right side of the temple,

just above the orbital bone.

- Antemortem or postmortem?
- Neither, I think.

Probably perimortem, near time of death.

I don't know how long our Jane Doe

has been in that lake, but

based on the osteologic reaction
to the temple, I'm thinking

whatever happened to her face

is the reason why she's in that barrel.

So, can you bring our
little girl back to life?

All I need is a quiet work area.

I know just the place.

There she is.

Maxine Roby,

meet our little Jane Doe.

We have your face.

Now, all we need is your name.

Can I ask you a question?

Yup.

How did the anthropologist
determine her skin tone?

She didn't.

Uh, I mean, she's not translucent, so...

It's called "neutral palette technique."

When the race of a victim is unknown,

the forensic artists use a
blend of all skin pigmentations.

Hmm. Makes sense.

We need an image that's
as inclusive as possible.

Cast the widest net.

We want everyone giving
this girl a careful look.

Yeah, I will. I will
be there in an hour.

Let me call you back.

Uh, what's going on?

It'll come to you.

Oh...

Bryan's art thing. Damn it.

The gallery opening for his girlfriend.

- We were, we were supposed to...
- I know, I know. I'm sorry.

You don't have to apologize
to me. I'm just the ex-husband.

I expect to be blown off.

Bryan, though...

What do you want me to tell him?

I'll talk to him.

I got to put out my own fires. Damn it.

I don't see any fires,
but I do smell smoke.

You okay?

They found the remains of a child

in a barrel

at the bottom of Lake Mead.

- It's a cold case. Gonna be a long week.
- Hmm.

- They all are.
- Yeah.

I understand. Um...

Work comes first.

Yeah.

If you just so happen to get a break,

text me.

We can take Bry to
lunch, make it up to him.

Thank you.

Yeah.

Time?

37 seconds.

Texas Chainsaw Massacre
fans would be impressed

by the way you wield that thing.

Well, I have been
lumber-jacking since I left CSI.

- Really?
- No.

- Oh.
- I've been writing a book,

but I do own several flannel shirts.

I've got to wonder, why so blue?

Hand me the scalpel and a Q-pack.

- Yeah.
- I'm gonna get this to trace.

Wait.

What is that?

"Salt Mine Company"?

Salt Mine Company
specializes in the obvious,

sodium production.

Our facility also manufactures

its own barrels for transport.

I think what you're looking for

is right here, model MHAZ.

Made of cold rolled steel.

We used them in the
late '70s, early '80s.

That's when you switched to plastic?

Yeah.

Makes sense, given the
weather and oxidation,

this rock salt becomes hygroscopic,

changes into liquid

and clumps... up...

You want a job here or something?

No, we just want to confirm.

This barrel did come from Salt Mine Co.?

Hon, I suspect you can read.

We ship all over the world.

That one with your body in it,

it could've come from
Munich or Manhattan.

This one was dumped in Lake
Mead, not the East River.

When did you start working here?

Started in '79. Why?

I want a roster of
employees from back then.

Yeah, okay.

As if someone couldn't
have stolen the damn barrel.

You ever think that,
uh, your kid in the can

might've been some parent's way of, uh,

getting rid of a problem?

I think this was some
parent's worst nightmare.

Fellas, I got to go get

a missing girl's face
out into the community,

and you got to get me that roster.

Or I'll be back.

Dr. Milton Hudson examining
the skeletal remains

of an unidentified child,

presumed missing,

Jane Doe.

Full skeletal remains

came from a barrel
discovered in Lake Mead.

Approximate height:

four feet, four inches tall.

Approximate weight: 60 to 70 pounds.

There are no irregular,
identifying features.

Just who this little
girl was, that remains...

Unknown.

Capitate, hamate bones...

... nearly obliterated.

- Is that a gunshot wound?
- Looks like.

Can't say which direction
the shot was fired,

but the bullet hit
the right wrist square.

Uh-huh.

Uh...

Perimortem is the theme of the day.

Looks like a clear, perforated
hole right through the scapula.

Through and through.

- Looks like.
- Mm-hmm.

Bullet exited her back and just

kept on going. It means that she was

probably shot at close range, right?

All of this damage could be
explained by a single shot.

- She's facing the shooter.
- Mm-hmm.

Put up a hand.

Okay.

Ah...

Damn it.

That means that it was the
last thing she ever saw.

Okay. The blue substance

from the bottom of the barrel was

a combination of aluminum,

colored reflective
and adhesive sheeting,

and paint.

Could be a million things.

But who knows, you can never count out

Locard's exchange
principle. Every contact...

- leaves a trace.
- Leaves a trace.

Um, well, we can count out DNA.

I ran the clumps of wavy brown hair.

It's too degraded for a sample.

Greg, zero. Penny, zero.

Uh, Greg, zero. Penny, one.

The white Mary Janes are a youth size 5.

Patent leather.

My guess is

she might've been killed
before or after church.

- Sorry, you lost me at "my guess."
- Well...

There's a Sunday school
patch on her shirt.

You sure that's what that is?

Every Sunday, my entire childhood.

I was an acolyte. I
even taught Sunday school

- for a few years.
- Okay.

Penny, five. Greg, zero.

But these two rhinestone barrettes

could get me on the board.

This one is in perfect condition.

The metal on this one
is burnt and twisted.

Doesn't look like

corrosion from being
underwater 40 years to me.

Hard to say what did it, though.

Whatever it was might've
made the hole in this glove.

Here. Check out the photo
of Jane Doe's right wrist.

Look at how the hole in the
glove lines up perfectly.

She was shot through the hand.

The bigger hole's in the back,

which means that's
where the bullet exited.

It makes this a defensive wound.

I think this confirms a
theory they had in the morgue,

probably a single shot fired.

Wow.

Penny, a zillion. Greg...

like, two.

I really appreciate you
letting us pass out the flyers.

It's gonna be very helpful.

Of course, we're happy to help.

Is there a particular reason

Plymouth Baptist is on your list?

Longevity.

We're hitting every Vegas church

old enough to have Sunday
school back in the '80s.

There's only a few of them left.

I'll say a prayer for you.

I'll never turn down one of those.

She's just at the end of the hall here.

So, you're taking me to the captain?

Yes, ma'am.

- Person who makes decisions around here.
- Yes, ma'am.

Uh,

sorry, boss. This woman...

Mrs. Williams.

Raquel Williams.

Mrs. Williams is asking if...

Demanding.

To speak to you.

Uh-huh. Hello, Mrs.
Williams. I am Maxine Roby.

I need to speak to the person in charge.

- Okay, I-I... Thank you so much. Thank you.
- Mm-hmm.

I am the person in charge.

I'm Maxine Roby. I am
director of the crime lab.

So, you're the one?

You're responsible for this?

You have some information
about our Jane Doe?

Never mind this damn
flyer. Her name is Phoebe.

Phoebe Williams, not Jane Doe.

This dollar bill on her person?

That was money to buy a book.

Humpty Dumpty for her little cousin.

She was wearing white patent leather

church shoes for the Lord on Sunday.

How am I doing so far?

This...

... is Phoebe Williams.

Your child?

That's right.

I'm her mother.

Mrs. Williams, I am
so sorry for your loss.

And our lab has gone to great lengths

to try to put a face to your daughter.

You certainly did that.

And when the race of
a victim is unknown,

our standard operating procedure...

I may not be in good health, Dr. Roby,

but my mind is just fine.

I know why you did what you
did. I just don't like it.

You made my girl look
like she's someone else,

and then you put that face everywhere.

That flyer is the reason we found you.

That flyer makes us one step closer

to finding out what
happened to your daughter.

And I know you're upset...

- No, don't. Don't.
- I know...

Don't tell me how I feel.

You don't know how I feel.

You haven't lived with the
loss of your baby for...

... 41...

... years.

You're right. I have not.

1982.

We were shot at in cold blood
in the middle of the street.

My girl's body was taken.

The police...

wrote their damn report

with a dull pencil on a cocktail napkin.

My phone never rang.

They didn't care about her back then.

They didn't care. Sorry
for your loss, my ass!

Mrs. Williams.

Mrs. Williams, don't walk out on me.

- Excuse me.
- Mrs. Williams, do not walk out on me.

Mrs. Williams, you walk out
on me, you walk out on Phoebe.

"They" is me now, Mrs. Williams.

Phoebe is on my watch.

And my watch does not need winding.

And I will do everything, ma'am.

Everything within my
power to find the people

that did this to her and put them away.

But, ma'am, I cannot do it without you.

I need you.

Phoebe needs you.

What exactly do you need from me?

A second chance.

A second chance to make this right.

And, legally...

I need a DNA sample.

A simple swab, ma'am,
just a simple swab...

... to confirm, in fact,
that you are Phoebe's mother.

- That's what you want?
- Yes, ma'am.

Put a cotton swab in my mouth

to prove I'm her mother?

Yes.

That's what's gonna solve this?

Mm.

This conversation is
over. Leave us alone!

LVPD's 1982 case file.

Photography canvass of the site.

Eyewitness statement.

Site map of where the
shooting took place. The end.

I'm sorry, is that it? Just a few pages?

Site photos of buildings,
a handful of sketches,

and one witness statement?

Max is dead serious about our approach.

We're gonna do what they didn't.

But any old evidence, we
have to bring back to life,

whether we can get the
mother to help us out or not.

Okay, so...

says here "single gunshot wound."

I don't think so.

I think there were two gunshots.

Second gunshot killed Phoebe.

First one missed.

If this pencil is our trajectory rod,

the bullet skimmed Phoebe's temple

and shot right through the barrette.

That's two gunshots.

That's twice as much info
as LVPD had back then.

Gives us a puncher's chance

to learn something about the shooter.

Height, handedness,
maybe even a general sense

about the weapon involved.

Let's put this scene on its feet.

Okay, so, according to Mrs.
Williams' original statement,

she and Phoebe left the
Plymouth Baptist church

for this bus stop.

She said that they were approached

from the northwest corner, right there.

I'm the gunman.

Give me a sec to be multiple heights.

Oompa Loompa to Yao Ming.

No.

No, this doesn't... These
angles don't make any sense.

You're right.

To get that scrape on the temple,

it's almost like...

it's almost like Phoebe would have to be

taller than the shooter.

Let me stand her up on the bench.

She's a kid. She's bored
waiting for the bus.

Oh, yes. Does that help

- our height issue?
- Yeah.

Folsom, how tall are our three shooters?

From here, the killer
is five-foot-eight.

Red laser. Back it up some...

Six foot. Green laser.

Back it up even more,
six-foot-four. Blue laser.

Without knowing the type of gun

and the exact position
the killer was standing at

40 years ago,

it's impossible to determine height.

Wait a minute.

Wait a minute.

That building.

What about the building?

That apartment building
wasn't there in 1982.

And that building on the far corner.

I mean, back then,

it would've been a
bunch of metal and wood.

It would've been a spiderweb
for catching errant bullets.

The bullet didn't stop there.

It hit that office building over there.

With any luck,

the bullet could be lodged
in the walls somewhere.

Guys, we're close here, all
right? More-more-more smoke.

Let's play laser tag over here.

Order of magnitude.

It's close enough. Set
up for the mean average.

Six feet.

Hmm.

Hang on, gents.

Allie's getting into heavy metal.

Scratch that. Now, she's getting
into the blues. No bullet.

Hey, do you still have
those photos from earlier?

The-the one with the damaged barrette.

You see how the metal from the
barrette is twisted to the left?

The projectile might've redirected,

like fingers tipping a field goal.

So, I'm thinking they
need to start looking

a smidge more to the right.

Hey, guys,

we need to redirect the angle, like,

three or four degrees to the right

and a good half a foot higher.

Here.

There we go.

Guys?

Any luck?

Yeah.

Big progress.

With a bullet.

All my sledgehammering's going
to cost the city a pretty penny.

Please tell me we found something
probative from that bullet.

I wish I could. The striation marks

have been severely damaged,

and even if we had the gun in question,

this'll never hold up.

You're telling me we
found a miracle bullet,

41 years after the fact, and... nothing?

Not exactly nothing. We know
the killer was about six-four.

And you see those shiny crystals

along the jagged tip of the projectile?

Well, I took the
liberty of grinding a few

of Phoebe's rhinestones from
her barrette into a fine powder.

Blingo. It was a match to the bullet.

At least we know. The bullet
you found was the first shot

fired at Phoebe Williams.

Okay. What about the second shot?

Thought I told you to leave us alone.

Yes, ma'am, you did, but
I'm a little hardheaded.

And I have some new
information, ma'am. Some...

I'll put some coffee on.

Last picture I ever took
of her was her coloring.

She would wear some crayons out.

When she was real little, I asked her,

- "Phoebe, what color is your favorite?"
- Mm-hmm.

You know what she told me?
"Mama, I can't answer that.

It would hurt the
other colors' feelings."

Mm. Mm.

Hmm.

Things you remember.

Now, what's this business
about you have new information?

Okay, ma'am.

I've got some photos of my own.

So we believe that there
were two shots fired.

The first one

we pulled from a
building near the church.

I'd like to show you a
picture of Phoebe's skull.

There is a bone scrape
right above her right temple.

we believe the first shot
fired grazed her face,

and then damaged her barrette.

May I?

You think you know what happened.

I was there.

Phoebe and I

used to sell jewelry and
handcrafts for the church.

We were raising money
for a mission trip.

I think you earned this.

Now I can buy that Humpty
Dumpty book for Sharise.

Give me the money!

This kid with a gun

wanted our money box.

I gave him a piece of my mind.

I wasn't gonna let some evil boy

take the good Lord's money.

I could see the Devil in his eyes.

And the fear.

Mommy!

I am so sorry, Mrs. Williams,

but we haven't found that second bullet.

And you'll never find it,
never in a hundred years.

Why do you say that?

'Cause I have it.

The through-and-through went into you.

Phoebe died trying to save my life.

I guess you could say

I carry this bullet

close to my heart.

How far would you go

to find the people that did
this to you and your daughter?

- All the way.
- I need that bullet.

That bullet is the only evidence
that can help us solve this.

When a... when a shot is
fired, it leaves grooves

on the bullet, right?

Those grooves, ma'am, they tell a tale.

A tale that could lead us back
to the person who did that.

If the doctors say that it will
still compromise your health,

we don't have to do it.

Choice is up to you.

Mother to mother, let
me ask you something.

Yes, ma'am.

If you were carrying
this lead in your chest,

and you needed it to avenge
the death of your boy,

what would you do?

I think we both know the answer to that.

If you don't want to do this,

we can just call this whole thing off.

Don't you worry about
me dying, Ms. Roby.

- One might say I died 41 years ago.
- Mm-mm.

You're strong.

I'm not trying to be strong.

I need something from you.

Name it.

I don't have anyone.

Widowed, no brother,
sister, next of kin.

All I got is this
crooked old walking stick

and faded memories of my girl.

If something was to happen...

I'm listening.

... bury my child...

in her rightful state.

I want you

to make me that promise.

I promise.

- Hey.
- A little light reading?

Yeah. It's that child's case. Please.

Thank you for meeting me.

I can't stay long, I've got
to get back to the hospital.

We don't have to eat.

- Are you ready to order?
- Hi.

Single malt neat. Make it a double.

Mm. That bad?

I'm leaving. I'm leaving
you to your own world.

I don't belong here.

I thought I could unscramble
scrambled eggs, but I can't.

Wow.

I've had...

I've had a day.

I just convinced this woman

to have this life-threatening surgery

where they're gonna remove this bullet

that might not solve the murder.

Bad timing.

It's never a good time to say goodbye.

If it doesn't end bad,

sometimes it just doesn't end, Max.

Yeah, no truer words.

I'll always be here for you

and for our son when it counts, always.

I know.

But all the king's horses
and all the king's men.

We both know how the rest goes.

Here you go.

Mom.

How'd you know?

I got you on my phone so I
always know where you are.

My boy. My baby.

Maxine Roby?

Mrs. Williams will see you now.

Hi.

Go get the man.

It's nearly midnight.
Please tell me you're close.

I'm just comparing
striation marks between

the mangled bullet that you found

and Mrs. Williams' bullet,

and I can't believe
the difference. Look.

The bullet from Mrs. Williams

- is in pristine condition.
- Yeah, that makes sense.

After it entered her chest,
the body would have treated it

like a foreign object.

Tissue wraps around it, protects it,

like a warm blanket.

Lucky for us.

I'm running the striation
marks through NIBIN,

but I can already tell you we now know

the type of bullet used: it's a .45 ACP.

Automatic Colt Pistol?

Standard issue, military
grade. Full metal jacket.

Most likely fired
from a government-issue

Remington Rand M1911A1
pistol from World War II.

So we're looking for a
military man from World War II?

Didn't Mrs. Williams claim
that the shooter was a teenager?

Someone from World War II
would be nearly 100 years old.

Might be looking for a gun collector.

Hey.

Who told you all to stay late?

Folsom.

The gun that killed Phoebe
was used in a liquor store

robbery in 1961.

It went unsolved.

I thought Mrs. Williams said
a teenager did the shooting.

She did. Okay, so now we are looking for

two crimes, one gun, and
two different perps, right?

The prime suspect in this
old case was Matthew Beck.

He died in 1973, but his
name, his name lives on, right?

You're thinking a family member?

Son of a gunman.

This is insane.

19 children and grandchildren.

So we could door-knock
all these people, right?

One of 'em is bound to know

who granddaddy left all his
guns to, or I don't know.

Hold on.

I-I've seen this guy before.

I know I have.

You all have.

Oh, my God, of course.

Oh, my God, of course who?

... skiers didn't
pull me and the barrel.

I got all tangled up
down there. It was spooky.

Are you kidding me?

One thing we know for sure,

killers do return to the crime scene

to get rid of evidence.

41 years after the fact.

His dad was a suspect
in a related gun crime.

Will that be enough, or...

I spy something new,

something damning,

something blue.

Screen-grab that net pouch.

Go tighter.

Penny. Penny!

Blue license plate.

Run it through the DMV database.

- Pickup truck.
- Las Vegas area code 702.

Registered to Jeremiah Beck.

Scuba Steve.

He was right under our
nose the entire time.

And just like a guilty prize
fighter, he took a dive.

Oh, that was forever ago.

I was a teenager,

a salt mine company was hiring.

I think I worked there
for about half a summer.

Six weeks, to be exact.

Until you were fired for theft.

And according to your
disciplinary files,

you were taking barrels and then
recycling them for cash, so...

Not that they weren't all
stamped "Salt Mine Co."

Rifle, Glock, nine-mil, Glock,

and Remington Rand 1911A1.

So let me tell you how this is gonna go.

My team's gonna head
back to the crime lab.

We're going to dust

every one of those weapons for prints.

And my guess is yours will be all over

that World War II relic.

So we're gonna test-fire it...

... and we're gonna
compare the striation marks

on the bullet that we recovered

to the ones fired by your gun.

Your second shot killed
the girl in cold blood.

You were going to get
rid of the bodies...

... but an eyewitness scared you off

before you even realized
Mrs. Williams was still alive.

And then when you dumped the body,

you didn't know how
heavy a 65-pound girl

could be in a metal drum.

The water levels at Lake
Mead hit record lows,

and so did you.

You had to get rid of the evidence,

and you ended up wearing
it on the local news.

Hands behind your back.

Hey. Where you off to?

Desert Palms.

I owe Mrs. Williams a visit.

Ma'am, visiting hours are over.

Yeah, but where's Mrs. Williams?

No.

Looks like you didn't miss
the art show after all.

- Synced and corrected by chamallow -
- www.addic7ed.com -