All language subtitles for NCIS.New.Orleans.S01E11.720p.HDTV.X264-DIMENSION

♪ You gotta beg,
steal or borrow ♪

♪ Ooh-ooh-ooh my ♪

♪ Hey, hey, hey, hey ♪

♪ Beg, steal or borrow ♪

♪ My love... ♪

♪ ♪

Oh, you are flagging,
Christopher.

I'm trying to keep up with you.

Don't bother.

I used to go dancing
four nights a week

before I suffered a radial
meniscal tear last year.

Well, how'd
you do that?

Dancing four nights a week.

Oh, great!

That was fabulous!

Oh, who's next?
Pride...

I learned a long time ago

that my two feet
can't keep up

with your two
feet, Loretta.

I hear you.

Young people! Join me.

Oh, the kids
like EMD, so...

It's EDM, sir.

Whatever it's called,

you can't convince me

that a laptop's
a musical instrument.

- Agreed.
- Right?

Sebastian...
Here's the thing.

You see, I'm, uh...
I'm currently on a break

from funk music,

unless it's soul
funk, you know,

like the Isley
Brothers or...

Help, help,
somebody help me.

Oh!
I'm undaunted.

I will not quit until
I find a rear admiral

willing to shake his

- rear admiral.
- Whoa, Loretta!

Ms. Loretta dancing
with Navy brass?

Not gonna miss that.

I'm right
behind you.

Maybe they'll play
“Between the Sheets”.

She looks great,
doesn't she?

Spitting image of her mother.

Want me to take this?

I'll put it back
at the table.

Thank you.

Quite the Southern gentleman
you got there, Ms. Laurel.

Thanks to you.

I'm glad I gave him
a second ch...

Come on. Come on.

This way. It's okay.

This way. It's okay.

King!

Laurel.

Laurel.

Laurel?

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.
Baby...

He's really hurt.

I-I don't know what...

Daddy... Daddy, he's hurt.

I don't, I don't
know where

the blood is coming from.
It's okay. Let go.

I... I c... I can't, I don't know...
All right.

I don't know what to do.
Laurel, listen to me.

I don't... I can't...
You gotta let go.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

♪ NCIS:New Orleans 1x11 ♪
Baitfish
Original Air Date on January 6, 2015

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ How, how, how, how ♪

♪ Hey, hey ♪

♪ You gotta come on. ♪

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

He's still in surgery,
but you should know--

he suffered
a Class IV Hemorrhage.

Lost 40% of
his blood volume.

That said, we've managed to
control the external bleeding,

but the contusions
sustained at the explosion

have caused gross
internal hemorrhaging.

But you're doing
everything in your power

to stabilize him, right?

Yes, we are.

And Orion seems like a fighter.

Mm-hmm.

We'll keep you both posted.

Thank you, Doctor.

Dad, just... just tell me
that he's not gonna die.

He's not going to die.

I wish, just
this once,

you were a
better liar.

You called Orion's family yet?

Go do that.

Thanks for running back
to the morgue to get my kit.

How's everyone
holding up?

I think we're all feeling
badly shaken, but

very lucky.

Where would you like to start?

I guess this is where
Pride would say,

“Let's review what we got so far.”
Yeah.

The victims are
Herbert Walker

and Allison
Lacroix.

Mr. Walker appears to have
had his anterior jugular

severed by a piece
of flying shrapnel.

Ms. Lacroix has multiple
lacerations, center mass.

Walker worked in the
office of city planning.

Lacroix was the civilian wife

of Naval Captain
Patrick Lacroix.

I got witnesses
that put both of them

in the same general area as
Orion when the blast occurred.

Based on the site map,
that's somewhere

in the vicinity
of tables 14, 15 or 17.

Now, table 14 was sponsored by

the New Orleans Office
of Homeland Security.

Table 15 was Fender and Cohen,
defense attorneys,

and table 17,
group of naval commanders.

- What we need...
- Nature and

precise location of the bomb.

Tons of cameras.
I'll get the footage.

At autopsy,
I'll likely be able

to pull
chemical traces

off of the shrapnel.
See this?

I'm guessing this is part
of the detonation device.

If you get me
more of these,

I might be able
to reconstruct it.

And as for suspects,

we all had to go through
security to get in here.

Bomber had to bypass it
to get that device in.

Maybe event staff?

Caterers, florists...

I'll get a list of
everyone who worked the party.

All right.

Let's go learn things.

I've been on the Web,

monitoring all this
chatter-chatter,

and this sound
of silence

is giving me
a migraine.

Nobody in the
terrorist crowd

want to take the credit
for making things go boom.

Look, I appreciate you
rushing down here, Patton, but

there's no indication there's
a Web angle in this case.

Like I care.
I'm either here helping,

or I'm at home trying to hack
some free crap out of QVC.

Excuse me.

Hypothetically speaking.

Come on, Brody.

Let me go all deep Web on
whoever these crazy asses are.

Okay. Of the 62 members

of the staff, only
56 have gone through

a pat-down and search.
Of the six that didn't,

only one is still unaccounted
for after the blast-- a waiter.

Okay, hit me with a name.

Bertrand Willis.

Okay.

Bertrand Willis.

What database are you
running his name through?

I created a way

to consolidate
municipal, federal,

state and even international
criminal databases.

Do I want to know
how you do this?

You most certainly do not.

Whatever you're doing,
put it on hold.

Girlfriend of the band
was recording their set--

caught the exact blast site.
Where was it?

We had Patton digitize
the footage.

Angle catches the tables closest
to where the bomb went off.

Well, what am I supposed
to be looking at?

Time code was 7:12 p.m.

That Orion?

We were slightly off

in our original guess
of where the bomb was.

Table 19, seat eight.

We were at table 19.

And you were seat eight.

Bertrand Willis-- that's the
name of the missing waiter?

Yeah. Sound familiar?

Doesn't
ring a bell.

We searched
our NCIS files.

He didn't show up
in any of our cases.

Does have civilian priors--
drunk and disorderly,

domestic disturbance.

Patton. Yeah?

King, I'm gonna set up
a security detail for you.

Look, somebody tried
to kill you once.

They might try it again.

Set up something
here for Laurel.

But I'm not
giving whoever

the satisfaction
of me running scared.

Thanks, Patton.

Got him.
Bertrand Willis has a day job

at a mechanics shop
in Chef Menteur.

We'll call you
when we got him cuffed.

I'm thinking about the bomb
and its parts.

Detonator,
accelerant.

Shrapnel.

Pretty sure this baby came
from the detonation device.

Cell phone?
It's my best guess,

but I've got barely anything
to work with here.

Where the hell's
the rest of you, huh?!

Sebastian, yelling at the
evidence is rarely effective.

Sorry. I was punch-drunk.

Aren't we all?
As for the accelerant,

I tested those metal pieces
you gave me.

Lawn fertilizer and diesel fuel.

It's a crude concoction

I've dubbed
“Big Joe's Garage Cocktail.”

Meaning any average Joe

with a love of lawn care
and muscle cars could make one.

Yeah, and there's shrapnel.

Now, I've pulled a series
of small metal shards,

likely from the casing.

I'm thinking
a deep fryer.

And then... there are these.

Come to Papa.

Heavy grease residue,

spherical
chrome steel composition.

Ball bearings.

Okay, detonator unknown.

Accelerant crude.

Shrapnel identified.

We've framed
a picture.

Let's find who painted it.

Bertrand Willis.
Yello.

Agents Lasalle
and Brody.

What can I do for you?

You can turn your ass around
and hope you got thin wrists.

What the hell?!
What's this about?

It's about the catering gig
you did the other night.

Navy and Marine Relief
Gala at City Park.

It's where the
bomb went off.

Where you disappeared.

Oh, hell, this will never end.

Look, six weeks ago,
my wallet was stolen.

Credit cards.
Someone started charging me up

to the tune
of thousands of dollars.

Any proof of this story?

Sure. Call my
credit card company.

I was on the phone
with them for hours.

Look, I never catered
in my life.

And as for City Park,
I don't much care for crowds,

and I like grass even less.

Credit card
companies confirm

the story
Bertrand Willis told us.

I got two witnesses that
put him at Cooter Brown's

the whole time the
gala was going on.

Double-P bringing
the Intel.

Note-- there's always
a hackers angle.

Beyond the stuff
in his wallet,

Bertrand's driver's license
and his SSN were compromised.

Which is how our bomber was able
to fill out an I-9,

pass a background check
and get access to the event.

So, it could be anyone from any
case Pride has ever had at NCIS.

Connection predates
my days at NCIS.

Hey, how's
the kid doing?

He's out of surgery.

He's critical but stable.

His family's flying in.

So, Loretta sent me info
on the bomb.

There is a signature.

It's the Broussard
Syndicate.

The Broussards?

But they're defunct.

'Cause I shut their asses down
two decades ago.

Quick bit
of New Orleans history.

In the early '80s, the biggest
Mob element in the city--

guy named
Carlos Marcello.

He was put away
on federal racketeering charges.

Suddenly there's
a vacuum

as to who would control
the deep and dark

that came in and out
of the city.

Broussard Syndicate moved in,
filled that void.

Fiercely territorial, unafraid
to flex their muscles.

Dominated drugs,
weapons, counterfeiting.

Those some bad dudes.

My last assignment with
the sheriff's office--

roll up the
Broussards.

First day of trial, bomb went
off outside my JPSO district.

Fertilizer and diesel
fuel, ball bearings...

Packed
in a deep fryer.

Intention was to intimidate me.

Had the exact opposite effect.

All of the adults
in this picture are

incarcerated or dead.

Which means
the torch has been passed

to the new generation.

Sasha.

Ashley.

Michael.

Dante.

Frank.

I'm telling you,

one of them is behind
what happened.

Everything you need
to know...

is in here.

King, where you going?

To see an old friend.

Deputy Pride.

Haven't been “deputy”
for a long time.

Let's talk, “Baitfish.”

Haven't been “Baitfish”
in a long time, either.

Take a break.

I'm in the
middle of a rush.

All orders are on hold
until further notice!

The rush is

now over.
Just 'cause I'm an ex-con

doesn't give you the
right to push me around.

I'm rehabilitated.

I don't drink or drug
no more like before.

For real. Look.

Clean and sober.

I'm thrilled for you.
Bomb at City Park.

Got your old bosses
written all over it.

I don't know anything.

Yes, you do.
I don't.

I swear. On my word.

That supposed
to mean something to me?

Come here.

Sasha,

Ashley, Michael, Dante, Frank.

Which one is it?

I told you
I don't know.

I put you away once.

I'll bet my last dollar
if I look, just a little,

I'll find a reason
to send you back.

Now, which one?

Sasha, Ashley, Michael,
Dante, Frank.

Dante called me about a
month ago asking for help

getting a false identity.
I assumed he wanted to give it

to a mule to move contraband.

The number he called you from,
write it down.

He's got, like, a dozen phones,
rotates 'em around.

He's not an idiot.

That point's debatable.
Write it down.

You'll protect
me, right?

That privilege? Long gone.

I get it, but you
don't understand.

If this gets back to him,
Dante will kill me.

Then you better hope
I find him first.

You hear from Dante,
I'm your first call.

This isn't just about drugs
or the bombing.

He's trying to make
alliances with gangs,

branch out into weapons.

Dante, he wants to put
the Syndicate back together.

Not gonna happen.

Not in my city.

Dante Broussard.

In and out of Rayburn

over the last five years.

Petty things.

Burglary,
assault.

But in the last six months,
my old friends at JPSO confirm

he's trying to move white.

Confirm from who?

That friend you went to see?

Guy predates you. Not important.

Okay, but, like always,

the more I know,
the more I can help.

BOLO's out on Dante.
Nothing so far.

Patton's working the cell number
you gave him,

but likely it's...

Burner?
Yeah.

We need
to start putting pressure

on the other Broussard kids.

Ashley Broussard is dead.

Boating accident in 2011.

Michael, he's in prison in Laos.

Laos?
Porn thing.

I saw photos, which I'm gonna
need a quart of brain bleach

to cleanse from my memory.

What about Frank and Sasha?

Following in the footsteps
of the others,

Frank's
also fresh out

of prison after 15 months
on a car theft rap.

We've got a lead
on his last place of residence.

And a work address,

warehouse in Harahan.

And Sasha?

Sasha's saving
you the trouble

of having to darken
her doorstep.

I'd say

it's lovely to see you again,
Dwayne,

but, given the circumstances,
I doubt you'd agree.

My family,

they've been ruining my life
since I was in utero.

And...

growing up
a mobster's daughter is...

not as cool as advertised
in the brochure.

How do I find Dante?

I don't know.

I'm sorry.

You got to understand,

I keep my distance.
But when I heard

about the bombing

and I realized your connection
to one of the victims,

then I thought

that I should come over
as soon as possible.

He's...

your daughter's boyfriend?

Names.

Cell numbers. Addresses.

Doesn't matter
how far back.

Anything that might lead
to your brother's capture.

If this

is really him...

then it doesn't surprise me.

After my father went to prison,

he was... obsessed.

Said you ruined us.

Said that he would make good

on what our father couldn't.

By killing me?

By making you... back down.

I have
spent every

waking moment trying to change

people's association
with my last name.

I'm aware of your charity work.

And yet you've never accepted
my offer

to be on any of the boards.

Tad awkward.

Can't blame a
girl for trying.

It's ironic

how our worlds
are intertwined.

Your legacy is the
albatross around my neck,

and our fathers...

Same cell block
for a few months, right?

If we need anything more,
we'll be in touch.

Frank Broussard?

Who wants to know?

NCIS.

We're gonna ask you questions
about the City Park bombing.

Where's your cousin
Dante?

Don't know. Don't give a crap.

Even if I did,
wouldn't tell you.

Well, tell us this,
where were you last night?

Last night?

Go ask at Jackfish
Jordy's Grill.

It's Wing-it-Wednesday
from 5:00 to close.

Where's Jackfish Jordy's
located?

Google it, bitch.

Now, that was the wrong answer.

Y'all don't have
probable cause.

You can't just break
into my stuff.

You had your chance
to play nice.

This is what happens
when we use the B-word.

Looks like a false bottom.

That was already there
when I got this job.

Looks like old Frank's
got a...

raging case of the herps.

What can I say?
The ladies love cool Frank.

Doubtful.

Using it as a cutting agent
for Dante's coke, ain't you?

Black market for Benzocaine

sometimes fetches
as much as cocaine itself.

Whether you're mixing
or selling,

I'm sure your parole officer

will be intrigued.

Your cousin Dante.

Help us bring him in,

I'm gonna let you slide
on the Benzocaine.

We haven't been meeting
directly lately.

As a precaution.

If I call him,
he'll know something's up.

He told me to contact
him once I've lined up

and vetted a
major buyer.

We'll make one up.

No.

No, a real buyer.
Someone on the grid.

Dante won't show unless he's
sure of who he's dealing with.

I got a buyer who's on the grid.

No. No. Hell no, man.

It's not a request.

You're gonna make a buy,

help me draw this guy out.

Cocaine's that hard stuff, man.

Even playing with that's
dangerous.

He's been blowing people up.

Making my point for me.

It's people I care about.

Copy that.

What's in it for me?

Well, you get to keep
your safety net-- me.

So, unless you want to revisit

those weapon charges...

At this point, man,

I deserve some frequent-flier
miles or something, man.

This guy legit?

'Cause like I said,
if this is just some cop

dressed up to look
like a hood...

I don't know which I should
get more offended by--

the “cop” part or
the “hood” part.

Pipe down, both of you.

Hey, how come I don't get a vest
just in case this get ugly?

Yeah, that'd be comforting.
And a dead giveaway.

What? They don't make vests
that look like regular clothes?

What, y'all ain't got
the technology for that?

In prison, we made armor
out of book covers

so people couldn't shank us.

See? Prisoners get more
protection than us.

That's informants abuse, man.

Well, you can file a grievance
with the CI union later.

All right, shut up.

Look alive.

Where's Dante?

Don't know.

He must've sent his minions.

I smell a setup.

Wouldn't make much sense.

I set you up,
I'm back in prison.

All right, new plan.

After they show the merch,
we pop them

and then get them
to roll over on Dante.

Yo.

Where's Dante?

He regretfully couldn't attend,
but he sends his regards.

Pure Colombian.

Uncut, free-trade, organic.

Looks like y'all are
Real Deal Holyfield, huh?

And you're under arrest...
Hands behind your back!

DEA!
What?

Hands behind your back.
Hold up, man. What you...

Frank!

This is a sting!

Lasalle, what's going on, man?

No, this is a sting. Frank!

NCIS.

My bust...

went bust.

While we were running
a sting on Dante,

DEA was running one
on my guy Ross P.

Apparently he'd been selling
ecstasy and they thought

he was looking to move
into selling coke.

Did you know about the ecstasy?

News to me.

Now Ross P. is downtown
and Frank Broussard

is gone and gone.

And my guess is if
Dante was thinking about

showing up for the buy
at all, he's spooked.

All right, put
a BOLO out on Frank,

see if someone can make up
for DEA crashing your party.

Should I ask?

If you wave at it,

it waves back.

Brody and I brought it for,
uh, Patton's kid.

Pride.

Uh, I'm sorry.

I didn't know
who else to come to.

What is it?

Paul Jenks. He showed up
at the charity offices.

Threatened me.
Said if Dante

goes after him,
he's coming after me.

Who's Paul Jenks?

I got this.

You threatening people,
Baitfish?

You said you wouldn't
protect me, so

got to watch my own back.

After Dante showed up, hell
yeah, I had to do something.

Wait, wait, wait. Dante showed
up and you didn't call me?

What the hell you want me to do?

They think I'm helping anyone,

let alone you, they'll cap me.

Now, wh... when exactly
did he show up

and what exactly did he say?

Dante wanted to know
if I could get to you.

Said he's planning...

What? What? Planning what?

Oh, God.

I... I-I got to get out...

Paul! Damn it!

Might as well
call it a pig roast, but

height and size suggest
what's on the I.D.

Shrapnel's consistent with

what we found on the two
victims at the gala,

ball bearing fragments.

Back at autopsy,
I'll be able to

confirm a match for the
accelerant, but, again,

if I were playing
Final Jeopardy!,

I'd bet everything I had.

You were first on the scene.

On my way here already.

So you knew him,
and yet I don't detect

the slightest bit of remorse.

Not all dead
are worth grieving for.

King, can I borrow you?

Keep me posted on Laurel's boy.

It's Dante, ain't it?

Goes after me,

goes after anyone
who talks to me.

Found this by the blast site.

It was clearly not
meant to be shrapnel, so...

Maybe it's part
of the detonator.

Damage patterns this
side of the room suggest

the blast started
next to the furnace.

Assuming Dante didn't want to
take any chances this time.

If the blast wasn't
going to kill our victim,

the ensuing fire
would seal the deal.

And burns up the evidence
in the process.

Not all of the evidence.
I found this.

Crystallized.

Stuff wasn't
at the first bombing.

All right, get a sample
of that and that motor

and get it
to Sebastian.

On it.

King, hold up a sec.

I've been thinking,

with nothing substantial to
go on and Dante planting bombs

all over the city,
we might want to take a flyer...

On?

Grease wheels at Orleans
Parish, spring Ross P.

His getting popped only
gives him more street cred.

Ross P.'s fine where he is.

I'm just saying, maybe we can
pull Dante into another buy.

We'll find Dante another way.

Every angle.

That's what you've hammered
into me for the past ten years.

And you won't let me
spring Ross P.?

I don't get it, King.

We got a guy in there

that's fried to a crisp,

maybe because he knows you,

and I'm totally
left in the dark.

You and I--

I thought we kept no secrets.

Get in the car, Christopher.

Where we headed?

Out of the darkness.

Paul Jenks was my CI.

How you shut down
the Broussards.

Yeah, two-bit hustler.

And I used him to
gather the evidence

to bring down the family.

Along the way,

Paul got himself
in all kinds

of trouble,
which I scrubbed,

'cause he was the bait,

and I needed him to
reel in the big fish.

Well, it worked.
Yeah.

For a while.

Here.

Once the Broussards
were away,

Paul tried to start
his own crew,

holding up liquor
stores, grand theft,

home invasion.

November 3, 2002,

Paul tried a grab-and-dash.

Thought he'd get
TVs and computers.

Instead, he got Martin Brooks,
ready to defend his family.

Get the hell out of my house!
Get out!

Martin chased Paul.

Took a couple shots...

Missed badly.

And then,

when Paul fired back...

Stray bullet.

Bedroom window.

Inside, Sophie Brooks.

My baby!

- Nine years old.
- You shot my baby!

My baby!

It wasn't your fault, King.

Fault? No.

But the cost of looking
the other way.

Paul's in a cell,
what happened here...

doesn't.

One question.

If Paul killed that girl,
why was he out?

Gun was never recovered

and only a
partial fingerprint

put Paul at the scene.

I knew the case for murder
was never gonna make,

but I'd be damn sure he
went down for something,

so I dumped everything
I had on him.

Put him away.

Too little.

Too late.

Got to go.

I'll drop you off.

I got good news, bad news

and kind of gross news.

Good news is that I
identified that piece

of hardware you found
at the blast site.

It's a gear.
A mini-gear, actually,

from some kind of motor.
What kind?

Not sure. But we can rule out
a cell phone as the detonator.

Won't find a mini-gear in those.
Nope. I'm leaning towards a

timer mechanism, but, bad news--
I still don't have enough

to definitively identify
the detonation device.

That leaves us with the gross news.
Yes.

So, that white crystallized
substance you found is actually

uric acid crystals. See,

birds and reptiles, they don't,
uh, go number one...

in a mammalian sense.
They excrete uric acid.

When uric acid is heated
past its boiling point,

it crystallizes.

So our bomber tracks in
bird or reptile pee.

How is that
supposed to be helpful?

Well, because,
lucky for you, Agent Brody,

I did a urinalysis
and found a high concentration

of omega-3 fatty acids,

the kinds that are found in, uh,
digested mackerel and sardines.

It's a bird?
It's a plane,

it's Superman. I'm sorry.

That's a reflexive
reaction there.

Anyway, the, uh,
brown pelican is the most

common waterbird in the region.

I would bet dollars to diatoms

that is where your
substance came from.

How are we supposed
to figure out where it is

with pelican pee?

The Audubon Society
created a sanctuary

in Terrebonne Parish
for birds

who were hurt in the
Deepwater Horizon spill.

There's plenty
of brown pelicans there.

And lots of square footage.

Oh, let me help
you with that.

You know what, no matter how
many times I tell a bad guy that

cell phones are gonna undo them,
they never seem to learn. Okay.

Now, Dante seems to cycle

through ten or 12 phones.
He uses one phone,

then he shuts it off,
then he's on to the next phone.

So, no one phone will be useful

in pinpointing him, but

if we use the numbers
that we got

from Paul Jenks,
Sasha Broussard,

and the number
that Frank Broussard

used to set up the sting,

plot the points...

you'll see a theme
start to develop.

That's your cell tower.

Less than a mile away
from the sanctuary.

Looking at properties
in the area.

Closest building--
an abandoned structure.

And I'll bet
he's not building birdhouses.

Hey, baby.

They, um, induced a coma

to reduce swelling in
the brain, they said.

Got you something to eat.

I'm not hungry.

Your mother was always worried
about me bringing my work home.

That bomb was intended
for me, Laurel.

Is that what all
the security is about?

I'm sorry for...

...getting you and Orion
wrapped up in all this.

Just tell me.

Are you trying to make the city
a safer place?

I am.

That's good enough for me.

NCIS!

Hands in the air!

Hands on your head.

Now!

Give me your hands.

Let me put this
in terms you'll understand.

Make another move,
and the gun goes boom.

You tried to kill
Dwayne Pride.

Much as I'd be fine and dandy
with all that,

I didn't have anything to do
with either of these bombs

you seem so obsessed about.

Take it you got nothing to do
with the 20 kilos of cocaine

you and your boys
were boxing up, too?

Got to say, I admire
your sense of nostalgia.

Both the devices you used

match the explosive recipe your
father used during his reign.

I was six
when my father went to prison.

I didn't write the formula down
with crayons.

Not hard to figure out
for a smart guy like you.

You've heard of the Internet?

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,
that's that place

with all those naked ladies,
right?

Ah, well, there goes your case.

How's that?

Bombing was
on Wednesday?

Well, I was elsewhere.

AirTrans round trip,

first class.

Fountain Blue Hotel in Miami,
Presidential Suite.

I got receipts.

What were you doing?

I was importing...

...drugs.

Your microphones got that,
right?

Speak.

I need to think
about something else.

We pinned Dante
to the cocaine,

but he can't
actually be the one

that planted the
explosive in City Park.

Using a drug buy
as an alibi for murder.

First time for everything.

Hey, guys.

I, uh, brought some
violas for Orion.

They're a good anti-inflammatory
and antipyretic,

meaning they treat fevers
and bacterial infections.

Also, they smell nice.

Thank you.

But you didn't run
all the way down here

just to deliver flowers.

No, I figured it out.

It wasn't a timer or cell phone
that triggered the explosions.

It was motion.

More specifically
a motion sensor.

You see, in the first explosion,
Orion dropped

Laurel's jacket at a distance
of two and a half feet

from the explosive device,

which is the maximum
perceptive range

of this infrared sensor.

And, given the proximity

of Paul's body to
the second device,

that explosion was triggered
from the same distance.

Do we know
where the bomber got it?

No, see, that's the thing.

I can't find a serial number
or design specifications

that get me
to its place of origin.

I'm sorry to let you down.

No, we'll find something.

I need... I need
to go clear my head.

Will you... will you all
just watch Laurel for me?

You're gonna pay
for that, right?

I need you
to do something for me.

You here?

Thanks again, Sasha.

I know we've never
been close,

but you're doing me
a solid here.

The least I could do.

Ah. Man, I thought
I was screwed.

Been hiding out in a shed.

Didn't know where to go.

I'm gonna set you up.

Money, passport,
transport out of the country.

Family's got to stick together.

Yeah.

The thing about that

is...

I've had enough
of this family.

NCIS.

Nice to see you
again, Frank.

Sasha.

Really?

Let me guess.
He denied it.

He's going with “framed”"
but it doesn't matter.

The shed in the back--
ball bearings, chemicals,

two more of these.

Bomb squad disarmed it.

Oh.

You okay?

I'm free... of all of them.

Finally.

And... maybe so are you.

Excuse me.

Sure.

Hello?

He's awake, Daddy!

Orion's up.

Sorry to call you in,
but this couldn't wait.

Oh, it's okay.

I was just bringing Laurel
a change of clothes.

What is it?

The dental records for this
body don't match Paul Jenks.

Jenks had fillings

in the third canine
and the second premolar.

This mouth-- full of
decay, no fillings,

like the person
never saw a dentist.

I'm thinking transient.

You sure?

Never been more so.

I don't know who this is, but...

Paul Jenks
is most probably alive.

And likely the one
who bombed City Park.

♪ Smiling faces sometimes ♪

♪ Pretend to be your friend ♪

♪ Smiling faces show no traces ♪

♪ Of the evil
that lurks within ♪

♪ Can you dig it? ♪
♪ Smiling faces ♪

♪ Smiling faces sometimes ♪

♪ They don't tell the truth ♪

♪ Smiling faces, smiling faces ♪

♪ Tell lies and I got proof ♪

♪ Oh, yeah ♪

♪ They don't tell the... ♪

♪ The truth is in the eyes ♪

♪ 'Cause the eyes
don't lie, amen... ♪

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man