All language subtitles for NCIS - 16x03 - Boom.HDTV.SVA.en

Find the button
that says "cable," Grandma.

Should be on the top
of the remote.

Yeah, the...

Okay, now, now...
push the "power" button.

Do you see a blue light
on the... on the cable box?

I-I don't know, Grandma.
That's just the way it works.

No, you can't have
your old remote back.

Whoo! What a rush!

Because it's in the trash,
that's why. I threw it out.

More loofahs?
Come on, people.

Mama needs
a new pair of shoes.

Uh, uh, Edie says she
loves and misses you, too.

Ye... Okay, I'll have the car
back to you tonight, I promise.

I got to go. Okay.
Love you. Okay, bye.

What the...?

♪ NCIS 16x03 ♪
Boom
Original Air Date on October 9, 2018

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

"F."

No "F." You lose.

Wait. What?

No, what about the-the eyes
and the mouth and the face?

There is no face
in hangman.

Bishop.

Not getting involved.

Sorry I'm late.

And I'm already late
for my next meeting,

so let's get started
so we can get finished.

Everyone, take a look
at these documents.

Who is she?

Agency attorney.
Never good news.

Effective immediately,

NCIS is discontinuing its use

of cell phone tower
location tracking.

- With this directive, we can...
- Whoa, whoa, hold on.

Are you, are you saying
that I can no longer

ping a suspect's
cell phone?

Not without a warrant
you can't.

Hi. Agent Torres here.

So, uh, Agent McGee, uh,
he pings, like, all the time.

That is like
his superpower.

Not anymore. Supreme Court
just ruled it's illegal.

They're wrong. Right, McGee?

Actually, I kind of get it.

Sometimes privacy outweighs
the need for security.

I'm sorry, what McGee
means to say is the new policy

means dangerous
criminals can get away.

- Does Director Vance know about this?
- He's on leave.

What about Gibbs?

Yeah, what about him?

Explosion outside
a Navy SEAL's house.

We have two bodies.

Wait, I just need
one more minute, sir,

to finish my presentation.
Grab your gear.

- "Grab your gear."
- "Grab your gear."

Oh, "grab your gear."

Those two yahoos okay?

I don't know anymore.

Where's my damn paper?

Come on.

Geez.

Kayla?

Kayla?

Have you seen the newspaper?

Morning, Dad.
You're just in time.

Honey, my newspaper.

I recycled it.

Already? It's only 8:30.

Which means it's time for you
to go back to work.

Today's your first day back.

I thought you'd be
showered by now.

And dressed.

You want something
to go with your coffee?

Yeah, my newspaper.

You are not
getting away that easy.

Yeah, I noticed.

How's the hip today?

- It's cranky.
- Like the rest of you.

Sweetheart, thank you
for breakfast.

That was very thoughtful.

But I've got
physical therapy today.

So, work tomorrow, then?

We'll see.

And right here.

You've, uh, you've never
seen that vehicle before?

No, sir. Whose is it?

Burglars. The neighbors
saw one of them

steal a package off your porch.

And then they... exploded?

The package exploded.

Palmer, what do we...

Got?

Yeah.

Well, we got two victims.
Death was instantaneous.

Both died from blast injuries.

Were you expecting
any deliveries today,

Petty Officer Nicholas?

Maybe.

My wife orders stuff online
all the time.

Well, according
to the delivery company,

it was addressed to you.

- Hey, hey, whoa.
- Let me through.

I'm his wife.

- Hey!
- Todd.

My darling, are you okay?

I'm fine. I'm okay.

Is that his wife?

Uh, yeah.
It looks like it.

- Her name's Sheba.
- Sheba.

McGee, you know her?

Yeah. You-you guys don't?

No. Bishop, do you?

Uh, no.

I'm okay.

McGee.

Sorry, boss.
Uh, her name is Sheba.

She's one of the stars
of the show Real Wives of War.

The reality show?
You watch that?

- Well, Delilah does.
- Mm-hmm.

Uh-huh.

Oh, my God, you know what?

Petty Officer Nicholas
must be Todd.

How could this happen?

Todd-- he's not
on the show,

but she talks about him
all the time.

Says that she is
the luckiest woman in the world.

Wow. Delilah must, uh,
really like that show.

Yeah.

Okay.

Excuse me, Officer.

Uh, yes.
Sorry, I mean Agent.

I mean, um... what?

Please tell me this isn't real.

Excuse me?

It's sweeps.
Greg put you up to this?

Greg.

My producer.

Hey, Torres.

Uh, no, this is real.

Somebody mailed
your husband a bomb.

A bomb?

That doesn't make any sense.
What are you talking about?

A bomb?

I think I know who did this.

My wife.

Our package thief
is Edie Samples.

A doorbell camera
caught her in the act.

It appears she and
boyfriend Walt Fergus

followed the delivery truck

and stole all the packages.

They picked the wrong
package to poach.

Who was the bomb's
real target?

Petty Officer First Class

Todd Nicholas. 27.

Graduated from SEAL
training two months ago.

As squared away
as they come.

- What about his wife?
- Sheba Nicholas.

25. No kids,
no record, no job,

until she joined the reality
show Real Wives of War

two seasons ago.

Actually, it
was two and a half.

She was in all 41 episodes,

if you count
the two-parter as one,

which I personally
like to... do.

Go on.

Well, I-I don't know
all that much.

No, it's okay, McGee. I mean,
we've already judged you, so...

Oh, okay.

Well, the show's about
four military wives, right?

Charlotte, Tessa, Angela--
Angela's quite the instigator.

Actually, Tess and Char-Char
are pretty catty, too.

- Char-Char?
- My point is that Sheba

is the wholesome,
virtuous one.

She loves everyone,
especially her husband.

Last week's episode...

We got it. You think
she's innocent.

Boss, the Sheba I know would
never do anything like this.

Now that I say that out loud,
I feel slightly embarrassed.

Hey, Tim...
you should be.

"Char-Char."

Were you able to
trace that package?

Dead end. It was sent
by a "G. Washington"

with a return address
to the Lincoln Memorial.

Your turn. Why do you
think your wife sent it?

Three days ago,
Sheba threatened to kill me.

Why?

She thinks I'm having an affair.

Are you?

Do I have to tell the truth
in here, sir?

Well, that depends.
You like bombs in your mail?

I'm not having an affair.
But I told her I was.

Okay.

I want out
of my marriage.

That woman is not the person
I fell in love with.

That show turned her into
a total psycho.

Silly question:
why not just divorce?

I've tried.

She won't do it;
she thinks I'll make a play

for her reality money.

Okay, her threat--
what did she say, exactly?

She told me that she would
chop off my, um... manhood...

...while I slept, and then laugh
as I bled to death.

Mm. Oh, my God.

I love him so much.
He's my whole world.

How can he accuse me
of something like this?

Well, maybe...
I just don't understand.

It doesn't make any sense!

Sheba.

You can stop now.

We know your marriage
is falling apart.

Todd told you that, huh?

Typical.

Then why'd you let me go on
blubbering like that?

You ruined my mascara.

I am so sorry.

Why were you blubbering
like that?

Look, this is me.

If you don't like it,
change the channel.

Three days ago,
did you threaten...

Seriously, do you guys
have a mirror or something?

Of course you do.

Fascinating.

Never meet your heroes, McGee.

I don't get it. She doesn't
act like this on the show.

Key word: "act."

Yeah, but she's not an actor.
Reality shows...

Detach from reality.

Okay, Sheba, enough.
Sit down.

Can I talk to
someone else?

What's that other
agent's name, McGoo?

He's in there, right?

- Charming.
- McGoo?

I said sit down.

Fine.

Anyways, that's the camera
you should be playing to.

Wait, you guys are
recording this?

Hey, do you think my producers
can get access to this tape?

Did you or did you not
threaten your husband?

Let me save you a lot of time.

I don't know how to make a bomb.

But you know who does?
My husband.

The Navy taught him.
He knows I check the mail.

Maybe he addressed the bomb
to himself to avoid suspicion.

Did you ever think of that?

She makes a good point.

Her husband's
a trained killer,

and he told Torres
he wanted out of the marriage.

Just can't quit her, huh, McGoo?

- Shoot.
- Oh.

I'll get that for you.

Oh, my goodness.

Do you mind
if I just lean on you?

- Sure, whatever you need.
- Oh, thank you.

Oh. Thank you.

It has been a mess today.

I didn't eat. Had to park
three blocks away.

It took me 15 minutes
to put on these pants.

- Okay.
- Oh, thank God.

- Here you go.
- Thank you.

Ah.

Look at us. The walking wounded.

What happened to you?

On-the-job injury.

Sorry. What do you do?

- Government work.
- In D.C.?

- No way.

How about you?

- Middle school teacher.
- Ah.

Yeah. My students
think this is hilarious.

- So what happened?
- Oh, it involved

two piña coladas
and a diving board.

I was more flexible in college.

Hey. We all were.

Mallory?

That is my cue.

- Let me get your bag for you. Hi.
- Oh, thank you.

So we start with the torso.

Then we add the arms.

Next up, we have

the legs.

And then we have the head.

You forgot the, uh, the eyes,
nose and mouth.

No, no, I didn't.

I'm sorry, there's no face
in hangman, Nick.

Oh, wow. McGee already told you?

The man is not your friend.
I'll just leave it at that.

You'll leave what at what?

Maybe I should just leave.

I asked Agent Torres
to come down here and help me

identify some of these tats;
I thought some of them

might be gang-related.
- No, they're not.

Yeah. I know that now.

As for cause of death,
no surprise there.

I am calling this one
"Mail-order death."

What is this?

Found this embedded in
one of the victims' thighs.

I think it might be
a timing mechanism.

- Melted in the heat.
- Right.

This bomb packed
quite a punch, Gibbs.

Someone wanted Petty
Officer Nicholas very dead.

Here's another one. Sheba is
"soulless, vapid, shallow..."

"Disgraceful,
shameful, embarrassing..."

"The most ratchet hair
I've seen on a rich person"?

I guess fans
saw through her act.

TV viewers can be pretty savvy.

Well, how did
Delilah and I miss it?

- You missed what?
- Well, boss, we're doing

a deep dive into the R-WOW
forums looking for suspects.

The R-What?

Real Wives of War.

Turns out
the Internet hates Sheba.

I agree with the Internet.

- What about the husband?
- As a suspect or target?

Target.

You know that all SEALs undergo
demolitions training.

Yeah, and full psych evals,
McGee. A SEAL did not do this.

We found only four online
threats against the husband.

All posted
nine months ago

by the same person.

"Sheba deserves
a better man

"than her warmongering
husband, who needs to

die on the battlefield."

Oh, I've heard
way worse than that.

"LLL..."

"LLLeonardo"?

Oh, real name is Leonard Finnik.

Lives in Baltimore. You want
us to pay him a visit?

Oh, come on, guys. Anybody can
say anything on the Internet.

I myself have
posted major shade

on Shakira
when she released She Wolf.

You remember the album,
right, Gibbs?

I didn't have any federal agents
asking me questions.

You drive safe, Torres.

Take McGee with you.

Two hours here and two hours
home, and for what?

We got to turn every stone.

Come on, man.
You look at this guy's file?

This guy's Mr. Normal.

Look, he's got a welcome mat.

No mad bomber in the history of
mad bombers has a welcome mat.

And you know this how?

Everyone knows this.

Leonard? Federal agents.

We're coming in.

See, no Unabomber vibe here.

Eek. This guy does have
bad taste in music, though.

Yeah, says the man
who hates Shakira.

Hey, I love Shakira.
I love Shakira.

Just venting.

Kitchen's clear.

So what'd you write her,
exactly?

Bathroom's clear.

Tim, that is between
me and Shakira.

Bedroom is clear.

Well, so much
for Mr. Normal, huh?

"I know you've been watching me.
I'm here whenever you want me.

We belong
together forever."

Wow. Forever is

a very long time.

Do you want to tell
Delilah, or should I?

Ha. No, these are from
our suspect, Leonard Finnik.

He's been sending Sheba
love letters for months.

And stuffed animals, too.

I thought maybe this can help
with your investigation.

Wha-- you kept gifts
from your stalker?

Well, a fan's a fan.

I'm sure you've read some of the
things they say about me online.

I take what I can get.

Besides, you should read
what Leonard

writes about my...

- Give me an update.
- Oh, McGee was

just getting it.

Boss, Sheba brought in
a box of letters

from Leonard Finnik.

He's got a bee in his bonnet
for Petty Officer Nicholas.

Talks about how "the enemy
must be vanquished,"

calls him the
"villain SEAL."

And I've got another
eight boxes in my trunk.

- Heavy boxes.
- Oh, I got them.

Torres, handle it.

Uh, probably
a better idea, boss.

You got a location?

No, not yet.
Uh, Finnik has no record,

no car, no job.

- He have a cell phone?
- Yes, but...

- Yes, but what?
- Uh, yes.

Normally, we
would ping it,

but that meeting
you missed this morning?

No more pinging.

Find some other way
to get ahold of Leonard.

Sure.
I'll just use black magic.

Oh, come on,
this could be so easy.

I'll just ping this one time
and then never again.

What about "privacy
outweighs security"?

- There are no atheists in foxholes.
- Oh.

Vance never would've
signed off on this.

Well, when he comes back,
you should talk to him.

If he gets back, you mean.

Do you know something I don't?

All I know is that
reentry is a bitch.

Yeah, I just finished.

How'd it go?
Uh, it went well.

You're headed
to work now, right?

No, no. I'm way too sore
to go to work. Uh...

Dad, you promised.

Kayla, we're not gonna
go through this again, okay?

Whatever. Bye.
I told you, we...

Hello?

Just tell her
pain is progress.

Hey, there. Um, Mallory, right?

Good memory.
How'd your appointment go, uh...

Leon. Um...

Ava beat me up pretty good,
but nothing I can't handle.

Oh, I'm sure you'll be
running marathons in no time.

Maybe half-marathons.
How are you?

I'll be cheering you on
from the sidelines.

Still a long road ahead for me.

- Hmm.
- Okay, Leon.

Nice working with you.

Um, you, too, uh, Ava.

What, are you, are you leaving?

No, you are.

- They didn't tell you?
- No.

You graduated.
No more PT for you.

Wow. Congratulations.

Well, thanks.

Um, I like your confidence,
but I, um,

still have a little hitch
in my get along here.

Some residual pain is normal.

But it shouldn't stop you
getting back to your routine.

- You're cleared for work, too.
- Huh. Uh...

Yeah. Because, uh...

because I-I really, I-I really
feel like I could use

another-another week of PT.

Well, if you need it,
you need it.

Okay.

All right. Same time tomorrow?

All right.

Every time I think I'm out,
they pull me back in.

- Kase?
- Gibbs, you're just in time.

Open the box.

What's in it?

A bomb.

Just open it.

My first bomb.
Neat, huh?

Boom.

I built a replica

based on the components
I found among the fragments.

There's the power source

and the trigger mechanism.
- Photo cell.

Rigged to explode
when it detects light.

Two caps, two fire-sets.

Redundancies
to ensure detonation.

This guy knew what he was doing.

This guy?

Well, I assume
all bombers are dudes.

Right. Never assume.

Yeah. And never say "dudes."

What else you got?

I analyzed this object

Jimmy found embedded
in our victim's leg.

Metal alloy plated
with 22-karat gold.

It came from our
bomb, but I can't

figure out its function.

Ooh, and look at the back.

See how it's raised?

Maybe that part came
from a clasp or a pin.

Call me crazy,
but this looks like a brooch.

Oh, you're not exactly
a brooch guy.

It's, um,
it's a piece of jewelry,

like a clip,
that you wear on your lapel.

Like a fancy,
older lady might.

You know, it's probably
not a brooch at all.

I should probably just
keep working. Toodle-oo.

First, I had to track

Leonard's credit card
to the stationery store.

Right? Then I had
to go through the store's

parking lot surveillance
security footage

to find the car he drove--
his mom's, by the way.

Then I had to sift through
red light cameras

to track him
to this barber shop.

It's called work, brah.

It's unnecessary work.

I could've just pinged him.

Rules are rules,
Mr. Hangman.

- Look, hey, just bec...
- McGee.

What's he carrying?

- Leonard.
-Yes?

Federal agents.

Drop the box.

Wait, no.

Don't drop the box.

Right. Don't-don't drop the box.

Excuse me, everyone,
federal agents.

Please calmly and
quickly clear the area.

No, not you, Leonard.

You get back here.
Don't move.

Bishop, bomb squad,
Lemon and Fifth.

Bomb squad?

Wait, for this?

- Wait, wait, wait, wait. Stop, stop!
- Don't! Get down!

Huh.

That's the Little Bighorn River,

and that's a pronghorn deer,

and an otter and, uh,

that's me and, uh...

Sheba and your love child.

Yeah, we've been over this.

Leonard.

I need to talk to you
about your bedroom.

This is the hollowed-out log
for fishing or, you know...

Leonard. Focus.

Bedroom.

Oh, do you like it?
Sheba loves it.

- You talked to her?
- Yeah.

She told me in a dream
the other night.

No, she didn't.

Uh, were you there?

Dreams are not
reality, Leonard.

You are so naive.

Okay. All right,
explain this to me.

So this is you?

Right. Yeah, yeah.

That's Sheba.

Uh-huh. Pretty hair.

And that is
a dead buffalo.

Correct.
That's correct.

Who is the dead buffalo?

Is that Sheba's husband,
Petty Officer Nicholas?

Leonard.

Did Sheba ask you to kill
her husband in that dream?

Episode 33,

just after the commercial
about the tortilla chips,

Sheba's white shirt
isn't ironed.

And she just gives me
the littlest nod, like so.

She goes...

Wow.

Yeah.

What does that mean?

It means nothing.

You don't think he's our guy?

His cord doesn't quite
reach the outlet,

but I've read his file

and he has never shown
a propensity towards violence

and I doubt he would start now.

So, should we go rescue Torres?

We got a problem.

Another mail bomb
just detonated.

What? Where?

Alexandria. One dead.

Same M.O. as the first bomb

and this one came
by one-hour delivery.

Leonard's been
in here for two.

Yeah, which means...

We've got a serial bomber
on the loose.

Two bombs, three victims.
Will there be more?

That's the question
paralyzing the city today

as pressure mounts on NCIS,
which has taken the lead

in the investigation,
even as the agency's director

remains on extended medic...

We don't make
news. Update.

Second bombing victim
was Patricia Everett.

48 years old, divorced,
two kids in college.

Package was delivered
via Global Courier's

one-hour delivery service.

Everett was
the recipient.

- Who's the sender?
- Fake. Just like the last one.

- What's the connection with our targets?
- Nothing yet.

Uh, no mutual friends,
no social media overlap

and no six degrees
of Kevin Bacon and we've looked.

Look harder.

What if there is no connection?

What if the bomber is picking
his targets from the phone book?

"Hey, Gibbs.

"Need to talk...

about second bomb."

Oh, wait. Oh, not a texter.

Ah.

Stupid.

- What we got?
- Oh.

We can do this again
if you'd like.

No, um, sorry.

Uh, so I ran a
chemical analysis

and was able to
confirm both bombs

were built by
the same person.

Both contained
identical isomers

of nitrocellulose,
trinitrobenzene

and acetone peroxide.

TNB? That's
military ordinance.

Oh, yes, indeed.
Oh, also,

I found a second brooch,

which, if you recall, a brooch is a...
- Yeah. Yeah, yeah, I recall.

Again, I can find no
function that this serves

in the bomb.

It's the bomber's
signature.

Okay, yeah, well, what's
he trying to say with it?

Budweiser.

Budweiser?

Thank you.

Thank you.

What happened exactly?

Kasie Hines, no, no.

You stay here.

You're gonna find out
what happened soon enough.

The Budweiser.

The coveted trident pin

awarded to all Navy SEALs
upon graduation.

And you think
that's a melted trident?

The bombs are
SEAL related.

But we've been over this.

Pat Everett has no connection
to the Navy.

And we vetted all
20 Navy SEALs

that were in Petty Officer
Nicholas's graduating class.

What about the ones
who rang out?

It's a bigger list. Hold on.

Um...

204 candidates washed out.

How many made it
through demolition training?

That should
narrow it down.

Only 16.

How many of those 16
failed their psych eval?

Only one.

Put him up.

Hmm. David West.

He washed out
about four months ago.

Now lives in West Virginia where
he works security at a mall.

Look at that.

The psychologist that
administered West's psych eval

was a Dr. Patrick Everett.

Sound familiar?

The second bomb victim
was Patricia Everett.

Can't be a coincidence.

Either our bomber really
hates the Everett family...

Don't know if they're related.

...or he killed the
wrong Pat Everett.

Where is West right now?

Pinging his cell phone.

Boss, let me just say
that I think

this new nonpinging
policy sucks.

McGee, we got the mall.

Bishop, Torres,
take his house.

Let's go.

Hi.

How are you, Kayla?

Oh. I-I called Gibbs.

And he called me.
How's your dad?

Not great.

It's like he's lost
his mojo or something.

Well, we'll have
to help him get it back.

Yeah.

Jack?

- Hey, Leon. How you doing?
- Hey. Okay.

- Good to see you.
- You, too.

You, too. Oh.

Handy.
Oh, shoot.

Home improvement project.

I got a sticky window
in the guest room.

Something else
in this house won't budge.

And to what do we
owe this visit?

Was just in the area,
wanted to see how you're doing.

I'm better every day.

I'm looking forward to
getting back into the office.

Mm-hmm.

You weren't "in the
area," were you?

And you're not "better
every day," are you?

And I have you
to thank for this?

Who wants coffee? I do.

Thank you.

So, tell me everything.
What's happening?

Yeah, why don't we skip
all the pleasantries

and you can tell me why
you're really here?

Okay. Want to just rip
that Band-Aid off fast?

Fine with me.

You were tricked
by a terrorist, Leon.

You made a bad decision that
nearly cost thousands of lives

and now you are coping
with that mistake

by practicing avoidance
and social withdrawal.

How about that?

I am rehabbing my hip.

That's all.

That's blame shifting.
Normal defense mechanism

for someone in your
condition, by the way.

Jack, I'm fine.

No, you're afraid.

You don't trust
your instincts anymore.

Not good for someone

who makes life or death
decisions every day

and that fear
can be paralyzing, Leon.

I always thought
that psychologists

would examine their patients

before providing
diagnosis.

Ah, no, we don't
have time for that,

so I just thought
I'd skip to the end.

And I'm sure you have
just the right prescription.

As a matter of fact, I do.

In my professional opinion...

you need to get your ass
back in the saddle.

Thanks for stopping by, Jack.

Leon, listen.

Hey. You want a real project

to do around the house?

The agency that you lead

is trying to stop
a serial bomber.

Everything you need to know
about the suspect.

David West?

Wait. NCIS!

Mr. West, we just have
a few questions!

Easy, easy, easy.

Gun!

Okay. I don't think he
wants to talk to us.

He can talk to my SIG.

- Ready? One...
- Yeah.

...two...
- Nick.

Go. Go!

Go!

Okay. SWAT team's
on the way.

Gibbs and McGee are
coming back from the mall.

- They should be here any minute. All right?
- All right.

Now, let me take
a look at this.

Ow, ow.

Ooh...

How bad is it?

Uh, it's not great,
Nick. Ooh.

- Oh, Bishop!
- Shrapnel's in there pretty deep.

Oh, that's peachy.

Okay.

Cut it out.

You're not serious.

Yes, I'm serious.
Cut it out.

- No, Nick.
- This guy tried to kill me, okay?

I'm about to try to kill him,

but I can't do it with
that thing in my back,

so just-just dig it out.
- Okay.

Fine. You're an idiot.

Wait, what's that for?

I'm sterilizing
my tool. Here.

Bite onto this.

Oh. Oh, we're doing this.

Can you make up
your mind already?

Well, I'm just saying

that maybe-maybe
that guy is gone.

I-I didn't hear him shoot
for, like, a little bit.

Oh, the guy is gone.
Are you...

What are you doing?
What are you doing?

He's still there.

That was my favorite hat.

Can... are we gonna
do this or what?

- Okay, I'm ready. I'm ready, I'm ready.
- Okay.

- One, two...
- Hey, Torres.

Wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait!

- The cavalry's here.
- What?

- What is he doing?
- Uh, no idea.

Where did he go?

Where's Gibbs?

Okay, I got him, boss.

Bishop and Torres?

Oh, they're okay.

Bishop!

Torres!

Cease fire, we're
on the way out!

Nice hat.

In times of war and uncertainty,

there is a special breed of

warrior ready to answer
our nation's call.

A common man with an
uncommon desire to succeed...

Director Vance.
Special Agent Gibbs.

Good to see you.

Good to be here.

...special breed of warrior

ready to answer
our nation's call.

The Navy SEAL creed.

He's been reciting it
for the last hour.

He built his whole life
around becoming a SEAL.

When he washed out,
he had nothing to fall back on.

You read his file.

Three times.

My word is my bond.

I've had some time on my hands.

...and be led.
In the absence of orders,

I will take charge,

lead my teammates
and accomplish the mission.

I lead by example
in all situations.

I will never quit.
I persevere and thrive

on adversity.
My nation

expects me to...

You recognize that?

Maybe you don't, since
you never earned one,

but it's a Budweiser,
trident pin.

It's a real one,

unlike the knockoffs
you purchased

at the Navy surplus store
and packed into your mail bombs.

Sorry. Budweisers
are for SEALs only.

And you washed out.

Dr. Everett made a mistake,

sir.

So you sent him a bomb?

Along with one to
Petty Officer Nicholas,

who red-flagged you
for a psych exam?

They got what
they deserved, ma'am.

No, they didn't.

Nicholas is still alive, and
you killed the wrong Everett.

Mission failed.

You win some, you lose some.

The hell is he
so smug about?

Why don't you go find out?

You read his file...

three times.

Director Vance, welcome Ba--

Where's he going?

Are you having a good time?

Sir?

You want to tell me
what's so funny?

We train for war
and fight to win.

I stand ready to bring the
full spectrum of combat power

to bear in order to achieve

my mission and the goals
established by my country.

You've been looking
at your watch a lot.

Are you late for
something, David?

The execution of my abilities
will be swift

and violent when required...

Or am I?

...the very principles
that I serve to defend.

Brave men have fought and died
building the proud tradition...

You sent a third bomb,
didn't you?

Who is the third target?

Who is it?

Who else wronged you?

Could it have been another
SEAL classmate?

20 of them graduated.

Yeah, go.

That's a nice tan line.

Where's the ring?

David, you just got married.
Where's your wedding band?

Thanks.

It's the wife.

Gwen Eisley.
Married five months ago.

She walked out on you, huh?

Where's she staying?

She at her mother's house
in Alexandria?

Or maybe she's staying at her
brother's in Philly?

Or she's staying at
her sister's in Middleburg?

Sister's in Middleburg.

Don't play poker
in prison, David.

You have a tell.

Leave a message.

What?

What?

So the wife finally
answered her cell?

Fifth time's a charm.

How'd she react to the news

her hubby mailed her a bomb?

She asked if she could
"return to sender."

Ah, McGee, look.

...and coming up
tonight on Real Wives of War,

Sheba radiates in red.

Oh, whoa.
Trouble in paradise?

You know what? I think I'm done
with The Real Wives of War.

Good for you. Yeah.

You can do better things
with your life.

Totally agree.

There's this new show
about cops in Miami Beach...

McGee.

Not where you were
going with that?

- Okay.
- He's back, baby.

- Hey.
- Can't keep me down.

How was surgery?

Oh, it was a breeze.

Shrapnel's all out.

Told you it was
just a flesh would.

Ah. So I could've
cut it out.

Oh, no, that was
a real bad idea.

Yeah, that's what I said.

30 seconds.

You'll be happy, I promise.

- Doubt it.
- One word: ping.

You took away
his superpower.

Because you didn't let me
finish my presentation.

Yes, the
Supreme Court

banned warrantless
cell location tracking...

AKA no ping.

...which is why we have arranged
for three on-call judges

to provide near-instantaneous
warrants should the need arise.

- Hm.
- Wait, what does that mean?

Means we are back
in business, baby.

You're welcome.

She's very sweet.

- Yeah.
- Very.

Yeah, when she's
nice like that, yeah.

Okay, Cameron,
I'll see you Thursday.

Hey, Leon,
you can change in back.

Oh, uh, actually, Ava, I'm not

taking therapy today,

or ever, I'm, uh,
I'm canceling my appointments.

Cancel the appointments
you demanded?

Requested.

But you were right,
my range of motion's good,

and I can continue
the exercises at home.

Okay, I'll cancel them.

You know, you could've
just called.

I was in the neighborhood.

Uh-huh. I don't think
she's here yet.

Who?

Well, well, well.

Leon.

But no, uh, no more cast.

Nope, just the crutches now.
What about you?

I barely notice a limp.

I graduated. No more PT.

- Oh, congratulations.
- Thank you.

Well, good luck
with your life, I guess.

Hey, um...

How would you...

How would you like to, um,
see each other,

somewhere that's not here?

- I'd like that.
- Great.

Waterskiing, mountain climbing,
what do you think?

Or we could just do
dinner tonight.

Dinner sounds good.
Give me your phone.

My phone? Why?

- So I can put my number in it.
- Oh, geez.

I'm a little...
little rusty here.

So any, um, any requests
for dinner?

How about someplace
without stairs?

Duly noted.
Ground-floor restaurant.

All right.

- I'll-I'll call you.
- Okay.

- Bye.
- Bye.

Nice work.

Thank you.

What's your
assessment?

I don't know yet, but I will.

Hm.

Well done.

How long are we surveilling him?

As long as it takes.

Enjoy your dinner.

Hey.

You forgetting something?

You don't want to make
that mistake tonight.

You worry about you.
I'll worry about me.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man