All language subtitles for CSI.Crime.Scene.Investigation.S09E05.Leave.Out.All.The.Rest.720p.BluRay.x264-SiNNERS

I have been thinking about us a lot, though.

All the moments.

I thought we could survive anything.

* I dreamed I was missing *

* You were so scared *

* But no one would listen *

* 'Cause no one else cared... *

This trip has given me a lot of clarity.

That last year in Vegas,

I could barely breathe, let alone... think.

* After my dreaming *

* I woke with this fear *

* What am I leaving *

* When I'm done here? *

Officers!

I need your help.

We've got to preserve those tire tracks.

Take your stick, dig a trench.

Got to divert the water.

Catherine?

You covered the body with a tarp.

You contaminated the evidence.

First responder tarped
it before I even arrived.

Thought he was helping out.

I should be giving you grief. You were up.

Dispatch said you didn't acknowledge.

What do you know?

Trucker spotted the body.

Called it in.

Face is embedded with asphalt.

Got here as fast as I could.

See if he's got any I.D.

Nothing.

Rigidity hasn't extended into the limbs.

And the lividity's blanching.

Probably been dead two to four hours.

Fingers and toes are gone.

Ligature marks around the posterior aspects

of both wrists.

Tied up and dragged?

Well, then the rest of his body
should look like hamburger.

Roll him.

Burnt motor oil.

And his shirt looks like it was scorched.

He could have been tied

to the undercarriage of a vehicle.

Vehicle with a high ground clearance--

truck, SUV.

We got to get this body out of here.

Where are the easy-ups??

They're on their way.

Before I left, um,

you said some things
that I tried not to hear,

but now, uh, I think you were right.

* 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! *

Looks like Hawk here played
softball for Talmadge Media.

I'll have Brass run down his real name.

Two, three, four...

six, seven, eight, nine

stab wounds in his shirt?

What's the matter,

you got a migraine?

No.

Go call Brass.

All right.

Well, I still have to do the paperwork

and fill out a tox request

on a hit-and-run.

Tissue was white, so, no blood flow.

Means, what happened

to the face happened postmortem.

I can see his brains
through his nasal cavities.

That's cool.

Well, B.R.B.-- be right back.

My wife's got me into texting now.

All right.

No, that's it, Jim. Thanks.

Rope marks on the upper and lower torso,

but no bruising.

Postmortem.

So are the stab wounds.

Nipples are swollen.

And it looks like puncture wounds

around the areola.

If it was tattooing, there'd be ink.

Piercing, there'd be metal.

I don't know, man.

A kinky way to shoot up drugs?

I'll have Robbins work up a histo.

Eight and three quarter-inch tread width.

So, that's consistent
with a small truck or SUV.

Boy, there must be a lot
of clay in this soil.

Otherwise, this track would
have totally washed away.

My shoes are ruined.

Why didn't you tell me to wear boots?

Or, better yet, hire some more CSIs.

Trust me, you were my last choice.

Thank you.

Ow! Ow!

Catherine, man down!

Found a rope.

Got a splinter.

Think I pierced

an artery.

Blood.

Nylon rope.

Must have been used to tie the
body to the undercarriage.

When the rope melted,

body dropped onto the road.

So, killer's driving along,

loses his cargo,

pulls over,

and drags the body out into the desert.

Had to have been an accidental body dump.

Why go to the trouble to tie it up

under the car in the first place?

Because if a cop stops you,

they're going to look inside the car,
not underneath it.

Let me take a walk through.
Hang back a second.

All clear.

No sign of forced entry.

Apart from us.

Why don't you take this?

I'll check the back.

Well, I got an I.D.

Ian Wallace was a good-looking kid.

Smells like citrus.

Got a blood drop with an air bubble.

Got to be saliva.

Hey, somebody got punched.

Found more blood.

Somebody tried to clean up.

Ran tox on

hamburger head.

Low levels of THC and alcohol.

For what's it worth, I don't think

he was injecting weed or beer

into his nipples.

Although, this one time,
Hodges and I were growing botox,

and he goes, and he injects it.

It's okay, Henry.
I don't need to know any more.

Yeah.

Hello from below the
equator and Puerto Ayora.

We've been at sea over a month now.

You wouldn't believe the crew.

Students, activists, scientists.

The dinner conversations
alone are mind-blowing.

There's even this, uh, marine biologist

that reminds me a little bit of you.

I wish that we could talk in person,

but, uh, this is the best that I can do.

I want to apologize for being out of touch.

I have been thinking about us a lot, though.

All the moments.

I thought we could survive anything.

This trip has given me a lot of clarity.

That last year in Vegas,

I could barely breathe, let alone... think,

but, um, now,

for the first time in a really long time,

I'm happy.

Ian's sports car is in the garage.

Other spot's empty.

I did find some fresh oil
stains and rope burns, though.

Mm-hmm.

So, I'm thinking the killer

probably pulled his truck into the garage.

Would have given him plenty
of time to tie up the body.

Back door's unlocked.

Anybody could have gotten in here.

Victim definitely lived with a chick.

Napkin holders,

heart-shaped pillows.

Women's' magazines.

Yeah. Where is she?

I don't see a purse around here.

Maybe she roped him

to the bottom of her truck and split.

I got a name.

Justine Stefani.

Okay.

I'll have Brass put out a broadcast.

Puncture wounds didn't penetrate

any of the significant blood vessels.

And there's no evidence of injection

or scar tissue,
so that rules out drug abuse.

Punctures were made by 18-gauge needles

which pierced the areola.

They were arranged in a symmetrical pattern

around the nipples.

Have you ever seen this?

Never.

Or this.

What appear to be minor burn marks

on the upper and lower surfaces

of the tongue.

There are no other burn
marks in the oral cavity.

Histo confirmed the burns were electrical.

They grilled his tongue?

That's sick.

Torture. That would be

my opinion at this time.

COD?

Manual asphyxia.

Bruising around the trachea.

Broken hyoid bone.

Killer strangled him with his bare hands.

So, Ian Wallace was restrained,

his nipples were stimulated,

he had minor burns on his tongue,

and he was asphyxiated.

S and M?

Gone very, very wrong.

These stab wounds

are brutal, random and postmortem.

Which is inconsistent with S&M.

Well, it's hard to take
pleasure in someone's pain

once they're dead.

Which is the "gone wrong" part.

You're a doctor-- is that normal?

Grissom being socially awkward?

Yeah, that's normal.

He won't talk to me.

And he doesn't appear to be sleeping much.

Grissom.

What are you doing here?

I should have called. I'm sorry.

I... I didn't know I was coming.

What do you want?

Thank you.

When was the last time you
had a good night's sleep?

Bad dreams.

How can I help?

I, uh... have a body with S&M type wounds,

but there are inconsistencies.

So I was hoping to get
your first impressions.

My first impression...
is that you've changed.

Come on.

How have you been?

I got my Masters in psychology last year.

I'm a licensed therapist.

I now have patients, not clients.

Let me guess--
you specialize in sex therapy?

These wounds around
his nipples are from needle play.

The arrangement is called "stacking."

May I touch you?

Needles are inserted
transversely and sagittally,

which raises the nipple upward.

This causes the nipple to swell
and become highly sensitive.

Which creates a "pain" button.

Any touch or pressure overwhelms the senses

and releases a flood of endorphins.

So, uh...

our victim is a submissive who enjoyed pain.

He also had electrical burns on his tongue.

Now I'm familiar

with the use of gags in S&M.

And some are metal.

Did you ever use electricity?

I never used electricity above the waist.

It only takes six milliamps
to stop the heart.

It's too dangerous.

This is tongue bondage.

It's used in medical exam fantasies

as part of humiliation.

You ask the "patient"
to stick out their tongue,

grab the tongue with chopsticks,
rubber band them

to create a dental gag.

In a typical situation,
one would use wood chopsticks,

which would leave some bruising
and if you're lucky, splinters.

In this case, metal
chopsticks may have been used

and electricity applied.

These are masochistic injuries.

So we're looking for a dominant?

Mm-hmm.

He lived with a woman.

Was she into the lifestyle? We don't know.

She's missing.

I'd like to see photos of their bedroom.

Sometimes it's obvious.

Sometimes it's not.

All right, copy that.

I'll efax you the over-alls
if we find anything.

Okay.

Grissom wants us to look
for any S&M paraphernalia.

I once had an old lady in her 70's--

burglary victim.

Had to process her vibrators.

Some of them were burned out.

Why would you process her... tuning forks?

I'm thorough.

I got a booty smudge on the TV.

Justine super-sized herself.

Double-D implants.

Welcome to Vegas.

Positive for semen.

What does it say about me
that I always find the smut?

That you're lucky.

Guess they were into S&M.

You ever been tied up?

What do you think?

I think you're more into hair pulling.

Hey...

knock it off.

Get me some pictures of that stuff, will ya?

Got a bloody shirt in a laundry basket.

Bloodstains match

the puncture marks on Ian's pecs.

Which means he must have changed his shirt

after the nipple action,
but before he was killed.

Girlfriend could've redressed him,

tossed the shirt in the basket out of habit.

Yeah, and then what?

Little Justine ties 200
pounds of dead weight

up under her SUV?

Well, I could do it.

It's just physics and leverage.

Takes brains not brawn.
I don't think you could.

I think you could do it.

The killing part, too.

The trunk contains male slave gear.

Needle and electro play
requires special equipment.

I don't see any dedicated S&M room.

So he didn't play at home.

Do you think he went to a professional?

Lower Linx is part of the amateur scene.

It has a well-equipped back room.

You have to know the right people.

Rents by the hour.

* Shiny, shiny *

* Shiny boots of leather *

* Whiplash girl child in the dark *

* Come in bells, your servant,
don't forsake him... *

You know, it's a proven sociological fact

that the public won't
commingle with the cops.

I try not to take it personally.

Yeah, me either.

* Downy sins of streetlight fancies... *

I'd like to talk to the owner.

Michelle Tournay.

All my licenses are current.

What do you want?

You recognize these people?

Do you have any security cameras?

Being Big Brother's your job.

Well, Big Brother would
like to see the back room.

You know what I mean--

the real back room.

I'm done cooperating.

Get a warrant.

Okay.

That could take a couple
of hours. We'll wait.

Got a menu?

Who else has a key to this room?

Only me.

Okay.

* Taste I *

* Can't describe... *

Looks like an oscilloscope.

This is the juice right here.

* Reaching out... *

Hey, Jim, check it out.

Chopsticks.

What's the word?

Sex.

That love juice from near the TV

was a mixture of seminal
fluid and vaginal secretions.

Ian and his girlfriend?

Well, yes on him,

but assuming that that was
her toothbrush you gave me,

definitely no on her.

That's motive.

Dom-girlfriend finds her man doing the nasty

with some hood rat in their
bedroom and kills him.

Yeah... I found more.

It's on the shirt that you gave me

from Ian Wallace's laundry basket.

High-velocity blood stains?

Our victim wasn't shot.

No, but sometimes expiratory blood

can actually mimic
high-velocity gunshot spatter.

It's on the back of the shoulder.

It's probably not his.

Maybe he's got the killer on his back.

Before I left, uh, you said some
things that I tried not to hear,

but now, uh, I think you were right.

If a relationship can't move forward,

it withers.

LADY HEATHER: There's a
schism between the lovers.

Ian and Justine have different priorities,

different roles.

She's the keeper of the hearth--
sentimental,

traditional.

Mass card and rosary in her nightstand.

A good girl, afraid of the dark.

What about him?

Ian liked to compartmentalize.

It made him feel safe.

Everything had its place.

Work, her, sports.

He kept his dark side locked in a trunk,

hidden away from her.

Does Sara know you're here?

No.

Am I your secret?

No, and you're not my therapist.

They found some evidence

that Ian may have had sex with
another woman in their house.

That's his subconscious desire
to be caught and punished,

which is why he chose Justine as a partner.

He's got a mommy to hide things from.

The Virgin Mother.

Justine is an enabler,

not a dominant.

Even if she discovered his infidelities,

she couldn't harm him.

She's not your killer.

The Boulder City cop was able
to run the burnt license plate.

The registered owner is Justine Stefani.

I'm guessing we're about 20 miles southeast

of the original crime scene.

Those are breast implants.

Unlike most plastic,
silicone is extremely heat resistant.

Justine Stefani had fake boobs.

I saw a photo of her.

Doc Robbins will be able

to match the serial
numbers of those implants

and confirm her identity.

Which means our suspect is now a victim.

Serial numbers from the
breast implants confirm

the victim is Justine Stefani.

Dave, do you want to flip her over?

Third-degree burns over 75% of her body.

Doc, take a look.

The victim's arms were bound.

Ligature marks are ante-mortem.

Found a set of shoe impressions
heading away from the highway.

Tire impressions followed them.

Found Justine's boots under the vehicle.

- C.O.D. was multiple traumatic injuries
-- homicide.

Compound fractures to both
femurs indicate impact

back to front.

Fractures are inconsistent
with passenger injuries,

but consistent with a pedestrian

being hit by a vehicle.

Found a clump of Justine's
hair on the skid plate.

She was ultimately killed by her own SUV.

Axle was cracked,
making the vehicle undriveable,

which is probably why the killer torched it.

A second set of impressions were consistent

with a size nine athletic shoe.

The footwear trail ended

at a separate set of tire
impressions just off the road.

The killer may have flagged
down a passing motorist

or had an accomplice.

So we have two new suspects.

One of whom wears a size nine shoe,

which is the equivalent
of a woman's size 11.

The other suspect drives a vehicle

with two different brands of tires.

Front were Pirelli P-235 70R 15s.

Rear were same size Michelin.

Can't narrow it down.

We know that Ian was killed at the house

and transported in Justine's car,

so Justine had to have been
kidnapped from the house.

So whatever started at the Lower Linx

ended at their house.

She must have walked in on it.

Why not just kill her there?

I mean, if you take a live female victim,

there's a reason.

You want to take your time with her.

I did collect these metal chopsticks

from the Lower Linx.

They're used in tongue bondage.

Now, the center saliva DNA
is a match to Ian Wallace,

but on the ends, the epithelial DNA,

unknown female.

It did, however, match the DNA profile

from the vaginal secretions at the house.

So Ian was sleeping with his dom.

You know, I got a real dominatrix vibe

from Miss Tournay.

Her and Lady Heather could be sisters.

Who's Lady Heather?

Oh, that's a whole other Oprah.

Changing the channel,

do we have enough to get a
warrant for Ms. Tournay's DNA?

Yeah, I think so. I'll talk to the DA.

Oh, we also might have a
lead on the other suspect.

I ran Justine's phone records.

Last incoming call was from
a Martin Devlin at 8:12 P.M.

I have tremendous respect
for law enforcement.

Risking your lives every day

for so little reward.

How'd you get Justine
Stefani's phone number?

Got it off a warm call list.

She was a Web site surfer, Jim.

Left her contact info.

What'd you two talk about?

Life insurance, term for her

and her soon-to-be fianc�.

She was a planner.

Did you talk to the boyfriend?

Only her, Jim.

You ever been to their house?

No, it was one phone call.

Chatted her up and talked some turkey.

Oh, did you close her on the insurance?

I had her going, then out
of the blue, she hangs up.

Oh.

Yeah, I lost that fish.

Sorry I can't be of more help, Jim. I...

But meeting me could be the best thing

that ever happened to you.

Oh, yeah?

You see, most cops are under-insured.

And it's your family that'll suffer.

I can hook you up with catastrophic life,

an umbrella policy and car insurance

in less than ten minutes

and it'll save you money.

Thanks. I'm all set. Thanks.

In the heterosexual world,

men want to be dominated by women.

and women by men.

So Wallace would have had a female dominant.

Well, we've confirmed that
through physical evidence.

She also slept with him.

Which is why one should
always go to a professional.

They know the boundaries.

I feel the same way about
crime scene investigators.

And no one has more rigid
boundaries than you.

We know there was at least one killer,

but there may have been two.

But we don't know if it
was a man or a woman.

If your dominant is the killer,

she would most likely choose
a slave to assist her.

Someone she could trust and control.

Which would be a man. Mm.

Amateurs often play scenes in groups.

And the dom would select slaves

who share similar fantasies and fetishes.

Why did you lie to us
about knowing Ian Wallace?

We have physical evidence linking him

to your S&M room,

so we know you know him.

You had no right to ask the question,

therefore I had no obligation to answer it.

I have a warrant to collect buccal swabs,

take all your shoes, and search your SUV.

What do you need the stuff for?

Doesn't matter. I have a warrant.

I can take it.

So why don't you tell me what's going on?

Yes, I facilitate people's BDS&M scenes.

It's a way to make money.

It's not something I practice.

I'm an entrepreneur.

I majored in theater.

Don't you get it?

I get that you're looking at
two counts of capital murder.

I hope you're a good actress.

Look, Ian came in a lot.

Got to know each other,
I ended up sleeping with him.

At his house. We know that, too.

No. I have rules.

I'm not uptight about sex,

but I like my privacy.

Never been to his house,

he'd never been to mine.

Open wide.

I'm not letting you take my
DNA and put it in some system

where it's gonna stay the rest of my life.

If you're innocent, what does it matter?

That just proves you're a fascist

and this is a police state.

Help me out here, will you, Mitch?

Ma'am, if you don't let the CSI do his job,

I'm gonna have to arrest
you for obstruction.

Turned you on, didn't it?

Bet you're standing at attention.

Hypocrite. You're no different

than the freaks that rent my back room.

So I got a match from that
high-velocity bloodstain

on the Ian Wallace shirt.

Your suspect has seven out of 13 alleles

in common with a convicted
felon named George Devlin.

Look, he's still serving time.

Justine got a call from a Martin
Devlin the night she died.

Mr. Devlin, are you sure

you don't want to call Legal Aid

and ask for a senior attorney?

I trust her completely.

Okay.

Let's start with the DNA sample.

We refuse.

Too invasive.

We have a warrant.

Then I'll file a motion to quash it.

We have Mr. Devlin's blood
on the victim's shirt

and we have a mother lode of probable cause.

I'll argue that under the Daubert Standards,

your DNA analysis is unreliable and invalid.

Hmm.

Please remove your shirt.

I said no.

Transitory evidence.
We don't need a warrant.

Come on. Let's go.

No, no...

Needle play.

You're into S&M?

Stick out your tongue and say, "Ah."

Ah.

Boy, I hope you have a
lot of insurance, Marty.

What are you accusing my client of?

We already have his dom in custody.

Sooner or later, she's going to roll on him,

and then we have him on the hook

for kidnapping and murder.

Oh, you like hooks, don't you, Marty?

I didn't kidnap anybody.

Is that a confession?

I'm advising you to remain silent.

So what happened?

You and Ms. Tournay
followed Ian Wallace home

from the Lower Linx and
then you had a fight?

One of you killed him.

Called his girlfriend--

told her she better come home.

Probably planned on framing her.

And then you lassoed him
under Justine's car.

What kind of car do you drive, Marty?

Michelle was driving a Durango,

and you were following behind

like a nice little slave.

But then things get weird.

The body fell out on the road.

Justine made a break for it,

and I bet you were the one

who decided to set her on fire.
Stop... stop!

There are no safe words here, Marty.

This is a police station.

You like pain?

'Cause you're going to be in for a treat.

We're invoking. We're done.

I noticed in the autopsy report

that Mr. Wallace was
stabbed after he was dead.

Right.

Which would make your dom a sexual sadist.

That's highly unusual.

Why?

There must be sexual sadists
that seek out that world.

See, sexual sadists are
typically charming loners.

They would be repulsed by a consensual,
safe and communicative lifestyle.

When a submissive says "stop,
" you have to stop.

That doesn't work for a sexual sadist.

They get off on the
terror of their subjects.

So you think that S&M play was
not involved in the murders?

They were separate events?

That would be my expert opinion.

May I make a personal observation?

As a friend, not as a therapist?

Everything I've told you,
you could have read in a book.

I think the case is a mere pretext

and you're here for a more personal reason.

Before I left,

you said some things
that I tried not to hear,

but now, uh, I think you were right.

If a relationship can't move forward,

it withers.

I've been waiting for you to decide.

But sometimes not making a
decision is making a decision.

Where's Sara?

What stopped you?

I don't know.

A lot of things.

Devotion to your work?

Loyalty to the team? Fear of the unknown?

Do you regret your decision
not to go with her?

It was beyond my control.

Really?

Most relationships are over before they end.

But it's still a death.

You mourn the loss,
have conflicting emotions--

but oftentimes there's a sense of relief.

We've all experienced it,
but no one wants to admit it.

I didn't say the relationship was over.

You didn't have to.

Not making a decision was your decision.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, uh...

you don't have to worry about me anymore.

I'm good.

I'm really good.

And honestly...

I think it's better this way.

I think you're here because it's not home.

It's not work.

And this is the only place that
doesn't remind you of Sara.

I have a guest bedroom upstairs.

You can stay as long as you want.

I pulled Martin Devlin's info

from his SIM card.

Guy's a big talker, but no calls
to or from Michelle Tournay.

Did they text?

Well, these are all the texts.

Again, nothing to or from Michelle Tournay.

Devlin called our female vic at 8:12.

They talked until 8:29.

He sent that text one minute later.

Are we ready to see this photo?

Holy crap.

That's our suspect's attorney.

I didn't see that coming.

Crisscross the phone number.

Yeah.

Who the hell is Marshall Jeffries?

It's one digit off from Justine's number.

He must have panicked--

typed in the wrong number

and sent the money shot to a stranger.

We have a new suspect.

How do you know Martin Devlin?

We just met.

Come on.

I called Legal Aid.

There's no record of him in the database.

I'm sure it's a clerical error.

Counselor, isn't it a conflict of interest

to represent Mr. Devlin while you're having

an intimate relationship
with one of his victims?

Lawyer by day,

dominatrix by night.

Similar skill set.

I was at Ian's house the
night of the murder...

but I left just after
that picture was taken.

Why'd you kill him?

I didn't.

So Martin did?

He swore to me he was innocent.

But I don't know.

The three of us did a scene
together at the Lower Linx.

I lost control.

I got really turned on...

kissed him.

Martin got jealous, stepped out of his role.

So you're in love with Ian,
Martin's in love with you,

they're both your slaves.

Sounds like a kinky soap opera.

Yes.

I broke every rule.

Ian went home.

I wanted to tell him how I felt,
so I followed him.

I love you.

I can tell you feel the same.

You think I'm going to
introduce you to my parents

and let you raise my kids?

My girlfriend's going to be home soon.

You got to go.

Get a grip. It was just sex.

Martin came in the back door.

He went after Ian.

This time, I didn't try to stop it.

Then Ian threw us both out.

I watched Martin drive away.

He could have gone back,

but there is no way he would
have killed the girlfriend.

Not like that.

We have evidence linking the lawyer to Ian.

Her DNA was at the Lower
Linx as well as at the house.

Which means Michelle Tournay
is no longer a suspect.

But there's an issue.

Lawyer wears a size six shoe.

Shoe impressions found
in the desert are too big

to be hers.

Plus, she drives a Mini Cooper.

So there's no match to the tire impressions.

Which means we can't place
her at Justine's crime scene.

Or link her to Ian's body dump.

How about Martin Devlin?

The feet are too big, car isn't a match.

I even checked both their credit records.

Neither one rented a car.

So we're missing the third side

of the evidence trinity.

We can link the scenes and the victims,

but we can't link the
suspects to the crime scenes.

The back door was unlocked.

Anybody could have walked right in there.

So are we saying it was random.

or they were targeted?

The S&M factor gave us all tunnel vision.

I disagree.

We followed the evidence.

Which tells us that the same night

Ian's play date went wrong,

a couple of psychopaths just
happened to torture, kidnap

and kill our vics?

According to Locard's theory,

we're still missing something.

There's still got to be evidence out there.

* I dreamed I was missing *

* You were so scared *

* But no one would listen *

* 'Cause no one else cared... *

Heather...

would you stay?

* When my time comes,
forget the wrong that I've done *

* Help me leave behind some
reasons to be missed... *