All language subtitles for CSI.New.York.S06E06.720p.HDTV.x264

(sirens wailing)

(tires screeching, sirens stop)

(car doors opening, closing)

(indistinct chattering)

FLACK:
I went through his pockets

and found a wallet full of
cash, credit cards and an ID.

His name's Martin Stafford.

His business card says
he's CEO of Kensitron Software.

So I checked, it's a small firm
on the Upper East Side.

Well, these red stains

are definitely not part
of the crosswalk art.

It's blood and
a whole lot of it.

TAYLOR: And no apparent
evidence of an attacker.

FLACK: He's drenched in his own blood.

You could have saved me.

TAYLOR: I don't see a
gunshot or knife wound

or any significant
laceration.

No bruising or injuries

consistent with a struggle.

HAWKES:
Petechial hemorrhaging.

No evidence of strangulation.

It appears he bled out

through the nose, mouth
and ears.

Directionality of these
blood spatter patterns

suggest that
he was dizzy.

That he barely
could walk.

Erratic steps.

(grunts)

It's as if he was staggering
and then collapsed.

FLACK:
Was he sick?

Hemophilia, maybe?

'Cause there's no way this

is natural causes.

Possibly internal injuries
or viral infection.

Or the only other
murder weapon left:

Poison.

Hawkes?

What's wrong?

I assume if it was about the
case, you would've just called.

I've made a mistake.

Okay.

I'm sure it's something
we can work through.

You can tell me anything,
Sheldon.

I may be responsible for
the death of Martin Stafford.

Sync by honeybunny
www.addic7ed.com

I was working the day shift

with the volunteer
medical unit.

I examined our vic,
Martin Stafford,

in Central Park at roughly
4:00 yesterday afternoon.

Right about here.

(computer trilling)

Martin said he was feeling
nauseous and dizzy,

fell over a few times,

then his nose
started to bleed.

When was the last
time you've eaten?

Lunch.

A couple hours ago.

HAWKES: He was with a young
woman, I didn't get her name.

She made a call
to medical dispatch

saying he had a nosebleed
and was feeling nauseous.

Martin had been drinking.

And it was clear
he was a bit drunk.

They both were.

And because of it,

I made assumptions and
acted irresponsibly.

Well, I know you may think that

a bloody nose and a tummy ache
is cause for some attention,

but there are people
in this park

that are seriously injured
that could use my help.

So the next time
you need something,

why don't you call your mother?

Was there any
abdominal cramping,

excessive perspiration?

I didn't see it.

Didn't look for it.

Didn't ask.

Later that evening,
we found him here,

on the other side
of the park.

It's not at all close
to where he lives.

Maybe we can track

her cell phone call
with the unit's dispatch

and get a number and a name.

I tried.

But the call was made
using the victim's phone.

So, I spoke to Martin
Stafford's neighbors.

Gave a description.

No one knows who this woman is.

Now, I know I should've
mentioned this at the scene,

and I don't have a good answer
as to why I didn't.

I just keep thinking that

if I would've gotten
him to a hospital,

things could've
turned out differently.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

You can't go back
and save his life.

You can only move forward.

Solve his murder.

So let's start
by finding that woman.

*

A little gardening, Sid?

Uh, research.

Martin Stafford's
tox screen was negative.

Not the outcome we expected.

So, you've ruled
out poisoning?

Well, not at all.

A healthy body

doesn't spontaneously expel

five quarts of blood
for no reason.

And according
to his medical records,

Stafford was very healthy.

Which leads us back
to your research.

Yeah, I'm looking for poisons

that are not only odorless
and tasteless

but also hard to detect
biochemically.

Perhaps one of them
is our culprit.

There was definitely
something in his system

that caused him
to bleed to death.

Yes, but whatever
foreign substance that was,

it quickly metabolized
in his body, leaving no trace.

And no clue as to the identity
of his killer.

So, was the poison ingested,

inhaled or injected?

Well, there was no sign

of any irritation
to the nasal passages

or visible needle marks
on the skin.

So, oral ingestion
seems to be

the most logical option.

I did recover
some sparse granular trace

from, uh, scratches
in the victim's shoulder.

Related to C.O.D.?

Highly unlikely.

My most interesting discovery
was this.

Linguini.

His dinner.

I found it on the victim's body.

Hmm, messy eater.

Well, that's the thing.

It was recovered
from beneath his clothing

stuck to his inner thigh.

And more importantly,
not a single strand

of linguini was found in
our victim's stomach contents.

In fact, there was very
little food in his stomach

at all.
Okay, that is odd.

Now, in order for it to stick
and remain on our victim's skin,

the noodle must've
still been wet, gooey,

the consistency of freshly cooked pasta.
Yeah.

Suggesting that it was prepared
shortly before T.O.D.

It's unlikely it was the source
of our poison

but it's certainly
something to noodle on.

*

HAWKES:
Around 4:00 yesterday,

the guy had a bloody nose,
there was a woman with him.

Yeah, I remember.

I was hoping
you got her name.

I suggest you just head home

get some rest,
sleep it off.

Hey.
Hey, what's up?

Nothing, just a big
waste of time.

I gotta get to work.

That's the responsibility
of the first doctor on scene.

That was you.
Yeah, well,

well, listen, I need
you to remember

whatever you can
about that couple.

Did they mention where
they were headed,

where they were
coming from?

Anything they said
could be helpful.

I don't think they knew
each other very well.

I remember thinking
it had to be a first date.

He asked her how far
her apartment was.

But I didn't hear
the response.

Other than that,
I didn't talk to them much.

I didn't bother
asking any questions.

You said they were a waste of my time.
Yeah, yeah.

Sheldon, what's wrong?

Nothing.

Thanks.

BONASERA: It's not gonna
tell you what it is.

You're gonna have to analyze it.

I know.

It's just the granular sample
that Sid gave you

is so small.

There's not much
to work with.

I'm looking at basically
one chance of getting it right.

GCMS.
Yeah,

but it's mixed
with our victim's blood,

so that could alter
the outcome of the analysis.

What does it look
like under the scope?

Well...

It's got the structural

and compositional
properties of talc,

but until I can
look at it further,

I don't know if it came
from paper, paint,

rubber, ceramic...
I surrender, I get the problem.

Sid recovered this trace
from the scratches

on the victim's shoulder.

So until I can
figure out what it is,

I don't know if the wound was
caused by something or someone,

possibly our killer.

Well, we do have
the sample library,

and when all else
fails, ask EDNA.

EDNA.

Mac, I got prints
and a hair

off the linguine Sid found
on Stafford's body.

They belong to the vic?

Don't know yet; I'm waiting
on a ten-card from Sid

and a match in AFIS,
but in the meantime,

I did some digging
into Stafford's background.

Seems like he was

some financial whiz kid.

Started Kensitron Software
when he was 23 years old.

He put everything he had
into that company,

but when
the economy tanked,

Kensitron went down with it.

Stafford filed for bankruptcy
three months ago.

He's liquidating the company.

Yeah, losing

everything that he built
must have hit him hard.

Maybe we're looking

at a suicide?

No, nothing else suggests
he fits that profile.

Search his apartment.

We know he ingested the poison.

See if you can find a source.

All right, I'll hobble
my way over there.

Martin Stafford
was a healthy businessman

with no prior arrests,
not even a speeding ticket.

We got a cell phone
filled with contacts

who all swear
he was a great guy,

and yet no one's called us
to find out

where we are
in our investigation.

We usually get
those calls.

Yeah, to be that young

and have no family,

no close friends, I
mean, it's very sad.

A few people got close to him
just before he died.

Danny just left to process
the vic's apartment,

told me to give you this.

Found two partial prints

and a hair on the
strand of linguine

recovered from
Stafford's body.

Yeah, and each one
of them belonged

to someone
totally different.

Nothing belongs to our vic.
Danny get any hits

in CODIS or AFIS?

Nope. It does say here

that the two prints
belong to women

and the hair
belongs to a man.

Sounds like too many cooks
in the kitchen to me.

Yeah, it still doesn't explain
why the noodle we found

on his inner thigh
was underneath his clothing.

(Ross laughing)

This guy was kinky
with his food.

Care to elaborate on that?

I think he was sploshing.

A sploshing party
is an event

where a group of people
get together

and they experience food
in a, uh, sensual way.

They, um,

caress their bodies

with foods of different
textures and temperatures,

and it, uh... it arouses
and stimulates and...

They say that
it excites them and-and...

Well, I just, again,
it's what I've-I've heard, I...

There are specific locations
for these...?

Sploshing parties.

Oh, you can go to a Web site
and get an invitation.

But I...

I've just heard. I...

*

*

Yesterday was
our Italian theme.

Tomorrow:
vegan.

And this is
our dessert course.

This takes place
every day at lunch?

Yes, and we've just added
dinner parties

on Friday and Saturday nights.

I can get you

a membership
application.

God, no. Thank you.

(clears throat)

Do you know this man?

I'm sorry, I don't.

We believe he was here
yesterday.

He wasn't.

Men have to be members
to attend our events,

and he's not a member.

Are you sure about that?

Positive-- that's not a face
I would easily forget.

You record
these things?

Yes, for YouTube.

18,000 hits last week.

Excuse me a moment.

(people talking and laughing
softly)

So when I'm grabbing a sandwich
down at the corner deli,

this is what the corporate
world does for lunch?

This definitely explains
how Danny found

multiple fingerprints and hair
on the linguine.

I see somebody we know.

What?
Over there.

(phone rings)

Messer.

FLACK: Walk to the window;
I can see you right now.

See me?
Straight across.

Big building.
Yeah, no, Flack,

I see you.

Yeah, I got a great view
from here.

It's where our investigation
led us.

Whoa, whoa, whoa,
whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

What-what the heck is going on
over there?

Uh... sploshing party.

Sploshing?

Hey, you finding linguine
in our vic's apartment?

No, there's not
a linguine noodle

in this place, not much at all.

Super says the vic's apartment
was going into foreclosure.

You see anything that might be
our poison, give a ring.

Yeah, no, I'll let you know
if I find anything.

You let me know
if you find anything.

All right, will do.

All right, be careful
over there, buddy.

Who, me?

Yeah.

It seems our vic
had a bird's-eye view

of the hottest
lunch party in town.

But he wasn't
at the party.

So how did the linguine
end up on his leg

and how did he end up dead?

Oh! Oh.

You all right?

Uh, yeah,

I was just evaporating
the liquid sample

that Danny collected
at the vic's apartment.

Then boom!
(chuckles)

Which sample exploded?

Uh, it was the orange juice.

That flame doesn't give off much
heat, so the orange juice had

to be spiked
with something

highly flammable.
I can run it

through GCMS.
An injection port

on a GCMS runs at about
1,800 degrees Fahrenheit.

That will cause
a bigger blaze

than the one you
already created.

Yeah, I-I know, I know.

Yeah, so why
don't you try

a liquid chromatography instead?

Uh...
Adam.

Yeah.
You okay?

No, actually, I'm not.

Um, you notice anything
different about the lab?

No.

Are you kidding me? I mean,
she rearranged everything.

W-Well, not everything--
I mean,

she moved some things
and organized.

Look, I take one day off

and she thinks
she can just take over the lab.

She?
Haylen,

the part-time
lab tech.

She's only part-time, so
why doesn't she just come in,

clean some test tubes, and
put them back where I like them,

not take over the lab?

You're upset because she moved
some things?

(laughs)

Yeah.

Yeah.

(sighs)

MAN:
Yo, yo, yo, Sheldon!

Hey!
Sheldon, you're late, man.

Hey, I'm sorry, man,
I've been an hour behind

all day.

Keys to my place.

Thanks, Brian, I
appreciate the favor.

Hey, no problem.

It means a
lot to me.

You'll bounce back,
Sheldon, I know you.

Thanks again, Brian.

(tires screeching)

Oh, whoa, an ant farm.

Isn't Lucy a little too young
to have one of these?

I-I mean, you know,
I didn't get

my first one
till I was at least seven.

This is crime-solving
science, Adam.

(snickers)
Check it out.

Draw a simple circle,
then...

The granular substance
that Sid found

in the victim's wound

is ant chalk.

Oh, cool, there's
nowhere to go.

They're trapped.

Also known as
Most Fabulous Insecticide Chalk.

Made in China.

"Kills cockroaches
and ants effectively."

MONROE:
After EDNA identified it...

...I ran it through the GCMS.

It contains deltamethrin
and cypermethrin.

EPA pulled it off the
market two years ago.

So if you
can't buy it,

how did it end up on our vic?

Well, I found
a Chinese import company

that sells this stuff online.

If we can get a subpoena,
maybe they can get us a list

of everybody who has purchased
this living in New York City.

Could be our first lead
in identifying our killer.

One of the many perks
of our profession,

huh, Doc?

You okay, buddy?

I'm fine.

You know what?

This is a disgrace
to Italian cuisine.

Although I am getting hungry.

Freeze it right there.

Isolate that.

(typing)

That girl
reminds me

of the woman I saw with
Martin Stafford in the park.

Same hair color, same build.

(typing)

(groans)
Can't see her face,

but she's definitely
looking out

the window in the direction
of Stafford's apartment.

(sucks teeth)

HAWKES:
Zoom us in closer.

What's she doing?

She could be leaving us a clue.

Looks like a line.

No... it's an arrow.

All right, so it looks
like the sploshing party

continued up here.

Trace of orange pulp
in these plastic glasses.

Smells like vodka.

Whoa...
that's not all they left behind.

Got body fluids here.

HAWKES: The woman from
Central Park was wearing

a charm just like this.

Must have been
a pair.

Tracy.

I figured out
why the orange juice

combusted.
Oh!

It contained
a high concentration

of dimethylnitrosamine.

It's found in photo processing,

cancer research,
and rocket fuel.

When ingested, DMN
acts as a hepatotoxin.

It attacks the liver

and disrupts blood clotting.
That explains

the uncontrollable bleeding

from our victim's
mucous membrane.

Yeah, if it could launch a
rocket, imagine what it could do

to your insides.

So, we've confirmed the
source of the poison

and the cause of death.

We also found orange juice pulp

in the glasses
from the rooftop.

Yeah, and the vic's prints were
all over the cups and the flask.

Semen from the lounge chair
also

came back to our vic,
so we know he was there.

Okay, so our vic spies
our mystery woman, Tracy,

at the sploshing party from his
apartment across the street.

She invites him to meet her
on the roof.

He's not about to let this

invitation
go unanswered.

He pours some
orange juice

from the pitcher in his fridge
into a flask,

adds vodka, grabs glasses,

heads across the street.

BONASERA: While they're
having sex up on the roof

a strand of linguini transfers
from her body to his.

And he walks her home
through Central Park

and that's when Stafford
starts to feel nauseous.

A few hours later, he's dead.

I think I might've found Tracy.

A list of customers
who purchased

ant chalk from the Web site
include a Tracy Wallace.

She lives on the
Upper West Side.

Okay, so she must've
scratched our vic

during their sexcapade
on the roof.

That's how the chalk
transferred to his body.

This has got to be
who we're looking for, no?

What is it, Mac?

There were two empty glasses
on the roof.

BONASERA: And since the orange
juice contained the poison...

We need to find this Tracy.

(sirens wailing)

(knocking on door)

FLACK:
Tracy Wallace. NYPD.

We want to talk to you.

Tracy?
(key rattles in lock)

(water running)

Tracy!

FLACK:
Clear here.

That's her.

Hey, I got to turn
the water off.

No, wait.

TAYLOR (sniffing):
There's a smell.

It's ozone.

(crackling and popping)

Circuit breaker?

Yeah. Down the hall.
Show me.

FLACK (shouts):
Breaker's off!

She's dead.

Cold.

Same clothes she was wearing
in the park.

She's been here a while.

TAYLOR: Electricity
entered her body there.

But there's no sign
of inflammation

around the thermal burn.

Means she died

before she received
the electric shock.

She bled out.

Just like Stafford.

She must've turned on the tub
and then just passed out.

She died from the poison.

You could have helped us.

You could have saved us.

She's not the killer.

She's another victim.

The orange juice was in
Stafford's apartment.

He was the target.

Tracy was just
collateral damage.

Hey.
Hey.

I found trace amounts

of DMN
in Tracy Wallace's liver.

C.O.D. is the same
as our first vic.

Looks like her blood alcohol
was .09.

A lot lower
than Martin's.

Could explain why the poison
affected Stafford first--

more drinks, more poison.

Powerful pitcher of
orange juice, huh, Sid?

There's now way Hawkes
could've saved Tracy

or Martin Stafford.

So, somehow

someone got into Stafford's
apartment and spiked the juice.

Hard part is going
to be figuring out

when that happened.

Uh...

lividity.

Time of death can be determined

by the collection of blood
in the body, right?

The heart
stops pumping,

and blood settles

where gravity pulls it.
Distinct

and visible discoloration
of the skin occurs.

The process can vary
depending on temperature

and conditions.

Now, if the corpse
is moved,

lividity shifts, but there is

evidence of that movement

and we can still determine
the proper time of death.

Same theory might apply

to the orange juice.
Yeah, I gotcha, Sid.

That we need to look
at the evidence of the poison

on the glass of
the pitcher.

Traces that might
give us a timeline

of when it was added.

I suppose I could've
said it that, yes.

Here we go.

May I?
Yes.

Crystallization.

Yeah, I mean, if we can
recreate this stage

of crystallization,
maybe we can pinpoint

a day and a time
when the juice was spiked.

You'll need the total volume
of the containers,

an estimated total
mass of poison,

and the exact temperature
of Stafford's fridge.

Do you-you mind if I stick
around for this?

This is your candy store, Sid.

(chuckling)

All right, Sid.

It's been four hours.

Take a look.

You know, based
on the rate

of crystallization

we see here, we can
already estimate

that the poison was

put in to Stafford's
orange juice roughly...

48 hours ago.
All right,

that's great.
So, that puts us back to...

Saturday.

Go through Stafford's computer,
his PDA, phone messages.

I want the names of everyone he
came in contact with on that day.

Someone laced that orange juice
with poison.

I'll check in
with the building's

doorman, see if Martin Stafford

received any deliveries
or visitors.

His place is pretty empty.
No tables, no chairs.

Packing boxes
everywhere.

I doubt he was entertaining
anyone.

I did recover
a disposable bootie.

I just figured it was left
behind by the movers.

You said

the apartment was
in foreclosure, right?

Yeah.

Open house.

Ever think that dream apartment
was just out of your reach?

Not anymore.

At RepoLux Tours we have over
3,000 foreclosed properties.

Just hop on the bus,
and we'll introduce you

to the rest of your life.

RepoLux.

We make your dreams come true.

Martin Stafford's apartment
was on the tour?

Saturday, ten people.

And it explains
why Danny

found this little bootie
on the floor. Everyone

who toured the apartment
that day had to wear them.

Sounds like it's time
for them to take a tour

of the precinct.

(car horns honking)

(indistinct chattering,
phones ringing)

WOMAN: There were seven apartments

on our tour that day.

What time were you at
Martin Stafford's apartment?

From 3:00 to 3:15.

These tours are
usually pretty quick.

Lots of ground to cover
these days.

I bet.

Did you notice anyone
acting strange,

doing anything
unusual?

No. I didn't.

Was anyone in
the kitchen?

Around the refrigerator?

Once we get inside
the properties,

the clients are free
to wander around

on their own.

Most people find the kitchen
very important.

Full walk-in closet
in every bedroom.

And who can say
that in Manhattan?

Gas fireplace
in the master.

Perfect for you newlyweds.

And all these people here,

they were on your
sign-up sheet?

Yes.

For our mailing list.

May I take a look at it?

Now, I thought you said
that there were ten people

who signed on for the tour.

There are 11 names here.

Really?

There were only ten registered.

Only ten people
on the bus.

Once in while we get looky-loo

who sneak in without paying
for the tour.

This last name--

Thelonious Cross.

Do you remember meeting him?

No, I don't.

Everybody use the same pen?

I keep it with the book.

Clips on, that way

I never lose it.

Can you tell me
when the police

are going to release
the apartment?

Why do you ask?

It's a fabulous property.

I think I may have a buyer.

(hissing)

Hey.

Good news is I have prints.

Bad news,
there's too many of them.

Let me see.

Overlapping.

Can't tell one from the other.

I'll try
fluorescent tagging.

That could differentiate
the prints.

And then I'll collect
random samples

of fingerprint oil from the pen.

See if I can isolate
any unique biomolecules.

Might tell us who
this Thelonious Cross really is.

Right.

Have you talked to Sheldon?

(laughs)

I'm-I'm not sure what to say.

Guess my expectations
are too high.

What do you mean?

Hawkes is a brilliant
former surgeon.

And that being said, I know

that he couldn't have saved
Martin Stafford's life

if he had tried.

But what's bugging me
is I don't understand

why he didn't know
more was wrong with him.

Why he didn't see the symptoms,

why he didn't tell us everything
at the crime scene.

I've been asking myself
those questions.

When Hawkes told me
what happened, I was angry,

but I resisted
giving him a lecture

or threatening modified duty,
because...

it was Sheldon.

All I kept thinking was,
this isn't like him.

It wasn't like him at all.

I suppose we do expect a lot
out of each other.

(sighs)

Is that bad?

No.

(loud thudding)

Police! Hands up!

Let's go!
Get your hands up!

That's not him.
Move on!

Search the bedroom.
What the hell's going on?

We've got a warrant
for a Brian Hamilton.

What's the charge?

Grand larceny.

Who are you?

Dr. Sheldon Hawkes,
New York Crime Lab.

My badge and ID
are in my pants.

Keep your hands
above your head.

HAMILTON:
What the hell are you doing?

Get your hands off me.
Get your hands off me!

Come on, let's go.

HAMILTON:
They got it wrong, Sheldon.

Right there.
I didn't do nothin'!

Come on, guys.

I had no idea
Brian was wanted

for embezzlement.
Okay, we went to college

together.

Just got reacquainted.

You were on his couch.

Yes.

I stay there sometimes when

I'm volunteering for
the medical unit.

You know, I just get so beat,

I don't want
to take the train home.

Shel?
What?

I know when someone's lying
to me, and I'm not just talking

about the crooks I lock up every day.
You got to help me out here.

I'm telling you what I know,
Don, all right?

You can't possibly think
that I'm involved in something

Brian was up to.

You're kidding me, right?

Huh?

Don?
I'm done.

Get out of here.

All right.

(door closes)

(door opens)

I'm fine.

Okay.

Bad judgment on my part.

I didn't know anything
about what Hamilton was up to.

He's just somebody
I hung out with.

We went to undergrad together.

Sheldon, stop.

This just all sounds
a little too rehearsed for me.

These are the lines
you practiced

in the back of the squad car?

What will I tell my boss?
The D.A.?

The detective on the case?

You think I'm lying?

I think you're hiding something.

I would prefer
you treat me as a friend

and not just
another authority figure

looking for a
reasonable explanation.

Look, I said
this before.

You can tell me anything.

I would hope you'd trust that.

Hey, Mac.

I got something.

I identified a single compound
that was foreign

to all the known print donors
on the pen.

Tagged that compound
with fluorescent dye.

It isolated a print?

(beeping)

John Simmons.

He lives in Queens
and works for

Kensitron Software.

Martin Stafford's company.

Right. Now,

they develop software
for the military,

so all their employees
are fingerprinted.

This guy has no priors,
no complaints.

Doesn't seem the type
to leap to murder.

Yeah, I hear you.

I can't give you motive,

but Simmons' wife works

at a cancer research lab
and has access to DMN,

our poison.

John Simmons is
Thelonious Cross.

And he was
in Martin's apartment.

(sirens wailing)

(panting)

TAYLOR:
John!

(siren wailing,
tires screeching)

Hey, Mac, try
to cut him off.

All right? I'll
stay behind him.

John!

(panting)

TAYLOR:
John, wait! Don't do it!

Don't come any closer.
HAWKES: All right, all right.

We just want to talk.
FLACK: John!

What you're doing
is very dangerous!

TAYLOR: You don't want to hurt yourself.

You don't want to
hurt other people.

I don't care.

He didn't care.

Martin didn't care
about other people.

He lost our entire
pension fund.

I had to kill him.

He had to pay
for the pain that he caused.

This is something we
should talk about.

There's nothing
to talk about.

There's nothing left.
What about your wife?

Your kids?

For what I've done...

I'll never see them again.

You know that.

And it doesn't matter anyway.

(panting)
'Cause I let them down.

HAWKES:
John, don't do this.

Don't let this be their last memory of you.
Uh, yeah.

Instead it should be the picture
of a father or a husband

who can't provide
for his family?

That son of a bitch
took my money!

He invested the employees'
pension, and he lost it all.

We trusted him!

I don't have anything.

I don't have a damn thing left
after all those years.

TAYLOR:
Look at me.

This isn't the way to fix it.

What? You gonna tell me
that you understand?

You can't understand.

You can't possibly
understand.

HAWKES:
I do.

'Cause a month ago,
I lost everything, too.

I trusted someone
with my money

just like you did.

A money manager
who turned out

to be a scam artist.

Now I'm living with friends.

Spending my nights out,
begging for overtime,

but mostly, I just
sit there wondering

what the hell happened.

And the worst
about all this is

that it changed me, and I
don't like what I've become.

The secrets I've
kept, and the pride

that forced me
to lie to my friends

and treat people unkind.

So,

it wasn't supposed to
happen to me, John, was it?

No. Not me.

(crying)

But it did.

It did.

I had to sell my house,

spend all my savings
and my retirement.

So, John,
I do understand.

I do.

(crying)

I killed a man.

Give me your hand.

Give me your hand.

I don't want to.

No!

Let me go! Let me go!

(crying):
Let me go.

(both grunting)

I'm sorry.

I didn't tell anyone
because I was embarrassed.

I'm smart, educated,

and I was duped.

And it wasn't
like John Simmons

or even his boss,
Martin Stafford.

They just trusted in the
economy, and it let 'em down.

Me, I got greedy.

Tried to play with the big boys,
and I got stung.

It wasn't greed, Sheldon.

It's called optimism.

You didn't have
to sell your condo.

I mean, you could have gone
to the department,

asked for an emergency loan.

No, I was living with
more than I needed.

I took the best offer
while I had a chance.

Unfortunately, it was before
I had another place to live, so,

ended up staying
with a friend and...

You know
my biggest disappointment

is that I may have
to give up volunteering

with the
medical unit.

With Angell dying,
and then this money situation,

volunteering was the one thing

keeping me sane there
for a while.

Don't you dare quit.

You enjoy it too much.

There are other options.

Hey.

I have an extra room.

It's not up for discussion.

Sync by honeybunny
www.addic7ed.com