All language subtitles for CSI.New.York.S07E14.720p.HDTV.x264

You waiting on someone?

I believe they canceled on me.

Their loss.

Jack... please.

So, which do you prefer...

classical or R&B?

Neither, actually.

Hard core rock 'n' roll.

So, it's R&B.
Your drink, sir.

Which means you have good taste.

And what if
I had said classical?

I'd say you believe in fate.

- Excuse me?
- As in "fate

versus free will."

See, classical
is all about fate...

structure...
an inevitable build

to an inevitable end.

But isn't all music
structured like that?

No. Not R&B.

See R&B is about
how it makes you feel.

Take you anywhere
you want to go...

all at the drop
of a nice bass line.

So...
what type of person are you?

Would you excuse me
for one second?

Welcome to the Y & Dot Lounge.

Grand opening was last week.

Three dead bodies isn't
the kind of buzz you want.

Each of our victims
was shot twice:

once in the chest,

once in the head--
execution style.

No silencer was used,
probably on purpose.

Our witnesses were
so scared by the gunshots,

that none of them took a good
look at the shooter.

So far, all we have
are loose descriptions.

African-American male,
medium height, medium build.

Add one more detail to that...

Cold-blooded
professional killer.

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- Thank you.
- No problem.

Witness accounts
seem consistent.

Once the shooting started,
and everyone hit the floor--

according to the maitre d'

two pairs of legs
walked out of here;

one male, one female.

Waiter I was just talking to
remembers a woman at the bar.

Shooter held the gun
to her head.

She could be another victim.

Then we don't have much time.
We got to find her.

Put this professional killer
out of work.

Our first vic is George Parker.

He was released
from Lewisburg last month

after doing a stint for assault.

Our second vic is Julian Grace.
No record.

And the bartender
is a kid named Ken Marion,

a college kid working shifts
to pay off his tuition.

Sounds like the punch line
to a bad joke.

Professional killer,
ex-con walk into a bar...

- Guess who walks out?
- All right,

I collected two drinking glasses
at the bar.

A martini glass
and a lowball glass.

Might get some prints,
or a DNA hit.

Come look at what else I found.

When we first arrived,

this pizza oven
was set at 700 degrees.

But it sure didn't smell
like pepperoni.

Well, I've never seen anybody
order a gun on their pizza.

This guy walks in,

holds a ten-minute conversation
at the bar,

before shooting the place up
and tossing his gun in the oven.

Sounds like he had a plan.

The waiter said
that the two vics

sitting at the tables
were waiting for somebody

who never showed up.

Maybe the killer set them up.

Our third vic,
the bartender,

was the last person shot.

He might have been close enough
to see the killer's face.

Could have gotten him killed.

But our mystery woman
saw his face.

Why not shoot her, too?

Our killer must have a reason
for keeping her alive.

Whatever it is...

he's not finished yet.

Who was on the phone?

Yeah?

All right.

That is none
of your business.

Yeah, it's me.

Listen, I took care
of two of them,

but, uh, this other thing...

we need to renegotiate my price.

According to the text messages
we recovered,

from the vics' phones,
both George Parker...

...and Julian Grace were invited
to the Y & Dot Lounge.

Most likely, they were
lured there to be killed.

Unlike our bartender,
Ken Marion...

who was about to end his
shift to go home and study.

Well, perhaps these will help.

I was able to
retrieve the bullets

from our vic's
nine millimeter.

Maybe we can match them

to the gun
we found in the oven.

Hopefully, we'll get a hit
on any other murders

this guy might have committed.

Mm. I found
three small hairs

on George Parker's throat.

And based on my analysis,

they're foreign
to the victim.

Our killer may have checked
our vic's pulse.

Made sure the job was done.

Also-- uh, you might
find this ironic--

Julian Grace's demise
was timely, if bittersweet.

His liver shows damage
from hepatocarcinoma,

an aggressive
form of cancer that,

for him, was far beyond any
stage of successful treatment.

He most likely
would have succumbed

to the disease
within a few months.

- Sad.
- Yeah.

Mr. Grace's wife told me

he served
as a Presbyterian minister

for the last seven years.

By contrast,
we have George Parker.

Judging by healed
wounds on his body,

he was not exactly
a peace-loving man.

An ex-con with
a history of violence.

So why would you target
both a sinner and a saint?

Mac. Hey, I ran
the bullets from our vics.

No hits in IBIS.

And then I compared those rounds
to the round I fired--

the stria don't match.

You suggesting the killer left
a different gun behind

to throw us off?

I don't think so.

I think it was so hot
in that oven

that not only
did it melt the polymer

exterior of the Glock,

but it also softened
the metal barrel.

That could have altered
the stria pattern.

That type of heat
would also destroy

any prints and DNA trace.

Sounds like
the gun's a dead end.

Whoever this killer is,
he's thorough.

I second that.

I got DNA off
the martini glass from the bar.

No hits in CODIS.

And I found no prints
on the lowball glass.

But I did find
acrylic smudges.

I think the guy used nail polish
to cover his fingertips.

What about
the ash from the oven?

I haven't found the source yet,

but I'm still working on it.

This guy's clever, but he

may not have thought of
everything. The hairs Sid found

on George Parker-- got a hit

on a William Dowd.

Did ten years in
the same prison as Parker.

Half of those were for violent
altercations while in prison.

He was released five months ago,

fits the description
of our killer.

Sounds like George Parker's
prison history

might have followed him
to the Y & Dot Lounge.

I followed up
with his parole officer.

Got an address.

Consider the suspect well-armed
and extremely dangerous.

William Dowd! NYPD!
We want to talk to you!

Go ahead.

Get your hands
on your head, now!

- Don't move!
- Secure.

Building super. This is
the third time I've been here

for fire alarm inspections.

I'm sorry, now's really
not a good time.

Well, where's the guy
who lives here?

Um...

Actually, he's not
available right now.

We're, um... kinda
in the middle of something.

Smart decision.

You chose to cooperate.

I wasn't cooperating
with you, I just...

didn't want to
see him get killed.

Why would I kill him?
There's no money in that.

Why did you bring me here?

I saw you shoot
that bartender

for looking at you.

You know why you're here.

Only reason you're
still alive

is 'cause you have
information I need.

Well, if you think
I'm going to let you use me,

then kill me,

you're crazy.

You don't have to
continue cooperating.

But if you don't,
I give you my word,

more people will die.

Starting with you.

There's things
I need to find.

A person I need to meet.

And you're going
to help me do both.

You think I killed
George Parker?

I think you like
being behind bars.

You've spent more of your life
in jail then you have out of it.

Some guys can't cope.

We've seen
your body of work.

Assault with a deadly weapon,
attempted murder.

And that was all before
you got out of prison.

You do what you
gotta do to survive.

Well, murdering three people
ought to be enough

to send you back
to your comfort zone.

That's prison for life.

You said you got my DNA
off of George's throat?

- That's right.
- Yeah, that's 'cause I saw him yesterday

on the street.
It's not what you think.

Oh, very funny.

What's up, dude?

Good to see you.

Good to see you, man.

I never had beef with George.

All I did was
say what's up

to some guy I used to
know on the inside.

I did my dirt.
Served my time.

I'm not going back.

I just want
to live my life.

Sorry George won't get
a chance to do the same.

Hey, Jo.
Check this out.

William Dowd's story
turns out to be true.

Witnesses saw him
greet George Parker

on the corner of
125th and Seventh.

Oh. I think
I may have found

the name and address
of our mystery woman.

Turns out, ten minutes
before the shootout

at the Y & Dot Lounge,
someone used their credit card

to order a martini
at the bar.

Camille Jordanson?

You know her?

I grew up with her.

Someone came through
here in a hurry.

They really trashed her place.

Any idea who might
have done this?

No.

But whatever they were looking
for could be the reason

why she wasn't killed
at the Y & Dot Lounge.

When was the last time
you talked to Camille?

She left me a voicemail
about a week ago.

I didn't get a chance
to call her back yet.

Check this out.

Looks like an album box.

Camille was always
into music.

She an old flame of yours?

No, we were just friends.

Mm-hmm.

I never got up the nerve
to make a move.

She was always
the life of the party.

Everybody's "girl next door".

What is this
"girl next door" into?

We've matched Camille's DNA
from her toothbrush

to the martini glass
from the lounge.

She's definitely
our mystery woman.

Danville.

There's over 100 bottles
of prescription medication

hidden in her apartment.

None of it was
prescribed to her.

- Great. Thanks. - Camille works as a
nurse for the Pleasant Green Clinic.

Not anymore.

According to their
personnel office,

she was fired three weeks ago
for stealing meds.

That explains all these other
names on the prescriptions.

Painkillers, anti-depressants,
cancer medication,

some of it costing
$50 a pill.

That's serious money.

She was probably
selling it on the side.

No way-- Camille does not
have a criminal record.

And there's no sign

that she needed money

bad enough to do
something like this.

Yeah, but there's a reason she
wasn't killed in that lounge,

and her apartment was ransacked.

She probably got
in over her head.

That's got to be why
she was calling me.

She was probably
calling for help.

We still don't
know what Camille

has in common
with our two vics.

Julian Grace had liver cancer,
but I don't see his

or George Parker's name on
any of these prescriptions.

Let's take a closer look
at everything.

There's something that got to
lead us back to the identity

of our professional killer.

All right.

Camille Jordanson was
an excellent nurse.

Patients loved her.

I didn't want to fire her.

Then what's all this
about her stealing meds?

One of Camille's
patients came in

complaining about
his symptoms.

No only was he
not getting better,

he was getting worse.

You have any idea why?

The patient swore
he was taking his meds,

but there was no sign
they were having an effect.

So we took a look
at the pills.

Somewhere between us issuing
them and him receiving them,

the real medication
had been swapped out

for counterfeit pills.

- Fake meds.
- Mm-hmm.

Camille was delivering
the medication

to the patients at home.

But there was no proof
that she had been lying.

But when her second
patient came in

complaining about
the same symptoms, well...

the writing was on the wall.

Did you file a report
with the NYPD?

I decided not to.

Any investigation
questioning our ethics

could shut this place down.

I didn't feel I could do that
to my patients or my staff.

I assumed we could sweep it
under the rug by firing Camille.

Doctor? Thank you.

You asked for her
list of patients,

and this is
her cell phone

that we loaned her
when she came to work.
Great.

I also looked up
the names you asked about.

We see hundreds of patients
here, but, uh...

a George Parker
or Julian Grace...

there's no sign of them having
been treated by the clinic.

Okay.
Thank you.

Mm.

So Camille Jordanson
wasn't just stealing meds.

She was actually giving
patients fake meds in return.

Pun intended--
that's pretty sick.

Yeah.
And pretty sophisticated.

I mean, making
fake meds ain't easy.

It's not something you can
do out of your apartment.

She had to be working
with somebody.

That somebody might
be our killer.

Or whoever hired him.

You get enough to eat?

Good.

Thought I'd get you
some food and a...

change of clothes.

You want me to put this on?

If you don't mind.

Just so we're clear,
this is not kindness.

This is a reminder
of how valuable life is.

You stole some drugs.

Hid 'em somewhere.

I asked you
where they were.

And you told me
you didn't know.

See, my profession takes me
all over the city,

so I know people.

Some of those people...

told me that the NYPD
visited your apartment.

And guess
what they found...

You lied to me.

Liars...

get in the way
of me making money.

Why would I answer
any of your questions

when you haven't
answered mine?

Do you believe in fate,
or free will?

I see what you're doing.

Stalling.

It's very noble.

I'm gonna give you
one more chance

not to lie to me.

See, I didn't find the drugs,
but I will find Janice Scott.

'Cause you're gonna
tell me where she is.

All right...
I'll play your game.

That's what I thought.

Want to know the secret
to bad medicine?

Soap scum.

I took a closer look at the
pills from Camille's apartment.

Turns out they were all diluted
with magnesium stearate.

Same ingredient as

the ring around
your tub after a bath.

Right. It's also
a common binder.

It's used in hard candy,
aspirin, pill form medications.

But not to this extent.
Check it out.

There's so much magnesium
stearate in these pills

that the therapeutic dose
is practically nonexistent.

The drugs in Camille's apartment
must've been the fake meds

she was giving her patients.

They were well-made, too.

They looked exactly
like the real thing.

If those are the fakes,
where's the real medication?

Continue processing
those pills.

They may get us
a lead on our killer.

Any new leads, Adam?

I was going through the ash
in the pizza oven,

and I found...
mostly ash-- hmm-- yeah.

But I also found this.

This fragment is made
of galvanized steel--

similar to what they use
in battleships--

and I'm not quite sure what
it was doing in the oven yet.

This one reminds me of Sterling.

No, it's actually
made of copper alloy.

No, Jason Sterling.
He was an old friend of mine

who used to collect
decorative pins like this.

Notice the melted support prong
on the bottom.

Looks like a
butterfly clutch prong.

Means our killer has style.

Well, you have your research
cut out for you, Adam.

What does a decorative pin have
to do with galvanized steel?

Uh, you're more than
welcome to join me.

Sorry. I wish I could.

Sid just got me
the medical histories

of all our vics.

Turns out Julian Grace
was not the only one

with a serious
health condition.

George Parker was bipolar.

Maybe Parker and Grace were
buying meds from Camille.

But there's nothing
to indicate

that Camille even
knew those guys.

So I'm really hoping that this
can shed some light on things.

Both Parker and Grace

had low levels of uranium
in their bloodstreams.

Mushroom cloud?

Atomic bomb uranium?
Boom.

Well, h-how does someone
get radioactive blood?

Can't wait to find out.

Let me know.

All right, then. Thanks.

You said you had something?

Yeah. I got Camille Jordanson's
work phone hooked up here.

I compared her calls to
her personal phone bill.

There's one number that
stands out as a frequent caller.

Janice Scott.

She was a patient of Camille's.
Her name was on the list

you gave me from the
Pleasant Green Clinic.

That's right.
And it makes sense that her number

would be in Camille's
call history,

because patients often
bond with their caretakers.

Right, that's true, but I just
got off the phone with Flack,

and the unis found Janice's
apartment ransacked,

just like Camille's place.

Whoever's after Camille might
also be after Janice Scott.

Yeah, and Flack said
the landlord

hasn't seen her two days.

I ran Janice's W2.

She owns a couple
different businesses--

a bodega, a print shop,
a nightclub.

She could be hiding out
in one of those spots.

All right. Let's split up.
I want them all searched.

Hey, Mac. If it's okay,
I'd like to be a part of this.

If Camille's guilty, I'll be the
first to admit that I'm wrong.

But for now, we still
have to find her.

And if this woman
knows where she is,

I'd like to be the one
that talks to her.

All right.

- Her office is right there?
- Yeah.

Thanks.

Hey, that way.

Flack.

Hawkes! I got eyes on him!

He's dressed like a bouncer!

Look out! Look out!
Move it! Police! Police!

Hey! Police!
Look out!

Get out of the way!
Get out of the way!

Police! Move!
Get out of the way!

Get out of the way!

- Where'd he go? Did you see where he went?
- No!

Hey, Hawkes, I lost him.

That's not all we lost, Flack.

I'm in Janice Scott's office.

She's dead.

What's up, Mac?

I put an APB on our killer

based on the detailed
facial description.

We have unis at the residences
of Camille Jordanson's patients.

Mac, there's signs of
forced entry here,

but no indication of a struggle.

Judging by the hemorrhaging
in Janice Scott's eyes,

I don't think she was murdered.

Most likely died from a stroke.

Was probably dead
before the killer arrived.

Any idea why he was after her?

No, not yet.

But Janice kept her
health records here,

and looking at her MRIs,

she suffered from a brain tumor.

All three of
our killer's targets

had serious health conditions.

I'm guessing Janice Scott
was on fake meds,

because her tumor
continued to grow,

despite being on medication.

So one of our killer's
targets was on fake meds,

while the other two had
uranium in their bloodstream.

There may be a connection.

Your friend Janice
Scott... is dead.

Why are you telling me this?

Because she was already dead
when I arrived.

Well, don't you get paid
whether you kill them or not?

Hey, the people I kill
choose death

when they choose how they live.

Well, not Janice Scott!

She wasn't some
criminal or murderer.

She was just an...

an innocent woman trying
to live a full life

while battling a disease.

I think we figured out how
you get radioactive blood.

That's exactly what
I wanted to hear.

We randomly sampled 25 pills
from Camille's apartment.

So far, all of them
have contained uranium.

Medications for cancer,
diabetes, anti-depressants,

it's a wide range of pills.

And if uranium
is a common impurity,

it means George Parker
and Julian Grace took fake meds.

We verified Janice Scott
did, as well.

Sid also found uranium
in her blood.

That means all three of our vics
took false medication.

But why is our killer
also after Camille?

Our answer might be
in the uranium.

Nice hat, Adam.

- It's a trilby, right?
- Yeah. How, how'd you know?

I know a few things about hats.
What do you got for me?

The steel fragment
from the oven?

- Yes.
- Based on its curvature,

I was able to estimate what
it might have been attached to.

I know a ring of galvanized
steel isn't really big news...

But a ring of
galvanized steel

that's 22 inches
in circumference is,

because that's
equivalent to

the average hat size
of most men.

I called around, and there
are a ton of hat shops

that use steel
for millinery wire.

But there are
not a lot

of hat shops
that also sell

copper decorative pins.

Suit jacket lapel pins,
to be more specific.

Okay, so we've got

a trilby hat and
a copper lapel pin.

It sounds like our killer,
in order to leave the lounge,

needed to change his look,
so he took the hat off,

he took the suit jacket off,
wrapped the gun inside

and tossed it in the oven.

I was able to track the hat and
the pin to a shop in Midtown.

Sent the owner over
a sketch of the killer,

- and bingo.
- Did you get a name?

No. The killer only
pays with cash

and doesn't use
his name with anyone.

But... I did get a name

of the person who
referred him to the hat shop.

Theola Kumi?!

She's the manager of
the Pleasant Green Clinic.

Most doctors I know
don't give referrals

to professional killers.

You didn't tell me that my
targets were sick patients.

Look, you wanted to
re-negotiate the price.

Considering the improvising
you've had to do...

name it.

But I want Camille
taken care of.

I sense hesitation.

You're not getting
sweet on her, are you?

If you're unable to do it,

I don't have a problem
going with plan B.

Hey, Mac, we did some digging.

Trying to figure out if
there was another motivation

for Camille to have stolen
meds in her apartment.

She wasn't stealing drugs,
Mac, she was stealing proof.

Theola Kumi.

Has no record in
the United States,

but in Armenia, she was found
guilty of medical fraud.

Using
unlicensed doctors,

billing for procedures
that were never done.

Camille wasn't giving
her patients fake meds,

and she wasn't selling
real meds on the side, either.

There never were any real meds.

It was Pleasant Green Clinic

selling fake meds
to their own patients.

Mm-hmm.

George Parker and Julian Grace

weren't listed
as patients,

but their files
could have been erased.

Dr. Kumi had motive
for tying up loose ends.

And hiring a professional killer

is one way to do that.

Well, uranium is
not easy to find.

but I found some in Queens.

There's an old factory
that used to use uranium

to color false teeth.

It's been abandoned
for a few years.

Jo, you and I will

head over that location, you two

get Danny and Flack to visit
Dr. Kumi at the clinic.

Only, this time,
they bring a warrant.

Right.

This place is
completely empty.

There's nobody here.

No patients,
no sign of Dr. Kumi.

They must have started moving
out right after we left.

Yep.

NYPD!

Let's go!

NYPD! Get your
hands on your head!

Getting rid of evidence?

Or just shredding paper.

Yeah, right.

Police! Police!

Get your hands
on your head!

Get down!
Over here!

Stay down!
Move, move!

Where is Camille Jordanson?

If she's all you have on me,

this is gonna be
a short conversation.

Why don't we wait
for my attorney.

I wouldn't want her to miss it.

The machines you were loading

onto those trucks
had residue on them.

Our tests confirmed
it was magnesium stearate.

You were using that factory

to produce fake medication.

You were selling

fake meds to sick people
to make money.

You put greed
ahead of people

who thought they were
your patients.

Too many of those people lost
the race before it even began.

You're gonna do time for
what happened to them.

All right, so Dr. Kumi

isn't talking, but her phone
and call history say plenty.

According to this,
several calls were made

to her cell phone
over the last 48 hours.

Every call was made
within 30 minutes

of our killer
being at the crime scene.

- It's definitely his phone.
- Yeah, but he's probably using a burner.

That phone won't be
up and running long.

We can get a subpoena,
activate the phone's GPS,

set up an emergency
triangulation.

Got it.
It's up and running.

Nice.

Come on, come on,
come on, come on...

Boom.
We got a location.

You sensed hesitation
in me before.

You were wrong about me.

What?

You don't have to do this.
Please.

It's already done.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Shots fired!
I repeat-- shots fired!

Go, go, go, go...
Go, go, go! Move! Move!

Mac!

I heard shots fired

from Dr. Kumi's phone.

He just ducked into the alley,
northeast corner.

Bedroom's clear.

Kitchen's clear.

Camille, yeah.

Hey.... hey, it's okay.

Sheldon.

Hey. Are you okay?

We heard gunshots.

No pulse.

We can get you
out of here, okay?

Everything's gonna be all right.

Freeze!

On your knees.

Slow.

Drop the bag.

Hands behind your head.

Hey.

Hey.

Actually, I was, I
was gonna call you.

Wonder what he's
saying to her.

That's none of
our concern.

Oh, come on, Mac.

You're a detective.

You mean to tell me
you never people-watch?

I'm sure she just came by
to thank him for doing his job.

Mm... it's more than that.

Look at her.

I think she wants
to go out with him.

What gives you that impression?

Can't you see it?

She's totally into him.

Evaluate the evidence.

Look at the signs

she's throwing at him.

She arches her back a
little when she talks,

nervously touching her neckline,
shifting her hair

behind her ear.

Somebody's been doing a little
too much people-watching.

But it could be
the rekindling

of a beautiful
friendship.

Or just some
hot steamy sex.

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