CSI: NY Episode Scripts

N/A - Do Not Pass Go

Liz what are we doing here? - Why don't we just go home? - Not yet.
Not until we climb the stairs.
Charles, what are you doing? Honey, it's like an oven in here.
I can barely breathe.
We're supposed to hold the railings.
It was very clear.
Liz, please.
This is just another cruel prank.
What if it's not? What if it's real this time? I need to know for sure.
- Oh, my God.
- Oh, I don't believe this.
I found him.
Jeremy, it's Mommy.
- Elizabeth, wait! - Jeremy? - Honey? - W-Wait.
No.
No! Jeremy! No apparent trauma to the head.
Oh.
Decomp is quite advanced.
From the looks of it, he's been here for a while, but narrowing an actual TOD poses a bit of a quandary.
Could be anywhere from a few days to what, a few months? Factor in the late summer heat, humidity, atmospheric variations and any unknown perimortem physiological conditions, and all bets are off.
It certainly is a unique spot for a body dump.
It's also a perfect place to commit murder.
Let's do this.
* Out here in the fields * * I fight for my meals * * I get my back into my living * * Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah * You got something? Partials on the door handle.
At least two sets.
- You? - Rooftop is clean.
If there was ever trace up here, Mother Nature did not want us to find it.
What about the stairwell? - It's my next stop.
- You want help? Uh, well, with 738 stairs, I think I'm good.
Can you imagine finding your kid like this? No, no, and I don't even want to think about it.
Building was under renovation until the developer went belly up three years ago.
It's been a ghost town with elevators ever since.
Who called it in? Charles and Elizabeth Harris.
He's a dentist from Westchester.
She's on the local school board.
- Why were they here? - Looking for their son.
On an abandoned rooftop in Lower Manhattan? An anonymous voice mail told them where to look.
- What's with the car? - The original architect had a thing for big-boy toys and drag racing.
Been up here 40 years.
I had daydreams of owning one well into my 20s.
I'm assuming yours didn't come standard with a dead body.
That wasn't even an option.
How long has Jeremy been missing? It's seven-- seven days.
- Sorry.
- Just take your time.
Tomorrow would have been his 19th birthday.
It's not unusual for a teenager just to check out from their parents.
Oh, no.
No, not my son.
We spoke almost every day.
The police were doing everything they could.
They told us to go home, to wait for Jeremy to contact us.
But he never did? We posted his picture everywhere, online and off.
And when we didn't get a response, we offered a reward.
- And the calls started rolling in.
- Yes.
Hundreds of them.
Everybody wanted to help.
It was one dead end after another.
Until this morning, I had two dozen voice mails.
It was more of the same except for one.
It was a man.
And he told you that Jeremy was in this building? Well, no.
I mean, not in those words.
He just said we would find what we were looking for, but only if we followed his exact instructions.
I wanted to ignore it but my wife, she knew it was real.
I don't know how I knew.
I mean, it was just-- It was something in his voice or We're gonna need that voice mail for evidence.
I have it.
I have it on my phone.
The man who left that message killed Jeremy.
Mr.
Harris, let's go this way.
We can finish the questioning downstairs.
It's just not fair.
He was such a good kid.
- This is gonna get ugly.
- Indeed.
Do you prefer heads or tails? Does it really matter? In that case, you can have tails.
Thanks.
Slow and steady.
Uhh! Under the circumstances, I suggest we apply the tried-and-true Band-Aid method.
Band-Aid method? One, two, three.
.
Pull! Oh, my God! Okay.
Based on the level of decomp, DNA extraction won't be easy.
Bone marrow? My thoughts exactly.
Pleasure to make your acquaintance.
Faith and begorra.
Jan Steel.
It was Oh, hold on.
One second.
I'll call you back.
- You know who that is? - No.
Sorry.
Whoa, whoa, slow down there, young lady.
Who are you? I'm Mac Taylor.
- Who are you? - Ellie.
Well, do you have a last name, Ellie? Mom! Honey, what are you doing here? We have to leave New York.
This whole move-to-the-Big-Apple thing is not gonna work.
Oh, honey Take all the time you need.
Talk to me.
Everybody's hatin' on me.
Nobody hates you.
Tim Porter said I have a gigantic head.
You know what that means.
It means he sucks.
I want to go back to Virginia.
I miss my old school and my friends.
I understand, Ellie.
I miss my friends.
What happened to your spirit of adventure? You, your brother and I, the three musketeers, conquering the big city? Very few people get this opportunity, you know.
That's not fair.
I never asked to be a musketeer.
And you always say, don't compare yourself to other people.
Look, look at me.
I know it seems really tough right now, I promise you, the one thing I know for sure is, it will get better.
This is so messed up.
Whatever.
I'll give this stupid school another shot.
Thank you.
I owe you one.
A new pair of soccer cleats and some shin guards? That's two.
It's a deal.
- Come here.
Love you.
- Mom! Mom! - Okay.
- What are you doing? Skip a step Skip a step Skip a step, and it Skip a step Adam! Where are we with the voice mail? Call was made from a prepaid cell.
So the SIM card is no longer active, which makes it impossible to track.
And the message itself? Vocal frequencies have been isolated, interference filtered out.
Pssh! What up? Can I hear it, please? Oh, yeah.
Yeah.
The treasure you so desperately seek is hiding in plain sight.
Do exactly as I say if you want to find it.
Skip a step, and it stays lost forever.
498 Wall Street, southwest corner.
The service door will be unlocked.
Pause it there.
Southwest corner service door.
Take the center elevator directly to the 20th floor.
What's on the 20th floor? Nothing.
Then, why is he making them stop? There's a couch on the north side.
Stretch out and get comfortable.
Take a moment to enjoy the view.
He's toying with them.
- Delaying the inevitable.
- Why? To remind them who is in control.
Play the rest.
Find the stairs.
Take them to the roof.
Why the stairs instead of the working elevator? Hold the railing the entire way.
Remember, the engine is the heart of any car, but the driver will always be its soul.
Happy hunting.
If his intention was leading them to the body, then why so many hurdles? Oh, you have to see this.
Total game changer.
Are you absolutely sure this is right? Oh, I'm so glad you asked.
Using painstaking epidermal ablation, I enhanced the tattoo on the radial border of the vic's upper arm and discovered this-- what appears to be a wee little leprechaun holding a basketball? Looks like a homemade rendition of, what, the Boston Celtics' mascot? Oh.
Well, not a very good one.
Anyway, I ran this seemingly unique identifier through Missing Persons and got a hit.
Wow.
Mac.
Prints from the door handle belong to Charles and Elizabeth Harris.
Well, they were crawling all over that car before we got there.
I know.
I did manage to find partials from a third, older print, but they were destroyed by the parents.
- So where does that leave us? - With a second vic.
Sid used DNA and dental records to positively I.
D.
the body.
Jeremy is not Jeremy.
The body in that car was not the Harrises' son.
The body in the car was confirmed as Craig Anderson.
He's 19 years old.
He's from Boston.
- Explains the tattoo.
- His parents reported him missing - almost three weeks ago.
- What was he doing in New York? Studying.
He's a sophomore at NYU.
And so is Jeremy Harris.
He's a poli-sci major.
Craig was a film student.
No overlap in classes.
That doesn't mean they didn't know each other.
There's a connection somewhere.
Find it.
So you're liking the voice mail caller for both Craig's murder and Jeremy's disappearance? At this point, yes.
That doesn't bode well for Jeremy.
Well, being kidnapped by a psychopath seldom does.
Whoever this guy is, he was careful.
Autopsy showed no apparent trauma to the body.
No gunshot wound.
No puncture marks or tears in the clothing.
No signs of strangulation.
Process of elimination has a C.
O.
D.
looking more and more like poison.
We identify the type? No.
No.
Tox screen came back negative on all the usual suspects.
Means it's something rare, exotic, maybe.
It's going to take some time to narrow it down.
Poisoned and left to die.
This was personal.
The caller wanted that body found by someone, but why did he want it to be the Harrises? DNA confirmed the body you found on that roof was not Jeremy.
- I'm sorry.
- I don't understand.
There has to be a mistake.
The man on the roof was named Craig Anderson.
Did Jeremy ever mention him? Could they be friends? Our son was in college.
His circle of friends was different every time we spoke.
We're wasting time.
Didn't you see what he did to that poor boy? My son is next.
- I feel it.
I feel it in my heart.
- No.
I just please, please, I just want to know where he is.
I wish I could tell you that, Mrs.
Harris.
I wish I could take you to him right now.
We're going to need access to Jeremy's e-mail and cell phone records.
Anything that can help us tie him to Craig Anderson.
Yes, of course.
- Excuse me.
- Yeah? Do you know where I can find Detective Flack? There he is.
He's coming out right now.
Excuse me.
Detective Flack? Mrs.
Anderson? I-I'm sorry I'm here so early.
I just, uh I, uh couldn't stand sitting in that hotel room any longer.
I understand.
Still can't believe Craig is dead.
Let's take a walk.
My husband, Mark, passed away when Craig was still in elementary school.
Been just the two of us ever since.
I wasn't a perfect mom, but I tried my best.
Well, your best must have been pretty damn good.
I heard Craig was at the top of his class.
Oh, he was always a good student.
He loved learning.
And basketball, too, huh? Oh, that's an understatement.
His first words were Bird and McHale.
Mine were cookie and cake.
Mrs.
Anderson we're going to find the guy who murdered your son.
That's not going to bring him back, is it? I'm sorry.
It's going to take time.
I don't know the right way to act around people, what to say to them.
No right way to act.
Children aren't supposed to die.
I would like to see him, Detective.
All due respect, I don't think that's a good idea.
That's not how you want to remember him.
Then, how do I say good-bye? You don't.
Not where it counts.
You don't understand.
I need to speak with Detective Flack right away! Mr.
Harris.
- What happened? - He called again.
When? Elizabeth had a voice mail on her phone when we got home.
- Where is your wife now? - I don't know.
I need you to tell me exactly what was said on that message.
I only heard it once.
Detective, I've already lost my son.
If something should happen to my wife-- - Take a breath.
- I don't know what I'm gonna-- I need you to try to remember as much as you can.
Okay.
There were more instructions.
There was an address.
Somewhere in Brooklyn.
Uh Moultrie Street! Get me Mac Taylor now.
NYPD! - Elizabeth Harris! - What is this place? Transportation Department warehouse.
This is where tired old street signs go to die.
I smell smoke.
Hey.
Guys, over here.
Smart money says right place, wrong floor.
- Mrs.
Harris? - Elizabeth! - Mrs.
Harris? - Elizabeth! Mac! Mac, Jo, come on! Come on! Let's get the hell out of here! By now, you realize this is not a game.
Do exactly as I say, and you'll be one step closer to finding what you seek.
1409 Moultrie Street.
Use the side entrance.
Take the stairs to the basement.
There's a cardboard box.
In it, you'll find everything you need to complete your task.
Use every drop.
Nothing can be left behind.
Absolutely nothing.
Do as you are told and my next message will be the last one you need.
All the step-by-step directions.
The gasoline.
Destroying the makeshift lab.
Setting the snakes on fire.
Just like in the other building.
The couch.
The elevator.
The handrails.
He's not telling them how to find Jeremy Harris.
He's making them destroy evidence.
Except there's some still here.
That's a service apron.
You know from experience? I worked at a burlesque club when I was an undergrad.
- As a bartender? - I never said that.
So what do we know about this basement? It's an unofficial sublet to a company called Eastwick Receivables.
And conveniently, there's no paper trail to lead to the name of a tenant.
Let me guess.
All cash up front, no questions asked? Landlord never even bothered to get a phone number.
I'll make sure Homeland Security gets his.
It's counterintuitive, Mac.
Why would you involve someone in all of this when you could easily dispose of the evidence by yourself? Poor kid suffered to the very end.
- Jo.
- Yeah.
So how'd your negotiation go yesterday? Negotiation? Your daughter seems rather determined to vacate New York City.
She can be a stubborn mule, like her mama.
Seldom shy about what she likes and doesn't like.
Being thrown into the deep end is never easy.
It helps to know there are people around that have your back.
Well, Ellie's a tough kid.
She's going to be fine.
I wasn't talking about Ellie.
Thank you.
And, Mac, I did their books.
What? The burlesque club in college? I was their weekend accountant.
Hey, guys, the blood on the apron? It didn't belong to Craig Anderson or Jeremy Harris.
What about CODIS? Negative.
Not in the system.
But the DNA, it was triallelic at D16.
A mutation like that is highly uncommon.
Right.
Which is why I remember coming across it a year ago in an unsolved murder case.
- A shooting of a bouncer.
- Right.
Vic's name was Ryan Parisi.
I pulled his profile.
It's a perfect match to the blood on the apron.
The new voice mail was left using a second prepaid phone, and just like numero uno, right, the SIM card was used once and then deactivated.
So Mrs.
Harris' mystery caller is dumping phones as he goes.
Sure looks that way.
So I compared the serial numbers on both the cards - and guess what? - They were sequential? Yeah.
Perp's not as smart as he thinks.
He bought both the phones at the same store at the same time.
He alluded to a final message in the second voice mail.
Do as you are told, and my next message will be the last one you need.
So to leave it, he'd need a third phone, which might still be active.
Adam.
Already checking number three in the series.
Okay, got it.
Triangulating the signal.
And the phone is turned on somewhere between Prince, - Grand and Canal Street.
- O'Devlin's.
That's the name of the bar where the bouncer was shot.
I hope Jo and Flack are thirsty.
All right, I'll start beating the bushes.
Hang on.
I might have a less obtrusive way.
We do have his telephone number.
It's for you.
Gotcha.
Less obtrusive? Police! Out of my way! You really should be more careful.
Whew! Well done.
You're out of your mind.
You made those calls, Reuben.
Voice analysis confirmed it.
The engine is the heart of any car, but the driver will always be its soul.
Making a phone call is not a crime.
But murder is.
I didn't kill anybody.
Then tell me who did.
How should I know? The same way you knew where Craig Anderson's body was hidden.
I had no clue what was on that roof.
A friend asked me to make a call, read a set of instructions.
I didn't ask why because I didn't really care.
Do you think you'll care about 25 to life? What's the friend's name? I want a lawyer.
I can't wait to tell him about how I got this.
All right, let's take a different approach.
Smug little punk.
He got off too easy.
I agree.
You should have put him under the Dumpster.
- Unfortunately, I believe him.
- Do you? Body language, too comfortable.
Too engaged.
He has no connection to those boys.
But he can sure tell us who does.
Explain that to your lawyer.
An apron? The same kind you wear at O'Devlin's.
And 50 other bars in the Village.
Only this one has the blood of a murdered bouncer on it.
You're talking about Ryan Parisi getting shot.
Cops already cleared everyone who works at the bar, including me.
I'm tired of this BS.
If you guys had anything on me, I'd already be in jail.
Or just visiting.
You're a bartender, Reuben.
You really should wash your hands more often.
The U.
V.
stamp on Reuben Lewis' hand was from Rikers.
All visitors are required to have one.
Yep.
Prison log confirms he visited Rikers two days ago.
And get this.
The inmate he went to see is being housed at the Rose M.
Singer Center.
The women's facility.
Yep.
The prisoner's name is Allison Scott.
She's being held on a possession charge.
And she did have an intimate knowledge of the murdered bouncer, Ryan Parisi.
- How close were they? - I would say pretty close.
They were engaged.
Looks like we just found our motive for murder.
Allison Scott was also a bartender at O'Devlin's.
That's where she met her fiancé, Ryan Parisi.
And the manager said the night Parisi was shot, there were two rowdy college guys being extra-friendly to Allison.
Ryan had to kick them to the curb.
Craig Anderson and Jeremy Harris? Yeah, apparently, they were none too happy about getting the boot, so they threatened Parisi.
And two hours later, somebody sneaks up on him, puts a bullet in his back.
Allison found him dying out on the sidewalk.
EMS had to pry him out of her arms.
Explains the blood on her apron.
We look at the boys for the shooting? Yeah.
Alibis were weak, but there was no evidence they were involved.
Allison needed someone to blame.
Jeremy and Craig were easy targets.
Now, the reptile remains we found in the basement were consistent with Bungarus fasciatus.
Also known as the banded krait.
Where did they come from? My guess? Chinatown, black market.
anybody can learn how to extract the venom.
It's neurotoxic and fast-acting, causing near-instant muscle paralysis in humans.
The lucky ones die fast.
And the unlucky ones? Slow and excruciating respiratory failure.
As the diaphragm becomes paralyzed, the victim suffocates.
Death can take days.
So these guys were literally trapped inside their bodies.
I mean, unable to move, unable to talk.
Allison Scott knew exactly what she was doing.
She wanted them to suffer.
Man I loved was taken away from me.
Just wanted something in return.
So you hunted down Craig Anderson and lured him to a deserted building.
I didn't have to lure anybody.
All I did was smile, and he became a dog in heat.
Drink up, baby.
Anything you say.
Turns out, he had a soft spot for old cars.
You picked an abandoned rooftop so his body wouldn't be found.
Even if it was, the chances of it tracking back to me were pretty slim.
I mean, you didn't have me in the system.
I'd never even been fingerprinted.
Until a few days ago when you were arrested for the drugs.
That's why you needed someone to clean up your mess-- you were locked up.
Well, I had less than 24 hours to come up with all the details before Reuben came to see me.
Pretty impressive, don't you think? Tell me about Jeremy Harris.
Why don't you tell me? I think you poisoned him like you did Craig.
And then you had your friend Reuben call his desperate mother.
You took advantage of her grief, you preyed on her vulnerability.
Don't you dare talk to me about grief, because my fiancé died in my arms.
You're absolutely right, Allison, that was a terrible tragedy.
I can only imagine the anger you felt.
God himself couldn't save someone who wanted to hurt my family.
I would hunt them down.
I would make them suffer like they had never suffered before.
I would need them to feel the unrelenting pain that I felt.
But what if I was wrong? What if I hurt the wrong person? I could never live with myself.
But I got it right.
I know I did.
You have no idea what happened that night.
You didn't see what I saw.
How those bastards threatened Ryan, and then they shot him in the back.
No, Allison, they didn't.
There was a partial print on the bullet.
Not enough detail to identify the shooter, but more than enough to rule one out.
Craig and Jeremy are not a match.
Well, then they must have had another person helping them out.
There may have been a fourth, fifth or sixth.
You can convince yourself of anything.
The truth is, you don't really know what happened that night.
Neither do you.
Difference is, I didn't commit murder.
I did what I had to do.
It's over.
Well, then why continue to let anyone suffer? Give the Harrises back their son.
For God's sake, Allison, all they want to do is say good-bye.
The same way you got to say good-bye to Ryan.
There's a marine salvage yard on Staten Island.
That's it.
Hawkes.
I'll call Sid.
Wait.
Flack, hold on.
He's still breathing.
I got a faint pulse.
This is Detective Mac Taylor.
I need a bus at 2453 Arthur Kill Road.
Hurry.
Jeremy! We're here, son.
Jeremy? Ohh-- The kid gonna make it? Well, he's not out of the woods, but he is responding to the antivenin.
Prognosis is good.
How the heck did he survive all that time? If you're asking the scientist, I'd say his particular body chemistry metabolized the poison slow enough to keep him breathing.
Drinking condensation kept him alive.
But if you want my personal opinion-- I'd say science didn't have anything to do with it.
It's too bad they all can't have a happy ending.
Looking for something? Oh, only the best hamburger in all five boroughs.
Harvey's double-decker with the works.
And you're sure it's on this desk? Well, I had the address somewhere here.
Ellie's been dying to go to Harvey's since we got to the city.
You know, I read in your file that, uh, you adopted Ellie.
What? I read files, too, you know.
Oh.
Yes, I did.
She was barely two years old.
And her biological mama wasn't much more than a child herself.
She'd been using and turning tricks since she was 17.
And Child Protective Services took Ellie away from her mother.
Oh, yeah.
I had evidence linking her to a double homicide.
Special circumstances put her away for life without parole.
Ellie would've just ended up one of those innocent kids lost in a broken system.
Well, bringing her into your family was a noble thing to do.
I didn't have any choice, Mac.
She was love at first sight.
She was so yummy.
And if my son Tyler gave meaning to my life, Ellie just made it complete.
It was the best decision I ever made in my life.
Ah! Lord have mercy.
Got it.
Don't you want to join us? This burger is just heaven on a sesame seed bun.
Well, maybe next time.
I've already had, uh, heaven on a bun for lunch.
Oh.
Well, if you change your mind, I'll save you some fries.
Harper Street? That way.
- That looks awesome.
- Ah, yes.
Can I get a knife, please? All right, dig in.
Thank you.
How was school today? Better? Kinda.
Come on, you can do better than that.
I got an "A" on my book report.
- Hmm! - Tim Porter got a "C" on his.
He's a loser.
That is what I'm talking about! That's my girl.
Don't tell anybody I said that.
Hey.
Your sister and I were beginning to think you forgot about us.
Where are you? Oh, man.
Well, having pizza with your friends is important, too.
What about tomorrow night? All right.
Well, maybe next week.
Okay, Tyler.
Have fun, be safe.
I love you, too, honey.
Bye.
Okay.
Looks like it's girls night out.
Tyler is so lucky.
He gets to do whatever he wants in college.
You know, college is not that easy.
Giant textbooks and really hard tests.
Tons of hot guys.
What exactly do you know about hot guys? Don't make me have to interrogate you.
Mom.
Do we need to have that talk again? I'm not going into this conversation.
Maybe I need to hear a little bit more about Tim.