CSI: Crime Scene Investigation s13e17 Episode Script

Dead of the Class

Why must I go through this awful ritual? Don't be so dramatic, David.
It's just a high school reunion.
The only reason I bought these stupid tickets was to show off my beautiful wife.
Who's oh-so flattered, but too pregnant to stand and too cheap to let you waste both $100 tickets.
Sagebrush High class of '98.
It-it made Lord of the Flies look like Fantasy Island.
And the only way I survived those four awful years was by being utterly invisible.
And now I'm supposed to go back without being forced at gunpoint? I bet there'll be cupcakes.
What if you go into labor and I'm not here? It's not going to happen, but I'll call your cell.
The reunion will be good for you.
Everyone will see the amazing guy you've become.
And you'll see how everyone's grown up, evolved.
I love you.
You're gonna have fun! Come on, man! Don't fight it! Hey! "Fun.
" Hey.
H-Hi, Becca.
Name? David Phillips.
I don't have a Phillip Davis.
No, David Phill It's fine.
Come on.
And the fourth most exciting thing about working in insurance-related actuarial science is the way you see the world differently.
This place is a den of liability.
Rising exponentially with each drink that's consumed.
Half of these people aren't even chewing their hors d'oeuvres to a safe consistency.
Not to mention the bacterial populations in the lavatories.
I mean, you can get any number of STDs Excuse me.
Well, be careful, they're running rampant in there.
Running rampant in there.
Hey, guys, cake.
You all right? Yeah, no, I'm fine.
I-I've seen dead bodies before.
But, uh It's not the same, huh? I spoke to her an hour ago.
Well, Doc's gonna be here in a couple of minutes.
You able to keep everybody away from the immediate scene till the policemen came? I did the best I could, but former hall monitor doesn't exactly demand respect around here.
Did you know the victim really well? From afar.
Becca Sabin was queen of the class.
A head cheerleader, social secretary.
She planned all this.
Well, most of it.
So, queen of the class after her reign.
Question is: which one of her subjects did this? 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! Irregular laceration.
Judging by the amount of blood, appears to have severed an artery and bled out into the bubble tray.
The assailant might've grabbed one of these hand-me-down weapons.
There's a whole confiscated armory here.
I never understood the kids who'd bring this stuff to school.
I mean, showing off your pair of nunchucks is worth expulsion? Yeah, right? Well, that's addled essence of adolescence.
Brain's prefrontal cortex doesn't fully develop until your 20s.
Means your teen years are spent oblivious to consequences and prone to reckless behavior.
Our killer's about 15 years too late for that excuse.
Well, you think a decade and a half would let everyone grow into mature and caring adults.
Not always the case.
Well, no visible blood on any of the sharp implements.
I'll bring them back to the lab anyways.
Got a bloody handprint in the bubble tray.
No ridge detail.
Killer may have wiped their hands in the soap.
Trace from the killer could've been carried out in the bubbles.
Which means it could've landed anywhere on anyone at the party.
Hundreds of popped, red bubbles out there; we have to check them all.
Why don't you start with a smaller task.
Found this in her palm.
Looks like glass.
Becca was my best friend in school.
Kind of ruled the place.
Kate and Pippa.
Were you still close? We drifted.
Career, loving family, busy social life.
I'm sure Becca had things going on, too.
So looking forward to catching up.
I bet.
Kelly, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take your dress.
You can change into a gym uniform.
This stain's from one of the ill-advised bubbles.
Just red dye.
Isn't it? Well, it's nice to see a couple of gorgeous ladies printing and swabbing.
And casually trampling our search and seizure rights.
The CSUs I work with, they could take a few pointers.
Are you law enforcement? Attorney.
Partner at Hoyt and Mendelsohn.
I was supposed to take a red-eye back tonight, prep for a big depo.
But what's a reunion without the valedictorian? Yes, Becca and I, we were on different tracks in high school.
Never really got to know each other.
I was Harvard-bound, she was enjoying herself.
And there he is.
Hey, Janet.
You know, Davey was a brain back then.
If he applied himself, he could've been a doctor.
Instead of, um I'm the assistant medical examiner.
Glorified Igor.
Kidding, Davey.
Nice seeing you, Janet.
Hey, Igor! Becca was amazing.
We met and we married last year.
That's a tough one, losing your wife.
I'm sorry, Mr.
Were you and Becca together the whole evening? No, I couldn't keep up with her.
Between the hosting and mingling.
I just parked myself at this table with a scotch.
Did you notice any tension between Becca and her classmates? No.
As far as I know, Becca had lost touch with everybody here.
Tonight was supposed to be about her reconnecting.
Watch the blood, boys.
Hey, it's Greg.
I just finished with all the blades I brought back to the lab.
No blood on any of them.
That's a bummer.
Hey, you know that green sliver we pulled from the victim's palm? Yeah, it's glass, but Hodges couldn't identify the source.
Think I just did.
Let me call you back.
Decedent's heart is grayish in color.
It's consistent with exsanguination.
Otherwise healthy.
Stomach contents.
Smell of alcohol.
Presence of a partially-digested bready substance.
It's a crab puff.
Didn't you eat, like, seven of them while you were lurking around in the corners? I can't believe you get to see me naked.
Phillip Davis, rando weirdo who probably had a massive crush on me.
This is my job.
I am the assistant medical examiner.
They throw you that title instead of your 50 cent raise? If you're so smart, how come you're not a doctor? Well, I was planning on being one Phil.
Don't mutilate.
It's David.
And I didn't have a crush on you, I had a crush on Lizzie Burns, so Concentrate, Phil.
David? Everything okay? Yeah.
Uh, fine.
Uh, fine, Doc.
Um, stomach lining uh, the stomach lining exhibits a crater-shaped sore.
It's approximately It looks like a peptic ulcer.
One centimeter diameter erosion of the lower esophageal sphincter.
Could be acid reflux.
Exacerbated by stress.
Or alcohol consumption.
One vodka tonic.
Moving on to the throat.
The, uh epiglottis is inflamed.
Likely result of the trauma from the laceration.
Majority of the sharp-force trauma is centered in the trachea.
An irregular cut through the adjacent tissue, transecting the carotid artery.
Also noting an incidental injury to the victim's lip.
Possible cold sore, often associated with Don't even.
herpes outbreak.
No wonder you didn't start dating until you were 26.
Pardon? Uh, nothing, uh Likely C.
D is exsanguination caused by the transection of the carotid artery.
Gee, you think the giant gorge ripped through my throat might have done it? Paging Dr.
I'm gonna get some air.
Copier has a pretty good memory, doesn't it? Maybe you do, too, Kelly.
Is that why you attacked Becca? Some old grudge stirred up? I didn't kill her.
That fight at the copier? If I didn't stop her, she would've terrorized the reunion.
What does that mean? She was up to her old tricks.
"Games Bitches Play.
" Um, I'm sorry? She made these.
"Reunion Bingo.
"As you booze and schmooze your way "through the evening, fill in the names "of your classmates who have "the following quirks.
"Screwing the babysitter.
Snorted Daddy's fortune.
" Five in a row gets a prize.
Becca started handing the cards out.
I grabbed them from everyone.
She went to the storeroom to copy more.
I followed her.
I stopped her.
I can't believe you're doing this.
No! No! Don't touch it! Give it! Ah, you bitch.
She was fine.
Went back to the party.
You know, a stupid little game may ruffle some feathers, but it hardly warrants an assault.
Or worse.
This wasn't some innocent prank.
Becca's husband Grady Foster.
Yes, we spoke to him.
He's a therapist.
He's my therapist.
I had no idea I was pouring my secrets out to the husband of the gossip queen, until I saw the two of them walk into the party together.
I'm on that card.
Working on it.
I didn't kill Becca.
But I bet anything there are other alums who are patients of Grady.
Whose secrets ended up on Becca's bingo card.
Would give any of them a reason to stick a knife in her throat.
So, I just spoke with Grady Foster.
He refused to divulge any of the names of his patients.
And he insisted that his wife knew nothing about what happened in those sessions.
So Becca, what, just guessed at all these secrets? Maybe.
So, the one patient we do know Klepto Kelly.
Has an alibi.
The photos from the partygoers' cameras put her at the far side of the room for the 15 minutes before the bloody bubbles actually start to appear.
So, she may be guilty of a few misdemeanors, but she certainly didn't kill anybody.
Anybody on this card with a secret had motive.
Even if Becca was guessing, the people with the secrets did not know that.
But if Grady won't help us, there's no way for us to determine who those people are.
Did David say anything about the card? He said he didn't want to "disparage anybody by guessing.
" His words.
A true gentleman.
He's really hoping he can help solve this one.
Well, if it helps us catch a killer, I'm all for it.
Nick needs me.
Uh, figured out a way to determine which alumni are patients of Becca's husband.
Which makes them all suspects, right? Theory to beat.
Surveillance footage from a gas station next to Grady's therapy office.
Catches the whole parking lot.
Very smart.
Catalog the license plates of all the cars entering the lot, run them through DMV against the alumni's cars.
Nice one, bud.
Yeah, I thought you might like that.
So, what was your high school experience like? I was usually, uh, in the back of the van, sandwiched between a guitar case and a hitchhiker.
Oh, that's right.
I'm sorry, I forgot the, uh, traveling family caravan.
Wasn't that bad.
Depending on the hitchhiker.
Little late for a visit.
Now, who's that? Zoom in.
That's our victim, Becca Sabin, two nights ago.
Digging up dirt.
Wait a minute, now, who's that? That's Grady Foster.
Her better half.
You lied to us, Mr.
You said that Becca never had access to your patients' secrets.
She did.
And when she started spilling those secrets at the reunion, jeopardizing your whole practice, you shut her up.
Of course I was mad with her for snooping.
I figured she was just curious.
Secret lives of strangers.
I didn't realize she knew any of my patients until I saw those patients at the reunion.
Well, that's convenient.
Additional suspects all mingling together makes it easier to commit the crime.
Do you not think I knew the kind of woman I married? I had Becca pegged within five minutes of meeting her.
With a near-pathological hunger for gossip.
And I loved her for all of it.
I never laid a hand on her.
Now, unless you've got evidence of anything other than a a marital spat I believe this session's time is up.
Is that the last of the 99 red balloons? I've swabbed way more than There's a few on that post there behind you that I haven't gotten to yet.
Nick said that the therapist office surveillance didn't turn up any alums who were patients.
I thought we'd already spun the suspect bottle to Dr.
Hubby himself.
No physical evidence against him.
Did you go to your high school reunion? Ten-year was last year.
Didn't make the trip out.
You? The one area of history I choose not to dwell in? My high school years.
But you beautiful blonde, sunny SoCal-- you must have loved it.
Could've been worse.
I've got some trace on this one.
Just got a text from Brass.
Some kid tweeted LVPD, "You idiots missed a dead body at Sagebrush High.
Well, he's breathing.
I think I found the culprit.
Come on! Come on! Gooch! They're running the blitz.
Block, damn it! Block! Yeah! We need a first down.
You need a time-out.
Greg, we need backup.
Super Dave.
Hey, Nick.
Um, Russell said that I could check in.
Um I heard about the new suspect.
Yeah, Sean McHenry.
You know him? Yeah, I know Sean.
Big man on campus.
He dated Becca Sabin all four years.
Really? Mm-hmm.
Well, her bloody handprint ended up on his back last night.
Well for what it's worth, he was a colossal jerk in high school.
Really? Yeah.
What are you doing here? I'm representing my client.
I'm sorry, why would you want to help him? Easy, Dave.
Take it easy, buddy.
He called me, requested my counsel.
If you've got some post-wedgie grudge against the guy, grow up.
High school's over, David.
What do you do for a living, Mr.
McHenry? He's an educator.
What capacity? A gym teacher.
Gym teacher.
What grade? Junior high.
Junior high.
Well, that's a tough age, isn't it? Hey, speaking of, it must be hard to have your best days How's that? Wrangling dodge balls for little kids? When all your classmates have passed you by, forgotten you.
Well, like with Becca, she married a much more successful man.
Becca was still into me.
Sean She was.
She was all over me.
At the reunion? Yeah.
She took me back into that storeroom.
We were making out like we were 16.
Or maybe you wanted it to be like you were 16 again.
Huh? You followed her back there, she shut you down, you grabbed the knife No.
What about the blood on your back? She had a little cut on her palm.
That's probably how the blood got there.
She was into me.
She was.
Come on.
Sean, really? She was.
For a minute, and then she backed off, said she had to get back to the party.
And you just let her go? Yeah.
I'd had enough of the reunion.
Then what? Then I went to the closest liquor store.
Took the bottle out under the Friday night lights to drink alone.
'Cause you're right.
Those were the best days of my life.
Can this be over? It can.
You're not holding my client? No.
No, no.
Don't go far, Sean.
Never have.
Trace from your burst bubble is asbestos and acrylic tan paint.
Piece of popcorn ceiling.
As you no doubt remember witnessing at the temple to 1974 that is my mother's home.
Note the addition of a second gray-colored paint on said ceiling-kernel.
Ceiling in the cafeteria is white.
Ceiling in the storeroom is tan.
Take a look at this.
Ceiling access panel-- gray paint.
Right above the bubble tray.
Someone opened it.
Are those guys gonna blow up all of our evidence? Not all of it.
Whoa! Bomb squad managed to separate the non-explosive parts from the bomb, served it up for us to analyze.
And I got the ceiling panel over there, too.
Morgan said that they were basic pipe bombs.
The pipe end caps were loosely sealed, so the detonation would have been all flare, no bang.
Yeah, well, bomber didn't know that.
Okay, so here's a new theory.
Bomber sneaks into the storeroom Becca picks the wrong time to refill the bubble tray.
Unplanned stabbing.
Killer flees without detonating the bomb.
So, Sean McHenry is still our prime suspect.
Yeah, Becca's bloody handprint's on his shirt.
All right, what do we have here? Uh, ignition device.
Some consumer electronics item.
I guess Hodges can dig into that.
Duct tape that wrapped the bomb and attached these to it.
Looks like plaster.
Too fragile to be shrapnel.
Maybe a form of the bomber's signature? These pieces fit together.
I'll work on this puzzle.
So, I've been looking through Sean McHenry's Internet and e-mail history for any research he might have been doing, and bomb-making came up empty.
But I might have found out why he planted it.
Why is that? Well, he got pink-slipped from his gym-teaching job last week.
That's a bit of a leap to bombing a reunion, isn't it? It really had nothing to do with the reunion.
The school board just voted to eliminate gym class from the district junior highs.
Sean got all bent out of shape, demanding that they rethink their decision.
Of course they didn't, he's out of a job.
Now, where do you think the school board is gonna meet next? Sagebrush High, school cafeteria.
And the entire school board is gonna be sitting along that very same wall where we found that bomb.
So the reunion was not the bomb's target.
It was the opportunity to plant it.
I'll call Brass.
Yeah? Just hit the liquor store near the high school to check out Sean McHenry's story.
Store clerk has him on camera buying whiskey within an hour of Becca's death.
That much we already know from Sean, though, don't we? But big man on campus left out one big thing.
A bright yellow Dumpster on the edge of the store lot.
It was begging to be searched.
And I found this.
Sean bought whiskey, but he also dumped the weapon.
Print this and get it over to Henry.
Let's get a profile on the blood.
Nice work.
Sean McHenry, LVPD! Get your hands up.
What the hell is this? You're under arrest.
You, too.
Counseling your client, I see.
You red-staters still familiar with the notion of warrants? Yes.
I have two.
One to arrest Sean for the murder of Becca Sabin, and the other one gives me the right to search for explosives.
What? I don't understand.
You didn't tell your girlfriend about the bomb you planted at the school? What are you talking about? Your vendetta against the school board, how you were planning to blow them all away.
You mean, telling them that gym class is the only thing keeping some of these kids sane? You think I'd hurt people over that? Get him out of here.
Well Can I at least put some clothes on? What you got? I ran DNA on the blood from the knife.
It is Becca Sabin's blood.
But? There was something odd.
The blood was completely dried out.
I had to soak the sample for 20 minutes before it would dissolve.
It was a little frustrating, but finally I had something I could work with.
What would cause that level of dehydration? Normally? Long-term aging of the blood or exposure to extreme temperatures.
None of which goes along with our story.
Guy plants a bomb, stabs a girl, tosses the knife.
Which means there's more to the story.
This plaster mask was attached to the bomb? Whoever this girl is she means something to the bomber.
I thought you might recognize her.
Her name's Caroline.
You know her? I did.
Till she killed herself.
Caroline Hartwell was, uh, a fellow misfit.
Two years behind me.
I used to see her in the library reading all the Ray Bradbury.
I liked Ray Bradbury.
Some of the seniors-- Sean McHenry, Becca Sabin-- they used to make fun of her.
The way she dressed, the scar on her lip.
Spring of '98, she was a sophomore, and she hung herself.
Tell me about this.
Art students would make these masks of themselves.
Then they'd put them up on the wall until the end of the year.
So anyone could have taken Caroline's mask, right, and kept it until now, and then used it in the bomb? Revenge on her behalf.
Guys, I got a print off the bomb's duct tape.
AFIS match to a work card.
Man named Max Dinello.
Also, I found a partial print from him on the inside of the ceiling panel.
Oh, here he is.
Class of '98.
He was friends with Caroline.
There's no Max Dinello on the list of people processed at the reunion.
Cut the hair, add a few years Hey.
I spoke to him.
He must have snuck out before the police arrived.
I'll call Brass.
Look, planting the bomb and stabbing Becca have to be related, right? Yeah, I think so.
Timeline's too tight to be a coincidence.
Yeah, but it doesn't make sense.
If Max Dinello's the bomber and the stabber, then how did the knife end up at the liquor store that Sean McHenry went to? Max could have planted it, right? I mean, if what he was after was revenge for Caroline, then framing one of her tormentors accomplishes the same thing.
But how did Max know that Sean went to that liquor store? Hey, guys.
I was looking up background on Max Dinello.
He is a teacher at an alternative school for troubled teens.
And I was checking out the school's Web site.
I came across this photo.
That's Sean's attorney, Janet Morris.
Yeah, only, she's not an attorney anymore.
She's a lunch lady.
You kidding me? The school confirmed it.
She lives at home with her parents in Henderson.
Unis are on their way to pick her up now.
So Max and Janet are working together? The vengeful outcast and the tarnished golden girl joining forces? Max plants the bomb, stabs Becca when she catches him.
Janet plants the knife and then frames Sean for the crime.
Gets to play big-shot attorney.
Max Dinello's not home.
Brass has put a broadcast out on his car.
You have a minute? I was looking for Henry, but he's not around.
You want to talk? About how you let the killer flee? Good one.
I'm gonna look for Henry.
Come on.
I'm kidding.
Come in.
Grab a lab coat.
You know, even in high school, I knew that these were much cooler than any stupid letterman's jacket.
Attracts a finer breed of woman, too.
Well, you can't argue with Elisabetta.
Only because she can't conjugate when she's angry.
So, uh what's got you down? Just wish I had more answers, instead of feeling like that lost kid again.
Even on a normal case, we're not working crossword puzzles here.
It can get tough.
And, whether you like it or not, you are involved.
It does help to have a gorgeous Mediterranean goddess waiting for you at home, if you can arrange that.
Although I have to say, you're doing quite well for yourself.
Something bothering you? The evidence.
I'm thinking this bomb is a blast from the past.
What do you mean? Start with duct tape's old.
The logo on the end of it was used by the company from '93 to 2000.
The ignition components are from a walkie-talkie that was manufactured in 1998.
And the batteries that were in it have a "use by" date that puts their sale at spring '98.
So what are you saying? I'm saying I don't think that this bomb was placed at the reunion for something that happened in 1998.
I think it was placed there in 1998.
But we know that the ceiling panel was accessed during the reunion.
By your pal Max Dinello.
So what was he doing? Like, adjusting something on the bomb? Or defusing it.
When I was lifting prints off of the tape, I noticed these spots.
As if something dripped on it, sapping all the moisture from the adhesive.
What could do that? This.
Liquid nitrogen.
Sometimes used in defusing bombs.
Poured over the components, it temporarily freezes them so that the bomb can be removed safely.
I'm almost positive that some liquid nitrogen got splashed onto this bomb.
Henry did say that the blood he found on the knife was dehydrated, like it had been exposed to extreme temperatures.
Tissue, tissue.
Throat, lip.
The sample from Becca's lip doesn't exhibit the intranuclear inclusions of a viral sore.
Instead, the cells have irregular vacuoles and darker nuclear chromatin.
Qualities caused by the flash-freezing of tissue.
As you'd expect from contact with liquid nitrogen.
Now, ingesting liquid nitrogen could have caused the swollen epiglottis, the irritation that I had attributed to the acid reflux and the injury to the stomach that I had previously deemed an ulcer.
They were caused by one event.
Ingesting liquid nitrogen.
That's very impressive, you guys.
Hey, not me.
All David.
Look, I teach my students to own up to their crimes.
I failed to do that.
But I'll do it now.
You don't have to waste your time.
I killed Becca Sabin.
Um, speaking of time, l-let's, um let's back up 15 years.
You placed a bomb in the ceiling above the spot where Becca and Sean and the other cool kids hid lunch every day, right? You wanted vengeance for Caroline Hartwell, for what those kids made her do to herself.
But you never set that bomb off back then.
Why? A teacher.
He was one of the good ones.
He saw some of the things that I had scrawled in my notebooks, and I told him to leave me alone.
He told me enough people had done that already.
He didn't know about the bomb or what I was up to, but he said whatever it was, it wasn't worth it.
So, 15 years, you become a teacher yourself, helping kids going through the same stuff.
But that bomb-- still there.
Every day.
Surrounded by innocent kids.
I was pretty sure that it wouldn't go off accidentally.
I told myself that.
For years.
But there was always a chance.
And if that bomb did go off, hurt somebody Then everything that I had done to change, to help my students change, it all would've been wiped out.
So the reunion was a chance for you to sneak back in and make sure that didn't happen.
What are you doing? Why didn't you just report the bomb to the police? With everything that's been in the news, I couldn't bear the kids at that school, teachers like Mr.
Miller, hearing that the same thing had almost happened at Sagebrush High, too.
So, how does that lead to a stabbing? The liquid nitrogen was choking her.
There was no time.
I had to do something.
Shh, shh! Relax, relax, relax.
An emergency tracheotomy.
She was struggling.
Fighting him, so it didn't work.
She wouldn't hold still.
She was terrified of me.
And then she was gone.
Max wanted to turn himself in.
I told him not to.
He was just trying to do good.
He didn't deserve to have his life ruined.
I put the knife in the nitrogen tank.
I told him to get out of there.
I'd get rid of the evidence.
So Max didn't deserve to have his life ruined? But Sean McHenry, he did? You knew about the liquor store and planted the knife there.
You framed him.
You got to act out your lawyer fantasy.
You got to sleep with the class stud as a nice perk.
You didn't lie about Harvard.
How does somebody at the top of their class end up here? I couldn't wait to get out of high school.
Into the real world.
I busted my ass.
Undergrad, law school.
at a New York firm.
But nothing changed.
Pretty got promoted, gossip counted more than achievement, and one day I just broke down because High school never ended.
So what'll happen to them? Max and Janet? Doesn't look good.
Obstruction, accessory, maybe even manslaughter.
You what I think their real crime was? Getting lost in their pasts.
Janet trying to live up to old ambitions.
Max trying to undo an old mistake.
I was one of those freaks who liked high school.
Come on.
I mean, there are plenty of other contenders for the worst years of my life.
But what do you get for dwelling on them? Anxiety, uh, self-loathing and high blood pressure.
You know, I think at some point you just have to move forward.
Excuse me.
Hi, honey.
How long between contractions? Guys.
Come on in.
Guys, Joshua Adam Phillips.
Doc, you're first.
I'd be honored.
Hey, young man.
Amy, he's perfect.
Thank you.
I am utterly envious.
You're a lucky guy.
I am.