CSI: NY s08e13 Episode Script

The Ripple Effect

You gotta be kidding me! Hey! You're dead, kid! You hear me?! You're frigging dead! I knew I shouldn't have done the Stairmaster this morning.
It's a long way down.
It's even longer coming up, trust me.
I finally counted after the third trip.
Well, he's in more pain than I am.
The satchel belongs to our vic.
I found his I.
His name's Greg Barbera.
Some kind of robbery? Cash and cards were still in his wallet.
You said there were witnesses? Not on the stairs, but a couple of passersby saw him being chased down Fort Washington before he turned the corner and wound up here.
They described the guy chasing him as male, early 30s, about five-eight, medium build, wearing some kind of red jacket.
This kid took one hell of a fall.
The question is, was he pushed? Looks like we'll have to back up a few steps to figure that out.
Out here in the fields I fight for my meals I get my back into my living Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Morning, Mac.
Looks like our vic sustained significant injuries: elevated skull fractures, signs of vertebral compression, compound breaks to the clavicle and femur, dislocated wrists and ankles.
I have his chart right over here.
- Hawkes.
- Yeah? - You're covering.
- Covering? Where's Sid? Sid? Uh Well, um, apparently, he's just running a little late again today.
That's the third time this week.
What's going on? You know, I really don't know, Mac.
All his staff could tell me is that he wouldn't be here till later this afternoon.
So we don't have a preliminary autopsy report of any kind for Greg Barbera? - No, not yet.
- Means we still don't know whether his death was an accident or murder.
But judging by the shape that this kid is in, if I still had Sid's job and had to answer that question, I'd probably take the day off, too.
I see you got left holding the bag.
Wouldn't be the first time.
Oh, the purple wad that you found? It's violet-flavored gum.
Violet flavor? Like the flower? Yep.
Makes for a nice bubble bath, but I don't think I'd want to chew it.
I don't remember seeing this at my local newsstand.
Wonder where it's from.
I don't know, but I can tell you that it is not Greg Barbera's.
I got foreign male DNA from saliva trace.
- No hit in CODIS.
- Okay.
What about all these packages? These are scheduled deliveries from a company called Boroughstar Courier Service.
According to the contact I spoke to, Greg Barbera has been a bike messenger there for the past two years.
That's weird.
If he's a bike messenger, where's the bike? All of our witnesses saw him running on foot.
Did they happen to give you a schedule of his stops for the day? Yes, they did.
Okay, if I understand this correctly, in Midtown.
a drop-off downtown.
So what was he doing all the way up in Washington Heights at 9:30? Clearly something that wasn't on the schedule.
Oh, are you serious? $3.
99? What do you want from me? Hello, Mac Taylor.
Christine, did I get you at a bad time? No, perfect, actually.
How do I murder a produce guy and get away with it? Well, you could always hit him over the head with a coconut, but you'd be better off using that for a piña colada.
Point very well taken.
Besides, overpriced coconuts probably warrant something closer to a misdemeanor rather than a full-blown felony, right? Yeah.
Hey, uh, listen, I've got something I want to give you.
Oh, what's that? Well, it's kind of a long story.
Is there someplace we could meet? Yeah, sure.
I'm on my way to work after this.
Why don't I text you the address, and you can stop by, say, around 7:00? Great.
I'll see you then.
All right, so I got us fully tapped into the new NYPD Counter terrorism Surveillance system here.
Then let's try to review street cam footage from the time and area where witnesses reported seeing Greg Barbera being chased.
We don't have an angle on the stairs where his body was found, but we can at least start there and then back up to a video feed of adjacent streets.
Assailant was described as early 30s; medium build; five feet, eight inches tall; wearing red.
Okay, red is good.
I can work with that.
So, all the objects or individuals wearing red will be isolated.
All right.
Now let's focus on Fort Washington Avenue where the bulk of our witnesses saw Greg Barbera being chased.
Stop there.
That's Barbera.
And this guy is clearly in pursuit.
Then let's get a better look at him.
Big Brother's watching you, buddy.
All right, let's try to sharpen that image and then run the facial recognition software.
Come on.
Scott Perfito.
Priors for narcotics trafficking and outstanding warrant for possession.
All right.
We know who you are.
And boom, now we know where you are.
Scott Perfito! NYPD! Fire escape! Karma's a bitch.
I should be in a hospital resting.
They already gave you a clean bill of health and released you into our custody, Mr.
Well, my arm still hurts and my head hurts, too.
How about your pride? That must be smarting a bit.
What is that supposed to mean? It means we found almost a half a kilo of cocaine in your apartment.
Believe me, that's not how it looks.
Oh, we do believe you, because it's not all coke.
In fact, the last batch you pulled from this delivery envelope was a combo of baby formula, caffeine and lidocaine.
We found traces of the same in Greg Barbera's delivery bag.
Now why do you think that is? I look like a scientist? No, but I am.
The baby formula gave it the right look and consistency.
The lidocaine was to make your gums numb.
And that pharmaceutical-grade caffeine was there to give you a good solid buzz.
Which probably lasted just long enough for Greg to grab the money and run, right? He sold you a bag of fake drugs.
What if he did? It ain't a crime to buy bogus blow.
No, but between your outstanding warrant and the few ounces of real cocaine we found in your apartment, you're done.
And then you had to go and kill the guy.
I didn't kill him! Did you or did you not chase down Greg Barbera after he'd delivered the goods? Yeah, of course I chased him.
What the hell was I supposed to do? The bastard took my money! Quit running, kid, you're only making it worse! And then you pushed him down the 187th Street stairs.
No, I didn't.
- Oh, come on.
- I'm telling you I didn't.
He made it about 20 feet down, and then he totally patched out.
Fell the rest of his way on his own without any help from me.
And then what? Then I took my damn money back.
And? And I got the hell out of there.
You didn't think to call - for any kind of help? - Help? For him? He was a double-crossing bitch who stole three grand and got exactly what was coming to him.
Vic's name is Jimmy Philbrook.
He was spotted by a group of lnwood Hill nature enthusiasts.
I'm thinking they're probably not so enthusiastic anymore.
That's painful.
I don't know how he ended up this far off the path.
I found his wallet 30 yards back that way next to some loose soil and erratic shoe print patterns.
Could be initial signs of a struggle.
Yeah, that's not the half of it.
Here, get a load of this.
- He was also strangled.
- Yeah.
So did that kill him? Or was it the arrow? All right, so, I followed one series of footprints that look like they could be a possible match to our vic's.
Lead back about a hundred yards to the jogging path.
- You find any other tracks? - There was a second set of partials near the path, disturbances in the soil indications of a fall.
So I'm thinking that this guy might've been attacked back there, and then stumbled over here.
Then what? The attacker shoots him with an arrow? And that's where things get a little shady here.
I mean, if you're gonna choke a guy, choke him; why go halfway and then finish him - with a bow and arrow? - Yeah.
Well, I can't tell you why, but I can tell you where the arrow came from.
So, is that our shooter's perch? Looks that way.
It's hard to climb a tree like this without leaving epithelials behind.
Climbed a lot of trees back in Montana, didn't you? Damn straight, city boy.
Was that before or after you started cow tipping? Wow.
- What? - Is that a snake? Where? What? My friends, they get me higher and higher They're killing me with friendly fire We meet beneath the cactus tree They're walking on spikes, just ain't for me My friends ain't got to worry more They meet outside the corner store I walk the pavement, miss the cracks I'd join them if I could relax Hang it up, you can hang it up This time maybe you can hang it up Hang it up, you can hang it up This time maybe you can hang it up Hang it up, you can hang it up This time maybe you can hang it up! Oseltamivir.
That's an anti-viral medication.
I found it on the back of this foil that I got off the tree branch.
My guess is it was part of a pill packet.
Got transferred by the shooter's boot.
Maybe he was being treated for the flu.
All right, well, based on what you've just told me and what I'm seeing here, our shooter is sick, Linds.
And not just with the flu.
I'm afraid my report on Greg Barbera's death is inconclusive.
So it really was an accident.
I'm not saying that, I'm just saying in spite of multiple fractures and contusions caused during Barbera's fall down the stairs, there's simply no post-mortem proof that he was pushed.
And no clear indications this was a homicide.
So we can only hold Perfito on his warrant and possession charge.
Any other good news you want to share? Sorry, Mac.
That's all I can tell you right now.
- Thanks, Sid.
- Yeah.
Did you get it out of him? Sid's not talking anything but business.
Oh, don't worry, I'll get him to talk.
Hammerback, nice to see your shining face.
Tell me what's going on.
Uh well, unfortunately, I don't have anything too conclusive to share about Mr.
Uh, the arrow pierced his sternum and collapsed his right lung, which, between blood loss and respiratory distress could've proven fatal without immediate medical attention.
But? But, as your team correctly surmised on the scene, he was also strangled from behind just before being shot.
I managed to tweeze some minuscule trace from one of the jagged abrasions around his neck.
And I also found some latent partial fingerprints around the back of his neck that could have been left in the struggle.
The point being, the resulting internal injuries suffered by Mr.
Philbrook included a crushed trachea.
Which could've proven fatal without immediate medical attention.
So, we still don't know whether it's death by strangulation or by arrow.
I'm grasping at straws, but maybe this will help? That looks similar to the violet gum I pulled from Greg Barbera's satchel.
Only, I pulled it off Jimmy Philbrook's molars.
It's probably just a coincidence.
Well, when it comes to crime, there are no coincidences.
Well, I'll stay focused on our two potential C.
's to see if I can sort out which one might've had the upper hand in Philbrook's death.
Then I can focus on you.
Me? Yeah, Sid, you've been absent from work all week.
- Oh, well - You're sweating like a pig.
You've been rubbing your palms together like you're trying to start a fire.
And you've done that little thing with your glasses about a half dozen times since I walked in here.
It's Profiling 101.
You're a nervous wreck.
Come on, tell me what's going on.
Uh, no, my, uh, attorneys and accountants told me not to say anything.
Well, with all due respect, Sid, your attorneys and your accountants aren't your friends.
Uh it's the Hammerback Sleeper.
I give you the Hammerback Sleeper.
"You'll sleep like a corpse"? It's an experimental pillow I've developed after years of working in the M.
's Office.
I've heard about it.
What's the problem? I just sold the patent this morning.
Well, congratulations.
- That's good, isn't it? - Oh, yeah.
Um, it was purchased by a Japanese firm.
Apparently, they're going to market it - as an anti-snoring pillow.
- Anti-snoring, huh? God, I could've used that with my ex-husband.
I would've paid dearly for that.
That's pretty much what they did.
- Sid, are you okay? - Uh Actually, no.
I'm, um incredible.
Jo, they bought my patent for $27 million.
What? I'm a very rich man and-and I have no idea what to do about it.
Okay, okay, all right.
Okay, well, the first-first thing you need to do is breathe.
Please don't say anything.
- Don't tell anyone.
- Okay, I won't, I promise.
But Sid, even if this is overwhelming, it's still amazing.
You earned it, and when you Breathe, breathe.
Okay, and after you finish breathing, you got to do one more thing.
What's that? You got to celebrate.
Oh, that's so great! This place has seen better days, huh? Jimmy Philbrook was the landlord here? Yeah, the building just got condemned, which means the artists living here are gonna be out on the street.
Could be a long line of people that want this guy dead.
Let's start with the building's super.
Yeah, he's down on the end, bro.
It's open.
you the super? Yeah.
You the cops? Yeah, we're the cops.
Well, listen, man, I know we got to go.
But we've still got another few days in this place.
So if you don't mind, I got to keep trying to make rent money while I still can.
Yeah, well, we're not here about the eviction.
We're here to talk about Jimmy Philbrook.
I take it you don't want to sign - the sympathy card? - I'm sorry.
It's just that that guy pissed off a lot of people around here, myself included.
- How's that? - Because the Cragston Hotel is more than just a building, it's a community.
And we don't just live here, we create here.
Yeah, we can see that.
Yeah, well, Jimmy didn't.
Maybe it's because he lived across town, or maybe he just didn't care.
All I know is I did my best to make repairs and pass on the residents' complaints.
He did his best to ignore every bit of it.
Looks like someone finally got his attention.
Yeah, you think anyone here was angry enough to do more than just complain? Nah.
Anyone in here work with bows and arrows? A violin bow, maybe.
Like I said, we're artists.
We're not really the violent type.
Come on, come on Hey.
Any luck on figuring out what was used to strangle Jimmy Philbrook? Well, as a matter of fact, yes.
Based on these evenly-spaced ridges along the ligature marks and that tiny plastic sliver Sid tweezed out of them, I'd say it was definitely some type of zip tie.
Trouble is, I can't seem to find a local source for one in that bright orange color.
How about you? You get anywhere with those partial prints we got off the back of Philbrook's neck? Sadly, no hits in AFIS.
And there were no identifiable prints on the arrow, either.
- Well, is it some kinda special make? - Nope.
It's pretty much your typical aluminum shaft hunting arrow.
You can find it at any sporting goods store in New York.
But I did find something on the tip that's kinda funky.
Human, raccoon, and duck blood? Yeah, the human blood is a match to Philbrook.
But the blood from the other animals would suggest that our shooter used this arrow before.
But why switch from small game to humans? I don't know.
While I'm waiting for the CDC to call me back about the viral trace I found on the tree branch, thought I'd call the Parks Department, maybe see if they have any arrests for illegal hunting.
Yeah, might help us target our killer.
Hey Mac.
Hey, Christine.
Nice place.
Is it yours? Yeah.
Uh, I've been open about six months.
As you can see, it's standing room only.
Yeah, well, the restaurant business is a tough racket.
Well, I've been through worse.
Can I fix you something to eat? No, no, I-I can't stay.
I, uh just came by to give you this.
Oh, wow.
You shouldn't have, really.
Yeah, I know.
Uh, the thing is, I stole it from your brother.
Every time Stan and I made a collar we'd have all this paperwork to fill out.
And when we got back to the precinct, somehow, we'd never have enough pens.
When one guy would have one, the other guy would inevitably steal it.
So eventually Stan got wise.
And, uh, he was trying to quit smoking Stan was trying to quit smoking? Mm-hmm.
So he started to chew on this.
Needless to say, I never stole it again till after he was gone.
Stan always had a great sense of humor.
And great friends.
Thanks for that, Mac.
It's really nice to see you again.
Yeah, it's-it's nice to see you, too.
But, hey, duty calls.
Um, before you go, let me just give you this.
Shrimp Diavolo.
It's my specialty.
Someone else ordered it.
Are you sure? Yeah, please.
I have plenty of time to make another one.
Can I get you something to drink? Uh, yeah, coffee.
I got it.
Aw, thank you.
- Oh, that smells so good.
- Yeah.
Don't worry, I got two forks.
All right.
We're going to have to eat it on the run.
I just hung up with Lindsay.
According to prescription trace and epithelial DNA that she and Danny collected from lnwood Hill Park, whoever shot our second victim Jimmy Philbrook with that arrow, is suffering from H7N2.
Isn't that a strain of Avian Flu? Yes.
Most human contraction comes from handling infected dead birds or fluids.
It's not easily transmitted from person to person, but it can still be fatal.
Right, but the CDC tracks every reported case.
And right now there is exactly one case in the entire United States.
Nicholas Bristow? NYPD.
Bristow? Mr.
Bristow? We're here with the CDC.
We'd like a word with you.
I don't feel like talking right now.
A five-point buck? They actually have those in New York City? According to Fish & Game.
As the city moves outward, the deer move inward for food.
They've been sighted in Queens, Staten Island, and as we now know, in lnwood Hill.
From what we got from the hospital, Bristow had been illegally hunting small animals in various parts of Manhattan for years.
But he claimed he'd been tracking this particular deer for two weeks straight.
Said he finally had the perfect shot all lined up.
And just as he was about to let the arrow fly a fatal sneeze.
And Bristow had no idea what he'd done.
So that's it? It was an accident? It's just like Greg Barbera falling down the stairs.
Trouble is, like with Scott Perfito, we can't charge Nicholas Bristow with murder - until we know he's guilty of it.
- He wasn't.
The arrow didn't pierce any of Philbrook's major blood vessels.
I measured the amount of blood that soaked into his tracksuit from the wound and compared it to the blood still present in his body, postmortem.
The fact is, Jimmy Philbrook only lost around a liter of blood, which wouldn't have stopped his heart from beating.
But a crushed trachea would.
Because Mr.
Philbrook's windpipe had already been badly crushed by the time he was shot, the arrow only added insult to an already fatal injury.
It's my final ruling that his cause of death was asphyxiation due to tracheobronchial trauma.
So we're back to the zip tie.
And Flack just may have a lead.
When I told my guys to be on the lookout for bright orange zip ties, you can imagine some of the witty responses I got.
Then a couple hours ago, some beat cop calls me all excited.
I came down here to check it out for myself.
Apparently, it's the latest fad in public art.
Any idea who's responsible for all this? Yes, as a matter of fact.
An artist by the name of Patty Leonard.
All due respect to her zip tie cacti, what I find most interesting is the address on her permit.
Cragston Hotel.
The place where Philbrook was landlord.
And after being evicted, Miss Leonard was pretty upset.
Upset enough to kill Philbrook? Maybe.
But she's under five feet tall, hundred pounds soaking wet.
He would've flicked her off like a fly.
She did volunteer a set of her prints on the mobile scanner, though, and I sent 'em off to the lab.
Once you close these things, you gotta cut 'em open.
Once they're cut, they wouldn't be long enough to strangle someone.
Patty tell you where she keeps her unused stock? Yeah, back in her room at the hotel.
- Any roommates? - No.
And, again, that place has quite the open door policy.
Well, maybe someone helped themselves to a murder weapon.
Come on.
Don't you hate it when that happens? More than you know.
But we can definitely rule out our zip tie artist strangling the landlord.
Patty Leonard's prints don't match the partials Sid found on Jimmy Philbrook's neck.
Well, what if they aren't partials? It makes sense that they would be.
You know, it's hard to leave a full fingerprint during that kind of struggle, especially skin-on-skin.
It's true.
But look at this partial thumbprint right there.
I mean, it looks like there's pretty even contact everywhere but across the palmar surface.
Yeah, I see what you mean.
It could be a full print with some kinda void.
But caused by what? Tissue damage? Some kind of scarring? Because the Cragston Hotel is more than just a building.
And we don't just live here.
We create here.
Hey, Danny, How you doing, Toby? I want you to put that down nice and slowly, turn around, put your hands behind your back.
You're under arrest for the murder of Jimmy Philbrook.
Drop it! Back off! Drop it! Hey! I said drop it! Yeah, I've got somebody on it right now.
Jimmy Philbrook told me the Cragston Hotel was about to be condemned by Building and Safety.
- That sounds like the truth to me.
- Yeah, but he also said we didn't have to worry about it, that he had a contact on the inside who could make the whole problem go away.
- Oh, yeah? who? - Some guy named Doug, I think.
Yeah, Doug Kramer.
Anyway, I did what Jimmy asked me to-- I took up a collection from the residents, told them it was for repairs.
But it was really for a bribe.
Even put 500 bucks of my own into the pot.
I came up with $15,000 cash, and I gave every last dime of it to that lying son of a bitch! And so what, Philbrook didn't pay the bribe? Oh, he claimed he did.
He gave me some BS about hiring a messenger to pick up the cashier's check and get it to Building and Safety before some 11:00 hearing.
But then they slapped those notices on our front door, anyway, and the money is still nowhere to be found! So what can I tell you? It just pissed me off! I called Jimmy.
I told him we needed to talk, but he said he was going jogging in lnwood Hill and would have to call me back.
Can you believe that? We've all just been thrown out on the street, he's going out for a jog? Screw that! What'd you do with the money, Jimmy? I told you, I paid it! I don't believe you! You're trying to make me look like the bad guy! And I don't like how that feels! Do you? Huh? Do you like how that feels, Jimmy? You killed him.
He killed us! And none of it would have happened if he delivered what he promised.
That's it.
Okay, I hope y'all are taking notes.
First of all, I could not stop thinking about these two pieces of violet-flavored gum, because I couldn't wrap my head around how they wound up in Jimmy Philbrook's mouth and on Greg Barbera's satchel.
So I went back to the schedule from the courier service that Greg worked for, and it turns out that his first pickup of the day was across from a little diner in Chelsea right around the corner from the Cragston Hotel.
Who'd he pick up from? Jimmy Philbrook.
And guess what the diner has in a little dish next to the cash register? - Violet gum.
- Bingo.
But there was something else that kept bugging me, because Greg Barbera is a bike messenger, right? So why did he run from Scott Perfito? Where on earth was his bike? So I went back and looked at the NYPD surveillance footage one more time.
Look what I spotted about a hundred yards ahead of both of them.
- Guy on a bike.
- Yes, but not just any bike.
It matches the exact description supplied to us from the courier service that Greg worked for.
And look what's hanging from the handlebars.
A chain saw.
Could've been used to cut down the fallen tree outside of Scott Perfito's apartment.
Where Greg probably locked up his bike.
Greg's bike was stolen, so he had to run from Perfito on foot.
Which caused him to fall down the stairs.
And due to Greg's untimely death, he wasn't able to deliver this.
Doug Kramer-- that's the name of the Building and Safety official who was supposed to accept the bribe - from Jimmy Philbrook.
- For 15 grand.
But since he didn't get it, he ruled to condemn the Cragston Hotel at the B&S meeting.
Which we all know drove our super, into a murderous rage.
Do you like how that feels, Jimmy? He attacked Philbrook in the park, leaving him for dead.
Right, and then Philbrook wandered further into the woods right into the path of Nicholas Bristow's arrow.
That's the craziest thing I've ever heard-- but it actually makes sense.
One crime leads to another.
And another.
And another.
And another.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is known as the Ripple Effect.
Thanks, Alex.
Sid Jo.
Look-- I bought a piano.
Yeah, I can see that.
Well, I took your advice and decided to celebrate.
Well, that's great.
But, um why did you have them deliver it here? Well I guess it was a little impulsive, but there's no way it'll fit into my eighth-floor apartment.
I guess I'll just have to get a new one of those, too.
Yeah, I guess so.
- Can I ask you something else, though? - Sure.
Do you even play the piano? Not really.
Well, then scoot over.
Uh - Okay.
- Okay.