NCIS s15e06 Episode Script

Trapped

1 (honking) MAN: Well, I felt bad about coming home late.
So I decided to set the table.
Well, that's very nice of you.
One would think.
But she got all freaked out because I used paper towels instead of napkins.
Same thing.
Thank you.
Yeah.
So I say to her, “You go get your flippin' napkins.
And while you're up, get me another beer”" (chuckles): Yeah.
Uh-huh.
What'd you really say? “Sorry, dear”" (both laugh) Oh.
Will you look at this? Hello? Where's the groundskeeper? Wha (scoffs) There there we go.
(grunts) Hey, what are you doing? I am following the rules of golf.
You play the ball where the ball lies.
Come on, Hank.
What am I supposed to do here? Hey, a bet is a bet.
Okay.
Fine.
Whoa, J-J Hey, Joe, whoa, whoa, come on.
Be careful.
This hole's worth three bucks.
Yeah.
(engine starts) What are you (clattering, buzzing) Oh, great.
I think you broke it.
What the hell? Bet's off.
NCIS 15x06 Trapped (indistinct conversations) - Hi.
- Hi, Nick.
Good morning, Nick.
How are you on this fine day? Can I just say you look great.
Well, I don't feel great.
Long night.
You know what helps me shake off the cobwebs in the morning? What? A brisk five-mile walk.
Better pick-me-up than caffeine.
Oh, yeah.
You're here for that thing, right? If by “that thing,” you're talking about Inclusion Town, a charity that builds playgrounds for kids with disabilities, then yes, you're right on the nose.
(sharp inhale) Okay, well, here's the thing, man-- I don't think I have any cash.
Way ahead of you, Nick.
Now we can donate electronically.
Hey, hey, don't touch that.
I already took the liberty of logging onto the online portal.
You're just a few clicks away from changing lives.
Wh Uh, what about Bishop? Donated.
And McGee? Donated.
Reeves.
Donated.
I gave a few quid, mate.
It's for the kids.
All right, all right.
How do I do this? Look, all you have to do-- enter your credit card info and the amount.
Bing, bang, boom.
And thank you.
How much is a few quid? 40 U.
S.
dollars.
We all gave the same.
GIBBS: Gear up, Torres.
Dead petty officer at Quantico.
On my way.
- Torres! Come on.
-Coming, coming, coming, hold on.
Done.
Coming.
REEVES: Yeah, I'll hold.
Aw, come on.
Hey.
What do we have? Our victim is Navy Petty Officer Second Class Jake Miller.
Stationed here in Quantico.
He, uh, died playing golf? He was working.
He was a part-time groundskeeper here to supplement his Navy income.
Ooh.
Death by lawn mower.
No thank you.
Palmer.
What do we have? I don't think the lawn mower killed him.
Why? There's not enough blood.
I think he was already dead when the mower ran him over.
TORRES: Who ran him over? JOE: We didn't know he was under there when we started the mower.
We? Why'd you start the mower? Hey, you could have chipped it out.
Come on.
That could have cost me the hole.
You would've never made the hole.
You know what, if you just I'd give it to you.
want the three dollars for me, - Okay, gentlemen You'd be lucky if you triple-bogeyed.
Gentlemen! Did you see anyone else on the course? No, no.
We're the dew-sweepers.
The dew-sweepers-- the first tee time in the morning.
Yeah, it's just us and the groundskeepers.
MAN: It's 7:48 a.
m.
I'm in the cart barn, and my phone won't stop ringing.
It's Joe and Hank, freaking out.
We didn't touch the body.
Miller have enemies? He's too shy to make enemies.
Or friends.
Great employee, though.
Showed up, did his work, went to his job on the base.
What time did he show up? 4:00 a.
m.
, like, every morning.
I have his timecard.
Palmer, TOD? Based on the core temperature, I'd say closer to 4:00 a.
m.
than 7:48.
You want me to get this mower out of your way? Not yet, thank you.
Any idea how much longer you guys will be here? Nope.
McGEE: Hey, boss? What'd you find, Tim? We're gonna need an evidence box.
Hey! You messed up my bunker.
This is a golf course, you know.
Well, right now it's a crime scene.
But what should I tell all my golfers? Tell them that for today, it's a 17-hole course.
Agent Gibbs.
What brings you down here today? You called me.
Yeah, specifically to tell you that I wasn't ready yet.
Oh.
What do you got? (laughs) Uh Well, I sent his clothes up to Abby for testing, and now I'm just collecting sediment from around the body, in case there's a foreign hair or fiber mixed in.
That there on his cheek, that's just a birthmark, but there's some major bruising here on the neck.
No lawnmower did that.
Yeah, I would tend to agree.
What about that? That that is a catastrophic fracture of the second cervical vertebra.
Broken neck.
No blade marks on his head.
Yet another sign that he was dead before he was mulched.
I'll know more after the autopsy.
I need to get this up to Abby.
Did someone say “Abby”? Hey, Abby.
GIBBS: Hey, Abbs.
Oh, Gibbs, Gibbs.
Good, you're there.
I have to show you something.
Okay, this is Petty Officer Miller's work shirt.
This is the front of Petty Officer Miller's work shirt.
And this is a very large Bloodstain.
Yes.
But it's not his blood.
Whose is it? Could be a second victim.
Could be his killer.
(printer whirring) TORRES: Hey.
- Oh, thank you.
- Motorcycle photos.
It's a Supermoto.
It's a dirt bike with street tires.
Is it yours? It will be.
I'm getting a good deal on it.
Hmm.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Hey.
I guess I can do that later.
Hey, you get anything? Miller's cell phone records.
Six of his last incoming calls were from a company called Southeast Sand and Turf.
About what? Well, they supply landscaping products to golf courses.
Could just be work calls.
Surveillance video from the golf course parking lot.
Now, between 3:30 and 7:00 this morning, nine vehicles entered, but only one left.
4:21 a.
m.
It's a red 1995 Ford Aspire.
Now, we can't see the driver's face, but we enhanced the plate.
Belongs to an 86-year-old woman, who reported it stolen yesterday.
Get a BOLO out.
BOLO.
Already got it.
I spoke to his C.
O.
Said Miller was a 4-0 sailor.
Kept to himself, few friends, clean record.
That matches what the golf course superintendent told us.
McGee, Torres, check out Miller's apartment.
- Reeves? - Nothing! What are you doing? Just checking on my mates.
Go with Bishop.
Landscaping company.
She'll fill you in.
(spooky music and sound effects playing) (knock on door) Good, you're here.
Where else would I be? Oh.
Hey.
Hey.
The infamous Abby Sciuto.
Italian.
Finally.
Jack Sloane.
I know.
I mean, hello.
Hi.
I heard you're the welcome wagon around here.
I stopped by a few times, but I keep missing you, so Well, that's weird, 'cause I'm always here.
Wow, cool stuff.
Um, don't you usually go to the coffee cart around this time? Usually.
I mean, not that I've been tracking you or anything.
It was just, you know, a really good guess.
I'm headed over to the cart now.
Would you like to join me? Oh, no, no.
I, uh I get my caffeine through other means.
Oh, yeah, I heard about this.
What's it called? Caf-POW! Who told you that? Why are you studying me? Oh, I'm sorry.
I get it now, you think I'm here to profile you.
You you don't know what I think.
You betcha I don't.
I don't read minds, and I don't profile in my spare time.
That would be exhausting.
Not as exhausting as trying to avoid you all the time.
(chuckles) I'm sorry.
Oh And you really get around.
Not that you're tracking me or anything, or profiling? Wait, is that what I'm doing? Profiling the profiler? (computer beeps) Saved by the bell.
ABBY: We got a match.
A lawnmower case.
Okay, so I've matched the blood from the rake to the blood on Petty Officer Miller's shirt.
The blood that wasn't Miller's.
I get around, remember? Looks like Miller was trying to use the rake to defend himself, unsuccessfully.
So whoever the killer is is walking around with a really nasty rake wound.
And will need a doctor.
(indistinct voices outside) (dog barking) Wow, just the basics.
I like this guy.
He worked two jobs.
Wonder what he spent his money on.
Uh, McGee? TORRES: Miller was into something weird.
McGEE: This is not weird.
This is a ham shack.
Huh? What is that, code for something? No.
No.
Ham radio.
Social media before there was social media.
One-to-one conversations to hams all over the world.
Huh.
I take you do this? I used to.
Yeah.
My, uh, my dad taught me.
I used to have a friend named Mark in Copenhagen.
Know what his handle was? Hmm? Dane Mark.
Oh.
Yeah.
We used to talk for hours.
When I was a kid, my dad used to sneak me into the cockfights.
Okay.
Oh.
What do we got here? Miller's call log.
List of all his regular contacts.
Some of them might know something.
(door opens) (dogs barking) Federal agents.
Ah! Uh Who are you? I'm-I'm just the dog walker.
Please, please don't shoot.
NCIS special agents Torres and McGee.
(dogs barking) Sorry, they're just scared.
You came at us with guns.
You could kill someone like that.
Um, excuse me.
Uh, Benji? Down.
Benji.
That's enough.
I don't know what's gotten into him.
He's usually not like that.
I'm sorry, I'll just, uh, put Spinks back and then I'll go.
Wait, hold on.
What's your name? Rhonda.
Uh, Rhonda Collins.
Rhonda.
Rhonda Collins.
She's Rhonda Collins.
Rhonda, you think you could look after Spinks for a few days? Sure.
Um, is Jake all right? Four phone calls, from here? BISHOP: Yep.
From your company's line to Petty Officer Miller's cell phone.
We handle a lot of orders.
That name doesn't ring a bell.
Your company sold four dozen bags of bunker sand to Medal of Honor Golf Course yesterday.
Miller was the groundskeeper who signed off on it.
Okay, so that's it.
What's it? That explains the calls, right? Is that a question or an answer? I don't know what you're getting at.
Why don't you ask him? Well, he's dead.
(radio crackles, man speaks Spanish) (speaks Spanish) (phone ringing) This is Bishop.
Rough day? Like every day.
You own this company? Got it from my no-good ex-husband in the divorce.
He got the cabin in Colorado.
Does that sound fair? Listen, I'm sorry about your petty officer.
I wish I could help.
(phone ringing) Excuse me.
(Evelyn shouts in Spanish) Thank you.
Got a hit on the suspect's car.
Gibbs is meeting us there.
Cool.
(power tool whirring) (elevator chimes) All right.
The antenna's hooked up on the roof.
Did you connect the receiver? Your dork machine is ready for action.
(chuckles) Well, make fun all you want, Torres, but I'll tell you what, ham radio is a lifeline in times of crisis.
Did you know that after 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina, ham radio was the only way emergency responders could communicate? Wow.
It got less dorky.
This is A45J04 calling CQ, CQ, CQ.
This is Alpha 45 Juliet Zero Four calling CQ, CQ, CQ.
And we're back at full dork.
You really think we're gonna get something out of this? Miller spent hours on this radio every night, and he recorded each comm in his logbook, so, hoping someone out there in radioland knows something.
MAN (over radio): Roger, A45J04.
I hear you five and nine.
How was work, Jaybird? “Jaybird”? Well, everyone on the radio has a handle.
(laughs softly) What's yours? Uh, hear you loud and clear.
What are your call letters? Over.
Slim Tim.
Tiny Tim.
I'm close, huh? (radio crackling) Can you identify yourself? Over.
If you must know, I was The Timinator.
This is Ricochet.
Who is this? Let's see.
Ricochet Miller talked to him for over an hour last night.
It's his final transmission.
Uh, Ricochet, this is NCIS special agent Tim McGee.
Can you give me your legal name and location? Jaybird is dead, isn't he? Why would you say that? Last time we talked, he said he was involved in something dangerous.
Did he say what? Ricochet? Well, we have ourselves a lead.
(horn honking, dog barking in distance) Bishop? I I-I don't know.
The-the BOLO said the car was at this location.
There's no 1995 red Fords here.
Where's the LEO who called it in? (tires screeching) Deputy Allen Smedley.
I'm dialing him now.
(siren wailing) (car door opens) (phone ringing) Special Agent Bishop.
BISHOP: Uh, yep.
That-that's me, and that was me on your phone.
Sorry.
I, uh I had an 803 in progress.
Where is the suspect's vehicle? It's damn it.
I had eyes on it.
It was parked right there 20 minutes ago.
But you left? Darling, I got a whole town to patrol, and I can't be in two places at once.
I'm sorry.
Uh, what's an 803? Stolen shopping cart.
Y-You have a code for that? Well, it happens a lot here.
Excuse me.
(car door opens) BISHOP: All right.
We're 46 miles away from the crime scene.
Our suspect laid low all morning, and then drove an hour to this dumpy strip mall? Why? Gibbs? (phones ringing, indistinct chatter) (cat mewing, dogs barking) (door closes) Uh, what are we doing? Abby said our suspect would need to see a doctor.
Yeah, but an animal doctor? We're all animals, Reeves.
DR.
CHO: Apply the salve twice a day, and it should heal quickly.
In the meantime, Wiggles will have to wear the cone.
Thank you, Doctor.
Sassafras? Dr.
Cho? You'll have to make an appointment.
NCIS.
There someplace we can talk? A human? Are you serious? Yes.
Guys, I'm a vet.
Not an answer.
No.
A-Absolutely not.
Not only is it forbidden, I don't have the proper equipment.
You don't mind if we take a look around, do you? I do mind.
I've got a patient waiting.
Please, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.
(sighs) Come on.
What are you looking for? GIBBS: We'll know it when we see it.
Don't you need a search warrant or something? For the garbage? Be careful.
There's sharps in there.
BISHOP: Oh, yeah.
I noticed.
Two broken rake tines? What a load of bollocks.
What? Cut the crap, Doc.
Please.
I can't say anything.
He'll kill me.
What is it? Rap sheet.
Unauthorized practice on a human.
You have done this before.
Please.
I could lose my license forever.
Oh, you're gonna lose more than that.
One time-- one time-- I helped out a guy with a bullet in his leg.
Said he couldn't go to the hospital.
I didn't ask questions, and he paid well.
GIBBS: Word gets around.
I knew they weren't all Mother Teresa, but the money was good.
When I got caught, my license was suspended, so I never did it again.
Until today.
I had no choice.
A guy walked in bleeding.
What guy? Some guy.
(stammers) I'd never seen him before.
I I told him I don't work on people anymore, but then he threatened to kill me.
What was I supposed to do? Call the police.
DR.
CHO: I-I made a mistake, I get it.
But the guy was gonna bleed out, for God's sake.
I saved his life.
GIBBS: He took someone else's.
You saved the life of a killer.
I didn't know.
I-I want to cooperate.
But I don't have security cameras, and it's not like I got his name and number.
Was he wearing gloves? Actually, yeah.
How did you know? So he wouldn't leave fingerprints.
You're gonna sit with our sketch artist.
Stick to spaying cats.
It's safer.
So.
So? What do you think? Well, I got to say, you get results.
(laughs softly) What's that supposed to mean? That you're really good at what you do.
Are you analyzing him or me? Believe me, you don't want me to analyze you.
(chuckles) So, this isn't our killer's first rodeo, but you already know that.
Yeah.
I do, but I like to hear it out loud.
Well, he stole a car so he couldn't be traced, which makes him smart.
He knew about the rogue veterinarian, which makes him connected.
And he covered his tracks, which is cunning.
This ain't some two-bit thug who just got in a fight.
This was premeditated.
Why'd he kill Miller? That's the missing piece of the puzzle.
Motive.
You'll find it.
We'll find it.
With your help.
Jack.
(elevator chimes) Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Hey.
You are a wonderful human being, and I love you.
Okay, what are we doing here? What you did for those kids? Amazing.
Oh, the donation.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Every little bit helps.
Oh, come on.
Generous and humble? (laughs) Okay.
Safe space, Jimmy.
Okay.
Just promise me that you're gonna come to the grand opening of the new playground on Saturday.
Will you let me go if I say yes? Yes.
Okay, yes.
Yes.
Yes.
What the hell was that? That's what generosity looks like.
How much did you give? 50 bucks.
You had to one-up us, did you? Aw.
Do you want a hug, too? GIBBS: Hug on your own time.
- No, Gibbs.
- No, no-- what happened Update on our killer? The vet said we're looking for a bald, beefy Latino with a beard like Bluto.
Yeah, Bishop and Dr.
Cho are with the sketch artist now.
We should have an image soon.
Where's McGee? He is playing with his new toy.
McGEE: This is Alpha 45 Julia 04 calling CQ, CQ, CQ, seeking Ricochet.
I repeat, seeking Ricochet.
BOY (over radio): Roger, A45J04.
Is this The Timinator? Over.
It is.
Who is this? This is Cody B from Kid Club 17.
Please stay off this frequency.
Thank you.
(signal disconnects) Ooh, not going so good, huh? Special Agent Sloane, thanks for coming down.
Glad to help.
Looks like you need it.
Hey, breathe.
(inhales) (inhales) Yeah, good.
I needed that.
I'm frustrated.
I'm hitting a brick wall trying to find our victim's friend on the radio.
Goes by “Ricochet.
” I think he knows something.
And if you can't find him, what's plan “B”? It's a technique called “direction finding.
” You use radio waves to zero in on a location.
There's a way to block the signal, but I'm hoping Ricochet doesn't know how.
Assume he does.
Well, then we've got plan “C,” which is comb through a master list of all the ham radio licenses within an 80-mile radius of the D.
C.
area.
632 names, one by one.
Why 80 miles? Well, that's the range of the victim's antenna.
Uh-huh.
I know it's kind of weird, all this equipment just to talk to people you can, you know, talk to in real life.
(chuckles) No, I-I know a little bit about it.
Hams are a unique breed.
For some, it's their only conduit to society.
Yeah, that's sort of why I asked if you could come down.
I recorded myself with Ricochet yesterday.
You think I could play it for you? Yeah, sure.
Great.
(computer beeps) RICOCHET (over computer): This is Ricochet.
Who is this? McGEE (over computer): Uh, Ricochet, this is NCIS Special Agent Tim McGee.
Can you give me your legal name and location? What are your call letters? Over.
RICOCHET: Jaybird is dead, isn't he? McGEE: Why would you say that? RICOCHET: Last time we talked, he said he was involved in something dangerous.
That's it.
I know it's not much, but No, no, no, wait.
Hold, please.
I got it.
He's 45, chubby, and lives with his mother.
You can tell all that? No, I'm kidding.
I can't.
I wish profiling were that easy.
Hey, is there a way I can get into Petty Officer Miller's apartment? It's still our crime scene.
Why, what are you looking for? I don't know yet.
FEMALE VOICE (over phone): Press seven now.
I already pushed seven.
Here's me pushing it again.
WOMAN: Press one to repeat the options.
No.
Representative.
I'm sorry, I didn't get that.
Rep-re-sen-ta-tive! I'm sorry, I didn't Ugh! Can I help you? Yeah, the bagel place denied my credit card for $1.
75.
Why? I don't know.
I can't seem to get ahold of my credit card company.
You don't carry at least $2.
00 in cash? Let's just focus on the problem here-- I don't have a bagel.
So, here's something.
I just found out Special Agent Sloane used to be in the army.
Really? You're checking up on her? No.
Yes.
Not just the army.
PsyOps.
Psychological Operations.
They conduct psychological warfare.
We we know what it is, Clay.
You don't think that's weird? That you're secretly investigating her? Yeah, it is.
I have questions.
You have questions, Nick? I do.
I wonder who she roots for in the Army-Navy game.
(entry bell chimes) Talk to me.
I can say for certain that Petty Officer Miller died of a broken neck.
You got anything new? I do.
When I examined Miller's lungs, they exhibited pulmonary edema, a sign he'd been deprived of oxygen before he died.
Choked.
Exactly.
I can imagine it's easier to break someone's neck if they're unconscious first.
It is.
Oh, uh, Gibbs, before you leave, I told Abby I would call her when you got here.
Hey, Abby.
Jimmy.
Do you have Gibbs with you? GIBBS: Yeah.
Abbs, I'm right here.
Good.
Okay, so I found something weird with Petty Officer Miller-- cocaine.
That's not so weird.
Weird is where I found it.
It was on his clothes, in his hair.
It was even in his shoes.
- In his blood? - No.
His system was totally clean.
It's like he-he rolled around in a giant pile of it.
I've never done cocaine before, but I think he was doing it wrong.
Oh, no.
No, no, no, no, no, no.
My credit card's over the limit.
Ooh.
Motorcycle? No, I didn't even buy it yet.
Huh.
Scroll down.
Uh, well, there's your problem.
A $5,000 charge to Inclusion Town? Wow.
That's Jimmy's charity, but that's not right, 'cause I only gave 50 bucks.
Did you remember the decimal point? The what? Did you type in 50-point-zero-zero, or five-zero-zero-zero? Oh, my God.
Are you telling me I donated five grand to Jimmy's charity? Ha, what a guy, Torres.
Update.
Well, Miller and cocaine don't connect.
By all accounts, he was a Boy Scout.
And I checked with his bank.
He had less than $2,000 in savings.
And why work two jobs if you're a drug dealer? It's a good cover.
Criminal mastermind selling coke on the radio? Mm, too risky.
Frequencies are open lines.
Anyone can listen in.
I went back to his apartment.
No drugs, no paraphernalia, but what I did find was Agent Sloane snooping around.
Bagging evidence.
- The sketch of our suspect from the vet? - Done.
Torres has it.
Uh, yeah, right here.
No ID on the guy, but Abby's running facial recognition.
Who is that, Ricochet? Uh don't know yet, McGee's still looking for him.
(radio static) Okay, I'm done looking.
(sighs) I have tried every trick I know, and he blocks me at every turn.
You win, Ricochet.
How many people signed your yearbook? I really don't feel like reminiscing right now.
That's not where I was going with you, sorry.
I found Miller's high school yearbook at the apartment.
Come take a look at this.
McGEE: Only three signatures.
King of an unpopular kid.
More than unpopular.
Almost invisible.
Think about Miller, okay? Quiet, shy As a quartermaster in the navy and a groundskeeper on the golf course, he worked alone.
And he took anxiety medication, probably just to get through the day.
And don't forget about the birthmark.
The one on his face? I barely noticed that.
Don't dismiss it.
When you're a child and different, kids can be cruel.
Some people never get over it.
The radio was his salvation.
He could let his guard down, become a different person.
He was confident, gregarious, anonymous.
He got to use his best asset-- his voice.
Listen to his outgoing message.
MILLER'S VOICE (enthusiastic): Hello, hello! You've reached Jake “Jaybird” Miller of A45J04.
Leave a message, and until then, see you on the radio.
Wow.
Same guy, different person.
Exactly.
Wait a minute.
Jake used the name Jaybird on the radio.
My handle was The Timinator.
Awesome, I know.
Now, what if Ricochet is a play on his real name? Same but different? Ah SLOANE: Rick O.
Shea.
Let's see, Virginia address.
Four miles from Petty Officer Miller's.
- Nice work.
- Wanna come? You betcha.
There he is.
Get over here.
Let's save the hugs.
What's the matter? (clears throat) Okay, um it's your charity.
I'm sorry, there's been a big mistake.
I over-donated.
Oh.
I-I was gonna maybe say something, but I thought maybe you'd been inspired.
Yeah, nobody's ever that inspired.
It's okay.
It's okay.
Uh, how much of the 5,000 do you want back? $4,950.
Mm-hmm.
Oh, come on, Jimmy, don't make this more awkward than it already is, man.
No, no, I mean, I-I should have said something.
It's-it's fine.
Uh five grand is a lot of money.
Yeah, it's a lot of money.
I mean, enough to buy a Supermoto.
Mm.
Hey, I just I've been saving for a year.
Yeah.
It's just an honest mistake, man.
Yeah.
You're right.
You're right.
Hey, Jimmy I-I should do it in person.
(knocking) (dog barking) RICOCHET: Who is it? Mr.
Shea? NCIS Special Agent Tim McGee.
We spoke on the radio yesterday.
(dog barking) Sir, it's vital that we talk to you.
RICOCHET: I've got to put some clothes on.
There's a reason why stereotypes exist, McGee.
Yeah, well, this guy has no driver's license, no home phone, no cell phone, no reportable income since 2007.
So I think this guy's gonna be exactly who you picture when you think of ham radio weirdo.
Got it.
Bet you he doesn't open the door? Hmm.
Well Oh.
I was wrong.
RICOCHET: You so stipulate that all words and actions will be recorded and uploaded live onto a secure server.
- No problem.
- Understood.
And any illegal search and seizure will be documented and recorded.
We're just gonna ask you a few questions.
“No person shall be held to answer “for a capital or otherwise infamous crime.
” Mr.
Shea, you don't need to recite the Fifth Amendment.
“unless on a presentment of an indictment of a grand jury.
” Ricochet.
Hey, buddy, listen.
Yeah.
It's okay, all right? Yeah.
I know it's scary to have federal agents in your house.
Yes.
Everything's okay.
(dog barking) All right, is your dog okay? He's just very curious.
Um, I don't get many visitors.
Are either of you allergic? No.
It's very kind of you to ask.
Thank you.
I love dogs.
Yeah.
Could I meet him? Yes.
Great.
(quietly): I'm really not that into dogs.
Here, Benji.
McGEE: Benji? I know this dog.
I met him yesterday at Petty Officer Miller's house.
We use the same dog walker.
He was jumping out of his skin to get to me.
Now he seems just fine.
He did that to you, too? Yeah.
Who else did he do that to? Jaybird.
Petty Officer Miller.
Yeah, it's the strangest thing.
He's, uh, usually very well-behaved.
Wait, is that what you and Miller were talking about on the radio the night before he was killed? Yeah.
Where did you get Benji? I adopted him after he retired from the TSA.
A canine agent? A drug dog.
McGEE: Ricochet? I'm gonna need to borrow Benji.
Um It'll be okay.
(barking) Hey, boss, you know that pile of cocaine Abby was talking about? I found it.
So, this sediment was taken directly from the bunker.
Looks like just plain old sand, right? Wrong.
Mixed in is pure-grade cocaine.
And you're gonna help me separate it out.
Hmm.
With colanders? Actually, it's a sieve.
“Colanders drain, and sieves strain”" HGTV.
(clears throat) ABBY: Okay.
Well, Martha Stewart, you're gonna end up with the final product.
All we have to do is progressively strain out finer and finer particles.
BISHOP: It's basic separation science.
Well, I don't know.
Turning sand into cocaine seems more like magic to me.
ABBY: I mean, there's more sophisticated ways to separate out cocaine, but this will do the job.
All right, Bishop.
Shake your money maker.
McGEE: I have seen Abby extract trace amounts of mercury from nanometer-sized cerium oxide particles, so this should be easy.
I'll bet Delilah can't keep her hands off you when she hears you talk like that.
Actually Oh, come on.
Mm, it's like I'm prospecting for gold.
TORRES: Yeah.
White gold.
Enough to kill for.
We got our motive.
(computer beeping) And we've got our suspect.
I ran facial recognition on all the employees for the golf club's landscaping company.
(typing) That's our match.
His name is Ramon Moncada.
He's a delivery guy at the Southeast Sand and Turf.
Same place that kept calling Miller the day before he died.
Pick him up.
McGee and Torres are out looking for him now.
Next cell call he makes, they got him.
Where's he get his coke? Well, we think it's being smuggled in from Mexico.
Southeast Sand and Turf get their sand from a quarry outside of Nogales, so it's not hard to imagine someone lacing the sand with coke, shipping it across the border to Southeast's warehouse, where it's separated and sold.
Oh.
But somebody screwed up.
Yeah.
Seems a bag of coke sand ended up on Miller's golf course instead of the street.
Which is probably why Moncada kept calling Miller.
He needed his drugs back.
But then, Ricochet's drug-sniffing dog clued Miller in to what was going on.
That dog did the same thing to McGee.
Miller became The Man Who Knew Too Much and Moncada took him out.
(phone ringing) Yeah, Torres? Bring him in.
We got our guy.
He's at a bus station, with a one-way ticket to Toronto.
Hmm.
Headed far away from Mexico.
(camera shutter clicking) TORRES: So you're saying this is not you, Moncada? McGEE: We've got you dead to rights for the murder.
Your blood is on the victim's shirt, and the teeth of the rake he used to defend himself.
The veterinarian that stitched you up made a positive ID.
That's your rap sheet.
You haven't been a very good boy.
And with murder and drug smuggling, well, that's gonna be a short trial.
Hey.
Do yourself a favor.
Cooperate.
You tell us who else is involved, we might be able to make that 25 years to life a little more comfortable.
If I talk, they'll kill me.
Who are “they”? I won't be safe anywhere.
Especially in prison.
I assume you're talking Mexican cartel? He's definitely not management.
He's probably just a worker and muscle for when they need it.
Well, he's right about one thing.
If he does talk, he won't last long in prison.
RAMON: You can't protect me.
Mm.
La jefa.
Evelyn Gomez.
She's the owner of Southeast Sand and Turf.
She takes orders from someone in Mexico she calls El Gato.
That's all I know.
He'll send somebody to kill us.
She'll never talk.
She's as scared of this El Gato guy as he is.
So we use that fear against her.
Ah.
Why just settle for the little fish? (Spanish hip-hop song playing) TORRES: Hola, Evelyn.
Gato? Because you were careless.
Now you have to pay the price.
Please.
Please don't kill me.
Give me another chance.
Ooh, I don't give those.
Only El Gato can do that.
(crying) Call him.
Beg for your life.
(beeping) (phone ringing) EL GATO: Yes? It's Evelyn.
(crying) Pineapple.
Oh, NCIS.
You're under arrest.
(gasps) We got El Gato's number.
I'll trace the location.
(handcuffs clicking) Butterfly? Oh, come on, Gibbs, you can do better than that.
Big moth? That's better.
Need a level? No, thanks.
What? Crooked.
It's close enough.
I'm hanging a picture, not building a boat in my basement.
Your office.
One that I hope to finish moving into soon.
Ah, red.
We tracked El Gato.
Suarez Cartel.
DEA's got him now.
Ah.
So we nailed a killer and shut down a major cocaine pipeline.
Not a bad couple of days, Gibbs.
You worked well with the team.
Most of them.
Ladybug.
You're really not very good at this, are you? (children clamoring) BOY: Whoa! (laughter) It's okay.
That's a good one.
That was good.
That was an excellent slide.
I'll see you later.
Go that way.
Hey, Nick.
Hey, uh, I want you to meet the founder, Catherine Scott.
It is so great to meet you, Nick.
Oh, you, too.
Well, this place is it's incredible.
CATHERINE: Thank you.
We do our best.
Yeah, that was my first reaction, too.
I never knew that kids with disabilities never got to actually play at your typical playground.
And here, they can just be kids.
CATHERINE: Uh, so, Nick.
Jimmy said that you wanted to talk to me about your donation.
Oh, I I do? JIMMY: Yeah.
About the mix-up? You know, with the amount, and your credit card.
CATHERINE: Oh.
Oh.
If there was a mistake, don't worry.
We can refund your credit card right away.
Um, no mistake, no.
We're good.
(gasps) Okay.
No dirt bike? Next year.
All right.
The-the hugging thing, really (laughs)