CSI: Crime Scene Investigation (2000–2015): Season 10, Episode 17 - Irradiator - full transcript

Try "extrapolate."

You want to do me another favor?

Uh-uh.

Get Rocket to stop barking?

It's your turn to bring him in.

Hmm.

I bet he's harassing

that poor little possum again.

Lisa!

Lisa!

What the hell is wrong with you?



Now you're really in trouble.

Lisa!

As soon as I saw their dog,
I knew something was wrong.

Then I saw the door open and Ms.
Layman inside.

You touch anything?

No, sir. I just called 911.

No shell casings.

None here either.

Weapon was probably a revolver.

Wife hears the commotion,
comes out...

She struggles with the killer.

He drops her.

Lisa, honey, what's wrong?!

Got a partial shoe impression.



Generic worker boot.

Roughly 10 to 13.

We'll put a broadcast
out on the daughter.

That's about all we can do for now.

Yeah, that's the one thing

I hate most about this job.

Daddy! Daddy!

There's a wallet and a purse

in the master bedroom,

both filled with cash and cards,

so this wasn't a home
invasion robbery.

And looks like they
came for Gracie.

Mm-hmm.

Tom Layman was a pit
boss at the Palermo.

Lisa was working here
at home as a freelance

technical writer.

They were a regular
middle-class family,

not typical targets

for kidnappers.

I don't see any blood.

There's a crawl trail here.

See that? Green fluorescence--

urine.

Gracie. Gracie, it's okay.

My name's Nick.
I'm with the police department.

You're safe now.

Come here, honey.

Oh, baby, it's all right.

Come here. It's okay.

Aw.

It's okay.

Oh...

I got you, honey.

It's okay.

I got you.

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* 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! *

Hey, Sara, I found
some fresh tool marks

on the windowsill.

Looks like somebody jimmied it.

Well, the shooter definitely
me in through the back door.

But maybe he did a
little recon fir.

In L.A., the Manson family

used to do "creepy crawls."

They would break into a house
while the people were asleep

and sneak around inside.

Knowing they had the power

to end people's lives like that

must have been a real
turn-on for them.

Got a print.

Mandy got a hit off that print

on the windowsill.

The gardener?

He's just going to say he left it

when he was working
around the house.

Yeah, well, I'm more interested

in what the little girl has to say.

Child witness--

that's not a lot to
hang your hat on.

We got anything else?

Just some metallic trace
in the killer's bootprint

and on the wife's robe.

All right.

I'll let you know
how it goes. Later.

Hey, Gracie.

You remember me?

Yeah?

Can I sit here with you?

I've got some good news for you.

Your Aunt Maggie's flying
in from Boston to see you.

She's going to be here real soon.

But hey, listen, I'm stuck,

and I need some help.

It's very important.
You want to help me?

Hmm? Okay.

You know who he is?

He's our gardener.

Is he the guy you saw last night?

Daddy!

It was really dark, and...

I really couldn't see anything.

I'm sorry.

Hey, don't be scared, honey.

You're safe now.

Nobody's going to get you.

You can tell me: Is this the guy

who hurt your parents?

It was him, right?

I'm glad you're feeling better.

So maybe I leaned
against the window

while trimming the bushes. So what?

So you're a convicted felon,
that's what.

So you got a record, right?

B&E, assault, grand larceny.

The gang unit tells me

you were a member of the L.V.
Marrones back in the day.

They also tell me three weeks ago,

you were hanging at Jackson and K.

That's where the
Marrones deal heroin.

But you know that anyway, right?

I'm not on probation anymore. Yeah.

Every once in a while I go
by the old neighborhood,

say hi to the homies.

Sure, I understand.

You want to go by the clubhouse,

kick it, chill, drink some 40s,

smoke some herb, watch football...

and plan some
robberies and murders.

I don't run with those guys,
and I didn't touch the Laymans.

I got a wife and a kid,

and I've been doing it
straight for nine years.

You guys just don't
lay off a guy's ass,

just hoping he's gonna screw up.

What's your shoe size?

Why?

Because I asked you. That's why.

Eleven.

Eleven.

You said the magic word.
Give me your shoes.

Now you want to give
them to me or you want me

to get some professional in
here to take them off you?

Look, I was never in that house.

Are you sure about that, homes?

Are you absolutely sure

about that?

Because if I toss
your place and I find

one eensy-bitsy piece of swag

from the Laymans...

Okay, fine.

I snuck in that window...

not last night, last week.

I looked inside,
and I saw their kid playing

with a brand-new video game box.

The old one was just
sitting there on the shelf.

So I waited till they went out,

I went inside,

And I took it.

I make $60 a day pulling
weeds and shoveling dog crap.

How do you think it feels?

I can't even afford to
buy my kid one game.

I didn't kill anyone, I swear.

Gardener's boots had
the same tread pattern

as the crime scene impression,

but there was no
characteristic match.

And apparently,
they're negative for blood.

There was no metallic
trace on them either.

Any luck in Ballistics?

Well, the bullets we
recovered were all .22s

fired from the same gun.

Nothing in IBIS,
so no real luck at all.

Luck is where opportunity
meets preparation.

The metallic dust
was a titanium alloy

consisting of 4%
vanadium and 6% aluminum.

That's an odd material
to find in a garden.

Definitely. Titanium is
widely used in aerospace

and high-end tooling.

Based on the particle size

and uniformity, my guess is,
they came from a machine shop.

Titanium dust on the
killer's boots and hands?

Maybe we're looking for
an industrial worker?

You know, if there was dust
on the inside of the house...

Thought you guys
checked this house.

Twice. Both times, nobody home.

I got a blood smear.

It's unlocked.

Vegas Police!

Call for backup.

Control. Akers.

Two additional units
backup at my location.

Copy, Akers, 105.

.22s.

Nick!

LVPD tell 8 News Now
that they want a

to talk to retired machinist
Jack Herson.

Herson, in his 50s,
is a person of interest

in the violent home invasion
that shattered the calm

in that normally quiet
neighborhood.

Well, I'm pretty darn
sure he hated that dog.

Furry bastard was always
tearing up flower beds,

chasing cats, barking at all hours.

Enough to drive anybody to murder.

Jack Herson owns a 12-shot .
22-caliber revolver

with the same GRCs as
the murder bullets.

Any sign of the gun?

Hasn't turned up.

After what he did, he'd probably

be keeping that with him.

We anywhere on his contacts?

His Internet service
provider gave us access

to all of his accounts.

There are hundreds of e-mails,
hundreds of phone numbers.

The few with the same
last names are relatives,

and we know they're
are all back east.

As for his friends...

it's gonna take a while to round up

even the local ones.

Hey.

Hey. I just got off
the phone with Brass.

We're not gonna find Herson
by trapping his plastic.

According to his
credit card company,

he's been maxed out for months.

Great.

So, at this point,
we seem to be dealing

with a nice, retired machinist

who suddenly goes
on a killing spree

because he's behind on his bills.

Well, one day,
the wrong synapse fires,

and a dam bursts.

No one can truly know what goes on

inside another man's mind.

No.

Nick, come take a look at this.

I'm assuming that's not
just another machine part.

It's a surgical tool.

According to the witness,

it was a straight-up hit-and-run.

Started as a fender-bender.

One driver got out pissed;

the pickup ran him over and split.

When the responding officer
called in the tags,

it came up as Herson.

Injured driver's in stable
condition at Desert Palm.

Ah, he was lucky.

South Turkson at Blue
Diamond three hours ago.

Where was Herson going?

These are pieces of a
prototype stereotactic frame.

It's what a machinist makes

in order to ensure his design works

before he mills a real one.

Out of titanium, I'm guessing.

Yeah.

What's it for?

Neurosurgery.

The surgeon locks it onto
the patient's skull,

and then uses the
calibration marks

to precisely position instruments

for operating on the brain.

You think Jack
Herson is Dr. Jekyll.

Why would a methodical
killer like Jekyll

suddenly go ballistic and
kill his next-door neighbor?

Maybe the Laymans saw something.

Figured out what Herson
was doing down here.

Jekyll's killed a witness
out of panic before.

To perform surgery,
you... you need a operating table,

don't you, Doctor?

That's a lot of blood.

All right. I'll see
what I can find out.

Hey. Nick and Dr. Ray

are finishing up at
the Herson place.

I figured I might be
able to help out here.

Highway Patrol just
found Herson's car

overheated and abandoned off the 160,
outside of Pahrump.

Any idea who...

I take it you're playing a hunch?

Uh-huh.

What is the mascot for Pahrump
Nye County High School?

Uh, the bulldog.

I thought so.

Herson knows a woman
in West Pahrump.

The residence is number 28128...

I can't see the street.

Well, there can't be too
many houses in that district

with that number.

No, there can't.

WOMAN Those men outside,

they're going to hurt you

if you don't do what they say.

You-you've always been a good boy,
Jackie, and I...

I know that whatever you did,
you-you must have had a reason.

Mr. Herson, we've got
the place surrounded.

You know there's no
way you can escape.

Why don't you pick up the
phone and talk to us?

Stupid dog. I understand.

Stupid dog!

Sir, the house belongs
to Nell Porter,

a retired schoolteacher
and Herson's aunt.

Yeah. There's something
wrong with that guy.

Barking! Barking!

No kidding, sir. No, no.

I mean his behavior. Look at that.

He just kept barking and
barking and barking.

Hold on a second.

What is it?

The radiator plug's missing. So?

So, if you turned on the heat,

you'd flood the whole place.

Somewhat imprecise for
a precision machinist.

Hang on to that.

Fresh tool marks.

This has been
wrenched off recently.

Hang on a sec.

The last time Jekyll killed,

he took a souvenir from
the victim's house.

And he left...

Oh, please put the gun down!

Oh, please put the gun down,
Jackie.

There's something wrong
with my head.

Mr. Herson, please.

Why don't you let
your aunt come on out?

Go, go, go, go. We have a go.

Move! Move it!

Gita.

11:32.

Go! Let's go!

It's a passage

from the Bhagavad Gita.

Let me see the hands.
Get the hands up, sir!

The words that went through
Robert Oppenheimer's mind

after he witnessed

the first atomic bomb test.

Stop moving now!

"Now I am become Death,

the Destroyer of Worlds."

Herson isn't Jekyll.

No.

He's another victim.

ky his first operation

on an already dead
street performer

by inserting a laparoscope
into the corpse

and tying his intestines

into a bow around his spleen.

However, his second victim
was very much alive

when Jekyll sewed a
septic appendix

to his ascending colon.

In both cases,

Jekyll gave his victim
something and then took

a similar souvenir.

Joey Bigelow got a
bow-tied intestine,

and then Jekyll took
his actual bow tie.

And Bernard Higgins received
an extra appendix

in exchange for a word from the
appendix of his book.

And now it appears

that Dr. Jekyll has taken
Jack Herson's radiator plug.

Mm-hmm.

But in exchange for what?

What do you know?

Oh...

He's wearing a rug.

Oh.

Human hair hand-tied
to a fine lace front

to hide the hair line.

Quality carpet.

He's got stitches.

They look fresh.

They are.

What is that?

It's super-bright.

May be a bullet.

Give me another view.

I can't even see any edges.

And the image isn't moving at all.

Could it be radiating energy?

Radiator.

It's radioactive.

Looks like Dr.
Jekyll drilled a hole

in the top of Herson's skull,

inserted a hollow needle between
the brain hemispheres

and into the septum pellucidum,

and then shoved radioactive
material in

like peas through a straw.

They're radiation seeds.

Don't worry. It's a
lead-infused acrylic.

Yeah, I've heard of these.

They're used to treat cancer.

Herson didn't have cancer. No.

The radiation severely
damaged the area of the brain

that's involved with mood changes,

sexual gratification and rage.

In the 1950s,

researchers induced
similar lesions in rats.

It produced "septal rage.
" These creatures

would attack each other savagely
with the slightest provocation.

Are we saying that Herson isn't
responsible for his murders?

No. But he might not have been
aware of what he was doing.

I'll bet he didn't even
realize he'd been operated on.

Jekyll's anesthetic
of choice is ketamine.

Herson would've come to
with his rug back in place,

disoriented, and unable to
remember what happened.

According to his medical records,
he called his HMO,

complaining of severe headaches.

They said that they couldn't

schedule an appointment
until next week.

He threw a tantrum.

They said that he sounded drunk.

Maybe the dog barking was
the final straw.

I'm sorry.

And not killing Gracie

was the last shred of
humanity he could muster.

Three weeks ago,

Jack Herson made a
cash deposit of $5,000.

The very next day,

he drew up plans for
the stereotactic unit

and placed an order

for medical-grade titanium.

So, Jekyll gives Herson the money

to build the device, and then,
when it's finished,

he turns around and
uses it on its maker?

I've seen my share of sickos,
but this is severely twisted.

Dr. Jekyll is a classic sadist.

He designs his operations

so his victims suffer slow,
agonizing deaths.

Well, we have Herson's
contacts and emails.

I know it's brute force,
but if we can figure out

where or how Herson and Jekyll
could have crossed paths,

it could lead us to him.

This is Jekyll's third time at bat.

He doesn't seem to be
getting any sloppier.

Well, he did leave these.

Why did I just receive 17 pages

of federal forms to fill
out with your name on it?

Have you ever tried to locate

a high-purity germanium
gamma ray detector at 4:00

on a Friday in Las Vegas?

No.

I assumed you wanted the
analysis as quickly as possible,

and I'm happy to tell
you that the implants

showed gamma spikes
characteristic of iridium 192.

Iridium 192?

That's used in high dose
rate cancer therapy.

It also has half-life of 73.
827 days,

which means that a simple
decay rate calculation

can accurately determine
when it was manufactured.

I take it you've performed
this calculation?

Of course.

But there's more...

This gamma signature

indicates that the pellet
also contained gold.

The only commercially
available iridium pellets

with gold substrates
are from Nosumi BioMed,

which manufactured these seeds
13 days ago for delivery

to Saint Sebastian's Hospital,
in care of a Dr. William Burke.

I'll tell you what he says.

Well done, David Hodges.

And, uh, you can tell
Homeland Security

that the quantity of
radioactive material in this

is infinitesimal and
poses no threat.

Oh, you can tell them.

Hang on a second. No.

If-if the radiation
source is infinitesimal,

why are you wearing
three lead aprons?

Despite my aversion to children,

sperm count.

Gentlemen, it,
uh... seems you're correct.

We received 40 iridium seeds
from the manufacturer last week.

My physicist just

counted them in the
storage room, and...

we are ten short.

Do you know what happened
to them? Not yet,

but I promise you we will.
It's possible

it's a clerical error.
It's also possible

someone stole them.

What for?

You can't make a dirty
bomb out of them,

and they won't get you high.

Have we met?

No, I don't believe we have.

Why are a homicide detective

and a CSI investigating

a discrepancy in our inventory?

Your iridium seeds
were used by a killer.

A person with sophisticated
surgical skills.

Sounds like a modern-day
Jack the Ripper.

The perpetrator's
not a simple cutter.

Two days ago,
he used a custom-built

stereotactic device
to insert your pellets

into a man's septum.

The ensuing brain
damage caused the victim

to kill three people
before he died himself.

You're kidding.

No, I'm not.

Dr. Burke,

we're gonna need a detailed account

of your whereabouts in
the last several days.

Mostly here.

Am I a suspect?

We're just following
our leads, Doc.

Actually, we're trying
to rule you out.

Right.

My secretary can give
you that information.

If you'll excuse me,

I have a patient
with prostate cancer.

I have to tell him that

his surgery has been delayed.

I got it.

Raymond Langston-
you wrote that book

about the Angel of Death
at Delaware General.

Oh, yeah!

You'd love it if I was the killer.

Then you could write a sequel

about another psychopathic
doctor murdering his patients,

and use it as an excuse to indict

the entire medical
establishment again.

Well, obviously, you didn't
read very clearly or carefully.

I was examining my own
failures in the book.

Interesting how your
soul-searching managed to imply

that everyone else was incompetent.

You took one rogue surgeon

and vilified an entire profession.

I saw their mistakes
in the morgue, Doctor.

I wrote what I saw.

I don't suffer the illusion
that all surgeons walk on water.

You know, Ray,
I think were not needed here.

I think we're all done.

Thanks for your time,
Doctor. Mm-hmm.

Let's go.

Uh, you sound a little envious.

Why is that?

Because you didn't
have what it takes

to cut into a living,
breathing human being

and try and save their lives?

Being a pathologist is easier.

Your patients are already dead.

It's kind of like being a CSI,

I guess, right?

You're perfect for the job.

Aah!

Now you've got a problem.

So, the good doctor saw the light,

and he's agreed not to
press charges for assault.

I convinced him that a
very public investigation

into how he lost potentially
dangerous radioactive material

may impact negatively on
his insurance liability,

both for him and his hospital.

So he calmed down and...

actually became kind of reasonable.

So I said we'll chalk
it up to an accident.

It was an accident, right?

Yeah. Look, Ray, I mean,
I've known you long enough

to know that you don't
like to get any advice,

but I'm gonna give you
some anyway, okay?

You know, if this song-and-dance
here that you did was

because you're frustrated
about the Jekyll killer,

I understand that. I get it.

But if it has to do
with something...

from the past, some old,
unfinished business,

something from way back when...

I suggest you drop it,

'cause it's not working for you.

That's all I'm gonna say.

SECURITY DIRECTOR: All of the restricted
areas in the hospital have keypad locks.

To gain access,
I assume all your people

have to enter their
personal code. Exactly.

Our system tracks
every time and place

one of those codes is used.

Now, these surveillance
photos were taken at the door

to the nuclear
medicine storage room.

That's where we keep
those radioactive seeds.

Mm-hmm. And these are
the people who entered

during the time period
the seeds went missing?

SECURITY DIRECTOR: Mm-hmm.

Hmm.

Huh, what is it?

This man used

Dr. Davis's I.D. code.
Only one problem:

Dr. Davis is a five-foot-two

African-American woman,
and she's in Hawaii.

Has that code been used anywhere
else in the hospital since then?

Uh, searching.

It was used four minutes ago.

Where? A surgical supply
locker on the fifth floor.

Get on the phone, lock down
the building. Lock it down!

Hey, what's going on?

Dr. Jekyll's here-- fifth floor.

Control, this is Charlie 03 Stokes.

I need four units containment,
Saint Sebastian Hospital.

You sure he's in the building?

Yeah, he was in a lab
coat and a surgical mask.

So are half of the people in here.

You go east; I'll go west.

Yeah.

Excuse me.

Everyone, I'm a crime scene
investigator with the Vegas PD.

I need everyone to remove
their masks for me, please.

Are you out of your mind?
This is a sterile area!

And I'm in pursuit
of a murder suspect.

Take it off.

Take if off! That goes for

the rest of you, too. Get them off.

Identify each other.

We're all here.

There's nobody that shouldn't be.

What the hell is your problem?

Hey, straight ahead.

Marcie, call security!

Hold it right there!

Hold it right there! I'm a CSI.

* *

Did you see a doctor
come through here?

Anyone?

A doctor?

A man dressed...

as a doctor?

A man in a white coat
with a doctor's mask

come through here?

A man dressed like a doctor!

Has he come through?
Which way did he go?

Nick, Jekyll just

went through the kitchen.

I'm on my way.

Where's the kitchen?

Back there.

* *

* *

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