CSI: Crime Scene Investigation (2000–2015): Season 10, Episode 19 - World's End - full transcript
While investigating the death of a high school white supremacist, the team unexpectedly stumbles on a fugitive Rwandan war criminal.
♪ What good is sitting
alone in your room ♪
♪ Come hear the music play ♪
♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ Come to the cabaret ♪
♪ Put down the knitting,
the book and the broom ♪
♪ Time for a holiday ♪
♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ Come to the cabaret ♪
♪ Come taste the wine ♪
♪ Come hear the band ♪
♪ Come blow the horn,
start celebrating ♪
♪ Right this way,
your table's waiting ♪
♪ What good's permitting
some prophet of doom ♪
♪ To wipe every smile away? ♪
♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ Come to the cabaret... ♪
Hey. You kids are
never going to believe
what's going on outside.
Man, this town
floods at the drop of a hat.
Water's almost up
to the street.
We're lucky he got
tangled up in the bars.
Kid could be spilled out
in the desert by now.
Yeah, but we could
still lose him
if the water starts to drop.
Cuff his wrist to the gate.
I'll go down below
when it's safe
and get him out of there.
Good call.
Hey, Catherine.
Didn't expect to see
you out here.
You like the rain?
I was in the area.
He was obviously trying
to claw his way out.
Any I.D.?
No, no I.D., but I can't exactly
check his pockets right now.
This is technically
off school property,
but he looks young enough
to be a student.
We're still trying to contact
the principal now.
Phil Anderson.
He's certainly had
his hands full this semester.
Oh, yeah, that's right,
Lindsey goes
to school here, doesn't she?
Yeah, she had a late rehearsal.
Actually, I was here
to pick her up.
Hey.
Lindsey, honey.
Are you okay?
Do you know that boy?
Yeah. It's Sean Becker.
He goes to school here.
Was he a friend?
No.
Look, Mom, I know
this is going to sound bad,
but...
he's not going to be missed.
♪ 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! ♪
I think I've bumped
into every piece of dog poop
and used condom in
the city of Las Vegas.
Aw, David, suck it up.
There he is.
Yep, he's dead.
David, you think
you have a hard job?
Well, Officer, I am the one who
has to haul him out of here.
Unlock the cuffs.
Got it.
Okay, get under his pit.
Gently.
Gently.
All right.
Got him?
Good. Okay.
The only way to get
something as big a body
into the drain system is through
an access point on the line.
This is the first one upstream.
It looks like there's
a service platform down there.
Mm-hmm.
Feeling lucky?
Well, it is Vegas.
After you.
You know, the city's got
like 350 miles of storm drain
running under it.
I've heard there's probably
a thousand homeless
living down here.
High ground spots like this
must be prime real estate.
This is the same
design that kid had
tattooed on his hand.
Maybe this was his hangout.
It's close to the school.
Good place to catch
a buzz between classes.
Could have been huffing out
the storm
and puffing up a storm.
Passed out and rolled
into the drink.
Yeah, that's possible.
You know, this spot's
beginning to look
more like a Klan house
than a clubhouse.
Numerous perimortem abrasions.
Small puncture wounds.
All consistent with tumbling
through debris filled water.
That...
is a white supremacist tattoo.
Knuckles thickened,
discolored.
This boy was no stranger
to using his fists.
Dr. Langston, I think
you should take a look.
There's no writing on the back,
and nothing to indicate
who or where...
at least, not as far
as I can tell.
A racist carrying a picture
of two young black girls.
Could be targets.
Assuming they're not
already victims.
So Lindsey has
told me a little bit
about Sean Becker.
What can you tell me?
Same crap, different iteration.
Abusive father... used to disappear
for long periods of time.
Until he finally came
out of the closet,
left Sean's mother
for another man.
The mother was
already unstable,
so the father's departure just knocked
her into a psychiatric institution.
That kid was filled with hate.
Blacks, Jews, gays.
Well, I'm going to need
his disciplinary files,
and I'll need to talk
to his friends.
That would be Daryl Johnson
and Karl Hart.
But good luck finding them.
I suspended them both
when I kicked Sean out.
Well, just give me
their info...
we'll find them.
Oh, man.
Billy Tinker... that's
the boy that was killed
in the hit-and-run
two months ago.
The gay student.
There isn't a kid in this school
who thinks his death
was a accident.
Half of them think Sean did it.
Do you?
You're the cop, you tell me.
As far as I know,
it's still an open case.
Well...
After Billy was killed,
a bunch of students formed
a gay and lesbian
defense league.
Fights broke out
all over the place.
So I organized Tolerance Week
to help defuse things.
Sean and his pals
always seemed to be
around the action, so...
Just one more thing.
Do you recognizehese girls?
They're not students here.
I've never seen them before.
Okay, let me
get this straight...
you'd rather do the legwork
on a next-of-kin notification...
you'd rather do that than slog
around in the sewer
looking for evidence?
I mean, that-that is not
the down and dirty Sara Sidle
I used to know.
I like to know
where haters come from.
Maybe you'll get your chance.
May I help you?
Can I get you some tea?
No, thank you.
No, no, no, thank you.
Um, so you're Sean Becker's
guardian, is that right?
Yes, it is.
Mrs. Becker, please sit down.
Sit down.
I have some bad news.
Sean's dead.
His body was found in a storm
drain near the high school.
I'm sorry to tell you this.
Oh, no.
Oh, my God.
We're sorry foKyour loss.
Ma'am...
we need to take a look
around Sean's room.
Would that be okay with you?
Oh, of course, of course.
It's...
it's the first room
on the right.
When Sean comes back,
I'm sure he'll be happy
to show you around.
Now, now, now, Mrs. Becker...
you understand what
I'm telling you, right?
You know?
Sean's not coming back.
He's... he's dead.
He's, uh...
he's with Jesus.
He's with Jesus.
Oh.
How did that happen?
That's what we're
here to find out.
Well, then, we'll just have
to wait for Sean to get back.
He'll certainly be able
to shed some light
on... on, um...
Uh...
It's okay.
It's okay.
Can I get you some tea?
That'd be great.
The grandmother's
non compos mentis.
She has
serious short-term memory loss.
Probably Alzheimer's.
I called up Social Services.
They're coming out here
to do an evaluation.
What do you got?
Well, it's not at all
what I expected.
Heidegger, Nietzsche.
Seems like he was whip smart.
And fascinated with killing.
The mural that the guys found
in the storm drain,
it's definitely this kid's work.
Well, Hitler started
as a painter, too.
Bones fractured
and never properly reset.
This young man's body was
a road map
of violence inflicted
and meted out.
Live fast, die you, and
leave a not-so-good-looking corpse.
Prelim tox is in.
Sean Becker was clean.
If he was into drugs,
he wasn't high the
night he drowned.
He didn't drown.
No foam cone, perinasal sinuses
are negative for water.
Then what killed him?
I knew you would ask that.
Take a look.
One of the exterior puncture
wounds extended into the lung.
The size of the clot suggests
roughly two liters
of blood loss.
That's definitely
the C.O.D.
Wound is cylindrical,
roughly three inches deep
and about an eighth
of an inch wide.
X marks the spot.
My guess would be
Phillips-head screwdriver?
Mine, too.
A racist gets stabbed
before he can drown.
A lot of people would call
that justice.
We still have to call it murder.
Didn't you say were going
to keep checking
these access points
until we found something?
Till we found
something useful, yeah.
Well, I think this qualifies.
Same color fibers
as the vic's jacket.
I think this might
be the dump site.
My turn, right?
Yeah, your turn.
Okay.
Well, what do you know?
Langston said we might be
looking for one of these.
Killer must have dropped
it in with the body.
Kid washes downstream,
weapon sinks and gets caught up.
I think we got lucky here,
buddy.
Yeah, kinda.
That thing's been sitting in
rushing storm water.
We'll be lucky if we get DNA
or prints.
Ah, I'm an optimist.
♪ ♪
That's quite a road map.
It's a lot violence
for such a short life.
Some people turn
depression,
self-mutilation, suicide.
Sean Becker tended
to turn his outward.
Now, based on
the bruise coloration,
the most recently sustained
injuries,
before the night of the murder,
are these: displaced knee,
torso and facial bruising
approximately three days
earlier.
The high school sent us
his disciplinary files.
Something stood out.
Hmm, fight at school three days
ago with another student:
Ian Wentworth.
So you think what started there
ended with a screwdriver
to Sean Becker's lung?
Catherine's at the school now.
♪ The sun on the meadow
is summery warm ♪
♪ The stag in the forest
runs free ♪
♪ But gather together
to breed the storm ♪
♪ Tomorrow belongs to me ♪
♪ The branch of the linden
is leafy and green ♪
♪ The Rhine gives its gold
to the sea ♪
♪ But somewhere
a glory awaits unseen ♪
♪ Tomorrow belongs to me. ♪
No, no, no, stop!
This is a play
about the last days
before the end of the world!
The song is a romantic dream
of a pure and orderly future
purged of the filth
and decadence
represented by the cabaret life.
It is a song sung
by beautiful children
who will soon turn
into monsters,
leaving corpses spread
across the length
and breadth of Europe!
Next time you're going to do it
like you got genocide
on your minds.
Take five.
Ben?
Catherine, nice to see you.
Lindsey, your,
uh, mother's here.
Oh, actually, I'm here
in an official capacity.
I need to see Ian Wentworth.
It's about Sean Becker.
Why am I not surprised?
I'll get him.
Mom, what's going on?
Ian couldn't have
had anything to do
with Sean's death.
Linds...
I know Ian.
Are you giving me information
or your opinion?
This is business.
Stay out of it.
Fine.
Three days ago, you got
into a fight with Sean Becker.
What happened?
It wasn't much of a fight.
Okay.
I'm sure he was there
planning some kind of mayhem
to ruin the play:
Tomatoes or hand grenades.
With someone like that,
who knows?
I just wanted
to put him on notice.
What are you doing here?
Nothing.
Just checking out the play.
Yeah, right.
Get the hell out of my way.
What are you looking for, fear?
Like what you saw
in Billy Tinker
when you got him
in your headlights?
Screw you!
You like bashing gays?!
Well, I fight back!
In other words, you started it.
Sean threw the first punch.
I defended myself
in a way I'm sure he thought
I couldn't.
I... I'm not gonna lie
to you, Miss Willows.
I'm glad he's dead.
It's like someone
finally gave him
the lifetime achievement award
he so richly deserved.
But I didn't kill him.
I was in dress rehearsal that
night with about 50 other people
who'll swear to it...
including Lindsey.
A common
Phillips-head screwdriver
with a cracked wooden handle.
Available at over a hundred
hardware stores in town.
It's consistent with the
shape of the wound.
Yeah, but unfortunately,
we didn't recover
any blood or prints off of it.
I swabbed for epithelials.
We're still waiting for DNA.
Take a look at these bruises
on his torso and his face.
They're more
than three days old.
Yellowish brown.
That's seven-
to ten-days old.
Maybe they were
from the same altercation.
That's what I'm thinking.
This fracture of the ulna
would have hurt like hell.
You'd think he would have
at least gone to an ER,
had it checked out.
There's nothing in
his medical records.
There's nothing
in the school file.
Someone did this to him.
Phil?
Hey, Catherine.
What are you doing here?
Just something I realized
I probably should have
mentioned before.
What's on your mind, Phil?
Well, uh...
I guess this is
what it feels like
when I call someone
into my office.
Phil, this is a homicide
investigation.
If you know something...
Uh... someone roughed up
the school janitor last week.
He came in one morning
bruised and limping.
Did he say it was Sean Becker?
I asked him.
He wouldn't say,
but I...
I knew it in my gut.
Sean and his crew
had been on a real tear.
Why didn't this janitor
file a police report?
Laurent Senyabou's
a very private man.
He didn't want to invite
any more trouble.
Lord knows, he's seen enough
of it to last several lifetimes.
Excuse me.
Laurent Senyabou?
Ye-yes?
I'm Detective Jim Brass,
Las Vegas Police.
I'd like to ask you
some questions about
the alleged assault last week.
Please, I'd rather not.
You seem nervous.
Are you okay?
Where I come from,
the government and the police
are not forces with which
one wishes to get involved.
Please, I am okay.
Now if you don't mind, I have
a lot of work to finish.
No, no, wait, wait, wait, wait.
Laurent, look, in this country,
the police protect
their citizens.
So I can't do my job
unless you help me.
Did Sean Becker assault you?
No.
You don't understand.
When I heard about his death,
it saddened me.
Well, that's a first.
So far, you're the only one.
It is true. Sean was there
when I was attacked.
Oh, no!
But he was not the one
who attacked me.
S'up, homie?
How you doing, huh?!
Oh, come on, you little monkey.
Hey, hey, hey.
Come on, boy.
Sean Becker was
a stone-cold racist
with a history of violence.
I mean, why would
a kid like that
put himself
on the line for you?
We had become friends.
That's a tough one
for me to understand, you know.
It's no secret I
survived the genocide
in my home country of Rwanda.
An event as meaningless
to most students here
as... Latin is to a bush hog.
But one day,
Sean showed up at my door.
Hey.
What do you want?
I want to know more.
About what?
You.
Your life.
I admit,
he frightened me at first.
He had a reputation for cruelty.
But I soon realized Sean Becker
was a truly
intelligent young man.
He could see that the future
which awaited him
would be bleak
unless he learned to contain
the anger which consumed him.
So I told him about
what I had experienced.
In my town of Gitambo,
the entire village
took refuge in a church
because we knew the next
morning we would be killed.
So we sent an envoy with
a letter to our priest,
begging him to intercede
with the authorities,
to spare our lives.
The envoy returned
with the letter, stating only,
"Get your spiritual affairs
in order.
God wants
you to die."
What did you do?
We prayed and awaited the end.
Why didn't you pick up a knife
or a club and strike back?
We had no weapons...
Then you should have gouged out
their eyes with your fingers!
You should have ripped out
their throats with your teeth.
It would've made no difference.
I told him about
how hatred begets only hatred,
and that, in the end,
all one is left with
is loss, diminishment
and death.
The next morning,
the Hutu militia
tossed grenades
into the church.
Those who could fled outside,
but only to be hacked with
machetes and left to die slowly.
Some, myself included,
slipped into a
forest and escaped.
But I never saw my family again.
He came around often
after that, always in secret.
And we discussed many things.
Is that a picture
of you and your family?
You know, God works
in mysterious ways,
Detective Brass.
In Rwanda,
he took everything from me.
But in my new country,
he granted me a new family.
Do you recognize them?
They were my sisters.
This is Eliane.
She was studying
to become a nurse.
And this is Grace, the baby.
Silly girl.
She was always laughing
for reasons
known only to herself.
I think perhaps
he had fallen a bit
in love with them.
He asked me if he could
copy the photo.
I didn't see why not.
Do you think Sean's friends knew
about your friendship with him?
I don't know.
But if so, it would have been
very dangerous for Sean.
The big dumb one's
Daryl Johnson.
Little dumb one's Karl Hart.
They look wasted.
Found them huffing spray paint,
Green Valley Park,
with the girl.
Well, my guys are waiting
in the rooms for them.
Let's go, big boy.
Okay. You don't have to talk
if you don't want to.
But if you're smart,
you will write down everything
that happened that night.
In your own words.
So at least we have
your side of the story.
You want a layer?
It says "lawyer," dude.
Don't you know how to read?
So I hear that gold
gives you the best buzz.
Is that right?
Yeah, nothing but
the best for us, bro.
So why don't you tell me
about the altercation that you
and Karl and Sean
Becker got into
with the school
janitor last week.
Oh, right.
That.
Uh... Sean and Karl,
they were gonna kick this, um,
uh...
African-American dude's ass.
But then I stepped in
and said, you know,
"Seeing as this is
Tolerance Week and all,
why don't we try a little
tolerance for a change?"
You know?
"Try and see things from the
point of view of the brother."
Right?
But they just kept on
wailing on him.
So, I mean...
The janitor says that you were
the one that attacked him.
Those banana-eaters
can't tell white people apart.
I'm gonna kick his ass
when I get out of here.
Well, you're not going
anywhere just yet, tough guy.
When I cut your friends a deal
and they flip on you,
which they will,
you're gonna find
yourself locked up
in the county jail for assault.
But you know what,
I'm gonna do you a favor,
since you like to
whup so much ass.
I'm gonna have
the warden put you in
with some African-Americans
so that they can give you
an up-close and personal
lesson on race relations.
I saw you there that night
outside the storm drain, Molly.
If you know anything about
what happened to Sean,
you need to tell me.
I killed Sean.
What do you mean?
Sean had been acting
weird lately.
He was pulling away from me,
disappearing a lot.
I thought he was cheating on me.
So I followed him.
Ten years ago,
in the small East African
country of Rwanda,
800,000 people were slaughtered
by their own government.
Virtually the entire world
turned away.
It was so weird.
He was being so secretive.
So I followed him again
the next day.
And it got even weirder.
That janitor was,
like, touching him.
I had this just sick feeling
that Sean was, like, getting
it on with the colored guy.
I told Daryl and Karl,
and they didn't believe me.
So they decided to test
Sean's loyalty.
What's going on, little man?
How you doing, huh?!
Hey, hey, hey.
Let's blow, man.
This guy ain't worth it.
Hey, chillax, bro.
We're just trying
to have a good time,
all right? Aren't we?
Hey, hey.
I said cut it out, bro.
This guy mops the floors,
cleans the toilets.
He's one Negro
who knows his place.
Let's go.
Don't think, Daryl!
It's not your gift!
You just do
what I tell you to do!
Daryl called Sean
a race traitor.
He said he was gonna kill him.
The only thing we
have on Karl and/or Daryl
is Molly's statement.
But then she eventually told me
that she didn't actually
witness the murder.
Well, even if the two dummies
ended up killing
Sean in retribution,
we're not getting
anything out of them.
They both "layered up."
Well, they all had access
to the storm drain
where the body was found.
And no surprise,
the murder weapon
came back negative
for epithelials.
So much for optimism.
I do believe
that the body evidence
corroborates
the janitor's statement.
Sean was protecting him.
The facial bruising
is consistent
with Daryl's blow
to Sean's mouth.
The ulnar fracture is
a classic defensive wound.
Sean warding off
Daryl's attack.
Sounds like Sean was really
trying to change his life.
Probably what got him killed.
It's always easier
to, uh, embrace hatred
than it is to leave it behind.
And we still don't have
a shred of evidence
to prove who killed him.
Those files are confidential,
Lindsey; you know that.
You're lucky your mother
didn't catch you.
I know. Sorry.
Something wrong?
Not really.
Not really what?
It's just...
it seems like Sean had
a really rough life.
I was thinking I could've been
a little nicer to him.
A couple days ago,
he tried to talk to me.
Hey, Lindsey.
Your mom is, like, a cop
or a CSI or something
like that, right?
So?
I was just curious.
Um, how exactly
does one go about
accessing fingerprint databases?
Why? You want to know
if you're already in the system?
Why would Sean be interested
in fingerprints?
He was hitting on me.
Obviously.
I think he even had
a little crush on me.
♪ ♪
Matthew Babajide.
Born in 1968.
Believed to have risen
to a position of leadership
in the Hutu Power Movement.
Wanted for
crimes against humanity
related to the 1994
Rwanda genocide.
Fugitive since 1995.
Whereabouts unknown.
Until now.
In the spring of 1994,
800,000 Rwandans were murdered
by their neighbors and friends.
4,000 of those souls lived
in a village called Gitambo.
When the killing was over,
only 22 of them had survived.
Laurent Senyabou
does not exist.
His real name is
Matthew Babajide.
He was not only a participant,
but one of the chief architects
of the massacre at Gitambo.
This is from testimony given
to the Rwandan Commission
on High Crimes.
"Babajide threw the first
grenades into the church,
"and for the next three days,
his machete
"and those of his men
rose and fell
"with monotonous regularity.
"He performed his task in a way
"that would prolong
the suffering of his victims.
"At night, his men would
play music on the radio
"and drink themselves
into a stupor,
"as hyenas emboldened
by the smell of blood
"wandered into the village
"and ate the flesh
not only of the dead,
but also of the dying."
Captain Brass.
I need you to come
to the station with me...
Mr. Babajide.
Wait a minute,
that's-that's not his name.
You have the wrong man.
Daddy...
Laurent, tell him.
Daddy!
Stay with your mother.
Daddy!
Papa will be back, yeah?
Daddy!
Shh.
If that's true, Matthew Babajide
has killed more people
than all the murderers
this team has ever brought
to justice combined.
We notified
the State Department,
which coordinates with
the International War Crimes
Tribunal in the Hague.
They confirm
Babajide's identity,
and they're arranging
for extradition.
It'd be nice if we could add
Sean Becker to his tally.
You like him for it?
Yes.
Yes, just speculation for now,
but we believe
that Sean Becker
inadvertently discovered
the janitor's true identity.
Sean couldn't be
certain it was him,
so he tried to prove it
by lifting
one of Laurent's fingerprints.
Unfortunately, he had no way
of running the print.
He decides to confront Laurent
nonetheless,
assuming that the truth
will reveal itself
based on the reaction.
And Laurent stabs Sean
with a screwdriver in a panic
to protect his secret.
In other words,
we've got the murder weapon.
We just can't put it
in his hands.
You stabbed Sean Becker
with a screwdriver.
So what happened,
you get in a fight?
Sean found out who you really
were and confronted you?
You lied to me.
Preach peace?
You're entire life is a lie.
You're no better
than anybody else.
Sean, what are you
talking about?
You think that is me?
What about them?
Huh?
Did you simply kill them too,
or did you rape them first?
Sean...
How about I take
these to the cops?
We'll see what's true
and what's not.
That's not what happened.
What, he didn't find out
who you were?
No. I-I-I mean...
Yes.
But I never meant to hurt him.
It was an accident.
That's really semantics.
You threw his body
in a storm drain,
and Sean Becker was probably
still alive when you did it.
Who are they?
I have no idea.
I knew when I fled Rwanda
to create my new future,
I would have to create
a new past as well.
I found the photo
in a pile of bones
picked clean by scavengers,
bleached in the sun.
Sean was going
to track them down, wasn't he?
For you... his friend.
Out of love.
For once in his life
to do something good.
For the past 15 years,
I've tried to make amends
for what I've done.
I never expected
God to forgive me,
but I thought, if I could
save this one boy,
this one soul,
I could save a part
of myself as well.
I never meant to hurt him.
You're just a
criminal on the run.
So what's it to you
to kill another kid?
Oh, I tell you...
lucky is the man
who never has to confront
what he is truly capable of.
♪ What good is sitting alone
in your room ♪
♪ Come hear the music play ♪
♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ Come to the cabaret ♪
♪ Put down the knitting,
the book and the broom ♪
♪ Time for a holiday ♪
♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ Come to the cabaret ♪
♪ And as for me, as for me ♪
♪ I made my mind up
back in Chelsea ♪
♪ When I go,
I'm going like Elsie ♪
♪ Start by admitting
from cradle to tomb ♪
♪ Isn't that long a stay ♪
♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ Only an cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ And I love a cabaret! ♪
alone in your room ♪
♪ Come hear the music play ♪
♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ Come to the cabaret ♪
♪ Put down the knitting,
the book and the broom ♪
♪ Time for a holiday ♪
♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ Come to the cabaret ♪
♪ Come taste the wine ♪
♪ Come hear the band ♪
♪ Come blow the horn,
start celebrating ♪
♪ Right this way,
your table's waiting ♪
♪ What good's permitting
some prophet of doom ♪
♪ To wipe every smile away? ♪
♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ Come to the cabaret... ♪
Hey. You kids are
never going to believe
what's going on outside.
Man, this town
floods at the drop of a hat.
Water's almost up
to the street.
We're lucky he got
tangled up in the bars.
Kid could be spilled out
in the desert by now.
Yeah, but we could
still lose him
if the water starts to drop.
Cuff his wrist to the gate.
I'll go down below
when it's safe
and get him out of there.
Good call.
Hey, Catherine.
Didn't expect to see
you out here.
You like the rain?
I was in the area.
He was obviously trying
to claw his way out.
Any I.D.?
No, no I.D., but I can't exactly
check his pockets right now.
This is technically
off school property,
but he looks young enough
to be a student.
We're still trying to contact
the principal now.
Phil Anderson.
He's certainly had
his hands full this semester.
Oh, yeah, that's right,
Lindsey goes
to school here, doesn't she?
Yeah, she had a late rehearsal.
Actually, I was here
to pick her up.
Hey.
Lindsey, honey.
Are you okay?
Do you know that boy?
Yeah. It's Sean Becker.
He goes to school here.
Was he a friend?
No.
Look, Mom, I know
this is going to sound bad,
but...
he's not going to be missed.
♪ 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! ♪
I think I've bumped
into every piece of dog poop
and used condom in
the city of Las Vegas.
Aw, David, suck it up.
There he is.
Yep, he's dead.
David, you think
you have a hard job?
Well, Officer, I am the one who
has to haul him out of here.
Unlock the cuffs.
Got it.
Okay, get under his pit.
Gently.
Gently.
All right.
Got him?
Good. Okay.
The only way to get
something as big a body
into the drain system is through
an access point on the line.
This is the first one upstream.
It looks like there's
a service platform down there.
Mm-hmm.
Feeling lucky?
Well, it is Vegas.
After you.
You know, the city's got
like 350 miles of storm drain
running under it.
I've heard there's probably
a thousand homeless
living down here.
High ground spots like this
must be prime real estate.
This is the same
design that kid had
tattooed on his hand.
Maybe this was his hangout.
It's close to the school.
Good place to catch
a buzz between classes.
Could have been huffing out
the storm
and puffing up a storm.
Passed out and rolled
into the drink.
Yeah, that's possible.
You know, this spot's
beginning to look
more like a Klan house
than a clubhouse.
Numerous perimortem abrasions.
Small puncture wounds.
All consistent with tumbling
through debris filled water.
That...
is a white supremacist tattoo.
Knuckles thickened,
discolored.
This boy was no stranger
to using his fists.
Dr. Langston, I think
you should take a look.
There's no writing on the back,
and nothing to indicate
who or where...
at least, not as far
as I can tell.
A racist carrying a picture
of two young black girls.
Could be targets.
Assuming they're not
already victims.
So Lindsey has
told me a little bit
about Sean Becker.
What can you tell me?
Same crap, different iteration.
Abusive father... used to disappear
for long periods of time.
Until he finally came
out of the closet,
left Sean's mother
for another man.
The mother was
already unstable,
so the father's departure just knocked
her into a psychiatric institution.
That kid was filled with hate.
Blacks, Jews, gays.
Well, I'm going to need
his disciplinary files,
and I'll need to talk
to his friends.
That would be Daryl Johnson
and Karl Hart.
But good luck finding them.
I suspended them both
when I kicked Sean out.
Well, just give me
their info...
we'll find them.
Oh, man.
Billy Tinker... that's
the boy that was killed
in the hit-and-run
two months ago.
The gay student.
There isn't a kid in this school
who thinks his death
was a accident.
Half of them think Sean did it.
Do you?
You're the cop, you tell me.
As far as I know,
it's still an open case.
Well...
After Billy was killed,
a bunch of students formed
a gay and lesbian
defense league.
Fights broke out
all over the place.
So I organized Tolerance Week
to help defuse things.
Sean and his pals
always seemed to be
around the action, so...
Just one more thing.
Do you recognizehese girls?
They're not students here.
I've never seen them before.
Okay, let me
get this straight...
you'd rather do the legwork
on a next-of-kin notification...
you'd rather do that than slog
around in the sewer
looking for evidence?
I mean, that-that is not
the down and dirty Sara Sidle
I used to know.
I like to know
where haters come from.
Maybe you'll get your chance.
May I help you?
Can I get you some tea?
No, thank you.
No, no, no, thank you.
Um, so you're Sean Becker's
guardian, is that right?
Yes, it is.
Mrs. Becker, please sit down.
Sit down.
I have some bad news.
Sean's dead.
His body was found in a storm
drain near the high school.
I'm sorry to tell you this.
Oh, no.
Oh, my God.
We're sorry foKyour loss.
Ma'am...
we need to take a look
around Sean's room.
Would that be okay with you?
Oh, of course, of course.
It's...
it's the first room
on the right.
When Sean comes back,
I'm sure he'll be happy
to show you around.
Now, now, now, Mrs. Becker...
you understand what
I'm telling you, right?
You know?
Sean's not coming back.
He's... he's dead.
He's, uh...
he's with Jesus.
He's with Jesus.
Oh.
How did that happen?
That's what we're
here to find out.
Well, then, we'll just have
to wait for Sean to get back.
He'll certainly be able
to shed some light
on... on, um...
Uh...
It's okay.
It's okay.
Can I get you some tea?
That'd be great.
The grandmother's
non compos mentis.
She has
serious short-term memory loss.
Probably Alzheimer's.
I called up Social Services.
They're coming out here
to do an evaluation.
What do you got?
Well, it's not at all
what I expected.
Heidegger, Nietzsche.
Seems like he was whip smart.
And fascinated with killing.
The mural that the guys found
in the storm drain,
it's definitely this kid's work.
Well, Hitler started
as a painter, too.
Bones fractured
and never properly reset.
This young man's body was
a road map
of violence inflicted
and meted out.
Live fast, die you, and
leave a not-so-good-looking corpse.
Prelim tox is in.
Sean Becker was clean.
If he was into drugs,
he wasn't high the
night he drowned.
He didn't drown.
No foam cone, perinasal sinuses
are negative for water.
Then what killed him?
I knew you would ask that.
Take a look.
One of the exterior puncture
wounds extended into the lung.
The size of the clot suggests
roughly two liters
of blood loss.
That's definitely
the C.O.D.
Wound is cylindrical,
roughly three inches deep
and about an eighth
of an inch wide.
X marks the spot.
My guess would be
Phillips-head screwdriver?
Mine, too.
A racist gets stabbed
before he can drown.
A lot of people would call
that justice.
We still have to call it murder.
Didn't you say were going
to keep checking
these access points
until we found something?
Till we found
something useful, yeah.
Well, I think this qualifies.
Same color fibers
as the vic's jacket.
I think this might
be the dump site.
My turn, right?
Yeah, your turn.
Okay.
Well, what do you know?
Langston said we might be
looking for one of these.
Killer must have dropped
it in with the body.
Kid washes downstream,
weapon sinks and gets caught up.
I think we got lucky here,
buddy.
Yeah, kinda.
That thing's been sitting in
rushing storm water.
We'll be lucky if we get DNA
or prints.
Ah, I'm an optimist.
♪ ♪
That's quite a road map.
It's a lot violence
for such a short life.
Some people turn
depression,
self-mutilation, suicide.
Sean Becker tended
to turn his outward.
Now, based on
the bruise coloration,
the most recently sustained
injuries,
before the night of the murder,
are these: displaced knee,
torso and facial bruising
approximately three days
earlier.
The high school sent us
his disciplinary files.
Something stood out.
Hmm, fight at school three days
ago with another student:
Ian Wentworth.
So you think what started there
ended with a screwdriver
to Sean Becker's lung?
Catherine's at the school now.
♪ The sun on the meadow
is summery warm ♪
♪ The stag in the forest
runs free ♪
♪ But gather together
to breed the storm ♪
♪ Tomorrow belongs to me ♪
♪ The branch of the linden
is leafy and green ♪
♪ The Rhine gives its gold
to the sea ♪
♪ But somewhere
a glory awaits unseen ♪
♪ Tomorrow belongs to me. ♪
No, no, no, stop!
This is a play
about the last days
before the end of the world!
The song is a romantic dream
of a pure and orderly future
purged of the filth
and decadence
represented by the cabaret life.
It is a song sung
by beautiful children
who will soon turn
into monsters,
leaving corpses spread
across the length
and breadth of Europe!
Next time you're going to do it
like you got genocide
on your minds.
Take five.
Ben?
Catherine, nice to see you.
Lindsey, your,
uh, mother's here.
Oh, actually, I'm here
in an official capacity.
I need to see Ian Wentworth.
It's about Sean Becker.
Why am I not surprised?
I'll get him.
Mom, what's going on?
Ian couldn't have
had anything to do
with Sean's death.
Linds...
I know Ian.
Are you giving me information
or your opinion?
This is business.
Stay out of it.
Fine.
Three days ago, you got
into a fight with Sean Becker.
What happened?
It wasn't much of a fight.
Okay.
I'm sure he was there
planning some kind of mayhem
to ruin the play:
Tomatoes or hand grenades.
With someone like that,
who knows?
I just wanted
to put him on notice.
What are you doing here?
Nothing.
Just checking out the play.
Yeah, right.
Get the hell out of my way.
What are you looking for, fear?
Like what you saw
in Billy Tinker
when you got him
in your headlights?
Screw you!
You like bashing gays?!
Well, I fight back!
In other words, you started it.
Sean threw the first punch.
I defended myself
in a way I'm sure he thought
I couldn't.
I... I'm not gonna lie
to you, Miss Willows.
I'm glad he's dead.
It's like someone
finally gave him
the lifetime achievement award
he so richly deserved.
But I didn't kill him.
I was in dress rehearsal that
night with about 50 other people
who'll swear to it...
including Lindsey.
A common
Phillips-head screwdriver
with a cracked wooden handle.
Available at over a hundred
hardware stores in town.
It's consistent with the
shape of the wound.
Yeah, but unfortunately,
we didn't recover
any blood or prints off of it.
I swabbed for epithelials.
We're still waiting for DNA.
Take a look at these bruises
on his torso and his face.
They're more
than three days old.
Yellowish brown.
That's seven-
to ten-days old.
Maybe they were
from the same altercation.
That's what I'm thinking.
This fracture of the ulna
would have hurt like hell.
You'd think he would have
at least gone to an ER,
had it checked out.
There's nothing in
his medical records.
There's nothing
in the school file.
Someone did this to him.
Phil?
Hey, Catherine.
What are you doing here?
Just something I realized
I probably should have
mentioned before.
What's on your mind, Phil?
Well, uh...
I guess this is
what it feels like
when I call someone
into my office.
Phil, this is a homicide
investigation.
If you know something...
Uh... someone roughed up
the school janitor last week.
He came in one morning
bruised and limping.
Did he say it was Sean Becker?
I asked him.
He wouldn't say,
but I...
I knew it in my gut.
Sean and his crew
had been on a real tear.
Why didn't this janitor
file a police report?
Laurent Senyabou's
a very private man.
He didn't want to invite
any more trouble.
Lord knows, he's seen enough
of it to last several lifetimes.
Excuse me.
Laurent Senyabou?
Ye-yes?
I'm Detective Jim Brass,
Las Vegas Police.
I'd like to ask you
some questions about
the alleged assault last week.
Please, I'd rather not.
You seem nervous.
Are you okay?
Where I come from,
the government and the police
are not forces with which
one wishes to get involved.
Please, I am okay.
Now if you don't mind, I have
a lot of work to finish.
No, no, wait, wait, wait, wait.
Laurent, look, in this country,
the police protect
their citizens.
So I can't do my job
unless you help me.
Did Sean Becker assault you?
No.
You don't understand.
When I heard about his death,
it saddened me.
Well, that's a first.
So far, you're the only one.
It is true. Sean was there
when I was attacked.
Oh, no!
But he was not the one
who attacked me.
S'up, homie?
How you doing, huh?!
Oh, come on, you little monkey.
Hey, hey, hey.
Come on, boy.
Sean Becker was
a stone-cold racist
with a history of violence.
I mean, why would
a kid like that
put himself
on the line for you?
We had become friends.
That's a tough one
for me to understand, you know.
It's no secret I
survived the genocide
in my home country of Rwanda.
An event as meaningless
to most students here
as... Latin is to a bush hog.
But one day,
Sean showed up at my door.
Hey.
What do you want?
I want to know more.
About what?
You.
Your life.
I admit,
he frightened me at first.
He had a reputation for cruelty.
But I soon realized Sean Becker
was a truly
intelligent young man.
He could see that the future
which awaited him
would be bleak
unless he learned to contain
the anger which consumed him.
So I told him about
what I had experienced.
In my town of Gitambo,
the entire village
took refuge in a church
because we knew the next
morning we would be killed.
So we sent an envoy with
a letter to our priest,
begging him to intercede
with the authorities,
to spare our lives.
The envoy returned
with the letter, stating only,
"Get your spiritual affairs
in order.
God wants
you to die."
What did you do?
We prayed and awaited the end.
Why didn't you pick up a knife
or a club and strike back?
We had no weapons...
Then you should have gouged out
their eyes with your fingers!
You should have ripped out
their throats with your teeth.
It would've made no difference.
I told him about
how hatred begets only hatred,
and that, in the end,
all one is left with
is loss, diminishment
and death.
The next morning,
the Hutu militia
tossed grenades
into the church.
Those who could fled outside,
but only to be hacked with
machetes and left to die slowly.
Some, myself included,
slipped into a
forest and escaped.
But I never saw my family again.
He came around often
after that, always in secret.
And we discussed many things.
Is that a picture
of you and your family?
You know, God works
in mysterious ways,
Detective Brass.
In Rwanda,
he took everything from me.
But in my new country,
he granted me a new family.
Do you recognize them?
They were my sisters.
This is Eliane.
She was studying
to become a nurse.
And this is Grace, the baby.
Silly girl.
She was always laughing
for reasons
known only to herself.
I think perhaps
he had fallen a bit
in love with them.
He asked me if he could
copy the photo.
I didn't see why not.
Do you think Sean's friends knew
about your friendship with him?
I don't know.
But if so, it would have been
very dangerous for Sean.
The big dumb one's
Daryl Johnson.
Little dumb one's Karl Hart.
They look wasted.
Found them huffing spray paint,
Green Valley Park,
with the girl.
Well, my guys are waiting
in the rooms for them.
Let's go, big boy.
Okay. You don't have to talk
if you don't want to.
But if you're smart,
you will write down everything
that happened that night.
In your own words.
So at least we have
your side of the story.
You want a layer?
It says "lawyer," dude.
Don't you know how to read?
So I hear that gold
gives you the best buzz.
Is that right?
Yeah, nothing but
the best for us, bro.
So why don't you tell me
about the altercation that you
and Karl and Sean
Becker got into
with the school
janitor last week.
Oh, right.
That.
Uh... Sean and Karl,
they were gonna kick this, um,
uh...
African-American dude's ass.
But then I stepped in
and said, you know,
"Seeing as this is
Tolerance Week and all,
why don't we try a little
tolerance for a change?"
You know?
"Try and see things from the
point of view of the brother."
Right?
But they just kept on
wailing on him.
So, I mean...
The janitor says that you were
the one that attacked him.
Those banana-eaters
can't tell white people apart.
I'm gonna kick his ass
when I get out of here.
Well, you're not going
anywhere just yet, tough guy.
When I cut your friends a deal
and they flip on you,
which they will,
you're gonna find
yourself locked up
in the county jail for assault.
But you know what,
I'm gonna do you a favor,
since you like to
whup so much ass.
I'm gonna have
the warden put you in
with some African-Americans
so that they can give you
an up-close and personal
lesson on race relations.
I saw you there that night
outside the storm drain, Molly.
If you know anything about
what happened to Sean,
you need to tell me.
I killed Sean.
What do you mean?
Sean had been acting
weird lately.
He was pulling away from me,
disappearing a lot.
I thought he was cheating on me.
So I followed him.
Ten years ago,
in the small East African
country of Rwanda,
800,000 people were slaughtered
by their own government.
Virtually the entire world
turned away.
It was so weird.
He was being so secretive.
So I followed him again
the next day.
And it got even weirder.
That janitor was,
like, touching him.
I had this just sick feeling
that Sean was, like, getting
it on with the colored guy.
I told Daryl and Karl,
and they didn't believe me.
So they decided to test
Sean's loyalty.
What's going on, little man?
How you doing, huh?!
Hey, hey, hey.
Let's blow, man.
This guy ain't worth it.
Hey, chillax, bro.
We're just trying
to have a good time,
all right? Aren't we?
Hey, hey.
I said cut it out, bro.
This guy mops the floors,
cleans the toilets.
He's one Negro
who knows his place.
Let's go.
Don't think, Daryl!
It's not your gift!
You just do
what I tell you to do!
Daryl called Sean
a race traitor.
He said he was gonna kill him.
The only thing we
have on Karl and/or Daryl
is Molly's statement.
But then she eventually told me
that she didn't actually
witness the murder.
Well, even if the two dummies
ended up killing
Sean in retribution,
we're not getting
anything out of them.
They both "layered up."
Well, they all had access
to the storm drain
where the body was found.
And no surprise,
the murder weapon
came back negative
for epithelials.
So much for optimism.
I do believe
that the body evidence
corroborates
the janitor's statement.
Sean was protecting him.
The facial bruising
is consistent
with Daryl's blow
to Sean's mouth.
The ulnar fracture is
a classic defensive wound.
Sean warding off
Daryl's attack.
Sounds like Sean was really
trying to change his life.
Probably what got him killed.
It's always easier
to, uh, embrace hatred
than it is to leave it behind.
And we still don't have
a shred of evidence
to prove who killed him.
Those files are confidential,
Lindsey; you know that.
You're lucky your mother
didn't catch you.
I know. Sorry.
Something wrong?
Not really.
Not really what?
It's just...
it seems like Sean had
a really rough life.
I was thinking I could've been
a little nicer to him.
A couple days ago,
he tried to talk to me.
Hey, Lindsey.
Your mom is, like, a cop
or a CSI or something
like that, right?
So?
I was just curious.
Um, how exactly
does one go about
accessing fingerprint databases?
Why? You want to know
if you're already in the system?
Why would Sean be interested
in fingerprints?
He was hitting on me.
Obviously.
I think he even had
a little crush on me.
♪ ♪
Matthew Babajide.
Born in 1968.
Believed to have risen
to a position of leadership
in the Hutu Power Movement.
Wanted for
crimes against humanity
related to the 1994
Rwanda genocide.
Fugitive since 1995.
Whereabouts unknown.
Until now.
In the spring of 1994,
800,000 Rwandans were murdered
by their neighbors and friends.
4,000 of those souls lived
in a village called Gitambo.
When the killing was over,
only 22 of them had survived.
Laurent Senyabou
does not exist.
His real name is
Matthew Babajide.
He was not only a participant,
but one of the chief architects
of the massacre at Gitambo.
This is from testimony given
to the Rwandan Commission
on High Crimes.
"Babajide threw the first
grenades into the church,
"and for the next three days,
his machete
"and those of his men
rose and fell
"with monotonous regularity.
"He performed his task in a way
"that would prolong
the suffering of his victims.
"At night, his men would
play music on the radio
"and drink themselves
into a stupor,
"as hyenas emboldened
by the smell of blood
"wandered into the village
"and ate the flesh
not only of the dead,
but also of the dying."
Captain Brass.
I need you to come
to the station with me...
Mr. Babajide.
Wait a minute,
that's-that's not his name.
You have the wrong man.
Daddy...
Laurent, tell him.
Daddy!
Stay with your mother.
Daddy!
Papa will be back, yeah?
Daddy!
Shh.
If that's true, Matthew Babajide
has killed more people
than all the murderers
this team has ever brought
to justice combined.
We notified
the State Department,
which coordinates with
the International War Crimes
Tribunal in the Hague.
They confirm
Babajide's identity,
and they're arranging
for extradition.
It'd be nice if we could add
Sean Becker to his tally.
You like him for it?
Yes.
Yes, just speculation for now,
but we believe
that Sean Becker
inadvertently discovered
the janitor's true identity.
Sean couldn't be
certain it was him,
so he tried to prove it
by lifting
one of Laurent's fingerprints.
Unfortunately, he had no way
of running the print.
He decides to confront Laurent
nonetheless,
assuming that the truth
will reveal itself
based on the reaction.
And Laurent stabs Sean
with a screwdriver in a panic
to protect his secret.
In other words,
we've got the murder weapon.
We just can't put it
in his hands.
You stabbed Sean Becker
with a screwdriver.
So what happened,
you get in a fight?
Sean found out who you really
were and confronted you?
You lied to me.
Preach peace?
You're entire life is a lie.
You're no better
than anybody else.
Sean, what are you
talking about?
You think that is me?
What about them?
Huh?
Did you simply kill them too,
or did you rape them first?
Sean...
How about I take
these to the cops?
We'll see what's true
and what's not.
That's not what happened.
What, he didn't find out
who you were?
No. I-I-I mean...
Yes.
But I never meant to hurt him.
It was an accident.
That's really semantics.
You threw his body
in a storm drain,
and Sean Becker was probably
still alive when you did it.
Who are they?
I have no idea.
I knew when I fled Rwanda
to create my new future,
I would have to create
a new past as well.
I found the photo
in a pile of bones
picked clean by scavengers,
bleached in the sun.
Sean was going
to track them down, wasn't he?
For you... his friend.
Out of love.
For once in his life
to do something good.
For the past 15 years,
I've tried to make amends
for what I've done.
I never expected
God to forgive me,
but I thought, if I could
save this one boy,
this one soul,
I could save a part
of myself as well.
I never meant to hurt him.
You're just a
criminal on the run.
So what's it to you
to kill another kid?
Oh, I tell you...
lucky is the man
who never has to confront
what he is truly capable of.
♪ What good is sitting alone
in your room ♪
♪ Come hear the music play ♪
♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ Come to the cabaret ♪
♪ Put down the knitting,
the book and the broom ♪
♪ Time for a holiday ♪
♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ Come to the cabaret ♪
♪ And as for me, as for me ♪
♪ I made my mind up
back in Chelsea ♪
♪ When I go,
I'm going like Elsie ♪
♪ Start by admitting
from cradle to tomb ♪
♪ Isn't that long a stay ♪
♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ Only an cabaret, old chum ♪
♪ And I love a cabaret! ♪