CSI: Crime Scene Investigation (2000–2015): Season 12, Episode 13 - Tressed to Kill - full transcript

WOMAN: I've never seen
so much money spent

on so little actual fabric.

Well, you're
always saying

it's what's inside
that counts, right?

Yeah.

Look where that gets me.

Look, well, maybe you
should try wearing

something less "granny"
than the flannel PJ's.

Hey, they keep me warm!

You know what else
can keep you warm?
Yeah, coffee.

[laughs]
There's a place on the
third floor. I'll pay.



Oh, man, I just
can't decide...

No, I mean, if you
just wait two weeks,

you can get it for,
like, half the price.

Yeah, but you're missing
the point-- I want it now.

Fine. So pay the money.

No. You're right.
I'll wait.

You're always right.

So we'll go
get coffee,

and then we'll go
back and get it.

[baby fussing]

Aw...

So cute.
[giggles]

[laughs]

[laughs]



[elevator bell dings]

We said we'd
be there at 4:00.

Do you think we'll make it?

Oh, we'll get there by 4:00.

Eva, your hair...

What?
There's a huge piece

missing out of the
middle of your hair!

What?! What?!
Somebody's cut it.

I have no idea.

Would you...?
Where? Where?

How much is it?

How much is it?
I don't know.
I don't know.

How much is taken off?

I feel so violated.

[camera shutter clicks]

I would, too.

I mean, it's sick.

Isn't it?

Yeah.

BRASS: Four days ago,
a girl in a mall.

Now, this girl,
in a movie theater.

That makes 11.

At least that
have reported it.

I'm sure there's more.

The sheriff is pissed;
bad for the tourist trade.

It's the same story--

chunk of hair cut off
in a public place.

They never
even feel it.

Any of the women see anything?

So far, no.

Guy's a ghost.

Yeah. Well, at least I
have nothing to worry about.

[chuckles]
Yeah.

The whole thing
is creepy.

Ms. Bingham, this
is CSI Russell.

Thanks for coming in.

This shouldn't take
too much longer, right?

I'm just gonna run a comb
through a couple of times,

look for some
loose-cut hairs.

It could
help us out a lot.
So...

you were sitting
in a movie theater.

That's right.

Wow. I haven't been
to the movies

for so long.

Which one was it?

Excuse me?

You a Matt Damon fan?
[laughs softly]

Uh...

I'm a...
Daniel Craig girl.

Me, too.

RUSSELL:
The, uh, tuxedo

and the gun, right?

Hard to beat.

So, Paula, you want
to tell me what happened?

I-I didn't... I didn't
realize it until I got home,

so he must have cut
it during the movie.

But I don't get it.
Why my hair?

Honestly, I have no idea.

You do have great hair.

[laughs]
RUSSELL: Well, there is that.

You didn't get
a look at the guy?

No. Just...

Daniel Craig.

[chuckles]

I'm all done.

Yeah, I just have
one more question.

Anything else
strange happen lately?

You know, purse stolen?

Missing keys?
Tires slashed?

No.
Okay.

Good, good.

Well, I am glad to hear that.

Okay. Uh, bottom line,

some creep
took your hair--

don't let him mess
with your head.

Thanks.
I'll see you out.

Hold on a second.

Let me give you... let me
give you one of these.

Call me...

if you, if you
need anything.

Thanks.

Yeah.

Well...

looks like
she feels better.

And based on your performance
in there, so do I.

[phone beeps]

Yeah, I just hope this little
fetish doesn't turn into

something more.

You should start
playing the ponies.

[thunder rumbles]

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

[thunder rumbles]

BRASS: "The Most Beautiful Girl
in the World."

A little mood
music, I guess.

Hell of a mood to set.

♪ ♪

Eva Byron.

Four days ago, she
and her sister filed

a police report.

Our hair freak

took a souvenir
at the mall.

I guess it wasn't enough.

Not anymore.

He made her a blonde.

[Brass groans]

He took her eyes.

That sick bastard.

Why?

Hell with why.

I want to know who.

♪ 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! ♪

Guy gave her
a pretty freaky makeover.

Liver temp puts T.O.D.
around 10:00 p.m.

Cause of death?

Other than her eyes, there's no
apparent wound or trauma.

You'll have to wait
till autopsy.

He blinded her.

SIDLE:
What do you think?

Killer didn't want
her to see him.

PHILLIPS: There's
something in her mouth.

Please don't be her eyes.

Oh, that's nasty.

Hair braid.

Shoved down her throat.

Could be our C.O.D.

Definitely a calling card.

[sighs]

Have you talked
to Catherine?

Yeah.
Yeah, have you?

Yeah.

She, uh, sounded good.

Yeah.

She'll show those FBI boys
how to fly straight, huh?

She did it for me.

She did it for all of us.

Well, Quantico isn't
that far, right?

[chuckles]

No, not really.

Well, that can't be good.

So, our hair fetish freak
is now a homicidal maniac.

Eh, that's
just great.

What do we know?

11 women have
come forward to report

they were snipped by this guy.

Including the dead girl?
Yeah.

I got my guys doing welfare
checks on the other ten.

But we need to assume that

there are more women out there
that didn't report it.

Well, let's hope they're
just shy, not dead, too.

Well, best way to know that
is to reach out to the press.

And create a panic?
In my city?

I got enough problems.

This one, you need to solve.

I think she was looking at you
when she said that.

[chuckling]
Yeah, right.

Chain is busted,
but the lock is intact.

She trusted him enough
to open the door to him.

Never had a chance
to realize her mistake.

[loud thud, cracking]

Looks like this is where he did

his extreme makeover,
psychopath edition.

[sighs]

Blow-dryer and curling iron
are still plugged in.

Traces of makeup and
hair dye in the sink.

So he snipped Eva's
hair at the mall.

Obviously, he was attracted
to it for some reason.

Certainly not the color.

He turned her
into a blonde.

You should watch yourself.

Well, he dyed her hair.

You should watch yourself.

True.

Where is the packaging?

You know? The products?

Guess he was smart enough
to take them with him.

Smart enough to wipe
down his prints, too.

Suggests planning.

Guy's not just sick,
he's dangerous.

WOMAN: When we reported
what happened at the mall,

the officer said
it was just some weirdo,

and now my sister...

I'm sorry for your loss.

It's the same guy,
isn't it?

You people should
have warned us.

Listen, if I could bring
your sister back, I would.

But I need your help
right now, so we can

keep this from happening
to someone else, okay?

Now, after the
mall incident,

did your sister receive
any strange phone calls?

Did she think somebody
was following her?

Anything like that?
No.

Do you recognize
this dress?

Those sunglasses?

No. Why?

Your sister was wearing
them when we found her.

Those aren't hers.

You sure?
I know Eva's style.

She hated retro.

Even as a kid, she refused
to wear hand-me-downs.

He dressed her up?!

What else did he do to her?

ROBBINS:
I found no sign

of sexual assault,
and besides

the facial lacerations
caused by the door,

there were no other
apparent injuries perimortem.

So the eyes were
gouged out postmortem?

Tissue is withdrawn,
nonresponsive.

Cause of death?

Well, it wasn't
the braid in her throat.

She died
of a morphine overdose.

The killer injected her
in the carotid artery.

Death was
relatively quick.

Boy, I didn't see
that one coming.

Okay, so our guy forces
his way in, kills her,

then he has his fun--

eyes, makeover, braid
down the throat.

And that wasn't the only
hair he left behind.

The killer used
hair extensions

to repair the area
he'd cut off in the elevator.

Not quite the same
shade as the dye job.

So what do you think
it all means?

He breaks her so
he can fix her?

♪ ♪

You ever see that
Japanese movie The Ring

about that creepy girl

who lives in a well
and vomits hair?

I thought the only
Japanese culture

that you knew about
was octopus porn.

You should be nicer to me.

Why?

I'll tell you.

The braid you fished
out of your victim

I sorted
and meticulously measured.

Henry ran mitochondrial DNA,

and it turns out
that the hairs

in the braid
are from

26 different women.

Twenty-six?

Including the 11 who reported

having their locks snipped
by our hair stalker.

I know what you're
thinking-- holy hairball.

That's not what I'm thinking.

What I'm thinking is, this braid
may be more than a calling card.

Like a list of
future victims?

If you're braided,
you're branded.

Mm.

Still doesn't
tell us who's next.

HODGES:
So what do we do?

Follow up with the list of names
we do know and see

if anyone's noticed someone
looking over their shoulder.

SHERIFF: Don't need to be
a profiler to see it.

RUSSELL:
Slender, 20s, long hair...

and these are just
the ones we know about.

How are we supposed
to protect these girls?

Well, we can't put a car 24-7
in front of every house.

You just need
to catch this guy.

Any no-shows among the women
who came forward?

Yeah, one:
Joyce Debernardi.

Henderson address.

I left a, a message
on her cell.

[ringtone playing]

Brass.

He was checking up on her.

Hey, Jim.

[sighs]

Joyce Debernardi just showed up.

SIDLE:
Day shift got the call.

Similar crime
scene, same M.O.

RUSSELL: She was found
just like this?

Déjà vu all over again.

Not quite.

Eva's eyes
were gouged out.

This is different.

Proteins in the cornea
are coagulated.

Bastard used ammonia
to blind her.

[screams]

They, uh, found vomit in
close proximity to the body.

Reaction to the chemical.

Unlike Eva,

she was alive when he did this.

Alive but helpless.

They also found partially
digested pills--

Succinylcholine
in vomitus.

That's a paralytic.

That's how he's getting
better at the makeup.

[panting]

[gasping quietly]

He's taking his time,
he's savoring it.

He's getting more confident.

Which means he's getting
harder to catch.

[weak breathing]

[weakly]
Help...

Two women--

both have their hair cut by this
nut-job, now they're dead,

dressed up
like some '70s fantasy.

When did we get
the first report

of this guy cutting hair?

Three weeks ago,
Sheriff.

Three weeks?

Clearly he didn't just
step over the line.

This guy's escalating.
Fast.

What are you two doing about it?

Well, right now,
we're listening

'cause he's, he's talking to us.

He's sending letters now, what?

No, these... found
in the throats

of our two victims.

That braid has hair
from 26 different women,

including our two
murdered ones.

He's given us a list
of who he's going after.

11 of the names
we know,

15 we don't--
women whose hair has been cut

but they never came forward
to report it.

All of these women

are in danger
and they all deserve to know it.

I came here to be briefed,
not told what to do.

I understand,
but I think

we need to go to the press.

You know, any panic
this may cause--

it's worth it if we can save
just, just one life.

I'll talk to the mayor.

Thank you.

That's my job.

Do yours.

HODGES: Dresses our victims
were found in

are both vintage,
no retro imitations,

the real deal,
circa 1978.

[snickers]
What?

I... I can't talk to you
behind that dress, man.

Looks like you're wearing
that thing.

Oh.
[chuckles]

So, '70s, huh,
you sure about that?

Yeah, I spoke
with an expert.

Oh, yeah, who's that?

My mother.
Mm.

She's a bit of
a clotheshorse.

Still has the figure
for it, though.

I'll take
your word for that.

Well, anyway, uh, hand-
stitching on the sleeve,

original label,
real silk,

all beautifully preserved,
thanks to dichlorobenzene.

You mean mothballs.

Exactly.

So I doubt that the
killer found these

on a rack in a
thrift store.

No, he probably
had 'em in storage,

then pulled 'em out
and put 'em

on our victims.

Perhaps these dresses belong
to somebody he knows.

Yeah, it's starting
to add up now.

Maybe it wasn't
somebody he knows

but someone
he was trying

to turn these women into.

The mayor and I wish
to assure the city

that we are doing all we can

to bring this perpetrator
to justice.

As a woman,

parent,

I understand your
fears, and I appeal

to anyone who may have been
a victim

of the Shear Stalker
or who may have any information

regarding his identity,
to please call 911.

Shear Stalker-- wow,
they already have a name.

You got the sheriff

to go public.

Very impressive.

I appealed to her sense
of civic duty.

And her fear of voters?

There's a lot
riding on this.

We'll catch him.

Hodges, um, told me
about the dresses.

I mean, we may not be getting
a picture of our killer,

but maybe we have
a picture of his obsession.

Blonde, size-six.

If she were in her
20s in the 1970s,

she'd be 60-something now.

What do you think
this guy's deal is--

fear of women,

something deeper, maybe
"Mommy never loved me"?

Personally, I always tend
to go to my Psychoplace

when killers start
playing dress-up.

I always go to my
Ted Bundy place--

predator, narcissistic,

dissociative identity disorder,
woman hater.

I'm not so sure.

Tox came back
on our second victim--

same as the first.

C.O.D.--
morphine overdose.

I mean, tha-that's
oddly gentle.

He's putting them
to sleep, you know?

Plus, all the care
he's taking to,

to remake them,
to redress them.

Where are you going with this?

You know, put it all together,
maybe it doesn't spell hate.

Maybe it spells love.

Love?! Really!

Well, he's still
gouging their eyes out.

That's true.

BRODY:
These are the hair extensions
Doc Robbins found

on our victims.

The hair...

all came from one person.

I compared it to the 26 other
hairs we found in the braids.

Guess what?

No match on any of them.

So, if the braid
is a to-do list,

then this person
is not a target.

Henry run DNA?

Yep, hair and dress match.

Okay, killer
definitely had access

to clothes and hair
from the same person.

The person he's making
our victims into,

and I'm assuming that this
mystery woman is not in CODIS.

No, so I ran isotope ratios
on the hair.

I can't give you an exact
timeline, but it looks like

our mystery woman
has been doing some traveling--

Japan, Germany, Southern Nevada.

She gets around.

And not for pleasure.

I also ran tox.

Every time she traveled,

readings would spike in
alkylatic antineoplastic agents

and antimetabolites.

Cancer meds.
Turns out

Hamburg, Tokyo, and Las Vegas
all have hospitals

that specialize in rare cancers.

Which hospital in Vegas?

SIDLE:
Dr. Bill Ryan?

That's right.

Hi. Uh, CSI Sidle.

This is CSI Brody.

From the crime lab-- we called.

How can I help you?

We are looking for a patient
who is-- was under your care.

SIDLE:
We know that the, uh,
patient is female.

She was treated previously at
clinics in Tokyo and Hamburg.

You know
who we're talking about?

I'm sorry, even if I did,
doctor-patient confidentiality

would preclude me
from confirming it.

SIDLE:
Of course.

Have you watched
TV lately?

The killer who is cutting
people's hair?

Does this patient
you're looking for

have something to do with that?

She may be our only way
to identify that killer.

SIDLE:
Yeah, doctor, um,

Do you have a wife?

Daughters, a sister?

Women all over this town are
absolutely terrified right now.

I carry a gun, and you
know the first thing I did

when I stepped
off your elevator?

I checked my hair.

I looked behind me
to make sure nobody was there.

Look, I'm going to
go grab a coffee.

When I get back,

I hope that file
is still here.

Thank you, Doctor.

RUSSELL:
Her name's Lucinda Kemp.

Cancer patient,
Desert Palm Hospital.

She may be our killer's muse.

Muse? Muse how?

Well, he's dressing the victims
up in her clothes.

He's making them up
to look like her.

A younger version of her.

Really?

A dying cancer patient?

That's some theory
you got going on there.

Well, I'm feeling a hell of a
lot better about it right now.

What do you think?

Two dead young women.

And your muse is a dead ringer.

[thunder rumbling]

[doorbell buzzes]

[knocking on door]

[knocking]

RUSSELL:
Paula?

Hey, uh, you said
I could call you anytime.

Is something the matter?

I think somebody
was inside my house.

The sliding door
is open a little,

and there's someone
banging on my door.

[doorbell buzzes, knocking]

Could you have left it open?

No... I don't... Maybe?

[knocking continues]

There's somebody
knocking at my door.

Paula, listen to me.

Can you see who it is?

Hold on.

It's a delivery guy.

I'm scared.

Do not open the door.

Tell him you'll pick up
the package later.

I'll send a car over
to check on you right now.

Okay.

Everything's gonna be okay.

I promise.

Thanks.

BRASS:
I did a welfare check

on Paula Bingham.

She's okay; really was
a delivery guy.

But I can't blame her, though.

Everyone's scared.

Sooner we catch this guy,
the better.

I'm just hoping
that Norma Desmond

can I.D. her secret admirer.

Talk to you later.

Mrs. Kemp, do you
recognize these women?

No, I don't think so.

Should I?

They were murdered.

After that, the killer

gave them a makeover.

Dyed her hair blonde,
red lipstick,

mascara.

That's... horrible.

Truly, but...

why are you showing them to me?

Those are your dresses, right?

Well, I mean, they certainly
look like my dresses.

They're my style.

My style never
goes out of style.

I don't understand

why you're showing me these.

I don't, either.

On the phone,
you said you

needed me to answer
some questions.

Now, I come down here,

and you're treating me
like a common criminal.

These two women are dead.

And the evidence suggests

that you're our only
link to our killer.
Evidence?

What evidence?

Well, Adam,

the women were staged

in dresses that
had residual DNA.

That DNA matched
hair extensions

that were attached
to the victim's heads.

Hair that came from your mother.

My hair?

No, that's impossible.

Well, ma'am, in
this day and age,

everything's possible.
Really, Captain.

It's not.

No one has taken my hair.

Because the cancer
already took it.

Three months ago,
my mother finished

her last stage of chemo.

You can see the results.

I'm... sorry.

I'm not.

I'm done being sorry.

Or... afraid.

Or reflective.

I am in remission.

Thanks to Dr. Ryan.

And to Jeffrey's
positive attitude.

And who is Jeffrey?

Jeffrey Fitzgerald.

Beautiful man.

Inside and out.

Mrs. Kemp, is that wig

made from your real hair?

When I started to lose my hair,

someone recommended a wig maker.

I did my homework, and
I found the best: Jeffrey.

When your insides
are eroding,

your outside's
all you have left.

Your, uh, wig maker, Jeffrey,

was he was the one who collected
your hair to make the wig?

No. I did.

I brought it to his studio.

It's out near Silverado Ranch.

Along with some
of my dresses.

As inspiration.

Inspiration?

Jeffrey is an artist.

He asked me when I felt the
most beautiful, so that he could

repaint my life.

He knows hair

like Monet knows light.

When was the last time
you saw Jeffrey?

Just a few days ago.

He still comes around
to give me a comb-out.

He sounds

very devoted to you.

[thunder rumbling]

[sirens wail in distance]

Mr. Fitzgerald!
LVPD!

Mr. Fitzgerald?

Police department!

[woman screaming]

[screaming continues]

Let me see your hands!

Let me go! Let me go!

What did you do to her?

Stop looking at my hair.

Sorry, I can't help myself.

STOKES:
Hey.

You're just lucky your client's
not pressing charges.

Charges?

I was performing a
service, which you

interrupted.
A service?

That's what you're calling it?

My client is...

how shall we say...

a professional woman

who lost a
valuable asset,

her hair,

but doesn't have the assets
to afford a proper transplant.

And so, I offered her
an affordable,

permanent solution:
stitching acrylic hair

directly into the scalp.
And do you

have a license to do that?

I'm certified in
body modification.

However, my main
trade is wig making,

for a clientele that
needs restorations,

not only of the hair,
but of their self-esteem.

Yeah, we've seen your work.

You're quite the artist.
Thank you.

I, uh, I like to think
that I give back

what God hath taken away.

Well, you hath a
very inflated idea

of yourself, Mr. Fitzgerald.

Image is everything.

I knew this guy on days.

He had a hair phobia.

Any time there was a crime
scene involving hair,

he'd puke his guts out.

He'd hate this.

I got one of those.

Really?

What's your kryptonite?

Braids.

You got a hair thing, too?

No.

Braids.

Jeffery Fitzgerald
had a thing for braids.

And vintage clothing, too.

What?

That dress
look familiar?

I do smell mothballs.

[shutter clicks]

[thunder rumbles]

And I...

smell a serial killer.

[sirens wailing in distance]

I smell conviction.

FITZGERALD:
So, um...

when are you two crazy kids

gonna let me know why I'm here?

Lucinda Kemp.

One of the lives
you "restored."

Yeah, yes,

I gave her back her hair,
restored her beauty.

And you're still doing that.

You give her
a comb-out every week.

Is combing out
a crime now?

[clears throat]

You know what I think
all this is for him?

Foreplay.

Before you have

your real fun with
these girls, am I right?

Do you recognize
that morphine?

We found morphine
in two dead women.

I've never seen it before.

Our guys just discovered it
in your studio.

Just so I'm clear:

You found unmarked morphine,

in a place that I rent,

after you let yourself in
without an invitation.

I'm sorry, I just don't see

how that problem
relates to me at all.

Legally speaking.

SIDLE:
Fitzgerald can play cute

all he likes.

We still hit the mother lode.

Lucinda's dress,
Lucinda's hair, the morphine.

We got him.

What about hair braids?

Greg's running them now,
along with the rest

of the hair from
Fitzgerald's studio.

You do not want to go into
trace lab right now.

Where I don't want
to go is into court

without a DNA
match on the hair.

I mean, all morphine
and dresses in the world

won't matter at all
if we can't connect

Fitzgerald directly
to the victim.

I hear you.

We got this.
Okay, okay.

[ringtone plays]

[phone beeps on]

Paula?

[wheezing]
Please, help.

I got free, but I can't see.

He forgot
something downstairs.

[door shuts]

I think he's coming back!

Paula!

[sirens wailing]
BRASS:
LVPD!

♪ ♪

Russell.

♪ ♪

[groans]

[sighs]

♪ ♪

You okay?

Guy was interrupted.

Panicked.

Killed her quick.

He knew we were coming.

There's nothing
you could've done.

Our best suspect was in custody.

Well, he's not
our best anymore, is he?

But I want
to know who is.

♪ ♪

I don't know.

But he left a mess.

We'll find something.

♪ ♪

Hey, Russell, we just got
the call-- what's going on?

Process this scene
with a fine-tooth comb.

Every inch of it.

Call me.

Yeah, you got it.

[sighs]

[camera shutter clicking]

Man... I really thought
we had this guy.

SANDERS:
Well, who says we don't?

Maybe our wig maker

isn't working alone.

The hairs say we don't.

All of the wigs, the braids,

the-the bales of hair
from his studio.

None are a match
to our victims.

Well, somebody really
went after these women.

Yeah, somebody who had
to have had a connection

to Lucinda Kemp.

I got some
short brown hairs here.

Obviously
didn't come from her.

From our killer?
Could be.
We should

be able to get
a good DNA sample.

Hairs have tags that
are pulled out at the root.

Might've happened
during the struggle.

Mm-hmm.

[camera shutter clicking]

Got what looks like

a corner of a photo.

Well, where's
the rest of it?

Here it is.

Killer might have
jammed it up here

for reference.

Wait a minute, now.

Now, does that look like
a young Lucinda Kemp to you?

Sure does.

Well, if Jeffrey
Fitzgerald

isn't our killer,

maybe it's someone
who's even closer

to Lucinda.

You think it's the son?
You talked to him.

Hm.

Looks like we might have
a pretty good print here.

We'll figure it out.

I'm sorry.

Where are we?
Henry's
running DNA

on the hair, and Nick's
working on the print--

we should have
an answer soon.

When I was in Seattle, we had
some guy running around...

killing coeds...

and my daughter was...

...roughly the same
age at that time.

Every crime scene was like
walking into her dorm room.

Did you catch the guy?

Yeah.

We're gonna catch
this guy, too.

Yeah.

Can I tell you something crazy?

You know how kids are always
bumping into something

or falling onto something

and they got
those cuts and scrapes?

I've been saving
my kids' Band-Aids for years.

Keep them in the refrigerator.

DNA reference.

Yeah.

It's not so crazy.

I know somebody
who used to work here.

She used to do
the same thing.

♪ ♪

[low electronic whirring]

[beep]

[beep]

Henry ran DNA
on that hair we found

in Paula Bingham's bathroom.

Yeah?
Compared it
to Lucinda Kemp.

No familial match.

It's not Adam.

Are you sure
about that?
Yeah.

'Cause I ran it
again myself.

Her son's not our killer.

So we're down
to the print.

STOKES:
Moment of truth.

[computer blips]

That's our guy?

What, not even
a courtesy call this time?

Not this time.

Perhaps we should have
this conversation

in my office.
I think we

should do it
down at the station.

RUSSELL:
First we thought this was

a picture of Lucinda Kemp,
but it's not, is it?

It's your mother,
back when she was...

young and healthy.
And beautiful.

Before the cancer
took it all away.

Hospital records show,

uh, your mother
died at age 51.

Yeah, but
I'm sure she looked

a lot older by then--
a lot like Lucinda Kemp.

That's when all this
started, isn't it?

Lucinda came to you
for treatment,

and it was like your
mother was coming back.

Hey, Doc!

We searched your house.

We found the hair products.

We found the makeup.

Same brands
Lucinda uses.

You washed her hair; you
helped her with her makeup.

Must have been great
to have Mom back again, right?

Right up until you didn't.
Until Jeffrey

the wig guy gave her something
that her doctor couldn't.

I wasn't just her doctor;
I was everything to her.

Lean back...

Yeah, but then
she left you, right?

Just like your mother did?

No, actually, not exactly
like your mother did.

Because you didn't
put Lucinda

out of her misery,
the way you did Mom.

Found that in the
medical records, too.

"Death by morphine
overdose."

Hospital investigation
proved inconclusive,

but you were interning

at the same
hospital, right?

Wow.

You killed your mother.

I ended her pain!

Yeah.

Just like you did
those other women--

Eva...

Joyce, Paula...

All attempts to
recreate your mother.

We found the hair
that you cut

from all those women,
with the date and place

when it was taken.

You are a very meticulous...

man, Dr. Ryan.

You're kind of
a mama's boy, actually.

Do you think you know me?!

You don't know me at all.

You know something?
You're right, I don't.

I need to step out for a minute.

You're done, Doc.

Hey, Catherine.

I didn't wake you up, did I?

No, I know, I know,
I'm gonna go home in a minute.

I'm just not quite
ready yet, you know?

One of those days.

No, we're fine, we're fine.

Uh... my wife and I have
a little contract between us--

there are certain things
I don't bring home from work.

And, um...

well, today, um...

I lost one today, Catherine,

and, uh...

you know, I can't
stop seeing her-her face,

and... can't stop
feeling like, you know,

there's something I should have
done, you know, something more.

No, I know, I know.

I-I will, I will.

It's, um...

I just wanted to talk to you.

Knew you'd understand.