CSI: Crime Scene Investigation (2000–2015): Season 15, Episode 8 - Rubbery Homicide - full transcript

There's a lot of damage to the neck.

I'm counting three sharp-force injuries,

and I saw five more in the back.

Got arterial spray over here.

- So he was standing right there
when he was stabbed. - You know,

if that's the case, you'd expect to see more

blood on his torso.

He must have been dressed, right?

Clothing shielded him from the blood, and...

the killer stripped him?

Possibly. Got a lipstick case here.



It's got bloodstains on it.

- A woman was here?
- Could be another victim.

Maybe an attempted rape that took a turn.

Guy picks on the wrong woman,

she pulls out a blade and stabs him.

Yeah, then why wouldn't she just

run away? Stripping a victim

usually suggests a sexual component.

Maybe our mystery woman was the predator.

Could be a vigilante.

I think we're getting a little
ahead of ourselves, actually.

You may be right.

- Hey, guys?
- What is it?

Uh, I'm not sure.



But it kind of looks like
a face stamped in blood.

Might be the dead guy's face.

Yeah, but our victim barely has
any blood on his face.

I'm not so sure he could
leave a mark like that.

There could've been
a struggle during the stabbing.

Assailant gets blood on his or her face,

gets taken down,

face-planted onto the concrete,

leaving the impression.

Could be our first impression of the killer.

# CSI Las Vegas 15x08 #
Rubbery Homicide
Original Air Date on November 30, 2014

# 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! #

So, how is the Blood Whisperer

doing with the blood portrait?

Not so bloody well.
Image filters are giving me

no additional detail, and I tried

facial recognition software

with no luck.

A face no forensic method could love.

You know, the weird thing is,

if you or I had our lovely faces

smeared in blood and mushed into concrete,

the resulting stamp
would be bolder in some areas

but not in others.

Right. Because our faces aren't flat.

Yeah, but this face is.

Well, we think it could be the face

of our killer. So any chance

it's a physical deformity of some sort?

Maybe.

Well, DNA says

that all the blood at the scene
belongs to the victim,

and prints gave us an ID.

His name is Nelson Kern.

He's a local with a few priors for burglary.

Officers are headed to
check out his apartment now,

and Nick just pinged his cell.

Yeah, flip it open.
Let's see what we got in there.

There's a bloody purse right there.

Suggests female killer.

You know, there was a dropped lipstick.

Nick.

Purse might be hers.

Oh...

It's rubber. Like some kind
of life-size doll.

- Or a costume.
- Yeah, maybe.

- It's hollow.
- So we got

fake body, real blood.

Yeah, looks like it.

And if Nelson Kern's cell phone
ended up in here,

I'm betting that's his blood

smeared all over it.

# I know there are some things #

# I may never come #

# To understand #

# But I just wish I was #

# As simple as you are #

# A simple man #

# Maybe I should have been #

# The one to leave #

# Instead I'll just #

# Pack it all up #

# Just pack it all up #

# And climb back #

# Into my head #

# I'll climb back into my head #

# Well, I know there are some things #

# I may never come #

# To understand #

# Or maybe I #

# Should have been the one #

# To leave instead #

# To leave instead. #

Hey, buddy.

Hey.

Homicide find anything in

- Nelson Kern's apartment?
- No, nothing useful.

Apparently the guy was a loner.

No job, no family in the area.

So how's it going with her?

We're doing pretty good. Doc's still

working on the body,
but he did send these over.

The stab wounds in the suit

line up perfectly with
the stab wounds in Kern's back.

So, clearly he was wearing this

when he was attacked.

Do we know why he was wearing it?

Yeah, I found some similar suits online

and a site dedicated to those

who wear them.
They call themselves Rubber Dolls.

Men who wear these suits and masks

transform into females.

It's a form of full-body cross-dressing.

Like living Barbies.

Or, in this case, not so living.

Slight bruising

on the edges of the lacerations suggests

the weapon wasn't particularly sharp.

Maybe a dull knife.

I'm not so sure it was a knife.

Based on the square edges of the wounds.

Severed his carotid artery.

COD was exsanguination.

Looks like a human bite mark.

Yeah, it's one of several
incidental injuries I noted,

including abrasions

on his wrists and bruising on his arms.

- Could be he was bound.
- He was also

under the influence.

Tox screen showed alcohol

and ecstasy in his system.

Did you hear about the rubber suit?

Yeah. Dressed up and messed up.

Bad combo.

I pulled a lot of trace from the suit's skin.

Uh, granted, a lot of it may be
transfer from the Dumpster,

but so far we've got two perfumes,

baby oil, carpet fibers and residue from

champagne, vodka and mint liqueur.

- Ooh, mint. Sounds like a wild party.
- Hmm.

With a brutal end.

The blood smeared on the mask...
that would explain how the face

was stamped on the concrete.

We may not know much about Nelson Kern,

but maybe the suit's maker does.

Superglue fuming didn't provide
any viable prints,

but there was one embedded in the silicone.

Check it out.

Looks like someone touched the skin

before it was set.

We know who?

Print came back to a
local named Belinda Goff.

I told you it'll stretch,

but there is no packing
Babe Ruth into Beyonc?.

Uh, excuse me. Ms. Goff?

Uh, your height's gonna cost you.

Pardon me?

It's $1,500 for the standard
doll, but you're, what, six-two?

Big and tall ain't cheap or easy.

No. No, I'm not interested in purchasing.

I'm, um...

I got a few questions for you.

Okay. Um...

Why don't you go

get comfortable in your skin.

Okay, let me guess.

College professor
doing a sociological survey,

uh, "Inside the Bizarre
World of Rubber Dolls".

Actually, my interest is not academic.

It's criminal.
I'm D.B. Russell with the crime lab.

Can you take a look at these for me

and tell me if you recognize them?

He was killed while wearing her.

Yeah, she's my work.

Right. Okay. And...

what about Mr. Kern there?
What can you tell me about him?

Nothing.

The men who come here,
they're not big on names.

They-they pay with cash.

And-and when my creations walk out this door,

they take on a life of their own.

Doing what, exactly?

Look...

once transformed,
the dolls might go out together,

flaunt their curves.

Depending on whatever

intimate anatomy they've paid me to install,

they can...

No, I see. I see.

Kind of.

Look, Rubber Dolling is just a way

for men to inhabit the bodies
of beautiful women.

For whatever the reason,

from gender dysphoria to

pure curiosity.

Um, you said that the-the dolls
hang out together.

Do you know where?

A man was murdered.

Maybe one of his fellow dolls

might be able to...

Can you hold?

- Oh. Oh.
- Go here.

Just don't say I sent you.

If you get bounced, I mean.

# Nothing but blue skies #

# Do I see #

Well... welcome to the dollhouse.

You're staring.

Yeah. Well, so are you.

At least we're not
the only ones underdressed.

The dolls have their admirers.

So, we're, like, what, a couple of blocks

from the crime scene, right?

The odds are pretty good that

Nelson Kern was here last night.

Killer could have stalked him from here.

Somebody must have seen
something last night, right?

Shall we... shall we mingle?

Sure.

Call me.

# Blue skies #

# Blue skies #

# Smiling at me #

Hi, sweetheart.

# Nothing but blue #

# Nothing but blue #

# Saw the sun shining... #

Hey.

Stop!

Hey!

Hey. Take it easy.

Is he bothering you, darling?

Now, why are you running off?

LVPD.

Ladies, ladies. Come on, now.

Hey, girls, come on.

Let's everybody just take a breath now.

We don't want to mess up our suits, do we?

Do I have to tell you my name?

Or you can start with telling me why you ran.

I'm a high school counselor.

The last thing I need is my...

extracurriculars going public.

I just...
I figured that you and the other cop

were raiding the place.

What made you think I was a cop?

Please.

It's 31 flavors of freak in here.

In walks Mr. Vanilla.

Scanning the place
like some Nordic Terminator.

How did you know I was... Never mind.

Actually, we're CSIs.

We're here investigating
the murder of this man.

You know him?

No.

What about her?

Charlene.

Charlene's dead?

I'm afraid so.

What can you tell me about her?

Charlene was a newcomer.

Started showing up maybe six weeks ago,

but quickly became the belle of the ball.

Were all of the other dolls
as charmed by her?

Well, I'm sure some of the more

Raggedy Anns around here

were jealous. Roomful of divas,

there will be rivalries.

And these suits don't breathe,
so it can get heated.

Excuse me. Do you mind if we chat?

Will you excuse us just for a second?

Thank you.

Um...

face-to-face?

Would that be all right?

I couldn't help but notice

you've got a nasty scratch
on your knee there.

I tripped.

These, uh, four-inch heels.

Murder, I bet.

Worth the pain.

Where'd you take your tumble?

I'm-I'm only asking because

that-that shade of blue...

there's a wall painted that color in an alley

not too far from here,

and one of the dolls
was-was killed last night.

I believe her name was Charlene.

If there's something you can tell us,

we'd appreciate it.

Anything.

I didn't fall.

Okay. All right.

What-what happened?

I don't wear this for attention.

It's just, it's something
to see in the mirror

to make this world suck a little bit less.

I understand.

Someone else didn't.

I was attacked.

Last weekend after leaving here.

Yo, I bet it makes you sweat.

That costume.

It makes you stink.

You know what it makes me?

Sick. You perverts disgust me.

Did you report it to the police?

I had enough humiliation.

- Okay.
- But...

if this same animal

killed Charlene...

I did catch his license plate.

What kind of perv goes out like that?

- What do you mean by that?
- Wearing that costume,

hiding his face.
Guy's obviously embarrassed of himself.

So you want to look him in the eye?

Huh? Is that it?

- You want to see his face?
- No, man. We're cool.

What'd be the point?

Yeah, what's the point?

Take a look at the face
of one of his friends.

Someone didn't like
the outfit he had on, so they

cut him out of it with a knife.

No, you don't think I did that.

No, yo, I didn't do that.

When was this? When was he killed?

Last night.

I was clocked in all night, pulling grave.

My boss will tell you. Just ring him up.

Look, look, all right, yeah,
I roughed up the other one.

If I'm getting charges for that, all good,

but I ain't a murderer.

No charges.

The victim doesn't want to press any.

Doesn't want to show his face in court.

Somehow,

he's the one who's ashamed.

What the?

Henry.

Your befuddlement is showing
down the hallway.

This is all so weird.

What do you have?

A DNA result and a... ghost story.

- I'm listening.
- I was swabbing

the Charlene suit,
still hoping to find a sample

of touch DNA from the assailant.

I noticed the doll's earrings,
figured their sharp edges

could have caught a chunk of the killer.

Sure enough, there were skin
cells embedded in one of them.

I ran DNA on the skin cells

and got a hit in CODIS.

A match to a woman

who died two years ago. Charlene Brock.

Charlene? Like the suit?

They don't just share a name.

They share a face.

I've seen that woman before.

I mean, the real her.

Charlene Brock had a short career

as a model in the early '80s,

including one poster that sold millions.

Oh. That dress.

Just like the one on Rubber Charlene.

Let me get this straight.

So, pinup goddess dies,

is reborn in rubber, only to get murdered?

With DNA from the real dead woman

on the rubber body.

Insane.

Charlene Brock's family still lives in town.

Might be worth a call.

I'll text Russell.

What the hell?

This guy was dressed up as Mom,

wearing her earrings?

It's completely sick.

Mr. Brock, it's my understanding
that Charlene passed away...

what was it, two years ago?

- Mm-hmm.
- Mom had an aneurysm out of nowhere.

Well, I'm sorry. Now, this man

that was killed, um, Nelson Kern?

Recognize him? No?

Connected to your mother, maybe?

Char still had some fans.

You know, fellas

who'd grown up worshipping
that poster, you know?

Dad had an estate sale

right after her death, and sold

- all of her stuff.
- Well, then,

it's possible that Mr. Kern
purchased those earrings

from that sale, right?

Maybe to make his doll more authentic.

This isn't right.

Somebody steals her image and
walks around dressed up as her?

Get over it, Jonah. No need to
sue for copyright infringement.

- You don't think it's creepy?
- Just a lonely guy

who wanted to be close to her, that's all.

That was me a few decades ago.

I remember in '79, Charlene was a waitress,

and I was just starting out
my modeling agency.

I convinced her to pose.

That pinup made a nice buck, let me tell you.

And she married me.

Gave me two wonderful children.

And she turned out to be

one hell of a partner at the agency.

Sounds like quite a woman.

Yeah. And whoever stabbed that doll's lucky

they didn't try it
on the real Charlene Brock.

She wouldn't have let him walk away.

If you ever thought
those reality show housewives

were catty, they got nothing

on these vulcanized vixens.

Web forum for Vegas Rubber Dolls.

Nick's hate crime suspect

alibied out, so now I'm focusing
on doll-on-doll drama.

The gossip, the grudges. And this forum

is where they like to sling a lot of dirt.

- Find anything helpful?
- Maybe.

Charlene, it turns out, has a rival doll.

- The mysterious and alluring Lexy.
- Hmm.

It's not one of the dolls

that Russell and Greg met at the club.

Story I've been able to
put together from the forum

is that Lexy was the queen of the club

until Charlene showed up last month,

became the new hot thing.

And Lexy wasn't happy about it.

Social snub could become motive.

Do we, uh, know Lexy's real identity?

Nobody breaks character on these sites.

I messaged Lexy, but no response.

But I noticed she wasn't in any

of the posted club photos
from the night of the murder.

Well, maybe because she
was outside in the alley

waiting to attack Charlene.

Unis just found Charlene's... well,

Nelson Kern's... car a couple blocks

from the club. You want to check it out?

- Absolutely.
- Let's do it.

Unis cleared it, but they didn't search it?

Whoa. Sara.

We know Charlene was Kern's rubber ride

the night of his death,
but take a look at this.

This looks familiar.

That's Lexy.

Rubber Charlene's rival doll.

I don't get it.

Nelson Kern was wearing
the Charlene suit when he died.

What's he doing with Lexy in the trunk?

As far as I understand,

every guy only has one Rubber Doll persona.

Doesn't make sense that Kern would be both

Lexy and Charlene.

Okay.

I got a crowbar

and bolt cutters.

- Break-in gear.
- Kern had a few priors for burglary.

Taking a flier on this one, maybe,

but let's just say that Nelson Kern usually

stepped out at night as Lexy,

the belle of the rubber ball.

Until Charlene shows up,

making Lexy and Kern

old news.

That would make Kern jealous, right?

Jealous enough, maybe,
with his history of B and Es,

to break in and steal
Charlene from her owner.

And then don Charlene for the night.

- I buy it.
- But if we're right, then who's

Charlene's owner?

And where did Kern steal her from?

Maybe these will help answer that question.

There's some trace in the blades.

Looks like concrete powder.

This morning I noticed you were doing

some concrete work back here.

Yeah, just, uh, just trying
to keep the place looking nice.

My wife loved this house.

You appear to have had a break-in back here.

Mr. Brock, I'm gonna need

to take a look inside.

My wife was my world.

That Charlene suit was yours, wasn't it?

Nelson Kern broke in and stole it.

Stole her. From me.

I loved her.

I lived for her.

Did you kill for her?

Stan, you lied to me.

Told me you didn't know
anything about the suit.

My children were sitting right there.

They wouldn't have understood

how-how I-I-I clung to everything

that was left of their mother.

Is that why you went to this, um,

Belinda Goff... had her
make you one of those suits?

I stumbled across her work online.

And I sent her some pictures of Charlene.

And I brought my love back to life.

It wasn't just dress-up.

I could feel Charlene's
spirit all around me.

Others could feel it, too.

The presence of a special being.

But one of the other dolls

didn't appreciate that
you stole the spotlight.

Lexy.

Right. We found the Lexy suit.

We know that it belonged to a

Nelson Kern. His DNA is all over it.

Mr. Kern took a look at you and Charlene,

and he figured that if he couldn't outshine

the new girl, he'd find some way

to become her.

Broke into your place, he stole the suit,

and he took your wife out for a spin.

And it cost him his life, didn't it?

Mr. Russell, much as I may cherish

the memory of my wife, her beauty,

and wanted to possess it,

I would never hurt someone else

for trying to possess it, too.

I was doing some digging, and I

checked police activity in the alley

the night of the murders.

There was a parking ticket
issued to an Escalade, and

the carpet fiber trace that
we found on the Charlene suit

is consistent with
the interior of an Escalade.

And the vehicle is registered

- to this guy.
- I met him at the club.

He's one of their admirers.

Let's bring him in.

Hi, Adrian. I'm CSI Finlay.

I, uh, would like to talk
to you about Charlene.

We know she was in your vehicle.

We found carpet fibers that are consistent

with the interior of an Escalade

on her doll suit.

You know what it is I love
about the dolls at that club?

How little they speak.

They're as close to the ideal woman

as I've ever met.

Wow.

I can't imagine

how you could have struck out

with real women.

Well, real women are just as fake...

...but lie about it.

Well, if I were to tell you

that my eyelashes are not this great...

...would you be honest with me?

Fair enough.

Charlene did join me in my vehicle.

We'd been flirting
with each other for the past

few weeks at the club.

So tell me what happened in the car.

Oh, we, uh, played around.

Then she left.

With abrasions on her arms
and a bite mark on her shoulder.

Which I bet is going to be a match to those

fake veneers you got in there.

What can I say?

I like rough sex.

She had thick skin.

I did my research on you, and I did find

that you have a history of sexual assault.

Allegations. All dropped.

Uh-huh.

Well, you know what I think happened?

I think that Charlene was so messed up

that she decided to get into your car.

And then when you started

to hurt her, she bailed.

So you followed her...

'cause you didn't like getting
rejected by a blow-up doll...

and then you stabbed her.

Stripped off her suit,

because everybody at the club

knows who Charlene is, but, uh,

Nelson Kern, he's a nobody.

Well, truth is...

I showed her too good of a time.

She couldn't contain herself.

And that voice that groaned out?

Deep-sixed the mood.

I kicked her out and drove off.

Am I free to go?

Got any evidence from the suspect's SUV yet?

Finn is still working

the carpets and the upholstery, but so far

we haven't found any blood.

Even though Kern was stabbed
outside, in the alley...

Yeah, you would have expected

that Graham would have
tracked some of the blood

- back into the vehicle.
- You sure would.

What is all this lovely stuff?

Well, this is Adrian Graham's
mobile sex pantry. Lotions,

lubes and other sinful sundries
that he kept in his SUV.

We found them neatly organized.

I was hoping in his cleanup that
he left a smear of blood behind,

but, uh, no such luck.

Excuse me a sec, here.

Baby oil.

Nick found trace amounts of baby oil

on the Charlene suit.

Now, it's possible that...

that some of this got
transferred from the suit

onto the assailant.

I'm not sure what that gets us.

Graham already admitted that he was with her.

He just denies being there for the murder.

Right, but whoever the killer is,

we have no indication of his
movements in that alley

in the moments right after the death.

No shoe prints, no blood trail.

Oil trail could be very helpful.

Baby oil fluoresces at a lower
frequency than biologicals,

so I've set the ALSs at 525 nanometers.

There's a lot of oil here,
where the body was.

Uh-huh.

Oh, there you go.

Trail of oil going off in this direction.

Oily part of the suit
must have been dragged along.

Huh. Brushed the wall here.

It's the murder weapon.

It's a nail file.

Consistent with the wounds
that Doc Robbins found.

Sharp-pointed but square-edged.

See this logo right there?

That's the Brock family

modeling agency.

Murder with a corporate sponsor.

We pulled a fingerprint

off of the weapon, Jonah.

And it's yours.

The weapon is one of 20 I gifted

friends of our agency at the memorial

after my mom died.

It was a gesture in her honor.

Really?

A nail file as a tribute?

It was kind of her thing.

Those dealing with Charlene Brock

knew that if she started
working on her cuticles...

she wasn't happy,
and you better make her happy.

Don't come into my office with excuses,

you cowardly piece of...

I gave the file out as a memento.

My prints might be on every one of 'em.

You know, I might buy that...

had I not learned about another file.

Your recent motion to remove

your father as head of the modeling agency.

Uh...

the company started slipping
after my mom died.

She was the guts, the-the cutthroat, the whip

that my dad needed. And after she died,

I noticed that he started slipping.

Professionally and otherwise.

You knew about his
Rubber Dolling. I think you...

talk about it in your statement.

Hey. Yeah, I knew about all that.

I saw a few of his selfies when
I borrowed his laptop one day.

Hey, whatever the old man needs
to get his kicks.

But...

if a rival photo agency pops
a picture of him in his...

costume...

...everything that he and my mom
built goes away.

Instead of going to you.

The board shut you down,

which left you only one other way

to take your dad out of the picture.

You just didn't know

that the wrong man was in the suit.

Ms. Finlay,

I didn't stab anyone,
and I'll prove it to you.

I spent the night of the crime producing

a photo shoot, and I spent
the rest of the evening

in the company of one of the models.

I have video.

You feeling good?

- Mm-hmm.
- Mm-hmm.

I guess talking isn't her thing.

We don't have to talk, beautiful.

Whoa.

Checking out Jonah Brock's alibi, are you?

Yeah, the time stamp
on the video puts him at home

between 11:00 p.m. And 2:00 a.m.

Well, the murder was around midnight.

So, unless Jonah messed with the metadata...

Look at him.

Does he strike you as the type of guy

who spends a lot of time
playing around with a computer?

I don't know. I mean,

first impressions aren't always right.

Right. The way you were spotted for Five-O

in.5 seconds at the club there, Columbo.

Russell told me about that.

Whatever.

So obviously Jonah Brock's alibi checks out.

- He's not our killer.
- No.

Did we get anything else off the nail file?

There were minute bits

of fingernail lodged in
with the crosshatches.

DNA came back unknown female.

Oh, and there was some
unusual trace mixed in.

Particles of gold.

Gold?

Hang on a second.

Check that out.

Ms. Irina Turri. You remember her, right?

She's back in Helsinki right now.

We couldn't bring her in,

but we talked to her
on the phone and she said

that her nails were filed by the assistant

at the photo shoot.

That would be you, right, April?

That same file found its way

into Nelson Kern's neck.

I already told you I didn't know that man.

Why would I stab him?

Well, because you weren't
really stabbing him,

were you?

You were stabbing your mother.

- And your father.
- I love my father.

I was the one who defended him

when my brother tried to destroy him.

Right.

The business deposition, right?

You painted your dad as having

suffered under your mother's tyranny.

Quite the eulogy for your... for your mom.

It was the truth.

Dad and I always stood up
for each other, ever since

I was a kid, every time my mom would...

Would...

would what?

If you didn't live up
to my mother's expectations,

she would crush you.

And I guess the perfect daughter
that she wanted

wasn't me, so it's hard enough to see that

in your mom's eyes.

It's harder when she...

starts taking it out on you.

I can see that.

So when your... when your mother passed away,

you must have felt like you were...

free of her cruelty.

Your dad was free, too.

We'd survived.

We were done with her.

Only, your father didn't want to be.

He still loved her. He loved your mother.

He loved her so much

he wanted to bring her back to life.

See, I think that was
a betrayal that you just...

you couldn't live with.

Could you?

I would have ignored it.

Pretended like I didn't know
about the locked room,

the suit.

What I saw when I followed him that night...

As ghastly as it was,
I could have forgiven him.

But then he made his choice.

What choice?

Four days ago, I-I turned 30.

The only person in the world
I wanted to celebrate with

was Dad, and then he called

and said he didn't feel well
and he needed to cancel.

And I could hear the club music
in the background.

He chose your mother over you.

Again.

Then what happened?

You go out, follow her into the alley,

you wait for her to be alone?

Then you realized your mistake.

Why did you rip off the suit?

I had to throw her away.

April?

Why couldn't you just let her die, Dad?

She was a monster.

Oh, April.

Go to hell.

I never saw this before.

But you...

you remind me so much of her.

Go on. Get her out of here.

Shift's over, Greg.

It's not work.

A guy could tell I was law enforcement

across a dark club.

By just looking at me.

So?

- You are.
- But...

it's not who I am.

It doesn't define me.

And so I've just been looking at old photos

of all the different...

stuff I used to do.

Parties, traveling.

6:00 a.m. Kind of early for a...

identity crisis.

I guess.

Listen, Greg...

people are never just one thing.

Like, look at your friends.

This guy, Mr. Sweet Dad.

You really think that's all he is?

I once watched that guy eat a beer can.

True story.

People are complicated.

It's never that simple.

Everybody has layers.

People read "cop",

maybe I'll at least get a free cup of coffee.

If they give you free donuts,

that means they're making fun of you.

Well, how about if I update my status

to say, "Taking a friend out for a beer".

Me? Yes. I would love that.

All right, hold on.

Ooh. Yeah, I love that place.