CSI: Crime Scene Investigation (2000–2015): Season 9, Episode 5 - Leave Out All the Rest - full transcript

I have been thinking
about us a lot, though.

All the moments.

I thought
we could survive anything.

This trip has given me
a lot of clarity.

That last year in Vegas,

I could barely breathe,

let alone... think.

Hey, Officers!

I need your help.

We've got to preserve
those tire tracks.

Take your stick, dig a trench.



Got to divert the water.

Catherine?

You covered the body

with a tarp.

You contaminated the evidence.

First responder tarped it
before I even arrived.

Thought he was helping out.

I should be giving you grief.
You were out.

Dispatch said
you didn't acknowledge.

What do you know?

Trucker spotted
the body.

Called it in.

Face is embedded
with asphalt.

Hey, guys. Got here
as fast as I could.



See if he's got any I.D.

Nothing.

Rigidity hasn't extended
into the limbs.

The lividity's blanching.

Probably been dead
two to four hours.

Fingers and toes are gone.

Ligature marks
around the posterior aspect

of both wrists.

Tied up and dragged?

Well, then the rest of his body
should look like hamburger.

Roll him.

Burnt motor oil.

And his shirt looks
like it was scorched.

He could have been tied

to the undercarriage
of a vehicle.

A vehicle with a high
ground clearance.

Truck or S.U.V.

We got to get this body
out of here.

Where are the easy-ups?

They're on their way.

Before I left, um,

you said some things
that I tried not to hear,

but now, uh,
I think you were right.

Looks like Hawk here played
softball for Talmadge Media.

I'll have Brass run
down his real name.

Two, three, four.

Seven, eight, nine

stab wounds in his shirt?

What's the matter,

you got a migraine?

No.

Go call Brass.

All right.

Well, I still have
to do the paperwork

and fill out
a tox request

on a hit-and-run.

Tissue was white,
so, no blood flow.

Means, what
happened
to the face happened postmortem.

I can see his brains
through his nasal cavities.

That's cool.

Well, B.R.B.- be right back.

My wife's got me
into texting now.

No, that's it, Jim. Thanks.

Rope marks on the upper
and lower torso,

but no bruising.

Postmortem.

So are the stab wounds.

Nipples are swollen.

And it looks
like puncture wounds

around the areola.

If it was tattooing,
there'd be ink.

Piercing, there'd be metal.

I don't know, man.

A kinky way to shoot up drugs?

I'll have Robbins
work up a histo.

Eight and three quarter-inch
tread width.

So, that's consistent
with a small truck or S.U.V.

Boy, there must be a
lot of clay in this soil.

Otherwise, this track
would have totally washed away.

My shoes are ruined.

Why didn't you tell me
to wear boots?

Or, better yet,
hire some more CSIs.

Trust me,
you were my last choice.

Thank you.

Ow! Ow!

Catherine, man down!

Found a rope.

Got a splinter.

Think I pierced
an artery.

It looks like blood.

Nylon rope.

Must have been used to tie
the body to the undercarriage.

When the rope melted,

body dropped onto the road.

Killer's driving along.

Loses his cargo,

pulls over,

and drags the body
out into the desert.

Must have been an
accidental body dump.

Why go to the trouble
to tie it up

under the car
in the first place?

Because if a cop stop you,

they're going to look inside
the car, not underneath it.

Let me take a walk through.
Hang back a second.

All clear.

No sign of forced entry.

Apart from us.

Why don't you take this?

I'll check the back.

Well, I got an I.D.

Ian Wallace was
a good-looking kid.

Smells like citrus.

Got a blood drop
with an air bubble.

Got to be saliva.

Hey, somebody got punched.

Found more blood.

Somebody tried to clean up.

Ran tox on
hamburger head.

Low levels of THC
and alcohol.

For what's it worth,
I don't think

he was injecting
weed or beer
into his nipples.

Although, this one time,
Hodges and I were growing botox,

and he goes, and he injects it.

It's okay, Henry. I don't
need to know any more.

Yeah.

Hello from below the equator
and Puerto Ayora.

We've been at sea
over a month now.

You wouldn't believe the crew.

Students, activists, scientists.

The dinner conversations alone
are mind-blowing.

There's even this, uh,
marine biologist

that reminds me
a little bit of you.

I wish that
we could talk in person,

but, uh, this is the best
that I can do.

I want to apologize
for being out of touch.

I have been thinking
about us a lot, though.

All the moments.

I thought
we could survive anything.

This trip has given me
a lot of clarity.

That last year in Vegas,

I could barely breathe,
let alone... think,

but, um, now,

for the first time
in a really long time,

I'm happy.

Ian's sports car
is in the garage.

Other spot's empty.

I did find some fresh oil stains
and rope burns, though.

So, I'm thinking
the killer

probably pulled his truck
into the garage.

Would have given him plenty
of time to tie up the body.

Back door's unlocked.

Anybody could have
gotten in here.

Victim definitely lived
with a chick.

Napkin holders,

heart-shaped pillows.

Women's' magazines.

Yeah. Where is she?

I don't see a purse
around here.

Maybe she roped him

to the bottom of her truck
and split.

I got a name.

Justine Stefani.

Okay.

I'll have Brass put out
a broadcast.

Puncture wounds
didn't penetrate

any of the significant
blood vessels.

And there's no evidence
of injection

or scar tissue,
so that rules out drug abuse.

Punctures were made
by 18-gauge needles

which pierced
the areola.

They were arranged in
a symmetrical pattern
around the nipples.

Have you ever seen this?

Never.

Or this.

What appear
to be minor burn marks

on the upper and lower surfaces
of the tongue.

There are no other burn marks
in the oral cavity.

Histo confirmed the burns
were electrical.

They grilled his tongue?

That's sick.

Torture.
That would be
my opinion at this time.

COD?

Manual asphyxia.

Bruising around
the trachea.

Broken hyoid bone.

Killer strangled him
with his bare hands.

So, Ian Wallace was restrained,

his nipples were stimulated,

he had minor burns
on his tongue,

and he was asphyxiated.

S and M?

Gone very, very wrong.

These stab wounds

are brutal, random
and postmortem.

Which is inconsistent
with S&M.

Well, it's hard to take pleasure
in someone's pain

once they're dead.

Which is the
"gone wrong" part.

You're a doctor-
is that normal?

Grissom being socially awkward?

Yeah, that's normal.

He won't talk to me.

And he doesn't appear
to be sleeping much.

Grissom.

What are you doing here?

I should have called.
I'm sorry.

I... I didn't know
I was coming.

???

Thank you.

When was the last time
you had a good night's sleep?

Bad dreams.

How can I help?

I, uh... have a body
with S&M type wounds,

but there are inconsistencies.

So I was hoping to get
your first impressions.

My first impression...
is that you've changed.

Come on.

How have you been?

I got my Masters
in psychology last year.

I'm a licensed therapist.

I now have patients,
not clients.

Let me guess- you specialize
in sex therapy?

These wounds around his nipples
are from needle play.

The arrangement
is called "stacking. "

May I touch you?

Needles are inserted
transversely and sagittally,

which raises
the nipple upward.

This causes the nipple to swell
and become highly sensitive.

Which creates a "pain" button.

Any touch or pressure

overwhelms the senses

and releases a flood
of endorphins.

So, uh...

our victim is a submissive

who enjoyed pain?

He also had electrical
burns on his tongue.

Now I'm familiar

with the use of gags in S&M.

And some are metal.

Did you ever use electricity?

I never used electricity
above the waist.

It only takes six milliamps
to stop the heart.

It's too dangerous.

00:16:00,375 --> 00:16:01,640
This is tongue bondage.

It's used in medical
exam fantasies

as part of humiliation.

You ask the "patient"
to stick out their tongue,

grab the tongue with
chopsticks, rubber band them

to create a dental gag.

In a typical situation, one
would use wood chopsticks,

which would leave some bruising
and if you're lucky, splinters.

In this case, metal chopsticks
may have been used

and electricity applied.

These are masochistic
injuries.

So we're looking
for a dominant?

He lived with a woman.

Was she into the lifestyle?
We don't know.

She's missing.

I'd like to see
photos of their bedroom.

Sometimes it's obvious.

Sometimes it's not.

All right, copy that.

I'll efax you the over-alls
if we find anything.

Okay.

Grissom wants us to look
for any S&M paraphernalia.

Once had a old lady

in her 70's-

burglary victim.

Had to process her vibrators.

Some of them were burned out.

Why would you process
her... tuning forks?

I'm thorough.

I got a booty smudge
on the TV.

Justine super-sized herself.

Double-D implants.

Welcome to Vegas.

Positive for semen.

What does it say about me

that I always find the smut?

That you're lucky.

Guess they were
into S&M.

You ever been tied up?

What do you think?

I think you're more
into hair pulling.

Hey...

knock it off.

Give me some pictures
of that stuff, will ya?

Got a bloody shirt
in a laundry basket.

Bloodstains match

the puncture marks
on Ian's pecs.

Which means he must have
changed his shirt

after the nipple action,
but before he was killed.

Girlfriend could've
redressed him,

tossed the shirt in the
basket out of habit.

Yeah, and then what?

Little Justine ties 200 pounds
of dead weight

up under her SUV?

Well, I could do it.

It's just physics and leverage.

Takes brains not brawn.
I don't think you could.

I think you could do it.

The killing part, too.

The trunk contains
male slave gear.

Needle and electro play requires

special equipment.

I don't see any
dedicated S&M room.

So he didn't play at home.

Do you think he went
to a professional?

Lower Linx is part
of the amateur scene.

It has a well-equipped
back room.

You have to know
the right people.

Rents by the hour.

It's a proven sociological fact

that the public won't
commingle with cops.

I try not to
take it personally.

Yeah, me neither.

I'd like to talk
to the owner.

Michelle Tournay.

All my licenses are current.

What do you want?

You recognize these people?

Do you have any
security cameras?

Being Big Brother's
your job.

Well, Big Brother would like
to see the back room.

You know what I mean-

the real back room.

I'm done cooperating.

Get a warrant.

Okay.

That could take a couple
of hours. We'll wait.

Got a menu?

Who else has a key
to this room?

Only me.

Okay.

Looks like an oscilloscope.

This is the juice
right here.

Hey, Jim, check it out.

Chopsticks.

What's the word?

Sex.

That love juice
from near the TV

was a mixture of seminal fluid
and vaginal secretions.

Ian and his girlfriend?

Well, yes on him,

but assuming that that was
her toothbrush you gave me,

definitely no on her.

That's motive.

Dom-girlfriend finds her man
doing the nasty

with some hood rat in their
bedroom and kills him.

Yeah... I found more.

It's on the shirt
that you gave me

from Ian Wallace's
laundry basket.

High-velocity
blood stains?

Our victim wasn't shot.

No, but sometimes
expiratory blood

can actually mimic
high-velocity gunshot spatter.

It's on the back
of the shoulder.

It's probably
not his.

Maybe he's got the killer
on his back.

Before I left, uh, you said some
things that I tried not to hear,

but now, uh,
I think you were right.

If a relationship
can't move forward,

it withers.

There's a schism
between the lovers.

Ian and Justine have
different priorities,

different roles.

She's the keeper
of the hearth- sentimental,

traditional.

Mass card and rosary
in her nightstand.

A good girl,
afraid of the dark.

What about him?

Ian liked to
compartmentalize.

It made him feel safe.

Everything had
its place.

Work, her, sports.

He kept his dark side
locked in a trunk,

hidden away from her.

Does Sara know you're here?

No.

Am I your secret?

No, and you're
not my therapist.

They found some evidence

that Ian may have had sex with
another woman in their house.

That's his subconscious desire
to be caught and punished,

which is why he chose
Justine as a partner.

He's got a mommy
to hide things from.

The Virgin Mother.

Justine is
an enabler,

not a dominant.

Even if she discovered
his infidelities,

she couldn't harm him.

She's not your killer.

The Boulder City cop was able
to run the burnt license plate.

The registered owner is
Justine Stefani.

I'm guessing we're
about 20 miles southeast

of the original crime scene.

Those are breast implants.

Unlike most plastic, silicone
is extremely heat resistant.

Justine Stefani had fake boobs.

I saw a photo of her.

Doc Robbins will be able
to match the serial numbers
of those implants

and confirm
her identity.

???

Serial numbers from the
breast implants confirm

the victim is
Justine Stefani.

Dave, do you want
to flip her over?

Third-degree burns
over 75% of her body.

Doc, take a look.

The victim's arms
were bound.

Ligature marks are ante-mortem.

Found a set of shoe impressions
heading away from the highway.

Tire impressions followed them.

Found Justine's boots
under the vehicle.

C.O.D. was multiple traumatic
injuries- homicide.

Compound fractures to both
femurs indicate impact

back to front.

Fractures are inconsistent
with passenger injuries,

but consistent
with a pedestrian

being hit by a vehicle.

Found a clump of Justine's hair
on the skid plate.

She was ultimately killed
by her own SUV.

Axle was cracked,
making the vehicle undriveable,

which is probably
why the killer torched it.

A second set of impressions
were consistent

with a size nine athletic shoe.

???

separate set of tisions justff the road.

The killer may have flagged
down a passing motorist<

or had an accomplice.

So we have two new suspects.

One of whom wears
a size nine shoe,

which is the equivalent
of a woman's size 11.

The other suspect
drives a vehicle

with two different
brands of tires.

Front were Pirelli P-235
70R 15s.

Rear were same size Michelin.

Can't narrow it down.

We know that Ian was
killed at the house

and transported
in Justine's car,

so Justine had to have been
kidnapped from the house.

So whatever started
at the Lower Linx

ended at their house.

She must have walked in on it.

Why not just kill her there?

I mean, if you take
a live female victim,

there's a reason.

You want to take
your time with her.

I did collect
these metal chopsticks

from the Lower Linx.

They're used
in tongue bondage.

Now, the center saliva DNA
is a match to Ian Wallace,

but on the ends,
the epithelial DNA,

unknown female.

It did, however, match
the DNA profile

from the vaginal secretions
at the house.

So Ian was sleeping
with his dom.

You know, I got
a real dominatrix vibe

from Miss Tournay.

Her and Lady Heather
could be sisters.

Who's Lady Heather?

Oh, that's a whole other Oprah.

Changing the channel,

do we have enough to get
a warrant for Ms. Tournay's DNA?

Yeah, I think so.
I'll talk to the DA.

Oh, we also might have a lead
on the other suspect.

I ran Justine's phone records.

Last incoming call was from
a Martin Devlin at 8:12 P.M.

I have tremendous respect
for law enforcement.

Risking your lives every day

for so little reward.

How'd you get Justine Stefani's
phone number?

Got it off a warm call list.

She was a Web site
surfer, Jim.

Left her contact info.

What'd you two talk about?

Life insurance,
term for her

and her soon-to-be
fianc?

She was a planner.

Did you talk to the boyfriend?

Only her, Jim.

You ever been to their house?

No, it was one
phone call.

Chatted her up
and talked some turkey.

Oh, did you close her
on the insurance?

I had her going, then out
of the blue, she hangs up.

Oh.

Yeah, I lost that fish.

Sorry I can't be
of more help, Jim. I...

But meeting me
could be the best thing

that ever happened to you.

Oh, yeah?

You see, most cops
are under-insured.

And it's your family

that'll suffer.

I can hook you up
with catastrophic life,

an umbrella policy
and car insurance

in less
than ten minutes

and it'll save
you money.

Thanks. I'm all set. Thanks.

In the heterosexual world,

men want to be
dominated by women.

and women by men.

So Wallace would have had
a female dominant.

Well, we've confirmed that
through physical evidence.

She also slept
with him.

Which is why one should
always go to a professional.

They know
the boundaries.

I feel the same way
about crime scene investigators.

And no one has more rigid
boundaries than you.

We know there was
at least one killer,

but there may
have been two.

But we don't know if it
was a man or a woman.

If your dominant
is the killer,

she would most likely
choose a slave to assist her.

Someone she could
trust and control.

Which would be a man.
Mm.

Amateurs often play scenes
in groups.

And the dom would select slaves

who share similar fantasies
and fetishes.

Why did you lie to us
about knowing Ian Wallace?

We have physical
evidence linking him

to your S&M room,

so we know
you know him.

You had no right
to ask the question,

therefore I had no obligation
to answer it.

I have a warrant
to collect buccal swabs,

take all your shoes,
and search you SUV.

What do you need the stuff for?

Doesn't matter.
I have a warrant.

I can take it.

So why don't you tell me
what's going on?

Yes, I facilitate people's
BDS&M scenes.

It's a way to make money.

It's not something I practice.

I'm an entrepreneur.

I majored in theater.

Don't you get it?

I get that you're looking
at two counts of capital murder.

I hope you're a good actress.

Look, Ian came in a lot.

Got to know each other,
I ended up sleeping with him.

At his house.
We know that, too.

No. I have rules.

I'm not uptight
about sex,

but I like my privacy.

Never been
to his house,

he'd never
been to mine.

Open wide.

I'm not letting you take my DNA
and put it in some system

where it's gonna stay
the rest of my life.

If you're innocent,
what does it matter?

That just proves
you're a fascist

and this is a police state.

Help me out here,
will you, Mitch?

Ma'am, if you don't let
the CSI do his job,

I'm gonna have to arrest you
for obstruction.

Turned you on, didn't it?

Bet you're standing
at attention.

Hypocrite. You're no different

than the freaks
that rent my back room.

So I got a match from that
high-velocity bloodstain

on the Ian Wallace shirt.

Your suspect has
seven out of 13 alleles

in common with a convicted
felon named George Devlin.

Look, he's still
serving time.

Justine got a call from a
Martin Devlin the night she died.

Mr. Devlin, are you sure

you don't want
to call Legal Aid

and ask
for a senior attorney?

I trust her completely.

Okay.

Let's start with the DNA sample.

We refuse.

Too invasive.

We have a warrant.

Then I'll file
a motion to quash it.

We have Mr. Devlin's blood
on the victim's shirt

and we have a mother lode
of probable cause.

I'll argue that under
the Daubert Standards,

your DNA analysis is
unreliable and invalid.

Please remove your shirt.

I said no.

Transitory evidence.
We don't need a warrant.

Come on. Let's go.

No, no...

Needle play.

You're into S&M?

Stick out your tongue
and say, "Ah. "

Ah.

Boy, I hope you have a lot
of insurance, Marty.

What are you accusing
my client of?

We already have his dom
in custody.

Sooner or later, she's going
to roll on him,

and then we have him on the hook

for kidnapping and murder.

Oh, you like hooks,
don't you, Marty?

I didn't kidnap anybody.

Is that a confession?

I'm advising you
to remain silent.

So what happened?

You and Ms. Tournay
followed Ian Wallace home

from the Lower Linx
and then you had a fight?

One of you killed him.

Called his girlfriend-

told her she better come home.

Probably planned
on framing her.

And then you lassoed him
under Justine's car.

What kind of car
do you drive, Marty?

Michelle was driving
a Durango,

and you were
following behind

like a nice little slave.

But then things
get weird.

The body fell out
on the road.

Justine made a break for it,

and I bet you were the one

who decided to set her
on fire. Stop... stop!

There are no safe words
here, Marty.

This is a police station.

You like pain?

'Cause you're going
to be in for a treat.

We're invoking. We're done.

I noticed in the autopsy report

that Mr. Wallace was stabbed
after he was dead.

Right.

Which would make your dom
a sexual sadist.

That's highly unusual.

Why?

There must be sexual sadists
that seek out that world.

See, sexual sadists are
typically charming loners.

They would be repulsed by a consensual,
safe and communicative lifestyle.

When a submissive says
"stop," you have to stop.

That doesn't work
for a sexual sadist.

They get off on the terror
of their subjects.

So you think that S&M play
was not involved in the murders?

They were separate events?

That would be my
expert opinion.

May I make a personal
observation?

As a friend, not
as a therapist?

Everything I've told you, you
could have read in a book.

I think the case
is a mere pretext

and you're here for
a more personal reason.

Before I left,

you said some things
that I tried not to hear,

but now, uh, I think
you were right.

If a relationship
can't move forward,

it withers.

I've been waiting
for you to decide.

But sometimes not making a
decision is making a decision.

???

What stopped you?

I don't know.

A lot of things.

Devotion to your work?

Loyalty to the team?
Fear of the unknown?

Do you regret your decision
not to go with her?

It was beyond my control.

Really?

Most relationships
are over before they end.

But it's still
a death.

You mourn the loss,
have conflicting emotions-

but oftentimes
there's a sense of relief.

We've all experienced it,
but no one wants to admit it.

I didn't say
the relationship was over.

You didn't have to.

Not making a decision
was your decision.

Anyway, what I'm trying
to say is, uh...

you don't have to worry
about me anymore.

I'm good.

I'm really good.

And honestly...

I think it's better this way.

I think you're here
because it's not home.

It's not work.

And this is the only place
that doesn't remind you of Sara.

I have a guest bedroom
upstairs.

You can stay
as long as you want.

I pulled Martin Devlin's info

from his SIM card.

Guy's a big talker, but no calls
to or from Michelle Tournay.

Did they text?

These are all the texts.

Again, nothing to or from
Michelle Tournay.

Devlin called
our female vic at 8:12.

They talked until 8:29.

He sent that text
one minute later.

Are we ready to see this photo?

Holy crap.

That's our suspect's attorney.

I didn't see that coming.

Crisscross the phone number.

Yeah.

Who the hell is
Marshall Jeffries?

Look, it's one digit
off from Justine's number.

He must have panicked-

typed in the wrong number

and sent the money shot
to a stranger.

We have a
new suspect.

How do you know
Martin Devlin?

We just met.

Come on.

I called Legal Aid.

There's no record of him
in the database.

I'm sure it's a clerical error.

Counselor, isn't it
a conflict of interest
to represent Mr. Devlin
while you're having

an intimate relationship
with one of his victims?

Lawyer by day,

dominatrix by night.

Similar skill set.

I was at Ian's house
the night of the murder...

but I left just after
that picture was taken.

Why'd you kill him?

I didn't.

So Martin did?

He swore to me he was innocent.

But I don't know.

The three of us did a scene
together at the Lower Linx.

I lost control.

I got really turned on...

kissed him.

Martin got jealous,
stepped out of his role.

So you're in love with Ian,
Martin's in love with you,

they're both your slaves.

Sounds like a kinky soap opera.

Yes.

I broke every rule.

Ian went home.

I wanted to tell him
how I felt, so I followed him.

I love you.

I can tell you feel the same.

You think I'm going to
introduce you to my parents

and let you
raise my kids?

My girlfriend's going
to be home soon.

You got to go.

Get a grip.
It was just sex.

Martin came in the back door.

He went after Ian.

This time,
I didn't try to stop it.

Then Ian threw us both out.

I watched Martin drive away.

He could have gone back,

but there is no way he would
have killed the girlfriend.

Not like that.

We have evidence linking
the lawyer to Ian.

Her DNA was at the Lower Linx
as well as at the house.

Which means Michelle Tournay
is no longer a suspect.

But there's an issue.

Lawyer wears a
size six shoe.

Shoe impressions found
in the desert are too big

to be hers.

Plus, she drives a Mini Cooper.

So there's no match
to the tire impressions.

Which means we can't place her
at Justine's crime scene.

Or link her
to Ian's body dump.

How about Martin Devlin?

The feet are too big,
the car isn't a match.

I even checked both
their credit records.

Neither one rented a car.

So we're missing
the third side

of the evidence trinity.

We can link the scenes
and the victims,

but we can't link the
suspects to the crime scenes.

The back door was unlocked.

Anybody could have walked
right in there.

So are we saying
it was random.

or they were targeted?

ThS&M factor gave us
all tunnel vision.

I disagree.

We followed the evidence.

Which tells us
that the same night

Ian's play date went wrong,

a couple of psychopaths just
happened to torture, kidnap

and kill our vics?

According to Locard's theory,

we're still missing something.

There's still got to be
evidence out there.

Heather...

would you stay?