CSI: NY (2004–2013): Season 7, Episode 6 - Do Not Pass Go - full transcript

Liz...

what are we doing here?

Why don't we just go home?

Not yet.

Not until we climb the stairs.

Charles, what are you doing?

Honey, it's like an oven
in here. I can barely breathe.

We're supposed to hold
the railings.

It was very clear.

Liz, please.

This is just another
cruel prank.



What if it's not?

What if it's real this time?

I need to know for sure.

Oh, my God.

Oh, I don't believe this.

I found him.

Jeremy, it's Mommy.

Elizabeth, wait!
Jeremy?

Honey?
W-Wait.

No.

No...!

Jeremy!

No apparent trauma to the head.

Decomp is quite advanced.



From the looks of it,
he's been here for a while,

but narrowing an actual TOD

poses a bit of a quandary.

Could be anywhere from a few
days to what, a few months?

Factor in the late summer heat,

humidity, atmospheric variations
and any unknown perimortem

physiological conditions,
and all bets are off.

It certainly is

a unique spot for a body dump.

It's also a perfect place
to commit murder.

Let's do this.

You got something?.

Partials on the door handle.

At least two sets.

You?
Eh, rooftop is clean.

If there was ever trace up here,

Mother Nature did not want us
to find it.

What about the stairwell?

It's my next stop.

You want help?

Uh, well, with 738 stairs,

I think I'm good.

Can you imagine finding
your kid like this?

No, no, and I don't even want
to think about it.

Building was under renovation

until the developer went
belly up three years ago.

It's been a ghost town with
elevators ever since.

Who called it in?

Charles and Elizabeth Harris.

He's a dentist
from Westchester.

She's on the local
school board.

Why were they here?

Looking for their son.

On an abandoned rooftop
in Lower Manhattan?

An anonymous voice mail
told them where to look.

What's with the car?

The original architect had

a thing for big-boy toys
and drag racing.

Been up here 40 years.

I had daydreams of owning one
well into my 20s.

I'm assuming yours didn't come
standard with a dead body.

That wasn't even an option.

How long has Jeremy
been missing?

It's seven... seven days.

Sorry.

Take your time.

Tomorrow would have been
his 19th birthday.

It's not unusual for a teenager

just to check out
from their parents.

Oh, no. No, not my son.

We spoke almost every day.

The police were doing
everything they could.

They told us to go home,

to wait for Jeremy
to contact us.

But he never did?

We posted his picture
everywhere,

online and off.

And when we didn't get
a response,

we offered a reward.

And the calls started
rolling in?

Yes.

Hundreds of them.

Everybody wanted to help.

It was one dead end
after another.

Until this morning, I had...
two-dozen voice mails.

It was more of the same
except for one.

It was a man.

And he told you that Jeremy
was in this building?

Well, no.
I mean, not in those words.

He just said

we would find what
we were looking for,

but only if we followed
his exact instructions.

I wanted to ignore it.

My wife,

she knew it was real.

I don't know how I knew.

I mean, it was just...

it was something
in his voice or...

We're gonna need that
voice mail for evidence.

I have it.
I have it on my phone.

The man who
left that message...

killed Jeremy.

Mr. Harris, let's go this way.

We can finish the questioning
downstairs.

It's just not fair.

He was such a good kid.

This is gonna get ugly.

Indeed.

Do you prefer heads or tails?

Does it really matter?

In that case,
you can have tails.

Thanks.

Slow and steady.

Uh! Under
the circumstances,

I suggest we apply the
tried-and-true Band-Aid method.

Band-Aid method?

One, two, three..

Pull!

Oh, my God!

Okay.

Based on the level of decomp,

DNA extraction won't be easy.

Bone marrow?

My thoughts exactly.

Pleasure
to make your acquaintance.

Faith and begorra.

Jan Steel. It was...

Wait right here.
I'll go find her.

Oh, hold on one second.

I'll call you back.

You know who that is?

Uh-uh, no.
No, sorry.

Whoa, whoa, slow down
there, young lady.

Who are you?

I'm Mac Taylor.

Who are you?

Ellie.

Well, do you have
a last name, Ellie?

Mom!

Honey, what are you doing here?

We have to leave New York.

This whole move-to-the-Big-Apple
thing is not gonna work.

Oh, honey...

Take all the time you need.

Talk to me.

Everybody's hatin' on me.

Nobody hates you.

Tim Porter said I have
a gigantic head.

You know what that means?

It means he sucks.

I want to go back to Virginia.

I miss my old school
and my friends.

I understand, Ellie.
I miss my friends.

What happened to you
spirit of adventure?

You, your brother and I,

the three musketeers,
conquering the big city?

Very few people get this
opportunity, you know.

That's not fair.

I never asked
to be a musketeer.

And you always say

don't compare yourself
to other people.

Look, look at me.

I know it seems really
tough right now,

I promise you the one thing
I know for sure

is it will get better.

This is so messed up.

Whatever.

I'll give this stupid school
another shot.

Thank you.

I owe you one.

A new pair of soccer cleats
and some shin guards?

That's two.

It's a deal.

Come here.

Love you.
Mom! Mom!

Okay.
What are you doing?

Skip a step...

Skip a step...

Skip a step, and it...
Skip a step...

Adam!

Where are we
with the voice mail?

Call was made
from a prepaid cell.

So the SIM card

is no longer active,

which makes it
impossible to track.

And the message itself?

Vocal frequencies
have been isolated,

interference filtered out.

What up?

Can I hear it, please?

Oh, yeah. Yeah.

The treasure
you so desperately seek

is hiding in plain sight.

Do exactly as I say
if you want to find it.

Skip a step,
and it stays lost forever.

498 Wall Street,
southwest corner.

The service door
will be unlocked.

Pause it there.

Southwest corner service door.

Take the center elevator

directly to the 20th floor.

What's on the 20th floor?

Nothing.

Then, why is he
making them stop?

There's a couch

on the north side.

Stretch out
and get comfortable.

Take a moment to enjoy the view.

He's toying with them.

Delaying the inevitable.

Why?

To remind them who
is in control.

Play the rest.

Find the stairs.

Take them to the roof.

Why the stairs instead
of the working elevator?

Hold the railing
the entire way.

Remember, the engine
is the heart of any car,

but the driver
will always Bebe its soul.

Happy hunting.

If his intention

was leading them to the body,

then why so many hurdles?

Oh, you have to see this.

Total game changer.

Are you absolutely sure
this is right?

Oh, I'm so glad you asked.

Using painstaking
epidermal ablation,

I enhanced the tattoo
on the radial border

of the Vic's upper arm
and discovered this,

what appears to be
a wee little leprechaun

holding a... basketball?

Looks like a homemade rendition
of, what,

the Boston Celtics' mascot?

Oh. Well, not a very good one.

Anyway, I ran this
seemingly unique identifier

through Missing Persons
and got a hit.

Mac.

Prints from the door handle

belong to Charles
and Elizabeth Harris.

Well, they were crawling
all over that car

before we got there.

I know.

I did manage to find partials
from a third, older print,

but they were destroyed
by the parents.

So where does that leave us?
With a second Vic.

Sid used DNA and dental records

to positively I.D. the body.

Jeremy is not Jeremy.

The body in that car
was not the Harrises' son.

The body in the car was
confirmed as Craig Anderson.

He's 19 years old.

He's from Boston.

Explains the tattoo.
His parents reported him missing

almost three weeks ago.

What was he doing in New York?

Studying... he was
a sophomore at NYU.

And...

so is Jeremy Harris.

He's a poli-sci major.

Craig was a film student.

No overlap in classes.

That doesn't mean
they didn't know each other.

There's a connection somewhere.
Find it.

So you're liking the
voice mail caller

for both Craig's murder and
Jeremy's disappearance?

At this point, yes.

That doesn't bode well
for Jeremy.

Well, being kidnapped
by a psychopath seldom does.

Whoever this guy is,
he was careful.

Autopsy showed
no apparent trauma

to the body.

No gunshot wound.

No puncture marks
or tears in the clothing.

No signs of strangulation.

Process of elimination
has our C.O.D.

Looking more and more
like poison.

We identify the type?

No. No.
Tox screen came back negative

on all the usual suspects.

Means it's something rare...
exotic, maybe.

It's going to take some time
to narrow it down.

Poisoned and left to die.

This was personal.

The caller wanted that
body found by someone,

but why did he want it
to be the Harrises?

DNA confirmed the body you found
on that roof was not Jeremy.

I'm sorry.
I don't understand.

There has to be a mistake.

The man on the roof was
named Craig Anderson.

Did Jeremy ever mention him?
Could they be friends?

Our son was in college.

His circle of friends
was different

every time we spoke.
We're wasting time.

Didn't you see what he did
to that poor boy?

My son is next.

No. I feel it.
I feel it in my heart.

I just... please, please,
I just want to know where he is.

I wish I could tell you that,
Mrs. Harris.

I wish I could take
you to him right now.

We're going to need access

to Jeremy's e-mail
and cell phone records.

Anything that can help us
tie him to Craig Anderson.

Yes, of course.

Excuse me.
Yeah?

Do you know where I can
find Detective Flack?

There he is.
He's coming out right now.

Excuse me.

Detective Flack?

Mrs. Anderson?

I-I'm sorry I'm
here so early.

I just, uh...
I, uh...

couldn't stand sitting in
that hotel room any longer.

I understand.

Still can't believe
Craig is dead.

Let's take a walk.

My husband, Mark, passed away

when Craig was still
in elementary school.

Been just the two of us
ever since.

I wasn't a perfect mom, but...

I tried my best.

Well, your best must have
been pretty damn good.

I heard Craig was at
the top of his class.

Oh, he was always
a good student.

He loved learning.

And basketball, too, huh?

Oh, that's an understatement.

His first words
were Bird and McHale.

Mine were cookie and cake.

Mrs. Anderson...

we're going to find the
guy who murdered your son.

That's not going
to bring him back, is it?

I'm sorry.

It's going to take time.

I don't know the right way
to act around people,

what to say to them.

No right way to act.

Children aren't
supposed to die.

I would like to see him,
Detective.

All due respect,

I don't think
that's a good idea.

That's not how you
want to remember him.

Then, how do I say good-bye?

You don't.

Not where it counts.

You don't understand.

I need to speak
with Detective Flack right away!

Mr. Harris.

What happened?

He called again.
When?

Elizabeth had a voice mail on
her phone when we got home.

Where is your wife now?

I don't know.

I need you to tell me

exactly what was said
on that message.

I only heard it once.

Detective,
I've already lost my son.

If something should happen
to my wife,

I don't know...
Take a breath.

I need you to try to
remember as much as you can.

Okay.

There were more instructions.

There was an address.

Somewhere in Brooklyn.

Uh... Moultrie Street.

Get me Mac Taylor now.

NYPD!

Elizabeth Harris!
What is this place?

Transportation
Department warehouse.

This is where tired old
street signs go to die.

I smell smoke.

Hey. Guys, over here.

Smart money says
right place, wrong floor.

- Mrs. Harris?
- Elizabeth!

Mrs. Harris?
Elizabeth!

Mac!

Mac, Jo, come on!

Come on!

Let's get the hell out of here!

By now, you realize
this is not a game.

Do exactly as I say,

and you'll be one step closer

to finding what you seek.

1409 Moultrie Street.

Use the side entrance.

Take the stairs
to the basement.

There's a cardboard box.

In it, you'll find
everything you need

to complete your task.

Use every drop.

Nothing can be left behind.

Absolutely nothing.

Do as you are told
and my next message

will be the last one you need.

All the step-by-step
directions.

The gasoline.

Destroying the makeshift lab.

Setting the snakes on fire.

Just like in
the other building.

The couch.

The elevator.

The handrails.

He's not telling them how
to find Jeremy Harris.

He's making them
destroy evidence.

Except there's some still here.

That's a service apron.

You know from experience?

I worked in a burlesque club
when I was an undergrad.

As a bartender?

I never said that.

So what do we
know about this basement?

It's an unofficial sublet

to a company called
Eastwick Receivables.

And conveniently,
there's no paper trail

to lead to the name
of a tenant.

Let me guess... all cash
up front, no questions asked?

Landlord never even bothered
to get a phone number.

I'll make sure Homeland Security
gets his.

It's counterintuitive, Mac.

Why would you involve
someone in all of this

when you could easily dispose
of the evidence by yourself?

Poor kid suffered
to the very end.

Jo.

Yeah.

So how'd your negotiation
go yesterday?

Negotiation?

Your daughter seems rather
determined to vacate New York City.

She can be a stubborn
mule like her mama.

Seldom shy about what
she likes and doesn't like.

Being thrown into the
deep end is never easy.

It helps to know there are people
around that have your back.

Well, Ellie's a tough kid.
She's going to be fine.

I wasn't talking about Ellie.

Thank you.

And, Mac, I did their books.

What?

The burlesque club
in college...

I was their weekend accountant.

Hey, guys,

the blood on the apron...

it didn't belong to
Craig Anderson or Jeremy Harris.

What about CODIS?

Negative. Not in the system.

But the DNA,

it was triallelic at D16.

A mutation like that

is highly uncommon.

Right. Which is why I remember

coming across it a year ago

in an unsolved murder case.

A shooting of a bouncer.
Right.

Vic's name was Ryan Parisi.

I pulled his profile.

It's a perfect match
to the blood on the apron.

The new voice mail was left
using a second prepaid phone,

and just like numero uno, right,
the SIM card was used once

and then deactivated.

So Mrs. Harris' mystery caller

is dumping phones as he goes.

Sure looks that way.

So I compared the serial numbers
on both the cards

and guess what?
They were sequential?

Yeah. Perp's not as smart
as he thinks.

He bought both the phones
at the same store

at the same time.

He alluded to a final message
in the second voice mail.

Do as you are told,

and my next message

will be the last one you need.

So to leave it,
he'd need a third phone,

which might still be active.
Adam.

Already checking
number three in the series.

Okay, got it.

Triangulating the signal.

And the phone is turned on

somewhere between Prince,
Grand and Canal Street.

O'Devlin's.

That's the name of the bar

where the bouncer was shot.

1911 Broome.

I hope Jo and Flack are thirsty.

All right, I'll start
beating the bushes.

Hang on. I might have
a less obtrusive way.

We do have his
telephone number.

It's for you.

Gotcha.

Less obtrusive?

Police!

Out of the way!

You really should be
more careful.

Well done.

You're out of your mind.

You made those calls, Reuben.

Voice analysis confirmed it.

The engine is the heart

of any car,

but the driver
will always be its soul.

Making a phone call
is not a crime.

But murder is.

I didn't kill anybody.

Then tell me who did.

How should I know?

The same way you knew

where Craig Anderson's
body was hidden.

I had no clue
what was on that roof.

A friend asked me
to make a call,

read a set of instructions.

I didn't ask why
because I didn't really care.

Do you think you'll
care about 25 to life?

What's the friend's name?

I want a lawyer.

I can't wait to tell him

about how I got this.

All right, let's
take a different approach.

Smug little punk.

He got off too easy.

I agree. You should have
put him under the Dumpster.

Unfortunately, I believe him.
Do you?

Body language...
too comfortable.

Too engaged.

He has no connection
to those boys.

But he can sure
tell us who does.

Explain that to your lawyer.

An apron?

The same kind
you wear at O'Devlin's.

And 50 other bars
in the Village.

Only this one has the blood
of a murdered bouncer on it.

You're talking about
Ryan Parisi getting shot.

Cops already cleared
everyone who works at the bar,

including me.

I'm tired of this BS.

If you guys had anything on me,
I'd already be in jail.

Or just visiting.

You're a bartender, Reuben.

You really should wash
your hands more often.

The U.V. stamp on Reuben
Lewis' hand was from Rikers.

All visitors are required
to have one. Yep.

Prison log confirms he visited
Rikers two days ago.

And get this...
the inmate he went to see

is being housed at
the Rose M. Singer Center.

The women's facility.

Yep. The prisoner's name

is Allison Scott.

She's being held
on a possession charge.

And she did have
an intimate knowledge

of the murdered bouncer
Ryan Parisi.

How close were they?
I would say

pretty close.

They were engaged.

Looks like we just found
our motive for murder.

Allison Scott was also
a bartender at O'Devlin's.

That's where she met
her fiancé,

Ryan Parisi.

And the manager said
the night Parisi was shot,

there were two
rowdy college guys

being extra friendly
to Allison.

Ryan had to kick them
to the curb.

Craig Anderson
and Jeremy Harris?

Yeah, apparently, they were

none too happy about getting the
boot, so they threatened Parisi.

And two hours later,
somebody sneaks up on him,

puts a bullet in his back.

Allison found him dying
out on the sidewalk.

EMS had to pry him
out of her arms.

Explains the
blood on her apron.

We look at the boys
for the shooting?

Yeah. Alibis were weak,

but there was no evidence
they were involved.

Allison needed someone to blame.

Jeremy and Craig
were easy targets.

Now, the reptile remains
we found in the basement

were consistent
with Bungarus fasciatus.

Also known as the banded krait.

Where did they come from?

Chinatown, black market.

15 minutes on the Internet,
anybody can learn

how to extract the venom.

It's neurotoxic
and fast-acting,

causing near-instant
muscle paralysis

in humans.

The lucky ones die fast.

And the unlucky ones?

Slow and excruciating
respiratory failure.

As the diaphragm
becomes paralyzed,

the victim suffocates.

Death can take days.

So these guys were literally
trapped inside their bodies.

I mean, unable to move,
unable to talk.

Allison Scott knew exactly what
she was doing.

She wanted them to suffer.

Man I loved
was taken away from me.

Just wanted something in return.

So you hunted down
Craig Anderson

and lured him to a
deserted building.

I didn't have to lure anybody.

All I did was smile,
and he became a dog in heat.

Drink up, baby.

Anything you say.

Turns out, he had
a soft spot for old cars.

You picked an abandoned rooftop
so his body wouldn't be found.

Even if it was,

the chances of it tracking
back to me were pretty slim.

I mean, didn't have me
in the system.

I'd never even
been fingerprinted.

Until a few days ago when you
were arrested for the drugs.

That's why you needed someone

to clean up your mess...
you were locked up.

Well, I had less than
24 hours to come up with

all the details before Reuben

came to see me.

Pretty impressive,
don't you think?

Tell me about Jeremy Harris.

Why don't you tell me.

I think you poisoned him
like you did Craig.

And then you had
your friend Reuben

call his desperate mother.

You took advantage of her grief,

you preyed on her vulnerability.

Don't you dare
talk to me about grief,

because my fiancé
died in my arms.

You're absolutely right,

Allison,
that was a terrible tragedy.

I can only imagine
the anger you felt.

God himself couldn't save

someone who wanted
to hurt my family.

I would hunt them down.

I would make them suffer

like they had never
suffered before.

I would need them to feel the
unrelenting pain that I felt.

But what if I was wrong?

What if I hurt the wrong person?

I could never live with myself.

But I got it right.

I know I did.

You have no idea
what happened that night.

You didn't see what I saw.

How those bastards
threatened Ryan,

and then they shot him
in the back.

No, Allison, they didn't.

There was a partial print
on the bullet.

Not enough detail
to identify the shooter,

but more than enough
to rule one out.

Craig and Jeremy
are not a match.

Well, then they must have had
another person helping them out.

There may have been a fourth,
fifth or sixth.

You can convince yourself
of anything.

The truth is,
you don't really know

what happened that night.

Neither do you.

Difference is,
I didn't commit murder.

I did what I had to do.

It's over.

Well, then why continue
to let anyone suffer?

Give the Harrises
back their son.

For God's sake, Allison, all
they want to do is say good-bye.

The same way you got
to say good-bye to Ryan.

There's a marine salvage yard
on Staten Island.

That's it.

Hawkes.

I'll call Sid.

Wait.

Flack, hold on.

He's still breathing.

I got a faint pulse.

This is Detective Mac
Taylor. I need a bus

at 2453 Arthur
Kill Road. Hurry.

Jeremy!

We're here, son.

Jeremy?

The kid gonna make it?

Well, he's not
out of the woods,

but he is responding
to the antivenin.

Prognosis is good.

How the heck did
he survive all that time?

If you're asking the scientist,

I'd say his particular body
chemistry metabolized the poison

slow enough
to keep him breathing.

Drinking condensation
kept him alive.

But if you want

my personal opinion,

I'd say science didn't have
anything to do with it.

It's too bad they all can't
have a happy ending.

Looking for something?

Oh, only the best hamburger
in all five boroughs.

Harvey's double-decker
with the works.

And you're sure
it's on this desk?

Well, I had the address

somewhere here.

Ellie's been dying
to go to Harvey's

since we got to the city.

You know, I read in your file
that, uh, you adopted Ellie.

What?

I read files, too, you know.

Yes, I did.

She was barely two years old.

And her biological mama wasn't

much more than a child herself.

She'd been using and turning
tricks since she was 17.

And Child Protective Services
took Ellie away from her mother.

Oh, yeah.

I had evidence linking her
to a double homicide.

Special circumstances put her
away for life without parole.

Ellie would've just

ended up one of those innocent
kids lost in a broken system.

Well, bringing her into your
family was a Noble thing to do.

I didn't have any choice, Mac.

She was love at first sight.

She was so yummy.

And if my son Tyler

gave meaning to my life,
Ellie just made it complete.

It was the best decision
I ever made in my life.

Lord have mercy.

Got it.

Don't you want to join us?

This burger is just heaven on

a sesame seed bun.

Well, maybe next time.

I've already had, uh,
heaven on a bun for lunch.

Oh. Well, if you change your
mind, I'll save you some fries.

Harper Street?

That way.

That looks awesome.

Yes.

Can I get a knife, please?

All right, dig in.

Thank you.

How was school today? Better?

Kinda.

Come on, you can
do better than that.

I got an "A" on my book report.

Hmm!
Tim Porter

got a "C" on his.

He's a loser.

That is what I'm talking about!

That's my girl.

Don't tell anybody I said that.

Hey.

Your sister and I were beginning
to think you forgot about us.

Where are you?

Oh, man.

Well, having pizza with
your friends is important, too.

What about tomorrow night?

All right.

Well, maybe next week.

Okay, Tyler.

Have fun, be safe.

I love you, too, honey.

Bye.

Okay.

Looks like it's girls night out.

Tyler is so lucky.

He gets to do
whatever he wants in college.

You know,
college is not that easy.

Giant textbooks
and really hard tests.

Tons of hot guys.

What exactly

do you know about hot guys?

Don't you make me
have to interrogate you.

Mom.

Do we need to have
that talk again?

I'm not going into
this conversation.

Maybe I need to hear
a little bit more about Tim.