Castle (2009–2016): Season 4, Episode 3 - Head Case - full transcript

Yes!

What are you so excited about?

It's the latest
issue of "Skymall."

Oh... sweet.

Oh, really, darling,

who subscribes to "Skymall"?

Isn't perusing all that
dreck on the plane enough?

Dreck?
Mother, I will have you know,

this is the gateway

to the hottest new
inventions in the world.

Where else can you
find a remote control

that has a bottle... opener?

What?

I think it's Alexis'
decision letter

from Stanford university.

Oh, kiddo.

You okay?

Yeah, it just makes it so real.

She grew up so fast.

Well, what do you expect,

her to live here forever?

Well, her? Yes. You...

Mm.

Mm. Watch it.

Is that the mail?

Oh, yeah.

You have one here from a Mr.
Stan Ford.

Is that anyone you know?

Well...

Darling?

I-I didn't get in.

What?

Oh, sweetie. I'm so sorry.

But I picked all my classes.

I bought t-shirts.

I-I had it all planned.

How could Stanford think
she's not worthy?

She's perfect.

Last week you didn't
want her to go.

Yeah, but I didn't not
want her to get in.

I was sure she would get in.

You got in.

Well, I wouldn't now.

Anyway, put your
bruised ego aside.

I'm sure she's crushed.

Well, actually, right
now she's in denial.

When I left, she was on the
phone with admissions,

explaining to them,
they'd made a mistake.

Where's the body?

That is an excellent question.

You mean there's no body?

Nope. Just lots of blood.

Whosever it is,

there's no way they survived.

Well, where'd they go?

You're the one with all the
crazy theories, Castle.

Walking dead.

But there are indications
that the body was moved.

I think I know who moved it.

I got witnesses that said they
saw an unmarked white van

fleeing the scene
just after 7:00 A.M.

They get an eye on who
was behind the wheel?

No, but we got unis
canvassing for eyewitnesses

and checking every
street-level security camera

in a 5-block radius.

Tire tracks.

Okay, get a cast
of the tire tread.

CSU might be able
to get make and model.

There's two different-size
footprints.

There was at least two of 'em.

Yeah, but there's no
tread on the footprints.

Must have been wearing booties.

Missing body,

killers who literally
cover their tracks,

anyone else getting

a quick-strike
assassin squad vibe?

Come on, Castle.
You're not saying

this is some kind
of black-ops job?

I'm not saying it.
The evidence is saying it.

I'm betting this guy's
buried at sea by now.

Lanie, there's an
imprint in the blood.

Yeah, it looks like
a box or a case.

Might have been our victim's.

Nuclear launch codes probably.

Hey, Ryan, there's a pattern.

Let's see if CSU can ID it.

Is there a problem?

Oh, no. Sorry.

It's just that word, "pattern."

Jenny and I, we're still
registering for the wedding.

China, silverware, stemware...

sheets, not to mention...

CSU, imprint, got it.

Yo.

I'm pretty sure I got
a cause of death.

You mean besides
massive blood loss?

Gunshots.

Neighbors heard a pair go
off at 6:40 this morning.

6:40? Are you sure?

Uh, positive. Why?

Because Ryan's
witnesses saw a van

racing outta here at 7:00.

Who would kill someone,
wait for them to bleed out,

and then take their body?

I guess that rules out
quick-strike assassin squad.

An imprint in the blood
is your best lead?

Well, based on stitching,
CSU determined

that the briefcase
is an Underwood,

which is pricey, and only
two local shops sell them.

They're giving us
customer information.

Sounds like a long shot at best.

We're waiting on
tire tread analysis,

and detective Ryan is
overseeing the review

of over 50 security cameras
looking for that van.

What about the victim?
Any closer to an ID?

Based on blood,

Dr. Parish determined that
our victim is a male.

So we're looking for
missing persons reports

of men in that area.

Men? You've narrowed the
victim pool down to men?

Uh, well, in New York City,

that actually eliminates over
four million women, so...

Mr. Castle, I don't know
what the mayor sees in you,

but I know how you're alike.

He's term-limited.

Maybe if I sent her flowers...

No. No.

So an investigation
without a body...

that's kinda new, right?

You know, there have been
murder investigations

where authorities
haven't found the body.

Yeah, but i-in those cases,

they still know who
the victim is.

Father of four disappears
on fishing trip,

blood found in family garage.

Where do you start

when you don't know
who the victim is?

You...

uh...

you... you... you know, you could...

We really need to find
the body, don't we?

Yeah. Pretty much.

I may be able to help.

Security cam footage
near the alley

clocked three vans that matched
our witnesses' description,

two Astros and an Econoline.

It's the Econoline.

- Tire tread analysis just came back.
- You get plates?

Yeah, the Econoline is
registered to a PW storage.

It's only six blocks
from our crime scene.

All right. Let's go.

Plates match.

Beckett.

Door.

Ready?

What the hell?

What's in these things?

I don't know.

Judging from the size of 'em,

you'd almost expect there'd be...

- People!
- Jeez.

They're people.

They're people.

They look frozen.

What the hell is this place?

Who are they all?

Does anyone else
have the sudden urge

to run through the streets,
screaming "they're here"?

Yeah, this is detective Beckett.

- I need every CSU tech...
- Movement.

Movement, 10:00.

NYPD! Show us your hands!

Don't shoot! Don't shoot!

- Now!
- Now!

Turn around.

We're just doing our job.

Killing and freezing
people is your job?

No. He was already dead when
we arrived to pick him up.

We work for Passageway,
a cryonics company.

- Cryonics.
- Turn around.

That explains the roomful
of human popsicles.

They all have contracts with us.

We cryopreserve them.

To be brought back to life

in a science-fiction future
where death has a cure.

Think they can put me
under till the wedding?

How did you know he was
dead before we did?

He was wearing a bio-watch

with a pulse monitor and GPS.

We're notified immediately
when a client's pulse stops.

We were there in 15 minutes.

That explains the
timeline problem.

Even if that's true,
what were you thinking,

moving a shooting victim?

Why didn't you call 9-1-1?

We couldn't wait.

In cryonics, every minute counts.

We had to get him frozen
as quickly as possible

t-to keep his brain alive.

His brain isn't alive.
It's dead. He's dead.

That's a matter of opinion.

Dr. Ari Weiss,

CEO of Passageway.

This is my attorney,
Johnny Rosen.

I imagine you have
many questions.

Yeah, starting with
who's the murder victim

you took from my crime scene?

His name is Lester Hamilton...

a biology professor
at Hudson university.

- Can you call it in?
- I'm on it.

He also happens to be

an old friend from
Harvard medical school.

It's ironic he died so young.

Why is that?

He conducted
cutting-edge research

developing life-extension
techniques.

Not that it did him any good.

So he worked with you?

No.

Lester focused on how to
extend life before death.

I created Passageway in
order to preserve the hope

of future life, after death.

You got any celebrities in here?

Ted Williams?

Jack Frost?

We don't discuss our clients.

Well, you're gonna have
to discuss this one.

Lester Hamilton was murdered,

and my ME will be taking
custody of his body

as soon as she gets here.

Detective, our client...
Professor Hamilton...

has an iron-clad agreement
with Passageway

to have his body cryopreserved
upon his death.

Short of a court order,
he's not going anywhere.

And any attempt to take
him would constitute

tortious interference,

and we would sue you and
the NYPD into oblivion.

Okay. Got it.

DA won't back us up on this one.

They say that the
case law is murky.

I'll say it's murky.

A life-extension
researcher is killed,

then a shadowy cryonics company
absconds with the body?

This has all the
hallmarks of a vast

and insidious conspiracy.

I'm still trying to figure out
how to explain it to Gates.

They steal our victim and
then threaten to sue us?

Sir, it's a legal
chicken-and-egg problem.

Since Hamilton's body
is on private property,

we can't get it
without a warrant,

but it's gonna be tough
to get a warrant,

because without the body,

we can't even prove
he was murdered.

You get that doublespeak
from their counsel?

No, sir. My mother was a lawyer.

Anyway, trust me

this is the argument
that they will make.

Okay. Then where are we?

Well, the cryonics
technician said that

Hamilton was shot
twice in the chest.

They turned over his clothes,

and based on the
holes in the shirt,

it... it looks like it was
a large-caliber bullet.

There's still money
in his wallet,

suggesting it wasn't
a random mugging.

Well, what about the briefcase?

Technician said that there
wasn't a briefcase at the scene.

I called up Hamilton's wife.

She was adamant that he left
the apartment this morning

with a briefcase in hand.

She's on her way in
right now with a...

a Dr. Philip Boyd.

He's a colleague of Mr.
Hamilton's.

Yes.

Hamilton's office at
Hudson university

was broken in to three days ago

and his computer was smashed.

- Security never found out who did it.
- Check into it.

See if you can find something
campus cops missed.

Yeah.

Sounds like something in
that office or briefcase

was worth killing for.

Then find out what, detective.

And get the wife to
release his body.

Yes, sir.

I can't do it.

I have to honor Lester's wishes.

Mrs. Hamilton, you do understand

that without your husband's body,

we might not be able
to solve his murder?

If preservation is discontinued,

he's gonna be gone forever.

With all due respect, he
already is gone forever.

Lester would dispute that.

He and I have been colleagues
at Hudson for 20 years now.

And, uh, he's a true believer.

For him, the keys
to life extension,

to reversing death itself,
were within reach,

so he would never give up
his chance at revival.

Do you know why he chose to
focus on life extension?

We fell madly in love
with each other.

He told me that one lifetime
together wasn't enough.

He wanted more.

So do I.

Mrs. Hamilton, we think that
whoever killed your husband

might have stolen his briefcase.

Do you know what was in it?

His research for the
Ambrosia project.

He always had it with him.

Ambrosia as in

the food Greek gods ate
to achieve immortality?

And what was the Ambrosia
project exactly?

Philip, how would you explain it?

Well, it's a little
outside my wheelhouse,

but Lester was developing

pharmaceutical implants
that cause the body

to produce young cells
instead of aging ones.

He expected it to extend

the human lifespan by ten years.

A treatment like that would be
worth a fortune to big pharma.

Billions.

Though most of the money would
have gone to Beau Randolph.

Beau Randolph?

The guy behind "college
girls gone crazy"?

Mm-hmm.

How is...

How is a porn mogul
connected to all this?

Us researchers take our
funding where we can get it.

Randolph made a killing in porn,

and now he fancies himself
a venture capitalist.

He is funding Lester's
research, you know?

He was.
Lester cut all ties with him.

And why is that?

Lester wanted to take an
open-source approach...

publish his research online,

and then develop it with his
peers to speed up the process.

And that way, no one could
hold a patent on the results.

And how did Randolph
feel about that?

Oh, they had awful
fights about it,

but Lester was adamant.

In fact,

he was supposed to
upload the data today.

When did your husband

and Mr.
Randolph have their falling out?

Three days ago.

Three days ago... that's when
his office was broken in to.

Wh...

Beau Randolph is distasteful,
of course, but...

Do you really think...

I think that losing
billions of dollars

is motive for murder.

So not only is Beau
Randolph the proud owner

of a Smith & Wesson .45
automatic...

Which is a large enough caliber

to have created that entry
wound in our victim.

He also has a carry permit.

Wh... I couldn't even
get a carry permit.

- How did he get one?
- The hard way.

Several guys saw their
girlfriends in his videos

and beat the hell out of him.

No longer jealous.

The gun still doesn't
tie him to our murder.

Yeah, but this might.

A charge on our
vic's credit card.

At 6:30 this morning, he bought
breakfast at Medusa diner.

I talked to the waitress.
Guess who was with him.

Beau Randolph.

And there was a whole lot
of yelling going on.

6:30, that's 10 minutes
before Hamilton was shot.

Come on, Castle.

The Ambrosia project...

it sounds like a
Robert Ludlum novel

where the millionaire playboy

kills a researcher
to get his hands

on the secret formula
for eternal life.

Yeah, well, ten years
is not eternal life.

Would you do it?
Would you get the implants?

I don't think I need 'em. Huh?

I mean the...

pharmaceutical implants.

So I could live to
100 instead of 90?

No, I think I will pass.

What if you could stay
the same way you are now

for the next ten years?

I don't want to stay the same.

How could you not
want ten extra years?

Well, one thing I've learned

is that you never know
how much time you have.

And if I thought I had more,

I just might end up wasting it.

Yeah, you're gonna need
to get those implants,

otherwise, you'll get older

and ten years from now, I'll
still be exactly the same.

Isn't that how you'll be anyway?

Detective Beckett.

Mr. Randolph will be right out.

Great. Thank you.

Everyone here for "sorority
pillow fight #7,"

come on back.

Someone needs to get these girls

clothes made of actual fabric.

Whoa. When did you
become so judgmental

about practically naked women?

Since my daughter
hit college age.

And there he is...

defiler of coeds.

Detective Beckett.

Beau Randolph.

Are you sure you're
not here to audition

for my "post-docs
play doctor" series?

No.

Then what can I do for you?

You can answer a few questions
about Lester Hamilton.

Like why did you kill him?

Yeah, I was with
professor Hamilton

at the diner this morning.

The only crime was how
bad the food was.

Witnesses say that you fought.

That's right.

I'd sunk millions
into his research,

and suddenly, he wants
to give it all away?

If there's one thing
internet porn has taught me,

you don't get rich
by giving it away.

Is that why you killed him,

so you could secure Ambrosia

before he uploaded it
for everyone to see?

That's why I walked home
and called my lawyer

to issue an injunction.

The doorman said you
came home at 7:10.

Sounds right.

Lester Hamilton was
killed at 6:40.

That's plenty of time for
you to put two in his chest

before walking home.

I didn't kill him,
but I know who did.

Do you really?

Would you care to share?

Look, last month, the NIH
rejected him for human testing.

Now I told him the
setback was temporary.

But he said he was too
close to a breakthrough.

And he wasn't gonna let a bunch
of bureaucratic scientists

get in his way.

A week later,

I notice $100,000 missing

from the account I
set up for him.

You think he went ahead with
human testing without approval.

Yes...

in secret.

And then he tells
me to take a hike.

I think he had that breakthrough.

I think the Ambrosia
project worked.

That's a very interesting theory, Mr.
Randolph.

But you still haven't told us

who you think killed Hamilton.

If he was doing illegal testing,

where were his test
subjects coming from?

Hmm?

I can tell you this,

they weren't clean-cut
college kids.

They're the kind of folks
who don't mind needles

and are likely to
possess firearms.

Here's my view, and unlike yours,

mine is based on fact.

You sunk millions of dollars
into Hamilton's research,

and just as you thought

that Hamilton...

was making a breakthrough,
he cut you off.

That is motive.

You have a large-caliber gun.

Hamilton just happened
to have been shot

with a large-caliber gun.

That is means.

And you were seen
arguing with Hamilton

ten minutes before he was killed.

That is opportunity.

It's conjecture, detective.

You have no proof.

Actually, I do.

CSU just found that
your 45-caliber gun

was fired this morning.

Ouch.

You know what we call that?

The smoking gun.

Well, that had nothing
to do with Hamilton.

There was a flock of pigeons
on my roof this morning,

squawking,

and I was trying to sleep.

Pigeons?

That's what you're gonna go with?

Given that the only
evidence you have

is frozen inside Mr. Hamilton,

yeah,

that's what I'm going with.

In the meantime,

I'd like my lawyer.

Smug, self-satisfied
son of a bitch.

Yes, but with no witness
to the shooting,

all we've got is a gun.

Since we can't match ballistics
without the bullets,

we can't even prove
it's the murder weapon.

Thank you, Mr. Castle.
I know how ballistics works.

Sir, we need that body,

otherwise, we don't have a case.

I'll call the DA.
I don't care if case law's murky.

We have a suspect now.

Here's the deal, boys...

the DA's office believes
that we currently

have sufficient grounds
to obtain a warrant

and take custody of
Lester Hamilton's body

as evidence in his
murder investigation.

You know we'll fight you, right?

Do you really want to risk

that case law will be
established on the basis

of these extraordinary
circumstances?

Case law that will limit the
rights of all your clients.

Now I'm hoping that we
can find another way,

but I need that body.

We can't surrender
our client's chance

at a long, productive future life

because it proves
inconvenient for the state.

Then I'm sure you'll
be hearing from

the district attorney's
office shortly.

There may be another way.

Our admittance X-rays show
that Hamilton's heart

was damaged by the bullets.

So maintaining the body
is no longer a priority.

Cryonics is mostly about
preserving the brain.

By the time the technology
exists to revive Hamilton,

we'll surely be able to
regenerate our bodies.

Bottom line...

we can keep the
courts out of this,

and you can have Hamilton's
body immediately

if you agree to leave
his head in storage

at Passageway.

Then we have a deal.

Now all we need to do

is match ballistics
to Randolph's gun.

They're not a match.

What do you mean,
they're not a match?

I mean, the bullets in
Lester Hamilton's chest

were not fired by
Beau Randolph's gun.

Are you sure?

No, I just sit down here
all day and make stuff up.

Of course I'm sure.

Sorry.

Here's the ballistics report.

Randolph's gun is a .45.

Headless here was shot with a .38.

Getting that body was
supposed to sew our case up

not blow it apart.

How can those bullets not match?

I have a theory, but
you're not gonna like it.

You know, I'm open to
anything right now.

Randolph is innocent.

Yeah, you're right.
I don't like it.

Randolph can't be the only one
who wanted Hamilton's research.

Maybe a competing
life-extension researcher?

Maybe.
I'm gonna call his wife up...

and see what she knows.

Alexis?

Yeah, she's spinning out.

She's never not gotten something
she set her sights on.

Do you mind if I...

No, no.
You should be with her now.

- You're sure?
- Yeah, Castle.

I think I can manage without
you for a few hours.

Right.
Don't look so happy about it.

Hey. Yo, Ryan. What's up, man?
Where you been?

Down at the college,

running down that break-in
in Hamilton's office.

- So listen to this...
- Mm-hmm.

What the hell is this?

That, my friend, is
Beau Randolph's alibi.

A dead pigeon?

CSU found it on the
roof of his building

with a slug in its
belly from his .45.

Seriously?

So Randolph really did
commit murder, huh?

Yeah. Just writing him up for
animal cruelty right now.

Maybe there's still time to
cryonically freeze the little guy.

Hamilton's office?

Yeah.

So first off, Hudson's
campus cops...

wow... I know what we'll be doing

when we're fried and
don't care anymore.

At least they bagged
the evidence.

We were able to pull prints off
Hamilton's smashed computer.

They match one of his
students... an Eddie Peck.

Straight A's, no record.

Then what was he doing breaking in to
Hamilton's office, breaking his computer?

Well, tell me if this
answers your question.

His father is a lead researcher
at Smith & Briar pharmaceuticals.

Big pharma.

Young Peck stole Hamilton's
research for his dad.

That look familiar, Peck?

It should. Had your prints
all over it.

We know you broke in
to Hamilton's office.

What were you looking for?

It wasn't supposed to turn
out this way, I swear.

I just... I didn't want
to be a disappointment.

To who, your father?

You did this for him, didn't you?

You don't know what he's like.

- What did you do with the research?
- What research?

Professor Hamilton's,
the Ambrosia project.

It was inside his briefcase,

and that's why you
killed him, isn't it?

Killed him? No, no.

I asked him to change my grade.

Excuse me?

I met this girl... Suzy... at the
beginning of the semester.

I'd never been in love before,
but I fell hard, man.

When I wasn't with her,

all I could do was daydream
about her, you know?

What the hell are
you talking about?

What does your love life
have to do with any of this?

'Cause of Suzy, I
didn't study for

professor Hamilton's midterm.
I got an "F."

We don't get F's in my family,

especially in bio?
My father would kill me.

So I broke in to
Hamilton's office

and tried to change the
grade in his computer,

but I didn't know his password.

I got frustrated and threw
it against the wall.

Don't you lie to me, Peck.

Hamilton's grade report said
you got an "A" on his midterm.

That's 'cause after
class the next day,

I followed him, tried
to work up the courage

to beg him to change my grade.

But before I could, we were
in this scary neighborhood,

and he went into
this seedy hotel.

And what was he doing there?

I don't know.

But he came out,
like, an hour later,

and when he saw me,
he totally wigged.

Like eyes-popping-out-
of-his-head crazy.

He... he offered to
change my "F" to an "A"

in exchange for me never
telling anyone he was there.

This hotel have a name?

The 130th Street Inn.

That little beady-eyed guy
in 24, a big-time scientist?

Get out.

How long had he been coming here?

Ah, booked his room solid
for the last month.

Paid cash.

What was he doing
here for a month?

Sweet pea, this is a "don't
ask, don't tell" hotel.

So you didn't ask,
but could you tell?

Little dude made a big deal

about no one ever going into
his room for any reason,

not even to clean.

Ah, I figured he had a blow-up
doll collection or something.

Whoa.

This some boy-in-the-plastic-bubble
thing or what?

I'll tell you something, I
am not cleaning this up.

Please stay back, ma'am.

Twist my arm.

Dude, there better not
be body parts in there.

Just...

Scalpels...

Drill.

Is that a laser?

Lidocaine. That's an anesthetic.

Syringes?

It's an operating room, bro.

Who the hell was Hamilton
operating on, and why here?

His Ambrosia project.

He said he was on the verge
of a major breakthrough

but got turned down
for human testing.

Looks like Beau
Randolph was right.

Hamilton decided not to wait.

Who would sign up for an
illegal experimentation

of an untested
surgical procedure?

Oh, I don't know.
If it'd make you feel better, live longer,

hell, I'd give it a try.

Though not in a sleazy hotel.
I need five stars.

Any sign of Alexis this morning?

Oh. No.

When I got home last night, she
was sacked out on the couch.

I had to carry her up to bed.
That's the first time in years.

Poor baby.

She hasn't been herself since
getting that rejection.

Hey, sweetheart.
What's in the box?

My life of lies.

I'm throwing it all out.

Oh, honey, all your awards?
You worked hard for these.

Did I?

Half of them are
participation trophies.

Super-pee-wee soccer.

You remember the time...

you scored a goal off your head,
and you didn't even realize it?

And I got a trophy for that?

We didn't even win a single game.

Oh, come on.
You weren't supposed to keep score.

Yeah? Well, Stanford keeps score.

Some of these awards are
for actual achievements...

Franklin middle school
spelling bee champ,

Marlowe prep French award.

The one I wanted was Stanford.

Sweetheart, I-I know Ashley
is going to Stanford...

This has nothing
to do with Ashley!

It's me, dad! I'm a failure!

Hey, just because you
didn't get into one school

does not make you a failure.

But you are gonna have to accept

that you didn't get
in and move on.

How?

I just wanted to give her
the childhood I never had.

Maybe I overprotected her.

You gave her a great
childhood, Castle.

It's not a bad thing.

Not if she's incapable
of handling rejection.

Look, we all get our
hearts broken eventually.

Just give her some time.
She'll find her way.

As long as she doesn't end up
auditioning for Beau Randolph.

So any word on what was going on

in Hamilton's hotel of horrors?

Lanie's running test results
on the bloody instruments,

but so far, it looks like
at least one test subject

wasn't pleased with the results.

CSU found that note in the hotel.

"You told me this would work.
I trusted you."

Looks like Beau
Randolph was right.

Hamilton was doing human testing.

Looks like it didn't
go as planned.

Maybe Frankenstein's monster

came back and killed
Frankenstein.

No luck ID'ing the note's author.

The only prints CSU found in
the room were Hamilton's.

What about Hamilton's wife?

We checked with her,
his colleagues,

and his students.

No one even knew he was
doing any secret research.

Well, someone knew about it.
Canvass around the hotel.

There's a big homeless
population in the area.

Maybe that's where he got
his subjects.

You know, I don't get Hamilton

on a character level.

Why would he risk

his reputation, his safety,
to do illegal testing...

in some flophouse?

I mean, he was ready to
give away his research,

so it wasn't the money.

Why was he in such a big rush?

Lanie's got the DNA results.

So the labs tell us who
Hamilton's test subjects were?

Preliminary DNA results

from the needles and the
drill show the DNA

is all from the same person...

Lester Hamilton.

So Lester wasn't doing the
procedures on someone else.

- Someone was doing them to him.
- Well...

And he decided to put his
money where his mouth was,

using himself as a test subject.

But then who was doing
the procedures on him?

And how did it even
get him killed?

Can I just...

Maybe the treatment
was a success.

Hamilton realized
he was on the cusp

- of a revolutionary life-extension breakthrough...
- Oh, my gosh...

Could you be...

Guys!

Hold up.

Stop doing that thing
you do for one second.

Thank you.

Now all of the theorizing
is cute as usual.

But we've got a problem.

How so?

The Ambrosia project implant is
supposed to be in the patient's arm.

I checked his arms, in fact,

I checked every inch
of Hamilton's body.

There were no intrusions
or wounds anywhere.

I don't understand.
I thought you said the needles had his DNA.

They do.

And his brain matter, too.

So whatever they were doing,
they were doing to his head?

Which is the only part
of Hamilton's body

that you haven't checked yet.

Get me his head,

and I can tell you what
this is all about.

We had an agreement.

That was before, when Mr.
Hamilton's head

wasn't relevant to this case.

- Now it is.
- Please.

Dr. Weiss, I have a warrant,

and you're welcome to read it.

I know it's legal, but think
of Lester Hamilton's wishes.

His wishes right now

come second to this
murder investigation.

Now open the door.

I'll be as minimally invasive
as possible, Dr. Weiss.

Any invasion at all
will destroy memory,

personality, vital functions.

Oh, my God.

What is it?

It's gone.

The thermal storage unit
should be right there.

You gotta be kidding me.

Are you saying, you
lost his head?

I don't understand.

How does my husband's
head just go missing?

That's what we're trying to
figure out, Mrs. Hamilton.

Do you have any idea who
could have operated on him

at the 130th Street Inn?

I already told detective Beckett,

I don't know anything about that.

Now I need to find
him immediately.

I need to make sure that his
wishes are being respected.

I understand, and I promise you

that we are doing everything
that we possibly can...

What about Dr. Weiss?
He's in charge over there.

Have you spoken to him?

Detective Beckett is
with him right now.

I'm just as concerned
about Hamilton's head

as you are, detective.

There must have been a break-in
at our storage facility.

A break-in? Really?
Is that what you're going with?

We've never had anything like this
happen to one of our clients.

It's the only thing
that makes any sense.

No, I will tell you what
makes sense, Dr. Weiss.

Either you're part of a cover-up,

or you're a murderer,

or both.

What? W-why would I kill anyone?

I have a family.

Well, then did you take
them into consideration

when you colluded
in moving a body

from a murder scene.

That was a one-in-a-million
circumstance,

and everyone ended up
getting what they needed.

Then why is it, at every
step of this investigation,

you have gotten in my way?

Hamilton ends up dead
and in your custody.

The DA's about to turn
over the body to me,

and you negotiate
to keep the head.

I get a warrant for the head,

and suddenly, it ends up missing.

The only thing I'm guilty
of is trying to protect

Lester Hamilton's desire
to be cryopreserved.

I don't know anything
about his murder.

Please check with my company.

There must have been a break-in.

What's up?

Turns out there was a break-in

at the Passageway
storage facility

in the middle of the night.

No way. And they took the head?

Security video. Just watch.

Last night, 3:32 A.M.

Hamilton's storage container?

Yep.

Who the hell's that?

Hamilton's dear
friend and colleague.

Dr. Boyd.

NYPD. Open up, Boyd.

I don't think he's opening up.

- He went out the window to the fire escape.
- Yeah, you think?

Just excited.

He's got the head.
Beckett, he's got the head.

I can see that!

Dr. Boyd, stop!

Oh! Oh, oh, no!

Oh!

Talk about taking a header.

Ow!

Oh! Ow!

I'll get the head.

Get up.

I got it! I got Hamilton's head.

I think it's okay.

You are under arrest

for the murder of
Lester Hamilton.

I didn't kill him.

I was trying to save his life.

He's gonna be fine.

That's a relief.

Why would anyone steal a head?

So, Dr. Boyd, it seems we
caught you red-handed.

I didn't kill him.

Well, then why did
you steal his head?

Did you miss him?

We know about your operating
room at 130th street,

and you were doing surgery
on Hamilton's head,

but it had nothing to
do with life extension.

So either you tell me about it,

or we take the head back and
we find out on our own.

He came to me a month ago,

complaining about
severe headaches.

An MRI showed

that he had stage
IV glioblastoma.

A brain tumor?

Inoperable, untreatable...

he only had a few months to live.

Well, then why did he go to you?

Why didn't he go to a hospital?

Because as a scientist,

he knew the limits of
current therapies,

and he was familiar
with my work...

nanoparticle genetic therapy.

English.

Targeted treatment of tumors.

I'm years away from
human testing, but...

he was my best friend.

How could I say no to him?

So you set up shop at the
hotel to keep it secret.

If anyone found out,

I'd lose my tenure,

my funding, reputation.

We couldn't even risk using
existing operating suites.

Lester swore he wouldn't
even tell Cynthia.

And then he got the money
from Beau Randall's fund

in order to get you
your supplies.

Yeah.

I did...

Five procedures over the month.

And was he getting better?

No.

A few days before he was killed,

I did an MRI that
showed that the tumor was...

still growing.

The treatment had failed.

A brain tumor?
That's why Hamilton wanted

to put his project online...

in hopes that someone would
finish his research.

Yeah, I've got Esposito
running down Boyd's alibi

just in case.

Alexis?

What's wrong?

Everything.

How do you do it, dad?

Do what?

Well, that letter that you have

framed in your office.

- My first manuscript rejection.
- Yeah.

How can you stand
having it there?

Because it drives me.

And I got 20 more of
those before black pawn

ever agreed to publish
"in a hail of bullets."

That letter...

That letter reminds me
of what I've overcome.

Rejection isn't failure.

It sure feels like failure.

No, failure is giving up.

Everybody gets rejected.

It's how you handle it that
determines where you'll end up.

My whole life has been
about making sure

I could get into any
college I wanted.

What's it about now?

Give it time.

You'll figure it out.

Whew.

She okay?

Were any of us at that age?

Nah, it'll suck until it doesn't.

Yeah, well, speaking of sucking,

Boyd alibied out.

He was at a department breakfast

the morning that
Hamilton was killed.

I mean, we caught the guy
with our victim's head.

99 times out of 100,

you catch someone
with a guy's head,

he killed the guy.

Yeah. Well, Boyd also provided

the MRIs of Hamilton's head.

Lanie confirmed that the tumor

would've ravaged his brain
in a couple of months.

So in an odd way, he got lucky.

How so?

Well, Dr.
Weiss said that cryonics

was all about
preserving the brain.

If Hamilton had lived, his
brain would've been destroyed.

Cryonic preservation wouldn't
have been an option.

So then our killer inadvertently

saved him for the future.

Unless...

"One lifetime together
wasn't enough."

That's our motive.

Maybe it wasn't so inadvertent.

Thank you for coming in, Mrs.
Hamilton.

I understand that
you've already spoken

with Dr. Boyd.

Yes.

It's a lot to process.

Yeah.

How can I help you?

Well, we were hoping
that you could shed

some light on some evidence

that just came in.

What's that?

Your husband's computer, the
one his student smashed?

The tech people here

managed to recover a list
of recent downloads.

Included on that list

was Passageway's contract
termination form.

Any idea why your husband
would download that?

No.

Well, it must be a mistake.

Actually, the tech assured us

that the download list was clean.

Are you sure he didn't say
anything to you about that?

Because the best I
can come up with

is that your husband decided that

working on his research
until his brain gave out

was more important to him

than cryonically
preserving himself.

But you disagreed with him,
didn't you, Mrs. Hamilton?

How could I disagree with him

when I didn't even
know about the tumor?

I think you did know,

and that's why you killed him.

So he would be preserved
for the future

before his brain was ravaged.

After shooting him, you
took his briefcase.

This is insane.

It's just wild conjecture.

Actually, it's not.

You got rid of the
gun, of course.

But we found your
husband's briefcase

hidden in your
building's basement.

There were traces of your
husband's blood on it.

I gave him that briefcase...

When we got engaged.

I couldn't just leave it behind.

I had known for weeks

that there was something wrong,

but Lester said it
was just stress.

And then a couple of nights ago,

he passed out when he was
getting ready for bed.

Then he told me the truth.

But...

he wasn't in his right mind.

He was too concerned
about his research.

I needed to protect

our future.

Our eternity together.

It's what we always dreamed of.

So, detective, would
you consider this

to be a crime of passion?

I would consider this
a crime of love.

Nice.

Though that would depend

on whether Cynthia Hamilton
was in love or insane.

Well, sometimes there's a
fine line between the two.

Oh, Dr. Weiss.

I have your release
forms ready to go.

I'm grateful, detective. Castle.

So I'll just need you to sign
down there at the bottom,

and the charges against you

and your employees at Passageway

will officially be dropped
by the department.

I'm happy to put this behind us.

- Excuse me.
- Yeah.

It's a bio-watch signal.
A client has just flatlined.

Well, that's strange. What is it?

The signal...

it's coming from
inside this building.

The ring on her right hand.

Cyanide pill.

Detective Beckett,

permission to have my technicians

come and get her?

Yes, of course.

Wouldn't it be something
if they reunited

a hundred, even a
thousand years from now?

Well, anything's possible.

You really believe that?

That's what the great love
stories are about, right,

beating the odds?

I hope they make it.

Me, too.