Elementary (2012–…): Season 7, Episode 6 - Command: Delete - full transcript

Previously on Elementary...

If you have a moment,
we'd like to discuss

the matter of your
niece, Mr. Reichenbach.

Well, you can call me Odin,
all my friends do.

I haven't decided if
we're going to be friends.

You sent us on a wild goose
chase, we'd like to know why.

It was a test.

You passed.

Testing our skills is
completely unnecessary.

It wasn't your skills
I was testing.

It was the two of you.

Our friend was shot
and almost killed

and you just admitted
you were behind it.

All I did was tell Patrick

what I'd learned
about Tim Bledsoe.

We speak with murderers
on a regular basis,

Mr. Reichenbach,
do you imagine any of them

convinced us
of their righteousness?

Perhaps you should consider
the possibility that I am not

the kind of man you deal with
on a regular basis.

You remember Wade Allen Haines?

School shooter in Iowa.

All over the news
three years ago.

You never should
have known his name.

No one should know.

He killed 17
of his classmates.

Now, afterwards,
it came out

that he'd been hinting
about it for weeks.

On videos posted
on my platform.

You feel guilty because your
company didn't stop the attack?

No, I-I feel guilty

because I had no idea
it was gonna happen.

I watch the news
every day, soaking it in

and then finally I broke
our Terms of Service.

I dug into the boy's OdkerMail,

his cloud files.

All the signs
had been there.

On my servers.

I decided then and there

this is never gonna
happen again.

And I started looking for
the next shooter...

the same day.

And your search engines,
your e-mail servers,

social media platforms,
they all gather information

from your users to sell
to advertisers.

Tweaking our code to identify
people planning a crime...

wasn't hard at all.

The next question became:

what do you do
with that information?

Tim Bledsoe and the
ferry; that wasn't

the first time
you acted?

There are three girls
living in Tempe

who would have been
drowned by their father.

50 Kentucky
schoolchildren

who would have
gone off a bridge

with their
suicidal bus driver.

An Ohio church
bake sale spared

from a drive-by shooting.

I have saved
hundreds of lives.

But you've turned people like
Patrick Meers into murderers.

You nudge them to take
out potential killers.

Why not just tell
the authorities?

Oh, he can't do that.

Could never reveal that he
violated his users' privacy.

No, 'cause he'd lose
his business, his fortune.

Possibly his freedom.

What on earth makes you think
that we would ever consider

joining your stable
of executioners?

Well, that's...
That's not what I'm proposing.

Meers was a hammer.

What I need now is a scalpel.

You two understand
the criminal mind.

I need you to help me
refine my system.

Together, we could avert
so many tragedies.

I don't expect an answer
right now,

but sleep on it.

Maybe you'll wake up thinking,

"Might be nice to help prevent
some murders for a change."

Thanks for
coming so fast.

Of course. Anything change
while I was on my way over?

Did Davis call,
tell you where he is?

I am telling you, Marcus,
something is wrong.

Hey.

NYPD looks out for its own;
we're gonna find him.

Medical retirees included.

When was the last time
you saw him?

Last night.

I was going to bed,
Davis stayed up late

in the garage working
on one of his projects.

When I woke up, he was gone.

Did you call his work?

They said they haven't seen him.

When I tried his cell,

I heard a buzzing
in his gym bag.

It was his phone.

He left it behind.

Last time I talked to him,

he seemed good.

Has he had
any setbacks?

No.

But you know how it is
with PTSD.

Some good days,
some bad.

The last couple weeks,
uh, I don't know.

I guess they were harder.

Work had him stressed,

he was having trouble
sleeping...

Marcus, what if he decided
he couldn't take it anymore?

Are any of his guns missing?

He doesn't have any,
not anymore.

He sold them all when he got
his medical discharge.

You said he was working
in the garage last night.

Would you show me?

He sells this stuff, right?

His new job
doesn't pay much.

And he still has to
see so many doctors

because of his injury.

Some are in-network,
but a lot of 'em aren't.

The bills have
really piled up.

You said Davis sold
all his guns?

After he got shot, he couldn't
stand the sight of 'em.

Hasn't touched one since.

I don't know about that, Carla.

These are parts
to a bolt-action rifle.

Looks like Davis changed
the stock,

mounted a scope.

He was turning it
into a sniper rifle.

I don't see it here.

Thing is, a sniper rifle

isn't the kind of weapon
you use to commit suicide.

It's the kind of thing
you use to kill someone else.

♪ Elementary 7x06 ♪
Command: Delete
Original Air Date on June 27, 2019

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

All right.

So, we've got
new phones.

How's it going
in here?

Uh, I'm done.

If Odin Reichenbach's
methods weren't so extreme,

I wouldn't have
had to destroy

all of our electronics
which run Odker software.

And the captain would
not have almost died

from multiple gunshot wounds.
Just so we're clear,

we are not working
with this guy, right?

No.

He may not kill for money,
but he's still a killer.

Good, I thought maybe
you were buying into

his little sales pitch.

Ah, course not.

I mean, in theory,
it's ridiculous

and in practice,
I myself would be dead.

I've seriously considered murder
on at least two occasions.

So, by Odin's standards,

I should have been executed
just in case.

I can't believe he thinks
the best way to prevent crime

is to monitor what people say
and look at on the Internet.

I mean, no one's
on their best behavior online.

I mean, my mother
has threatened people

on restaurant review sites.

So we're agreed
he must be stopped

lest his next victim
be your mother?

But how do
you stop a man

who has enmeshed himself
in the World Wide Web

like a funnel spider?

I don't know.

I think this is too big
for the NYPD.

I agree;
they lack the resources

and the jurisdiction
to take on

a global corporation like Odker.

Which is another
reason we mustn't tell

Marcus or the Captain;
they can't know.

Not yet.

If word gets out, Reichenbach
will know within hours.

I don't want him on the
defensive; he could lash out,

hurt someone else.

Or destroy all trace
of his operation.

So who do we take this to?

I mean, the FBI are not exactly
our friends right now.

The NSA is the only agency
with the technical wherewithal

to untangle this knot.

Agent McNally.

I'm going to go
and see him... alone.

You should help Marcus.

So he doesn't suspect
anything's wrong.

He needs help? Since when?

Uh, since before I did this.

He texted.

He needs help with
his own future crime.

A former ESU sniper
is at large with a rifle.

I'm sorry, I don't know
what Davis would be up to

with that rifle, but
the guy I know is not a killer.

So far, everyone here
has said the same thing.

Davis didn't have
a beef with anyone.

Definitely not anyone here.

The way you said "here,"
did he have an issue

with someone
someplace else?

It's probably nothing,

but I heard him on the phone
with someone last week.

He was pissed.

Said stuff like,
"I cut that footage,

I want my money, you don't
want to mess with me."

I'm confused.

Davis is a video technician;
he doesn't cut footage,

he just keeps
your gear running, right?

Right. He isn't an editor,
but that doesn't mean

he hasn't used our editing bays.

We mostly do commercials here,

but we all have our
little passion projects.

Documentaries, movie
shorts, stuff like that.

I know Davis put in a lot of
time over the last few months.

Do you know what
he was working on?

Whenever I asked him about
it, he got all squirrely.

I didn't push it.

If he was editing
something here,

would he keep the files
on his work computer?

Probably.

Video files are huge,
and I never saw him

lugging around
a portable hard drive.

So...

Only thing...

our computers are
password-protected.

My boss can bypass it,
but he's on a plane right now.

I won't be able
to reach him until noon.

By any chance,
did he make everyone

change their passwords
at set intervals?

Yeah, every 30 days;
it's a pain, why?

Changing passwords too often

can actually
compromise security.

People can't
remember them, so...

they write them down.

You know what, you said these
files would be huge, right?

So...

If we reorder Davis's files

according to size...

"Old receipts."

Three terabytes?

That's a little big
for paperwork.

Yeah, let's take a look.

Okay, so now I understand why
he wanted to keep this a secret.

Like that?

Oh, yeah, oh.

Right, that's everything
I have on Odin Reichenbach

and his extrajudicial killings.

In longhand?

Well, I thought about typing
it out and e-mailing it,

but given the circumstances...
- Yeah.

It's fine, I get it.

Nice penmanship.

He showed every indication

of expanding his program,
so he needs to be stopped.

Given his area of operations

is essentially
the entire Internet,

I thought the NSA
would be best equipped

to put an end to it.

Then again,
given the state of this office,

perhaps the Agency's
fallen on hard times.

It's just OPSEC.

We're changing
cover offices in a few days.

You know what bugs me
about all this?

I mean, he just came out
and said it.

I mean, he's got to be
pretty damn sure

you can't do anything
about this.

I don't think his confidence
is entirely misplaced.

It's unlikely the NYPD

could touch him.

I thought about giving this
all to a reporter,

but given the fealty
the press has shown

their new media conquerors,
I worried that any report

would be summarily crushed

or spun or just dismissed
as fake news.

So you darkened my door.

The man is using the Internet to select
American citizens for execution.

If you can find
evidence of that,

perhaps you'll see fit
to bring in the FBI.

All right, I'll run it up
the flagpole,

see if the bosses salute.

Oh, and, Holmes...

if we do run with this...

you're gonna owe us.

I don't understand.

You think Davis Whitmark
wants to kill me?

We know he
was angry with you

and we know why.

We searched his computer
and found

a bunch of hard-core
bondage videos he worked on.

The credits at the end
said that he produced them

for your online
porn company.

We also found a
balance sheet...

that said that you stiffed him
on his last batch of videos.

You owe him 50 grand.

Bad news for Davis was

he couldn't exactly
take you to court,

because then these
would come out.

So, that is a scar
from an old bullet wound,

from when he was an ESU cop.

So he wasn't just
producing the videos,

he was also the
leading man.

I did owe Davis 50 grand.

Emphasis on "did."

I'm producing a new kink site,

and I needed the money
to secure my servers.

So I kept delaying his payments.

Eventually he got sick of it.

He threatened you?

Yeah, but not with a bullet.

He said if I didn't pay up,

he'd put the word out
to my other content providers,

tell them
I couldn't be trusted.

So I cut a deal with him.

What kind of deal?

I offered him a share
in my new site.

He took it.

He knew that,
once we were up and running,

he'd get annual payouts
that'll be worth

two, three times
what I owed him.

And he was satisfied with that?

He couldn't sign the papers
fast enough.

He even left me
a voice mail the other day

thanking me.

Juliana, hey, it's me.

I got all the paperwork
in the mail,

and-and I just wanted
to let you know

how grateful I am for
making me a part of this.

We'll talk soon.

Davis is smart.

He knows he won't get a cent
if I'm not alive to launch.

So, whoever it is
he's looking to kill,

I guarantee you it isn't me.

Hey.

Hey!

- Anyone home?
- Oh!

Tell me you didn't wear that to
your meeting with Agent McNally.

I didn't,
but that would have been good.

You gonna tell me
how it went?

As well as can
be expected.

Which means he'll
get back to us.

In the meantime,
I've turned my attention

to Marcus's missing friend.

Oh, you got the files
I sent you.

The collected cinematic works
of Davis Whitmark,

and the voice mail he left
his would-be partner in porn.

And?

I saw no indication in any of
the films that I've watched

that he was at odds
with a fellow performer,

despite the many thrashings.

Of much more interest to me
was the voice mail.

I think it may contain a clue
as to Mr. Whitmark's

current whereabouts.

Are those pigeons?

A densely packed mass
of roosting pigeons,

to be exact.

When I noticed them
in the background,

I transferred the recording
to tape

so I could isolate and amplify
what I was hearing.

Judging by the amount
of wind I had to filter,

I believe that the pigeons were

in a rooftop coop,
and Mr. Whitmark was only

a few feet away
when he placed the call.

So you think he was
on the rooftop scouting

for a sniper nest.

According to the cell phone data
that Marcus procured,

the call was made
near a cell phone tower

in the East Village.

Happily, there is only
one rooftop coop

in that entire area.

For the record, I've advised
Mr. Whitmark not to talk.

Unfortunately, he doesn't seem
inclined to listen.

How much does Carla know?

She knows what happened today.

We found you
with a sniper rifle.

You hadn't hurt anyone,
surrendered peacefully.

Everything else,
you can tell her yourself.

Those-those videos I made,
those movies,

they were just
for the money.

A guy at the place I work,

he's been editing
for Juliana for years.

And when he told me what
she paid for content, I just...

I love my wife.

I believe you.

I want to help,

but first we got to
talk about today.

What were you doing
up on that roof?

I got a call about a week back.

Number blocked, voice disguised.

Whoever it was,
they'd seen my videos,

they knew it was me
under the mask.

They said that if I didn't
follow orders,

Carla would find out
everything.

I thought they were
gonna ask for money.

Instead,

they gave me the name
of a hotel.

The Warford.

And a room number, 706.

The Warford is across the street

from where we found you.

The person who called,
they wanted you to kill

someone who was staying there?

No, see, that's the crazy part.

They just wanted me
to shoot out the windows,

scare whoever was in 706.

Look, I know how that sounds.

Do you?

It sounds like a guy
who doesn't want to cop

to planning to kill someone,
but I'm telling you,

if that's what they wanted,
I would've come to you.

Yes, hello? Hello.
I've got a question

about one of your guests.

I know I haven't
been myself lately,

but come on, I'm no killer.

Who were you supposed to scare?

They didn't say.

They just said they wanted me
up on that roof.

They said there'd be a
disposable phone waiting for me,

and they'd call me
when it was time to shoot.

I was still waiting for their
signal when you showed.

Do you have a minute?

So, Sherlock called the hotel.

The room Davis was
supposed to shoot at

was rented by a private
security firm: A.S. Safeguard.

He's on with them now.

Uh, Mr. Smith, could you just
say that again, please?

I said that my team
reserved that room last week.

We were situating a client
who recently had an attempt

made on his life.

And your men, they would
keep the blinds drawn

and keep the client
away from the windows?

They're ex-military.
That's S.O.P.

If the window were
to be shattered by, um,

a bullet from a sniper's rifle,

perhaps that would
flush them out?

Is that what was going on today
across the street?

The police find a sniper?

Your men noticed?

They didn't like it.
They called to say

that they're moving the client
to a safe house in the Bronx.

So they left.

I need you to call them
right away.

Yeah, these are my guys.

Gabe and Josh.

And the third victim
is your client?

Yeah, that's Baron Wright.

He's a middleweight boxer.

Was.

We know.
He was in the news

a few months ago.

There were rumors he was
using steroids.

The state commissioner
was looking into him.

Some of the guys
he beat in the ring

weren't too happy to hear that
he might have been cheating.

They made threats
in the media.

Is that why he hired you?

Sort of.

A couple weeks ago,
Baron came home to find

a guy in a ski mask
in his house.

He was messing with these,

these pills that
Baron was taking,

trying to swap
new ones in for old.

Soon as he saw Baron,
he-he dropped all the pills

and ducked out a window.

The guy was trying
to poison Baron?

Yeah. The thing is that
the Yonkers Police Department--

they tested the pills,
there was nothing toxic.

It was just a sedative.

All it would have done
was put Baron to sleep.

So, are these the pills the
intruder was trying to replace?

Yeah.

Yeah, he had to take
one of those twice a day.

Do you know what for?

Something to do
with his pancreas.

He was ill?

He didn't look it,
but, I mean, who knows?

Maybe that was just
the pills doing their job.

Or maybe his pancreas was fine,
and these are just the steroids

everyone thought he was taking.

No.

The kid swore up and down
that he was clean,

and I believed him.

Hey, you want a second opinion,
check with the Yonkers PD.

I'm sure they asked him a lot
more questions about those pills

than we did.

Okay, so, just got off the phone

with the detective
who caught the burglary

at Baron Wright's residence.

He sent me these.

This is one of Baron's pills.
Apparently it's a treatment

for something called exocrine
pancreatic insufficiency,

or E.P.I.
You familiar?

It's an enzyme deficiency.

People who have it
have a hard time digesting.

Baron got diagnosed
a little over a year ago.

He told the police it was
some cutting-edge treatment

still in trial.

His endocrinologist
got him in.

This, on the other hand,
is one of the pills

the intruder was trying
to plant in Baron's vial.

The sedative.

Well, obviously,
they look exactly the same.

That might be a good thing...

Baron said these were
in trial, right?

So most people have
no idea what they look like.

But the person who made
this one obviously did.

You think it was somebody
involved in the trial?

Could be.

Or it could be someone from
his endocrinologist's office.

Miss Watson, Mr. Holmes,
I'm Tessa.

Dr. Burgess is with a patient,
but he shouldn't be long.

What's that buzzing?

Buzzing?

- I don't hear anything.
- Well, you're not pregnant.

Your hearing is heightened
when you're pregnant.

- Are you pregnant?
- You really don't hear that?

Uh, hey, you can't go in there.

Excuse me, sir, sir.

Sir...

- Dr. Burgess, I presume.
- What the...?

You shouldn't be in here.

You shouldn't be destroying
your files on Baron Wright.

That is what you're
attempting, isn't it?

Don't just stand there, Tessa,

call security.

I see you cut your hand
recently; that's interesting.

Someone broke into
Baron's house two weeks ago

and cut their hand
on a broken pane of glass

when they were climbing
out the window.

We'll leave, Dr. Burgess.

You can expect a visit
from our colleagues shortly.

You can also expect
a court order for your DNA.

Did you come here because
you think I broke into his house

or because you think I shot him?

Perhaps you did both.

I didn't.

If you'll let me,
I can prove it.

First of all, I'm sorry.

I've been on edge ever since
I heard what happened to Baron.

When Tessa told me there were

police consultants here
to see me...

Can you prove you
didn't kill him?

I wasn't shredding his file.

I was shredding this.

It's a paper I was
writing about him.

When he first came to see me,
it was for treatment

for a condition
known as exocrine

pancreatic insufficiency.

E.P.I. We're aware.

I couldn't help being struck by
his muscle mass and definition.

Uh, most people

with E.P.I. don't
look like that.

Most people in comic books
don't look like that.

I started thinking his symptoms
and his physique were both due

to an undiagnosed mutation,
uh, something similar

to a condition called
Dunnigan-type lipodystrophy.

That's a mutation
that inhibits the body's ability

to produce fat.

It can damage the liver,

but some athletes seem
to benefit from it.

It makes them
leaner, stronger.

Baron's condition was
even more unique.

There were more beneficial
effects, fewer harmful ones.

I was trying to understand
its mechanism.

I wanted to synthesize it...

You mean monetize it.

A pill that reduces body fat
but increases muscle growth

would be worth millions.

Possibly billions.

I didn't tell Baron.

I-I didn't even identify him
in my paper,

just called him Patient X.

Unfortunately, my
research required

a constant
supply of blood

and tissue samples.

I lied to Baron.

Told him I needed them
to monitor his condition,

but eventually
he got tired of me sticking him.

He stopped coming in.

Your golden goose flew the coop.

I tried to make do
with what I had,

but eventually
I used up my stockpile.

I needed more samples.

So you made up some pills
that looked like the ones

he was taking and then
you broke into his house.

You were gonna sedate him
and then take

what you needed
while he was unconscious.

He caught me in the act.

I ran.

That was the last time
I saw him.

But it's like you said.
He was my golden goose.

I never would have killed him.

Perhaps you identified a family
member with the same mutation.

You worried that Baron would
realize you were the one

trying to poison him,
and so you killed him.

No. There are no family members.

I'm pretty sure
I saw in the news

that he's survived
by his mother.

He was. His adoptive mother.

Baron's parents were
undocumented immigrants.

They died in a car crash
when he was an infant.

Tessa's great with research,

so I asked her to look
for more family.

I lied to her, told her

it was about
"refining Baron's treatment."

She couldn't find
a single relative.

Baron was the end of the line.

Look, I'm not the only doctor
he ever saw.

He dealt with digestive problems
his whole life.

Maybe someone else treated him,

figured out the same thing
I did.

Uh, maybe they were able
to synthesize the mutation.

If they did,
Baron would've been expendable.

More than that.
He would have been a liability.

He could have sued them if he
realized what they had done.

I see you've made
yourself at home.

You know,
I don't know what this is,

the spread in the jar
marked "protein."

It's good. It's crunchy.

Usually, when someone calls
and asks to meet me at my home,

they wait outside.

It's bugs, isn't it?

You don't
want me lingering

right in front
of your front door.

Lot of the traffic cameras and
dash cams run on Odker software.

Neither of us wants
Odin Reichenbach

finding out this meeting
is happening.

Your superiors found the
material I gave you interesting?

Well, they found it informative,
thought-provoking.

They didn't find it actionable.

We need a smoking gun
or, ideally, a confession.

I mean, if you'd been able
to record everything,

then we'd have something.

Had I known that Watson and I
were going to meet

with the architect
of multiple murders,

I would have made
the appropriate arrangements.

Set another meeting.

I mean, he's expecting
a response, right?

Draw him out. Get him to talk
about all the people he's killed

in the name of the greater good.

There's zero chance I'll be able
to record our next meeting.

He'll be on guard.
They will check me for a wire,

confiscate my phone.

So? I mean, there's a reason
you contacted the NSA.

We'll take care
of the recording.

You want to tell me
how the NSA's gonna do that?

Well, a minute ago,
you wouldn't even tell me

if I was eating crickets,
so, no.

There are some things
that need to remain secret,

but, rest assured,
we'll get him on tape

if you can get him talking.

Can you do that?

I still can't believe
my boy is gone.

We're very sorry for your loss.

When those other fighters
started threatening him,

I was afraid.

But I never thought
it would go this far.

Actually, Mrs. Wright,
the two boxers who made threats

against your son provided alibis
and took polygraphs.

Both passed.

We think Baron's death

has more to do
with his medical condition.

That's why we
asked you to bring

his old medical records
when we called.

Is that them?

Well, I'll tell you right now,

there's less here
than should be.

I think some of 'em
might've gone missing

during the break-in.

Ugh, they made a mess.

Somebody broke into your house?

Yesterday.
I'm guessing it was kids.

Real thieves would have figured
out where I hide the jewelry,

or at least managed
to take a TV off the wall.

But they did take some
of Baron's medical records.

A few photo albums and
scrapbooks are missing, too.

I-I called the police, they
said they'd look into it,

but you know. Nothing worth
any money was taken.

Can I ask what was
in the scrapbooks?

Pictures of Baron, mostly.

From when he was a boy.

Why?

No, I appreciate it.

Any new developments,
just give us a call.

All right.

So, do the Newark police
have any idea

who broke
into Mrs. Wright's house?

None.

It's got to be the same person
who killed Baron, right?

Maybe Dr. Burgess
was right.

The killer is one
of Baron's old doctors.

He stole Baron's medical records

so there'd be no link
back to him.

Well, say that's true.
Why would he also want

a bunch of Baron's
childhood photos?

Not a clue.

Hey, you got time for an update
on the Baron Wright case?

Pat on the back.

Pat on the back?

Sounds like you got a break.

You're looking for approval,
so pat on the back.

Well, it turns out, Mrs. Wright
had copies of the pictures

that were in the albums
that got stolen.

She had them scanned
and uploaded to her computer

a few years ago.
I went through 'em

and found these.

Guy on the right

is Baron Wright's
biological father.

We think the others
are Baron's uncles.

Mrs. Wright got these

when she adopted him,
along with some

of his late parents'
other belongings.

Strong-looking guys.

Just like Baron.
We think that's the reason

the originals were stolen.

Explain that?

Say the person who broke
into Mrs. Wright's house

is the guy who killed Baron.

He stole a bunch
of Baron's medical records.

That fits with the idea that one
of his other doctors found a way

to make money
off the mutation he had.

The one that burns fat
and builds muscle.

If that's a mutation
you can buy, I'll take a double.

Assuming you're right, and
some doctor did the burglary,

he stole these so he could track
down new test subjects, right?

Actually, we think he did it
so no one else

could track down
more test subjects.

If we're right, he already got

what he wanted from Baron's
blood and tissue.

He doesn't need more.

Long as no one else
can track down

another member of Baron's
family, he's in the clear.

He'll get his product
on the market first.

Don't tell me we have to wait
for that to happen

before we can arrest somebody.

Joan has a lot of friends
in the medical community.

She's reaching out,
seeing if anyone can point us

in a direction.

We get any hits,
we'll let you know.

I don't know where you got this
coffee from, but it is amazing.

Oh. I didn't realize
you had company.

Watson, this is
my friend Cassina.

She brought us the coffee.

- Nice to meet you.
- You, too.

Coffee is Cassina's business,
you see.

She travels the world,
identifying, importing,

and then reselling only the
finest, most exotic beans.

The ones that you're
drinking are Vietnamese.

The coffee berries
are fed to weasels,

who then regurgitate
the beans, and the acid

in their stomachs removes the
bean's more bitter properties,

allowing that unique,
chocolaty flavor to emerge.

You know what? This stuff
is so good, I don't care

how much weasel puke is in it.

Hmm. Are you and Marcus
any closer to identifying

any medical expert

who could profit from
Baron Wright's mutation?

No. Why?

I think I might have
identified another,

far simpler way that someone

could have profited
from his death.

Sherlock called me

because he could tell
these were coffee groves.

He wanted me to take a look
and see if I could identify

the foliage and location,
which I did.

These trees are on the slopes of
Volcan Acatenango in Guatemala.

They're an
ultra-rare variety

called Ethiopian Gesha.

Gesha trees
produce incredible beans.

Floral, rich.

But they're hard to grow,

and they only thrive
in certain microclimates.

Now, back when
these pictures were taken,

the trees had
just been planted.

Now they're
at full yield.

If they were ever harvested,

their beans would be
worth over $500 a pound.

A pound?

The grove you're looking at
would, in theory,

make millions
every year.

I don't understand.
If the beans are so valuable,

then why aren't
they being harvested?

Sad story.
After Cassina confirmed

the grove's location,
I discovered the land

was once owned by a family
by the name of Bautista.

In 2016,

right before they were gonna
bring their beans to market,

an earthquake
destroyed their home,

killed the
whole family.

Their estate went into probate,
and no one

has come forward
to claim it since.

So you think

if Baron had figured this out,
he would have claimed it.

If that's the case, he might not
have been killed by a doctor

but by a fellow heir

who didn't want to share
the family fortune.

The Guatemalan
consulate

has agreed to help us round up
any wayward Bautistas.

They're gonna send someone
to the precinct shortly.

Um, unfortunately, you're gonna
have to go without me.

Why?

Well, our new friend,
with the bow and arrow,

he's agreed to another meeting.

Mr. Reichenbach.

I trust your security detail

told you I passed
my colonoscopy.

Clark is thorough, isn't he?

I'm sure you understand
the need for discretion.

It's ironic, isn't it, that
you insist on the very thing

that you seek to deny
your customers: privacy.

You don't sound like a man who's
about to say yes to my offer.

You referenced
some of your

"successes" the other day.

Tragedies averted because
of your intervention.

The details you gave me
were more than enough

to identify some
of those would-be culprits.

How did I do?

You had two notable successes.

The girls in Tempe
and the churchgoers in Ohio.

Their lives were
probably worth the deaths

of two would-be killers,
yes.

But the school bus driver
in Kentucky?

To borrow a term from your tech
company, there were bugs.

Maybe you were looking
at the wrong piece of code.

You said you had a woman killed

because she threatened
to drive her bus off a bridge.

I assume that was Ruthie Deller?

Her execution was disguised
to look like

a home invasion gone wrong.

Rabid dogs aren't "executed,"
they're put down.

Most of Ruthie's online
footprint had been scrubbed,

but I've got some friends who
are very good at unscrubbing.

They found her blog, where
she fantasized about killing

herself and all
of her young passengers.

Exactly. She had to go.

Did she? Over
the last four years,

Ruthie repeated the same
escalating cycle of rage

and suicidal depression online,

always as her birthday
approached.

And then,
when her birthday passed,

her mood always improved,
always.

But you still had her killed
a day before her 53rd birthday.

All those children.

Her life wasn't worth the risk.

Risk implies odds.
Odds imply a lack of certainty.

You started as an engineer.

So assign a number
to your conviction

that Ruthie would have killed.

Give me a percentage.

Call it 80%.

Well,
there's your bug.

At those odds, a fifth of the
people that you've had killed

could have been innocent.

This your way of saying

you're not interested
in helping?

On the contrary.

Watson and I are
very interested.

But it would have to be
on our terms.

We would vet every single case
to 100% certainty

before you did the irrevocable.

What if your
target acts

while you're still vetting?

That could happen, yes.

But your default position
cannot be

"kill away."

All right, fine.

How about this?

Next time I get another 80/20
call, I'll send it your way.

It'll be your decision.

Call it
a trust-building exercise.

How's that sound?

Like a step
in the right direction.

We appreciate you making the
time to come see us, Ms. Duarte.

I'm sure you're busy
at the consulate.

Uh, I brought
you everything

I could find
on the Bautista estate.

Mr. Holmes said he believed
the man whose murder

you've been investigating
was an heir?

We think the person responsible
may have been another heir.

Well, if that's the case,

I'm afraid I won't be
much help to you.

The Guatemalan
government

has been looking for heirs
to the estate for years.

We haven't had any luck.

This man?

The one Mr. Holmes said was
Baron Wright's father?

I can confirm he
was a Bautista.

Lorenzo.

Uh, he grew estranged
from his family

in the late '90s and moved away.

He must have come here,
met his wife, had Baron,

and then died
in that car crash.

Uh, we would require Baron's DNA
to confirm it,

but, yes,
I imagine you're right.

It's sad, but I think
we almost found him last year.

What do you mean?

You'll see in the file.

13 months ago, a medical
researcher from New York

contacted our
probate office

for information
on the Bautistas.

She had a patient
with a rare disorder

and said she'd found an article
in an old medical journal

from our country.

It suggested that members
of the Bautista family

had the same
condition.

Unfortunately,

the researcher said she couldn't
share the patient's name.

HIPAA laws.

But it had
to be Baron,

don't you think?

I-I don't suppose
your people explained

that he might be an heir
to an estate worth millions.

Of course. But she said
she would speak with him.

But he must not have
believed he was a Bautista.

Why else would he not have
contacted us?

I'm pretty sure I know where

to find the other heir
to the Bautista estate.

Say the word, and I'll send
a car for him right now.

You can't arrest him,
assuming it is a him.

If I'm right,
he or she hasn't been born yet.

You remember my colleague
Ms. Watson?

You said on the phone

you had more questions
about Dr. Burgess,

but I don't know
what else I can tell you.

He was at the office
when Baron Wright was killed.

But you weren't.

No. I had terrible morning
sickness. I was out all day.

Why?

Let's cut the crap.

We're not here
to talk about Dr. Burgess.

We're here to give you
a chance to confess

to the murder of Baron Wright.

The sooner you do that,
the better it's gonna be

for you and your baby.

You think I killed Baron?
Seriously?

It's the 21st century.

Pregnant women can do
all sorts of things.

Including
go to the gun range.

We spoke to the manager at
the one closest to your house.

He says that you've been there
a lot lately,

practicing with an AR-15
like this one.

Before you started
working for Dr. Burgess,

you were in the Army
for six years, right?

So?

So we're guessing that's where

you got to be so
proficient with firearms.

It's probably also where you
learned about sniper nests,

like the one you scouted for
my friend Davis Whitmark.

We know that Dr. Burgess

was his endocrinologist, too.

He needed regular follow-ups
after losing his adrenal gland

in the line of duty
a few years ago.

Not sure exactly when you saw
one of his bondage videos,

but you did, and you
recognized his scar.

You realized that Baron

was an heir to the Bautista
estate a little over a year ago.

Now, his trainer said
that's around the time

you started dating.

We went on like two dates.

I think it was more than that.

Either way, you made
the most of them.

Dr. Burgess will testify that
he prescribed you hormone pills

to help you get pregnant.

You told him
you were using a sperm donor.

Which, in a way, you were,
because that's all Baron ever was to you.

Once you reached your third trimester,
you could be all but assured

your pregnancy would go
the distance.

You had the baby you needed
to claim the Bautista estate.

What you didn't need
was the father.

So you decided
to kill him.

Unlucky for you,
Dr. Burgess broke

into Baron's house
around the same time.

Baron got scared
and went into hiding.

We're guessing he told you
what was going on

because he didn't
want you to worry.

But you did.

Not about him,
but about your plan.

You needed him dead,
and now he was holed up

with a security team
at the Warford Hotel.

So you blackmailed Davis.

Got him up on that roof
across the way

to shoot at Baron's window.

We arrested him before
that could happen,

but the commotion was enough

to get him and his guards
on the move.

You followed them and then
you gunned them all down.

All that was left

was to go to his mother's house
and find anything

you could steal
that could help prove

to the Guatemalan government
that he was a Bautista.

I don't feel good. I...

think I need to go
to the hospital.

But first I would
like to point out

that everything you've just said
is circumstantial.

My baby?

He isn't even Baron's.

This is a court order
for a paternity test.

Pretty sure it's gonna
say the opposite.

If it does, that'll be
circumstantial, too.

But I think it's gonna go a
hell of a long way with a jury.

Next time
I get another 80/20 call,

I'll send it your way.
It'll be your decision.

Call it
a trust-building exercise.

We got everything.

And we're gonna start a case.
You need to be patient.

Investigations
of this size

and of someone of this stature,
they take time.

There's nothing more
for you to do.

Well, in that case,
I have one question.

Did you become a member
of Reichenbach's cabal

before I came to see you,
or after?

What do you mean?

The recording.

It couldn't be any clearer.

It was windy that day
on the pier.

I don't care what kind
of covert listening device

the NSA
alleges to have.

The only way you could make
a recording that clear

is with a wire, and I certainly
wasn't wearing one.

I think you've been eating
too much bug paste.

Is the entire NSA in Odin's
pocket, or is it just you?

Come to that, has it?

It was always a matter of time,
wasn't it?

Agreeing to help you
investigate our mutual friend

was his idea.

He thought it'd slow you down,

give him more time to polish
a new recruitment pitch.

I'd be flattered if I was you.

Yeah, well, you're not me,
are you?

I know that, because
I'm not a murderous traitor.

Traitor?

Well, what's a
little murder

if you can stop the next 9/11?

You do see why that would be
of interest to me, don't you?

Well, if you are gonna shoot me,

I'd just ask
that you get on with it.

This isn't for you.

This is.

This is everything
I've put together on you

over the past couple
of years. Open it up.

You'll see a lot
of familiar names.

Captain Thomas Gregson,

his daughter Hannah,
his wife Paige.

Detective Marcus Bell,
his girlfriend Chantal.

Kitty Winter,

her son Archie.

Let's see, there's someone
I'm forgetting, isn't there?

Is there?

Yeah. Dr. Joan Watson.

It'd be a shame if
something happened to her.

Maybe a botched
home invasion

like the one that
killed that bus driver?

Maybe something messier.

Our friend doesn't want
to hurt any of you,

but I think it's important

you realize he could
hurt all of you.

Don't get in his way.

You'll live longer.
More importantly,

so will all of your friends.

Hey. How'd it go

with McNally?

I think you're making a mistake.

I know this guy
better than you do.

In all the ways that matter,
Agent McNally,

I think I know him better.

He's not gonna let this go.

I told you, I don't want him to
let it go, him or his partner.

I want them
to join us.

Right now I'm managing a lawsuit

from five of my competitors
over hardware patents,

I'm battling
the Chinese government's

illegitimate restrictions on
our Asian market search engines,

and I'm fighting two branches
of the U.S. military

about jurisdiction
over land on Mars.

I can handle Sherlock Holmes.

What is it?

The NSA has opened a case.

We're going to have
to be patient.

An investigation
of this size

against someone of this stature
takes time.

So there's nothing more
for us to do.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man