myktsn
50 bucks for some crunk juice?
You got to be kidding me, man.
They ain't got no 40s?
- Can I help you? - Give me the cash!
Move, punk! Hurry up! Let's go! Now!
Come on!
You crazy, man! Loco! Yo, El!
Cover this fool. Got you.
Don't move.
Finish it, man.
- You took everything... - Shut up!
Hector...
blast that fool.
Go back and talk to the bodega owner. See if you can find anything out.
Be nice to him.
Evening, Detectives.
Sergeant.
Can't tell where the blood ends and the wine begins.
Actually, you can. Viscosity and color are different.
Scientists.
Lost him before paramedics arrived.
- Two in the back. - Did he make a statement?
Three unknown male Hispanics, late teens...
- two armed. - Gangbangers.
Most of the old-time residents see gentrification as a threat.
The gangs,
they see fresh meat.
- Stella. - Yeah?
Footprints spaced in a run.
Right through the wine. Vic was running for his life.
About as cold-blooded as it gets.
Anything else, Sergeant?
Bookstore clerk across the street said the three fled on foot.
Any other witnesses?
Bodega owner, check cashing clerk both have nothing to say.
The locals know better than to go on record against the gangs.
Unfortunately for gangs...
they can't intimidate evidence.
CSI: New York - Season 1 Episode 18- The Dove Commission
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Transcript: Raceman
Synchro: Seth Cohen, Daxter38 and OrionDeBmk
Correction: Cordesh and Seth Cohen
www. csi-teams. fr. st www. forom. com
Nine millimeter.
Did you remember to double-glove?
All this blood and glass, I triple-gloved.
Looking at the bright side, at least it's warm in here.
Yeah, but the cold still kills us.
All the heavy clothing lessens the chance the three left behind
prints, hair, DNA.
Mac, you're not helping.
The glass may have worked in our favor. I'm swabbing every sample.
Maybe there's a second bleeder.
Wouldn't be the first time showing off got a shooter nailed.
Got something.
Disposable lighter. They don't sell these here.
The kind of thing that
falls from a pocket when you're removing something else in haste.
Yeah, and if you were wearing gloves,
it would be pretty difficult to use it.
Bingo.
Double bingo.
Surveillance camera.
High end. Probably transmits to a computer in the back.
You use your flashlight more than anything on your belt.
Always bring extra batteries.
Remember all the lessons, rookie.
This guy likes pop quizzes.
All right, now, don't break his aggies.
Oh, yeah, like you didn't break mine for four years.
Come here. Good to see you.
My former charge, Donald Flack Jr.,
son of the NYPD legend.
Hey, how's your old man?
- Eh, you know, the same. - Hey, Flack.
Hey. Hear we're looking for bangers.
Three.
Two had nine-mils. It's Nagasaki in there; I'm gonna need your help on the perimeter.
All right, fled on foot, probably ditched their weapons quickly.
Keep me posted, Flack.
- Ran west. - Let's go.
- Eh, sit tight. - ????
Okay...
you're a kid,
you murdered,
you're running.
Got priors,
can't keep a hot weapon.
Unwise to chuck it in the street.
Plenty of alleys.
Couple around the corner.
Too clean. Too many windows.
Here. Alpha maggot would throw first.
- We know their pattern, Donnie. - Let's move.
Here we go!
Beta maggot sees alpha throw, does likewise in the next alley.
I'm glad a few things stuck, Donnie.
How you doing? Danny Messer, Crime Lab.
You know where the body's at?
Wow.
Guy this big couldn't just fall through the awning?
It's a canopy.
What?
Awnings cover windows, canopies run out to the curb.
My uncle manufactures them in Queens.
Either way, it's a pain in my gluteus maximus.
Tell me about it.
Any idea how long he's been dead?
Lividity set in on one side.
Some rigor.
Had to have been in this position at least four hours.
So he fell long before he was spotted.
Four stories. Ah, I wonder which one.
I'm hearing a party on the third floor.
And I noticed an oily smudge on his right shoulder.
I got it.
Wow, this is Melvin Heckman.
Who's Melvin Heckman?
He's, like, New York's biggest producer. His grandfather owns a movie studio. They're, like...
film royalty.
Well, no more red carpet treatment for him.
Excuse me, everybody listen up.
I'm gonna have to ask that nobody leave the apartment at this time.
Terrace door's curiously devoid of prints. I'm lucky if I got one.
I always have the cleaners come the day of a party.
Mrs. Heckman, when did you notice
Mr. Heckman was missing from the party?
I didn't.
I mean, he's always sneaking off with someone.
Social events are where he made his deals.
Were there any people at the party tonight that might have a problem with your husband?
Definitely.
You got a name?
You got a pen?
All the blood samples are from the victim, unfortunately.
Any luck with the guns?
Testing confirms they were the weapons fired at the wine shop,
- but no prints on either. - Thanks.
- What about the casings? - Multiple case-to-case matches
with about a half a dozen unsolved Bronx shootings.
Main suspects, Crazy Aces gang members.
Whatcha got?
Got a hit on your lighter print. Luis Accosta, 18, two juvie stints,
felony assault, grand theft auto, member of Crazy Aces.
The A/V techs should be finished loading that surveillance video.
If he lost that lighter on screen, it's enough to make an arrest.
Can't get a positive facial read, not even the one without glasses.
Yeah, it's the camera angle. Hats are working against us.
That's got to be Accosta. Check the perp at the door.
Body language says that one's in over his head.
Yeah, he's scared.
And unarmed.
Damn it. Accosta lost the lighter off screen.
There goes our arrest warrant.
Hector! Blast that fool.
Did you hear that? Thank you for being stupid. We got a Hector.
This was Hector's gang initiation.
That makes sense. You don't hit an upscale place for all the cash.
And murder once you've gotten the money.
Here, check this out.
We may have DNA after all.
- You bag this can? - No.
And it wasn't in your crime scene photos.
Maybe Hector came back and retrieved it.
I'll ask his friend Accosta.
No oxidation. The rail break is recent.
Yeah, well, too bad birds can't talk, cause there's a robin's nest, like, 12 feet away.
Bird's-eye view.
You had to say it, right?
What're you gonna do?
I got a fiber.
It's consistent with our victim's...
shirt.
He was wearing a jacket, right?
Means he fell face-first.
Here we go.
There's blood on the ledge.
Guy that big wouldn't fall clear of the building.
If it was suicide, he would've jumped over the rail.
So we're looking at an accident or a homicide.
This is the Aces'turf. They move from one condemned building to another.
Accosta, come here.
And you, stand up.
It's not polite to point, man.
- What's your name? - Tomas Perez.
Got your escapade on videotape tonight.
Not us. We was in here. It's cold out.
- Man, this is harassment, man. - It's a legal search.
Pack of gum. Punks knew we were coming for'em.
Cleaned up.
Looking for your lighter, Luis?
You dropped it tonight.
- Man, I lose lighters all the time. - Where's your new friend, Hector?
Don't know any Hectors.
I'm testing for gunshot residue. Come here.
Hold out your hand.
What are you doing, man? What kind of experiment is this, man?
Could give me cancer.
- You, come here. - Move in.
- You got nothing on us. - Points.
You murdered a man tonight, Perez.
If there's one speck of dust out there that proves it, I will find it,
and you will answer for what you did.
- What brings a prosecutor to a crime lab? - I need an arrest on this one.
That's always my goal with homicide.
But this is the stuff the papers clobber us with.
Innocent people gunned down by gangbangers.
- Innocent white people. - You know, it's real easy for you.
The politics doesn't come in here to your lab.
Not if I can help it.
- What do you need from me? - Space.
- We're doing everything we can. - Do it faster.
Mac...
We had two of the three right in front of us.
No visible blood spatter. Negative for GSR. They obviously washed up.
There was no move to make.
- What do you have? - Police dispatch log.
That soda can we saw in the video was bothering me.
The bookstore clerk said he saw them running at 10:15.
The first responding officer arrived at 10:17.
Timeline rules out retrieval.
Uh... the unarmed banger, Hector, left a soda can behind in the wine shop.
- DNA. - We didn't find it at the scene.
- It's Mirado brand lime flavor. - Moran was the first responder.
That's guy's got a memory like an elephant.
Good. Ask him about it.
Soda can, uh?
Never saw one.
Well, it was a busy scene.
Hey, you write down everything. Can you check your memo book?
- I'd remember. - Humor me, Gavin.
If I wrote it down, I'd remember it.
Look, you were trying to save a guy's life.
Easy to forget something.
Forget something? Was that Taylor talking?
No, it's me. Come on, don't make this a thing.
It's an old game.
Higher-ups screw up, blame the uniform.
- I never thought you'd partake, Donnie. - Gavin, give me your memo book.
Was that an order, Detective?
If you need it to be.
There's a joke here about crashing a party, but I won't go there.
Good.
Cause of death, blow to the head.
Which he sustained in the fall. We matched his DNA
to blood we found on the second floor ledge.
Floral scent... on the right hand.
I'll get that broken down. Signs of struggle?
Just two small bruises on his right glute.
Stomach contents?
What you'd expect at the party, chicken, arugula, chocolate.
Alcohol content,. 011.
Even drunk,
it wouldn't be easy to send a guy this big where he didn't want to go, you know?
I'll break the stomach contents down further, run a tox screen for poison.
- Okay. Thanks, Doctor. - All right.
Aiden, I got the scent broken down on Melvin's hand.
It's a woman's perfume called Suspicion.
Yeah, but his wife wasn't wearing any.
Women wear it on their neck, wrists, cleavage.
Maybe he was playing around.
You know, there are a lot of scratches on the arms, but he definitely fought the fall.
You I.D. the substance on his shoulder?
Yeah, it's salmon oil.
Well, they served salmon at the party.
Yeah, but nobody spills it on their own back.
True.
It's hard to get prints off of clothing, but this is a very tight synthetic weave.
Got a partial handprint.
- Positioning doesn't look like a hug. - Imprint's smudged on the right side.
Definitely indicates force.
Well...
unless they were playing Twister, someone got physical with Melvin.
Hmmm... there was no ridge detail on the fingers. We just got some on the palm.
Oh good, let's go print some beautiful people, then.
Okay, back to the crime scene.
Thank you.
I'm trying to match a fragrance here.
What I win?
A conversation.
Your perfume was on Melvin Heckman.
I'd rather wait tables than get on that casting couch.
So how'd it get there?
I was supposed to be the lead in Lethal Verdict,
about a lawyer with a brain tumor prosecuting a cell phone company.
He fired me.
You're supposed to be dying. You gained weight.
- Honey, you're off the picture! - But my doctor says I'm anorexic.
- Go stuff your face on your own time. - I'll lose it! I swear!
Melvin was awful, but he was my ticket from off-off Broadway to L.A.
Danny, I got a hit on the palm print.
That's cool.
If you found the killer, let me know who, so I can send flowers.
Don't move.
- We got evidence that says you pushed him. - Pushed him?
No, no, no, no, no, no. I was begging him.
- And nowhere near the balcony. - Why?
Well, I'm a writer-director, and I just finished a film for him.
That's based on my grandfather's life as a coal miner in Virginia.
It's a very personal project.
When he found out that I sold my next project to Paramount, he went nuts.
- But you passed on that project. - I don't care.
I'm opening Canary Carl Memorial Day weekend.
No, it'll get killed by Pixar. Melvin, please...
Get lost, hack!
- That was the last time I spoke to him. - Any proof of that?
Yes, actually, my agent.
I was on the cell with him in the library for, like, the next three hours.
- Oh, good. I'm gonna need your cell. - Sure.
- There you go. - Thanks.
Hey, wait a minute.
- What time did he fall? - About 9:30. Why?
Maybe he never moved the release date.
Stella.
Talk to Moran?
Yeah...
May have been a little confusion with his memo book notations.
- What'd he say about it? - A little touchy.
He was your training officer.
- You know how it is. - Oh yeah.
Ran into one of mine about a month ago.
I swear, if I were chief of police, he'd still call me Toots.
Exactly.
Hey, uh...
you have a machine, indicates if two different kinds of ink are used on a document?
The video spectral comparitor.
Can we run this through, off the books?
- Without a case number? - Yeah.
If it's nothing, I don't want anything on record that calls him into question.
It is a nondestructive process.
- Thanks. - Okay.
Hey, you were right. Moran used two inks.
Both black, two separate pens.
First pen, he used to write all the information.
Description of the perps and such.
Then he took another and scratched out this entire section.
Completely obliterating: "Hector, soda can scar right cheek".
Maybe Moran thought he heard wrong?
On all three points?
He purposely withheld the vic's dying declaration.
- Moran took that soda can. - Wait, we don't know that.
- But he couldn't have gotten far. I'm going back to the scene. - Stella, wait.
- I'll do it. - Flack...
I rode with him for four years.
I know how he thinks.
All right.
Remember all the lessons, rookie.
I'm glad a few things stuck, Donnie.
This doesn't make sense. I know this guy.
A cop on the same beat for 20 years makes ties.
With gang members?
No way, Stella.
Gavin Moran's not on the take.
An hour ago, you'd have sworn he'd never tamper with evidence.
He helped me find the guns, he tried to save the victim... It doesn't add up.
Wait a minute, wait. We're getting ahead of ourselves until we confirm that this is the evidence we're looking for.
I'm back to torture you.
One woman's torture is another woman's challenge.
That look says it's a rush.
I'd like to wait here.
Sure.
The cold temperature kept the DNA samples nicely.
There are two donors on the can.
A saliva contribution from an unknown male, and an epithelial contribution from Sergeant Gavin Moran.
And there's more...
You sure this part is right?
Absolutely.
Moran's in the gang's pocket.
I don't think he did it for the money.
The DNA donors have genetic profiles that indicate they're father and son.
That can't be right.
Gavin's got twin daughters at Boston College.
Same beat, 20 years.
Flack,
the banger named Hector... he's Moran's son.
Run his financials. You know what to look for.
Why don't we wait until you hear what he has to say?
We have a hot homicide and we already know where Moran falls in our efforts to solve it.
Find the mother.
Glute bruise came from a shoe?
This season's Feldman stilettos.
Footprint database came through? Nice.
Yeah,'cause Carrie Bradshaw's always knocking off savings and loans.
Come on! They don't database women's shoes.
Enlighten me then.
Okay, well, you're not the only one with craftsmen in the family because I called my cousin Manny who's a cobbler on East 86th.
Told him about the tear-drop heel, and he sent me over to Beverly Feldman.
You're right.
Looks like a teardrop.
I measured the distance between the two bruises.
The woman we're looking for wears a size seven.
Let's go find Cinderella then.
You tampered with evidence.
My evidence.
- I'm not sure what... - You were sloppy.
Your DNA is on that can...
as is your son's.
And we have the original statement from the vic.
Call my union lawyer.
Tell me where your son is while he still has a chance.
Let me start the story for you.
Young guy, new on the street, family at home.
Saved a girl in the projects from some meathead.
She looked at you like you're Superman.
You turn around, you've got a son.
You request to stay on the same beat as a way to check in. But...
financial support and the occasional visits
aren't as strong as the lure of the gangs, especially to a Dominican kid with a white father with something to prove.
On tour, you respond to a robbery, get a description, realize it's Hector, your son.
Father trumps cop.
You cover for him.
You're looking at time.
If that's my story, sounds like the least I can do.
If he's not the shooter, I can help. I just need to find him.
Call my union lawyer.
I'm tired of all you people in my house.
Just answer the question.
You're right. I kicked him in the ass as hard as I could.
May we ask why?
To save his life.
I told you about his eating.
Eating?
Melvin was 200 pounds overweight,
he had five tantrums a day, sky-high cholesterol levels.
Sweets were like poison to him.
And you were the candy police.
Exactly.
I forbade sweets at home and at his office.
And at parties, I gave specific instructions to the waiters to keep the candy trays away from him.
But he's wily...
Melvin!
It's just one!
Can't trust you for a minute.
Silver.
He wore cuff links?
His jacket sleeves had marks.
One of them was probably from the wall.
You're right.
What do you think?
I kicked him off the balcony?
It crossed our mind.
I told you...
I loved that man.
Excuse me.
Back to the body.
Years of checks made out to a Blanca Vasquez.
Bronx address, Carmody Street.
Mac.
What?
If it was his son...
Flack, I need your head on straight.
It is.
Good.
Be ready to go hunting with me.
When I got home from work, I saw that Hector packed. And then I heard the message.
What did he say?
He said he's going to our cousin's in Atlanta.
Said not to answer the door if Tomas Perez came by.
I tried calling, but his cell is off.
Mrs. Vasquez, we need to take your answering machine.
Of course.
Good news and bad news.
Hector failed the initiation.
Now they want him dead.
Call his cell phone again.
Just did... five times. Still off.
Probably knows it can be tracked.
Mama, I'm at the bus station. Don't worry.
If Tomas Perez comes by, don't open the door. Tell him I went to Atlanta.
All right, that means he's anywhere but Atlanta. I'm going to isolate that background noise.
When teens run, they usually don't go far.
- Hear that? - Yeah, some kind of loudspeaker.
Let me bring it up.
I can isolate that frequency.
Here we go.
Whitford-Ninth Street.
Whitford-Ninth in Park Slope.
Brooklyn. I'm gonna call Mrs. Vasquez.
Hector's mother worked here. Used to bring him with her when he was little, before the plant closed.
I really wish I wasn't part of this.
Mac wants to make sure you are.
He obviously enjoys watching me nail a friend.
No, he's just looking out for you.
I got something.
Hector Vasquez! NYPD!
There he is.
Hey, Mac, he's heading out toward you. We're going to cover the perimeter.
Son, it's okay.
I didn't do anything!
You're gonna help us prove it, all right?
Come on!
We have a dying victim's statement IDing a Hispanic teen named Hector, scar on the right cheek.
You're on tape drinking from a soda can. We have that soda can.
It contains your DNA.
If you help us,
there may be a way out of this.
I don't trust cops.
This has nothing to do with your father.
I don't want to see him.
You don't have to.
But don't throw your life away just to get back at him.
I'm offering you a chance.
I didn't shoot that man.
Who did?
They'll kill me.
They will if we don't lock them up.
C- Dog...
Give me your cash! Hurry up!
Tomas Perez.
How'd it go down?
They said they wanted to front this cracker at the store.
I didn't know they were robbing him.
Then C-Dog gave me his gun...
Hector, blast this fool!
- No way, man. - What?!
Come on, let's go! Come on!
I let them down.
I knew what they'd do.
So I cut down Langley Street when they ran straight.
I haven't seen'em since.
I want him booked ASAP.
More sauerkraut, okay?
Hector Vasquez wasn't the shooter.
I don't release a bird in the hand. Okay, that's good, right there.
Meaning you have an arrest for the 6:00 News.
That kid went willingly into that store.
A man is dead. I want him arrested. Murder in the commission of a felony.
- Then we have a problem. - What's that?
The vic's statement, the soda can...
- they're both compromised. - Moran's next on my list,
believe me. But first I want this kid. His confession is enough.
So what happens next week, when the Aces strike again?
You're ruining my lunch.
Let Hector flip,
- we'll cut off their head. - We need evidence against Perez.
Otherwise a jury will see three punks all pointing fingers.
- I'll get it. - Mac, that space I gave you?
It's running out.
So I ran a tox screen on his blood, there's no poison.
I broke down the stomach contents further.
No poison in anything he ingested.
What were the contents again?
Chicken, arugula, chocolate.
All that effort by Mrs. Heckman, he still got a truffle past her.
- Truffle? - Yeah.
No.
The carbonate content wasn't that high.
This is a cheaper milk chocolate.
But Mrs. Heckman said she didn't allow sweets in the house.
Maybe someone gave it to him.
Got it somewhere.
Chocolate was barely digested.
Swallowing it was probably the last thing he did before he fell.
The last thing he did.
Did I mention that I wish birds could talk?
I think you did.
Check it out.
Candy wrappers.
Robins make their nests from whatever's available, even if it's trash on the street.
That's a lot of candy wrappers for this kind of neighborhood.
You're right.
And there's not a corner store for blocks.
Melvin didn't come out here for fresh air.
Do gargoyles have teeth?
Be careful.
Candy bars.
A stash.
He ate a piece, but he couldn't have just one.
Alcohol makes him careless...
The most feared man in New York dies...
from fear of his own wife.
And she was the only one that loved him.
We've confirmed that Hector was telling the truth about where the shooter stood...
It doesn't prove who the shooter is.
This whole Moran thing has really done a number on Flack.
He's been by the book, he'll come out clean on this.
That's not what I mean.
What do you got?
Those bottles may have worked in our favor after all.
Oh, nice...
You carrying a gun now, Perez?
I found that in the street.
- I was on my way to turn it in. - Uh-huh.
Don't bother looking for Hector. We found him first.
He told us an interesting story.
- Take off your jacket. - My jacket?
We got a warrant for it, maggot.
Take it off.
The samples have identical chromatograms.
And the spatter's consistent with the shooter's position.
Perez thought it was safe to keep his jacket
because he didn't get blood on it.
Didn't expect to be brought down by a bottle of white wine.
Come on, let's go!
High velocity Chardonnay spatter.
Score one for the yuppies.
Because of its vast array of components,
wine is one of the few man-made subjects that can be exclusively matched.
McShane's moving quickly on Perez and Accosta.
He offered Hector a deal. Gave him a chance to start over.
- What about Moran? - I'm going to pick him up now.
Mac...
When he tampered with evidence, he forfeited his badge. He knew that.
You need to know that.
I do.
And I have a request.
They sent the big guns.
All right, this is what's happening.
We're going to Central Booking. You'll call your lawyer on the way.
Detective Taylor spoke to McShane, who agrees
that making too much hay with you will hurt the prosecution against Tomas Perez.
McShane's going to recommend forced retirement. Save your pension.
Do you need me to call Andrea?
Nah. I'll sit her down tonight.
Ready?
Gonna hook me up here?
You and I are walking out of here like we're going for a smoke.