The first thing we see on screen is a giant cruise ship docked in the harbor. However, we do not see scores of passengers in the throes of the Norwalk virus; nor do we see David Foster Wallace being marched up the gangplank at gunpoint, weeping, "I swore I'd never do this again!" Then we see a cluster of official-looking skyscrapers (like many other things in Miami, these are vaguely pastel), and then we flash to the Miami-Dade county courthouse, where a three-ring media circus is already in full swing. In the first ring: scores of blow-dried newsdroids solemnly telling the camera what's what; in the second ring, security personnel trying to beat back the reporters, and in the third ring, a group of ambulatory newshounds running alongside an official-looking sedan and asking the occupant within, Councilwoman Escalante, all sorts of questions about housekeeper Abigail Sandoval and her husband's relationship with Sandoval. The last question echoes as Escalante heads inside: "How will your husband's murder trial affect your re-election campaign?"
We won't know, because it's time for us to get an arty, brooding shot of Horatio sitting alone in a gray-carpeted, gray-upholstered lounge. He's dressed in a uncharacteristically bright color for him: navy blue. As Horatio sits, he flips through a case file, looking at a nice portrait of Mr. Escalante, then several not-so-nice crime scene photos. We then flash back to a scene that by virtue of taking place in blurry slow motion just barely makes the censor's cut: an undressed man pinning a woman down on a bed in a hotel room as she hollers in Spanish for him to stop and let her go, and then adds something about his wife (I can't tell what). Back in the present, Horatio ponders a photo of the woman in a car for a moment. Then we flash back again, and the woman's sliding behind the wheel of her car in a big hurry. Naturally, the starter falters, which is just enough time for her to get shot in the head. Horatio checks the photo of the partially-submerged car, and we get the flashback of someone pushing the car into a canal on a foggy, but not rainy, night. Horatio rises long enough to watch Mr. Escalante get escorted past, and he practically flutters his eyelashes and simpers. It's unsettling. Escalante smirks in response, and Horatio smiles. It's all subtextual in a way I'm not comfortable contemplating.
Then we go to a courtroom with the world's most lenient judge; he's busy hanging out on the bench while everyone else tries to get their acts together. I thought the whole point to being a judge was that you made everyone wait for you, not vice-versa. ["Obviously not a veteran of New York City jury duty, where everyone waits for everything." -- Sars] Well, maybe there are a few other perks -- deciding who lives and who dies, wearing those chic black robes, maybe snagging a television deal so you can berate total losers for the delectation of daytime shut-ins -- but the waiting thing seems like one of those perks that the judge would really like. Why have a bailiff otherwise?
Anyway, while things are settling down, Mr. Escalante shoots the missus the same conspiratorial grin; she tells him to straighten his tie. Horatio glowers at the back of Escalante's neck until he's distracted by Speedle whispering, "Hey, Horatio, we've got a problem." Horatio replies irritably, "Speed, I'm under subpoena. I'm about to testify." Speedle tells him, "You might want to reconsider that. Remember that call I rolled out on this morning, the Jane Doe?" Horatio nods. Speedle whispers, "She was familiar." "How familiar?" asks Horatio. Speedle sighs: "Young, pretty, Latina. Single gunshot, close-range, left temple." Cut to Escalante checking out Horatio's conversation and turning back with a serene look on his face. Horatio decides, "Testimony, schmestimony!" and whips out the cell to ask Alexx about the Jane Doe. We see Alexx slicing away, saying, "I just got her, Horatio. I'll have results within the hour." That's not good enough for Horatio. Alexx then warps space and time to comply with His Broodingness's request, and checks the stomach, noting, "Mint leaves in her stomach. Swallowed whole. I'm guessing tox will say they're from a mojito, just like Abby Sandoval." Horatio thanks Alexx, then goes down to blow the DA's day, telling him, "There's a flag on the play, Don. I can't testify today." The DA is justifiably perturbed and wants to know why not. Horatio lies in response. DA Don points out, "You were the last nail in the coffin. That's why I've been saving you for last." Too bad, Don. Horatio's all, "Don, I need you to give me more time." Don replies, "Your grandma better be bleeding from her eyeballs. Twenty-four hours."
Back at the lab, Alexx is pulling a flattened bullet-shell casing out of what I presume is Jane Doe's brain, unless that bullet went a very long way. The location's confirmed as Horatio breezes in and comments, "Fastest scalp in the east." Alexx replies, "I think I just set some kind of postmortem speed record." Horatio asks how similar this case is to the Abby Sandoval one, and Alexx replies, "Like looking in a mirror. Both victims in their early twenties, pretty, Latina, shot once in the head, left temple, mint leaves in the stomach, both worked with their hands. Now, I'm thinking Jane Doe might have been a domestic just like Abby was." Horatio explains why this new discovery is a problem: "She couldn't have been killed by Lorenzo Escalante because he was in custody at the time of her death. How were they different?" The only significant difference thus far is that Abby Sandoval had glass in her wound track and this woman doesn't. Alexx chalks that up to Abby being shot in her car, while this one was discovered as a roadside dumpee. Horatio thinks they may not have found the car yet. Alexx asks, "You think we got a serial?" Horatio replies, "I don't know. But we better find out before we send an innocent man to jail for murder."
Roger Daltrey agrees. It's always so nice to see rock stars taking an interest in things like judicial system reform.
Once we're back from the credits, Horatio is in the shooting gallery, complimenting Calleigh on her shot. God knows he won't be complimenting her on her clothing; she's wearing this unfortunate jacket-and-pants combination that combines the most unflattering cuts possible for a short, curvy woman (cropped jacket, too-long flared pants) with some of the most aesthetically misbegotten trends on the market today (ruched fabric, those damn Little House on the Prairie sleeves again) and a color that wants to be a nice green like Eucalyptus or Evergreen, but ends up as Institutional Despair. I'm not saying that the costumer for this series needs to blow the budget on impractical but lovely Narcisco Rodriguez frocks, but I don't think it would kill them to steer clear of Forever 21 and maybe hit Banana Republic for a change. Anyway, Horatio asks Calleigh if she's busy, and she replies in the affirmative: "I'm up to my ass in alligators. There was a big shooting on the Causeway yesterday. Fifty-four expended rounds. Not to mention Detective Hagen is riding me like a Gulfstream pony." "I didn't ask about your personal life, and I'd rather not know," Horatio replies. Oh, he does not either. But you thought it, didn't you? That pony line was wide open. Horatio actually seems taken aback that Detective John Hagen has anything to do with Calleigh, but before anyone can take the effort to tell us, the audience, why we should give a rat's ass about what Horatio thinks of John, he's moved on and asked Calleigh for a favor. She agrees with alacrity. He hands over the round dug out of Jane Doe's skull and she rattles off, "Nine-mil, hollow point, brass-jacketed, so my guess is it's a Golden Talon." Horatio then tells her he needs her to lift the bullet from the Abby Sandoval case for comparison's sake. Calleigh asks, "Isn't that case on trial right now?" Well, yes, so in theory the bullet would have been checked into some sort of evidence locker for the duration, so as to not introduce the possibility of police tampering after the fact, but why worry? Calleigh agrees to do the favor, "Quickly and quietly."
Sure enough, that's what she does in the scene.
Meanwhile, Horatio and Speedle are talking, and Speedle's telling H he chatted up a court reporter and learned that the Escalante legal team has been filing motions all morning. Horatio tells him, "They're moving to get the case thrown out, so we have to work fast. Here you go." Thus are Jane Doe's clothes passed off to Speedle for fiber taping and scraping. Speedle's got his marching orders to look for fibers similar to those found on Abby Sandoval -- worsted wool, tropical weight, just like those found on Escalante's $2000 suits. Then Horatio's off again.
We see where he was heading in a big hurry -- to the outdoors, where he's exiting the building and apologizing to Delko for beeping him on his day off. Delko takes the glass-half-full approach with, "It's not a problem. I was thinking of doing some diving anyway. Might as well do it on county time, huh? One question." Horatio gives him permission to ask. Delko replies, "Speedle's Jane Doe: she wasn't a floater. Why do you want me to bring my dive gear to the crime scene?" Horatio replies with, "Abby Sandoval." Delko's all, "Sandoval? I thought that investigation was closed." Horatio replies, "Officially, it is." "So you're bringing my ass in on my day off to work a closed investigation because you've got a hunch? time you call, Caine, the victim better be bleeding on your open case file!" Delko snaps. As if -- like everyone else who works with Big Red, he apparently converted from some other, federally recognized form of organized religion to the Caine Cult and thus does what the man says without question. And before Horatio can explain -- assuming he does explain -- why Delko's working a closed case on his day off, Don the DA's busted him. Horatio turns around to face Don, who asks, "How's Grandma?" Horatio walks over, saying, "Too soon to tell. Still running tests." Don's all, "Got anything to share?" Horatio replies, "Not just yet; Grandma likes her privacy." "You want to know what I really like? I like smoking a Montecristo Number Two after winning a slam-dunk case. Now, your grandma wouldn't be trying to screw me out of a good cigar?" Don asks. If she can do that while bleeding from the eyeballs, she's an impressing grandma indeed. Horatio's all, "I want to be sure we've got the right guy." Don thinks they do: "Lorenzo Escalante. He had an affair with the maid. He admits to getting rough with her. He got his semen inside of her, his DNA under her fingernails." Horatio counters that they don't have the gun. Don reminds Horatio that technically, since they do work to convict criminals, they are on the same side. Horatio's noncommittal. Don points out that roughly a million man-hours of work and a million dollars have gone into the trial thus far. Horatio overrides him, "We have new evidence." Don shoots back, "Well, that's what appeals are all about. Listen, this is not about the case anymore. Now, it's about winning." Horatio decides to take his ball and go home.
Then he decides to put on a sassy beat while he and his environment-destroying Humvee head to the crime scene. Sevilla meets him and gives him the 411 on the scene: this is where Jane Doe and a splotch of her blood were found. Horatio concludes that "she wasn't killed here. There's not enough blood for a head shot, right?" Right. You wanted an answer, didn't you, Horatio? Sevilla tells Horatio the girl could have been dumped, and she's got a couple of guys on the road preserving tread marks. Horatio and Delko then check out the blood drops Delko's found, and Horatio's all, "Adele, pull your men off the road. We're going to expand the crime scene." Who's in charge of this scene anyway? Is it Adele as the police detective, or Horatio as the CSI? Is there some sort of chain of command, or can Adele tell Horatio to pound sand? In any case, Horatio reconstructs Jane Doe's last moments: "She crawled to here. Probably rested for a moment, losing a lot of blood. Continued to travel, and then somehow got up. Fell again right here." As he and Delko walk along, we see that they're heading along a towpath beside a canal; the blue sky is brilliantly reflected in the water below. Whatever script, acting, and wardrobe problems this show has -- and yes, I do think Calleigh's weekly atrocities are such that they can be mentioned in the same breath as the writing -- the one thing this show consistently does right is find striking visual compositions. Anyway. Horatio has no time to ponder what a pretty picture he makes; he's too busy looking at the reflection of the sky in the canal and noticing that something looks hinky. Those aren't just clouds he's seeing, but a submerged compact car. Horatio concludes, "So [Jane Doe] crawled from here all the way to the road." Delko adds, "A quarter of a mile on her belly with a 9-mm round in her head. All for nothing." "Not if we can help it," Horatio replies.
Within moments, the small blue car is being pulled out of the canal. Once it's on land, Horatio notices that the window's spiderwebbed, i.e. rent with small, circular cracks caused by the impact of something against the glass. Delko -- who apparently went diving at some point in the car-retrieval process -- leans in to look and take the guess, "It could have shattered when Jane Doe was shot, just like Abby Sandoval." Horatio points out, "The difference is, Jane Doe had no glass in her wound." Delko says he'll try to lift prints off the steering wheel to see if he can give the woman a name, but Horatio spies a purse and pulls it out. Delko asks, "Any ID?" What, like Horatio's going to use his x-ray vision in front of mortals to figure that stuff out? Horatio tells him to hang on, and finds a check-cashing card belonging to one Bonita Cruz of Southwest 10th Street. Delko notes that Abby Sandoval lived in the same neighborhood. Horatio remembers, "Southwest 14th Street, right?" Delko replies, "Yeah, I know a lot of girls like that. They come from Cuba, Honduras, Nicaragua, looking for a better life, but they wind up cleaning toilets in Bal Harbour." Given a choice between that and being shot at or tortured by assorted political goon squads, I'm thinking the toilets might have a slight edge. Not that I think immigrant exploitation is the proudest component of the American marketplace; it's just that it might help to have a little perspective, is all. Anyway, Horatio actually pins the problem by pointing out how few people actually pay attention to the folks who clean their offices and homes by saying, "Yes, the invisible ones." Delko points out, "Perfect victims. No one gives them a second look." Delko happens to find a shell casing right then, much to everyone's delight.
Then we're on to the baffling sports moment of today's episode. We see only the rocky soil, that same beautiful cloudy sky, and Horatio's shoes, and then Horatio stoops to pick up a rock, asking, "Eric, you used to play right field for the 'Canes, right? See how far you can throw that." Here's the baffling part: according to the CSI: Miami website, Delko was an Olympic-level swimmer, so it's kind of unlikely that he'd be playing baseball, a sport that lends itself nicely to arm injury, as opposed to training for meets in his spare time. Maybe the marketing people are out to lunch and Delko just likes to spend time in the water because that's where he can pretend he's Ariel. Maybe someone associated with this show likes the idea of there being another baseball-playing CSI on the team (remember, Warrick played for University of Western Las Vegas). Maybe David Caruso throws worse than my grandmother and they needed an excuse to have Delko heft the rock. In any case, Delko tosses it, and it splashes in the water at about the halfway point of the canal. This is how Horatio determines that they need to set a grid from the car to the rock and figure out where the gun landed. By "they," he means Delko, and he makes that clear as he walks off, telling Delko, "Keep in touch." Delko watches him go, wondering if he should send a Hallmark "Thank You For Giving Me More Work!" card, or maybe the FTD "You Want The Evidence, You Dive For It" bouquet complete with little scuba-diving teddy bear.
Meanwhile, quick and quiet Calleigh is busy doing as Horatio asks. This is unfortunate for Detective Hagen, who's just walked in to ask about his results, but even more unfortunate for Calleigh, as she's got to explain why she prioritized Horatio's favor over her assigned case. Hagen asks, "You got my results?" and Calleigh snits, "Not since you called me an hour ago." "You told me you'd have it done by this morning," Hagen points out. Calleigh continues to sling attitude with, "I've got fifty-four rounds and your being down here isn't going to help me solve it any faster." Hagen shows he can dish it out as well as take it with, "I'm sorry . Am I bothering you here in your nice, air-conditioned crime lab? 'Cause I'm sweating my butt off trying to get my causeway shooter into arraignment." Calleigh smiles tiredly -- and, desultory Clown Cosmetics observation aside, she really does look wrung out, so way to go, makeup people -- and says, "Personal hygiene problems aside, I am sorry. Something came up, and I got backed up." Hagen's not charmed: "Something? What kind of something?" Calleigh turns to the scope so she doesn't have to make eye contact, and says, "I can't tell you, but I promise you as soon as I get this other thing cleared off my scope, I will finish yours." Hagen replies, "Whatever it is better be big." Not recognizing that a) she got off the hook without giving out a lot of information, b) Hagen's backing off, and c) this should be any smart tactician's desired outcome, Calleigh says, "The biggest." Hagen's retreating no more; he stops and asks, "Big like Abby Sandoval? I heard about what happened in court this morning. Word is, Horatio really stepped in it."
Calleigh tries to steer the conversation back to non-Horatio subjects with, "We're going to get you your shooter. I just need you to give me some time." Hagen points out how hard that will be when he has to let the guy go at noon. Calleigh blithely replies, "Cut him loose. Re-arrest him again tomorrow." The copyeditor in me is all, "'Re-arrest him again'? Doesn't re-arrest imply repetition, thus making 'again' superfluous?" Hagen asks, "What if he skips?" What if he does? Wouldn't it be more efficient to schedule Calleigh's ass-chewing for later and get her back to work so there's some small shot at keeping this guy locked up? Calleigh's all, "Put a squad car on him. I don't know, John. I have to do it!" Hagen tells her to tell it to the hand, then comments, "I hope Horatio knows what he's doing." Calleigh rides to the rescue with, "He's been doing it a long time." Hagen's all, "I hope he gets to keep doing it." For threatening Horatio's job and unsettling his lackeys, Hagen's just vaulted to the top of the "Characters I Like" list for this show. Also, he's pretty easy on the eyes. I hope Hagen sticks around; not only does this show need someone who can act as a consistent antagonist for Horatio and crew (like Ecklie did with Gil), but it wouldn't hurt to have someone around who approaches crime-solving from a different direction. Watch -- I say that, and Hagen'll never be in another episode.
Off in another corner of the lab, Speedle's interrupting whatever it is Horatio's doing to tell him that Bonita Cruz's dress yielded many, many lightweight tropical-weight worsted wool fibers. Speedle's all, "I hate to say it, but I think we've got the wrong guy in custody." Horatio's not making too many hasty declarations yet, pointing out that the fifty fibers off Bonita Cruz's dress don't exactly track with the two pulled off Abby Sandoval's by saying "that doesn't track." "Neither does a serial killer who wears $2000 suits and kills maids," Speedle points out. Horatio's moved on: "Unless he's not a serial. I think I've figured out how he picks out his victims. Take a look at this." Speedle looks -- it's a piece of wet newsprint. To read the newsprint, they freeze-dry the paper to remove the water, microwave it (or do the forensic equivalent), then try to read the thing via magnification and light filtering. A green filter yields the text fragments:
EMPLEOS DOMESTICOS
Externa 5 dias. Refen
6300. sem.
305-555-0179
Speedle and Horatio conclude that they're help-wanted ads from the Cuban newspaper Diarios Las Americas. Speedle concludes that Bonita was looking for a job. He's awaiting further instructions from Horatio, but Horatio's distracted by the detective who just got off the elevator -- light linen pantsuit, long dark hair. Oh, please, dear God, let this not be some angry girlfriend bent on a high-volume workplace confrontation. Horatio dispatches Speedle to go play with Delko, then goes out to talk to the woman in question.
Giving her a look eerily reminiscent of the one he gave Lorenzo Escalante in the opening side, Horatio tells the woman, "Elena. I heard about the Surfside triple. Nice going." Elena replies, "Why, thank you. I just came to pick up the final labs." Horatio offers to walk her down. As they walk, he apologizes, "Sorry about dinner. I've just been really backlogged. All that brooding and stalking the unjust really eats into my spare time, you know?" Maybe he stops about halfway through that. Elena replies, "I heard. Seems like a lot of cases are being moved to the back burner lately." Horatio tells her that the way to solve that is to give him more criminalists. Rather than get into a messy budget debate, Elena elects to get into a messy Abby Sandoval debate: "Word around the department is you've reopened the case." Horatio replies, "Word travels fast." Elena reminds him, "This is Miami -- there are no secrets, Horatio." Horatio tells her he's got concerns about the case; Elena effectively tells him to cram it with, "We've had this conversation before." "Then you know how it ends," he replies. Elena asks, "How long are we going to keep dancing around in circles?" "I don't know. Some day we have to talk about that, don't we?" Horatio replies. Elena knows when she's been blown off. She closes by telling him to be careful, to which Horatio puckishly replies, "If I did that, it would take all the fun out of it." Elena closes the scene by sighing.
I open the one by sighing. Horatio and Sevilla are in the Diarios Las Americas newsroom, and Horatio's asking, "Any trouble?" Sevilla replies, "Editor gave the usual First Amendment defense." The editor should save his breath; the First Amendment applies to the content printed in the paper, but the ads aren't covered, because those are the products of a contractual business relationship between publisher and advertiser, and that information can be gotten under a whole different set of laws that have nothing to do with the First Amendment. Second, once the paper is printed, it's in the public record, so anyone should be able to look at a copy. Anyway, Sevilla got around the editor because she knew the publisher. Horatio asks if there are any matches to their ad yet, and Sevilla deadpans, "Not unless you want to meet a 300-pound transvestite." Horatio passes on that offer. Before he can inquire about his odds for meeting a scrawny transvestite, his cell phone rings. It's Speedle, whom we see standing on a raft in the middle of the canal, in the dark, telling Horatio, "We came up empty." Horatio is surprised they didn't find a gun. Speedle clarifies -- they found three other guns, but no 9-mms. Horatio's all, "Any chance he could have missed it?" Speedle tells Horatio to hold on while he repeats the question to Delko at the top of his lungs. Delko replies, "It's pretty murky down there. We did a hand-over-hand rigid grid search a hundred yards downstream." Speedle has been holding the phone out so Horatio can hear this directly, but once he's back on the phone with Horatio, he tells Delko, "[Horatio said] throw another rock. What does that mean?" "It means we got a long night ahead of us," Delko replies.
Everyone does, as we see in montage. I have no idea who's playing the music here, so please don't write me to ask. At the twenty-six-minute mark, both Horatio's team and Delko's find what they're looking for -- the classified ad text in toto and the gun, respectively.
Sevilla fills us in: Bonita Cruz circled three ads for domestic work, and one stands out: the one advertising for $600 per week. Sevilla snorts, "Rates have gone up." Horatio decides they'll start there. Sevilla points out that the number in the ad doesn't answer, but the prefix strikes her as belonging to a prepaid disposable cell phone. The classifieds rep pulls the file and tells Horatio and Sevilla the ad they're looking at was mailed in, as opposed to placed in person. Horatio notes that it was printed out on a laser-jet computer, then asks for the envelope. When he and Sevilla look at it, Sevilla notes that there's no return address, but Horatio points out that the postal code will give them ample location information. We zoom in on the postal code.
When we zoom out again, Horatio's standing with the envelope held up, presumably to give it a look at its ancestral homeland. Wouldn't you know it? It's Councilwoman Mercedes Escalante's office complex! We see the councilwoman get out of her car, and Sevilla asks, "You don't think she had anything to do with it?" Horatio doesn't know -- but he's excited to find out.
The thing we know, we're walking in the councilwoman's headquarters. They're frighteningly clean and non-chaotic, or maybe I'm just used to workplaces where barely restrained mayhem is the norm. As Horatio and Sevilla walk in, they're met by Carl Galaz, special assistant to the councilwoman and certified Hey! It's That Guy (I last saw him playing the not-too-closeted hothead son of a cocaine baron in Gun Shy, or as it's known in my house, Qui Gon Jinn Gets The Enema), who asks, "How can we assist Miami's finest today?" Well, by talking to them instead of to Horatio. Anyway, the Red-Headed Menace takes advantage of Carl's offer by saying, "I need to know who has access to your office machines." Carl points out that it could be any one of the score of people who work there, then asks, "What's this about?" Horatio replies, "Two things: I'm going to need a list of those names, and I need to take the machines to my lab." Carl puts on the smarm as he says, "Ooh, I'm afraid we can't do that -- not without our lawyers present." Horatio asks if maybe he wouldn't want to consider making that call. Right then the councilwoman herself comes over and launches the charm offensive: "Actually, that's my call. Lieutenant Caine, I'm Mercedes Escalade. I have followed your career for many years." "Likewise, Councilwoman," Horatio says. Mercedes assures him, "You will have our full cooperation. The sooner we can get to the truth, the sooner that my husband can come home to his family. Please, take anything you need, and we'll be happy to supply you with a list of everyone who has worked in the office in the past twelve months." While Mercedes has been talking, the looks have been flying between Galaz and Sevilla, and when Mercedes cues Galaz, he rips off a sheet of paper from his legal pad and lo! There are the names. Horatio smiles as he reads, and looks up almost in time to catch Galaz grinning in relief. Horatio comments, "This is very generous of you." Mercedes dismisses it with a shrug by noting, "We're really looking forward to putting this all behind us, Lieutenant." At this point, Sevilla is looking everywhere but at Horatio, which is his cue to drag her outside. Sevilla's got that busted look.
Sure enough, when they get out to the hall, Horatio points out, "The councilwoman knew we were coming." Sevilla replies, "It's not what you think." Horatio asks, "What do I think?" "I know Mercedes since we were kids at San Juan Bosco, but she runs the community, and when I need information, she gives it to me." "One hand washes the other," Horatio notes. "Together they clean the face. Come on, H, you know that's the way things get done in Miami," Sevilla replies defensively. Horatio's not buying it. Sevilla says with thinly concealed anger, "H, it was a courtesy heads-up, nothing more. Nothing more than I would have done in any dock-and-talk." Horatio's satisfied, but he asks, "Let's not give her any more help, okay?" Sevilla agrees. Horatio wanders off and leaves her alone to think about what she's done.
Back at the lab, Delko's back in plainclothes (and yes, I know it's Miami and it's tropical down there, but white pants in February? Please, no) and walking down the hall when Calleigh (whose outfit gets worse-looking upon repeated viewing, what with the unbuttoned shirt flapping around and adding to the visual jumble) accosts him by asking, "Hey! Where's that pistol?" Delko replies, "I checked it into evidence a couple of hours ago -- what are you talking about?" Calleigh's incredulous that the pistol has been sitting there instead of processing itself for evidence. Delko points out that he paged her; Calleigh realizes she turned her pager off when she was on the shooting range. Delko adds, "Well, I've been trying to get in touch with you." This is Calleigh's cue to unload: "I've just -- I've been chained to the lab with a fifty-four-round shooting that was supposed to be processed twelve hours ago." Delko's not too sympathetic: "I spent the same twelve hours inhaling sewage at the bottom of the Tamiami Canal, so everyone's got a sad story." Heh. Excellent comeback. Plus it cues Calleigh that maybe it's time for her to take off her pity party dress, put on the frock of forbearance (or please, dear God, anything that covers up that outfit she's got on now), and pull it together. She turns to Delko and gives him an odd half-hug, apologizing; Delko returns it, and they're on their way to go solve crimes.
Unfortunately for Calleigh, her day just got worse as Horatio tells her, "I'm due in court in two hours. Is there any way to link these two [bullets]?" No pressure or anything, Calleigh! Calleigh explains that they can't match the bullets -- Bonita's is all sorts of smashed, while Abby's is not -- but she thinks they can link them via the cartridge casing found in Bonita's car. Calleigh explains, "If I can test-fire the pistol, then I can match the rifling on Abby's bullet to the firing-pin impression on Bonita's casing." Horatio decides, "The gun is the key." "Without it, we've got nothing," Calleigh concurs. Horatio leaves by telling everyone, "We've got to get it. The clock is ticking." No pressure!
Things get even more tense for Calleigh when she attempts to fire the pistol and gets not one, but two misfires. She points out they can't get a test fire, "not with this weapon, and not with the amount of time we have left." Her Plan B is to hit the gun vault. Calleigh coos, "Be still my heart," as she enters the vault, picks out an appropriate firearm, then repairs to her lab bench where she mixes and matches parts from the guns until she's got one working weapon she can use to do a test-fire. A few bullets later, she seems satisfied.
In the scene, we're back in the gray lounge with Horatio, getting the same aerial view we did at the beginning of the show, and Calleigh's coming in to tell Horatio that the same weapon killed Abby Sandoval and Bonita Cruz. Don the DA is not going to be too happy about this. Horatio, however, seems pleased. He rushes off after telling Calleigh, "Nice going." She sighs and replies, "Thank you," to the empty air.
Cut to the judge making Don a very unhappy man indeed. Galaz, who's sitting to Mercedes, swaps glances with Lorenzo, and they all look very happy indeed. If that doesn't telegraph complicity and guilt, I don't know what does. Lorenzo wearing a t-shirt reading, "My wife helped me cover up this murder and all I got was this stupid shirt," maybe? The judge tells everyone that thanks to the exculpatory nature of the evidence the crime lab just presented, Lorenzo's free to continue his adulterous murder rampage. Horatio doesn't look too thrilled about this, but is no doubt girding himself by reminding himself that 'tis better to be righteous and unpopular than complicitous and a social butterfly. Don comes over to tear Horatio a new one, and the best Horatio can come back with is, "Once there's new evidence, you can re-file." Don shoots back, "Oh, you-you got the extra million bucks for the new trial?" No -- Horatio's done better than that -- "I'm about to bring you two defendants." "You do that," Don drawls sarcastically. I like Don. Don and John Hagen need to have their own show, CSI: Miami Don and John, where they try to solve crimes and are continually vexed by self-appointed arbiters of morality like Horatio. I would watch that show in a heartbeat. Meanwhile, Horatio can watch Mercedes get bussed by assorted supporters, then look nervous when she notices him watching her.
Moments later, a reporterbot is emoting at the camera, "In a stunning setback for Miami-Dade crime lab and the state attorney's office, real estate developer Lorenzo Escalante was released today after a mistrial was declared in the Abby Sandoval case…" The shot pulls back to show us Calleigh rubbing her forehead as she watches; to her, Speedle groans, "I can't believe we're letting this jackass walk." Speedle would so be on CSI: Miami Don and John, just so he could call people jackasses on a weekly basis. Speedle adds that he sure hopes Sensei knows what he's doing. Delko's all, "You know what they say -- no guts, no glory. What else can you do if you want to catch the killer." Speedle thinks there are two killers. Delko takes that idea and runs with it: "Okay, say there are two killers. Explain the same fibers, the same murder weapon, the same taste for mojitos." Speedle can: "Apples and oranges. You got two fibers on Abby, and over fifty on Bonita. Abby's killer keeps the gun. Bonita's tosses it in the canal." Delko asks, "How did the second killer get their hands on the gun from the first murder?" Speedle shoots back, "You talking about the apple or the orange?" This is Calleigh's cue to groan, "Oh, dear God, I'm hungry." Speedle argues, "I'm just saying there's two killers out there." Fortunately for him, he said something Horatio agrees with at the exact moment that Horatio appears in the doorway, hovering like a creepy, silent ghost. Delko, however, is not privy to this information, and he plows on, "I'm just saying, the second killer couldn't possibly have all the details from the first murder." Cue Horatio: "Maybe he did. Maybe he did have the details, and that would make him a copycat, wouldn't it?" Maybe I'll begin ending all of my hypothetical statements with a reflexive inquiry; that would make me a copycat, wouldn't it? Anyway, everyone is stunned by this novel copycat theory.
Horatio gathers everyone around the car so they can put together how the copycat worked: advertise for a young, Latina housekeeper by offering top salary in a Spanish-only newspaper, using a disposable cell phone as the only point of contact. Then you select the victim by meeting with would-be candidates publicly; this way, the killer can assess their looks (they have to be pretty), and the victim thinks she's being safe. Once she's hired, the killer followed her in his (or her) vehicle, pulled her over, and shot her with the gun procured from the first murder. We'll return to how said gun is procured later; at this moment, we're working on the crime scene, namely how this copycat would have planted fibers, pushed the car into the canal, and thrown the gun in for the CSIs to find. Now that the brain trust has come up with that scenario, everyone who thinks they can identify who the copycat is can stop watching and spend those twenty minutes doing something else to redeem their lives; the rest of us can watch as Horatio and the Bob-White Club grope toward the final answer.
They start in the morgue, where we get our second Alexx sighting of the night. She tells Horatio about the wound track (left-to-right) and whips out her ubiquitous metal rod to demonstrate how the wound track in Bonita's head does not line up with the hole shot through the driver's side window. Horatio, naturally, knows why: "The shot that killed Bonita Cruz did not go through this window. Bang to the temple, bang to the window." Delko demonstrates his grasp of mathematics with, "There were two shots." Horatio confirms this. Calleigh, meanwhile, has just pulled another 9-mm round from the upholstery; she theorizes, "It means the killer copied everything down to the smallest detail, including shooting out the driver's side window." Sweet baby Jeebus, is the back of that jacket she's wearing shaped by a self-tying sash? Was there not enough going on with that jacket without adding that to the mix? Speedle is not distracted by the coat of many errors; he points out, "You can't plan down to the detail because events are random. They can never be perfectly recreated." Delko explains the discrepancy between Bonita's head wound and the window by telling us, "One thing [the killer] didn't count on was Bonita rolling down her window." Horatio brings us from back from the question of how Bonita was killed -- which, ostensibly, is the question they ought to be interested in -- to get into the far more squishy area of motive: "We know of two people who directly benefit from the existence of Bonita Cruz, right?" Speedle thinks, "Lorenzo Escalante. The guy has motive. He has connections. So he hires a guy." Calleigh adds, "It doesn't have to be a guy -- women commit seventeen percent of all homicides, and being connected to a murder conviction could hurt your political career." Speedle thinks it's out of character for Mercedes; Delko, who's tapped into the word on the street, says, "What I hear, she used to run with a pretty rough crowd." Horatio's all, "She campaigned on it. But we still have to put her outside of this car." Cue Mercedes's friend from the block, Sevilla. She tells Horatio, "I have someone you should meet."
Thanks to the magic of television, we all get to meet her. Sevilla tells us that our correspondent -- whom we've only seen from the cleavage down -- is more comfortable speaking Spanish, and then we get a gander at her from the neck up and she's a very pretty, very young woman. Sevilla makes the introductions: "This is Carmen Abregon. She's one of the forty-three women we tracked down via cell phone records. She responded to the ad in El Diario." Horatio nods his understanding of this, and then Sevilla begins speaking with Carmen in Spanish. After introducing Horatio (which, regrettably, she does without editorial commentary), Sevilla asks Carmen if she was able to speak directly with the person who placed the ad. Carmen replies that she did when she met him, Horatio pops in with the biggest gringo accent ever: "¿El hombre??" Sevilla confirms that Carmen talked to a man, and asked where they met. Carmen replies that they met at a diner just off Highway 41. She adds that the job sounded good, but the guy she met gave her a bad feeling. Horatio muses, "Bad feeling…¿por que?" Carmen explains that he was wearing gloves, which struck her as odd, what with them being in Miami and all, but it was the mojito he ordered for her as a "Congratulations, you're hired!" drink that gave her the heebie-jeebies. Horatio's so excited that he loses his capacity to be a bilingual pain the ass, and only exclaims, "Mojitos! Carmen, do you remember what the man looked like?" Fortunately for us, Carmen does, and so she's left to the tender mercies of the profile artist while Horatio passes off Galaz's list of employees to Speedle. "It's just a list," Sevilla protests, and Horatio tells her, "Actually, it may be much more. Writing on a notepad leaves indentations on the pages beneath. We should be able to see what was written up to seven layers above."
Cut to Speedle's science montage, intercut with Carmen explaining en español to the profile artist exactly what Mr. Gloves-In-Miami looks like. Within moments, we have a profile sketch that causes Sevilla to exclaim, "Carl Galaz -- Escalante's handler." "Let's see how Carl handles this!" Horatio replies.
We find out within moments. The answer: Stupidly. Within seconds of his arrest, he's asking Sevilla, "You know what you just did? Your career is over. When I'm through with you, you're going to be doing timecards at county lockup." Big words coming from a man who was too stupid to actually dispose of the disposable cell phone used to handle killer ad inquiries and left it in his briefcase instead, Carl. Horatio notes, "Still got the phone, Carl. You've still got the phone." Once they pull it out of the briefcase, Sevilla turns to the man who would have threatened her career and says, "You've still got seven dollars of call time left, Carl." Carl is visibly seen calculating whether he'll be able to get hold of all his attack lawyers in that time. Horatio's oblivious; he crows, "Seven dollars in exchange for the rest of your life." The scene ends with Galaz being marched off to central booking while Horatio stares at a giant Mercedes Escalante poster.
In the shot, Horatio's leaning over the inquisition table to say, "Carl, I think I understand what's going on here. You killed Bonita Cruz to get Lorenzo off the hook for murder -- I understand that part. What I'm curious about is whose gun was it?" Galaz claims it was his gun. Galaz's lawyer begins cutting his losses by pointing out, "I've advised my client not to speak further. I want that on the record." Horatio assures him it is, and turns back to Galaz to point out, "Carl, you are about to take the fall. Is that what this is?" Galaz looks as though he's steeling himself inwardly, then insists, "I killed them, I killed them both." Horatio asks, "Why, Carl, why? Why are you protecting the Escalantes?" Carl rebuts that the Escalantes gave him their trust, friendship, and respect, and he owes them everything. Horatio's unmoved by debts of honor. He says, "This is your last chance: either ride their coattails, or you can ride mine. You decide." Talk about a Hobson's choice. Carl is steadfast in his insistence that evidence, schmevidence, he killed Abby Sandoval and Bonita Cruz. That's devotion to your job, right there. Personally, I'm still stuck on the set-up. I'm not sure I understand: someone in Mercedes Escalante's camp -- either her, Lorenzo, or Galaz -- decided that it would be okay to advertise for a murder victim and kill her, so that Lorenzo could go free and presumably keep Councilwoman Escalante's political nose clean? Did it not occur to anyone that maybe killing an innocent woman as a cover-up might actually be worse for Councilwoman Escalante than facing the public and saying, "Yeah, I married a murderer. So what?" I thought smart people were supposed to work in politics; you can't swing a cat on The West Wing without hitting six Ivy League graduates. Instead, these people think the savviest political strategy is to waste taxpayer money on a trial and kill another citizen so someone can continue her career in public service? Do they not see the irony inherent in that chain of events?
Possibly not, because nobody can see around Elizabeth Pena's outsize presence onscreen. I'd love it if she stuck around too -- talk about having antagonists that would make this show more interesting! Anyway, she's here to lay on the political doublespeak for Horatio, thanking him for "all of [his] hard work on behalf of the city. You can't imagine how shocked we all are to learn about Carl." Damn! If she spins any harder, she's going to qualify for Olympic figure-skating. Horatio's not having any of it and says neutrally, "Councilwoman, I'm sure this has been a very difficult period for you." Mercedes is deliberately ignoring his leave-me-alone signal; she adds, "I wanted to thank you as a wife, for clearing my husband. If there's anything I can ever do for you, for your aspirations…" Horatio smacks down the implied quid pro quo by pointing out, "My only aspiration is to find out who killed these women, so don't thank me yet. I'm not done." Mercedes looks appropriately wary as he walks off.
Now we find out what Speedle's been up to: matching Carl Galaz's handwriting sample against the employee list and however many other thing were scribbled underneath. Speedle explains how he figured out which sheet of paper had which scrawls: "I measured stroke depth and I isolated the layers. There are seven pages, each dating back week-by-week. We get to the fifth week, he writes a to-do list -- buy gloves, clean gun, disposable cell phone." Horatio muses, "To-do list. Well, he's not the first to do that, but that still doesn't confirm who killed Abby Sandoval, does it?" Speedle replies, "No, so that's why I went back to the second week, and --" He points to a completely different handwriting sample that reads, "BBQ 7A 3D," and continues, "Barbecue. That's not a lunch order…guess whose handwriting that is? I got this [other sample] from public records -- a city lease drafted by Lorenzo Escalante." Horatio's all, "Lorenzo! You're about to lose your lease!" Or gain a new one in cellblock six. It's all in how you look at it. Anyway, Horatio rushes off without bothering to thank Speedle for going to all the trouble to put together the evidence that leads us to conclude that Lorenzo Escalante had no problem engineering the killing of a second innocent person to clear himself of the conviction for killing the first innocent. Given the depths of this guy's depravity, it's a big mystery as to why anybody would think less of Mercedes for distancing herself from this scumbag, as opposed to sticking by her husband the amoral adulterer/conspirator/murderer.
Speaking of someone who stands by her man, Calleigh runs down the hall to tell John Hagen that she's finally stopped working on Horatio's favors to finish his work; she finishes by saying, "This guy is going away." Hagen's all, "You got that right -- patrol picked him up already." Calleigh's confused: "I thought you needed ballistics to file on him?" Hagen clarifies, "We got ballistics -- he shot someone else after we cut him loose." There's a dramatic beat on the soundtrack -- O! Audio manipulation, how transparent thou art! -- and Calleigh's even more confused: "I thought you were going to watch him." Hagen points out that they did, but this guy was Quick Draw McGraw, and plugged a street-level drug dealer before the uniforms could hustle out of the car. Calleigh's overcome with remorse. Hagen's more pragmatic: "One lowlife pops another -- the streets are safer for it. Just be glad it wasn't a taxpayer -- for you and Horatio's sake." I like Hagen. Calleigh covers Horatio's ass by taking all responsibility for that call; it's a noble sentiment, but not entirely accurate, what with Horatio her boss ignoring her workload and putting her on the spot. She may feel morally responsible -- and good for her if she does -- but from a managerial perspective, Big Red's gotta shoulder some of the blame, I think. Anyway, Hagen passes along some career advice with, "I know you look up to the guy. I'm just saying, it's a hell of a lonely road he's walking." Calleigh replies, "Well, that's why I'm walking it with him." Then she breaks into a tremulous chorus of "You'll Never Walk Alone," instantly reducing Hagen to tears and finishing with a group of Chelsea football fans hoisting her on to their shoulders and carrying her off to the nearest pub while Hagen rocks back and forth, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Oh, come on. I just pretend these things happen because it would be more interesting if they did.
Meanwhile, Horatio's walking the lonely garden path over to the Escalantes', Sevilla yapping at his heels about how they've already been over the Escalante place and Horatio isn't going to find anything. Oh, Sevilla, ye of little faith. After Sevilla finishes claiming, "There's nothing buried in this yard," they stop in front of the massive brick barbecue station, and Horatio asks, "Did you check the barbecue? Seven across, three down." He pulls out a loose brick, and sure enough, there's a metal lockbox containing Golden Talon bullets like the ones they took out of Abby Sandoval and Benita Cruz.
Now it's time to re-arrest Lorenzo, which Horatio does right after critiquing his golf technique. He's going to do that one of these days and someone's going to beat him half to death with a five iron before anyone can be arsed to intervene. Lorenzo is not that bright; when he sees the detectives, his first response is to look around the country club and say, "We'll have to talk to the membership committee -- they're letting anyone in these days." Clearly, Mercedes is the brains in the couple. Horatio responds by saying smugly, "Tell him what he's won, Adele." Sevilla is very good at the game show announcer voice; she uses it to say, "It's a new kind of membership -- gated estate, private room, high security…" "And here's the best part -- it's for life," Horatio adds. Lorenzo's under the impression he's calling the shots here, and moments after he's ordered his wife to "call the lawyers; this is harassment," he's in cuffs, protesting, "You can't do this!" Oh, but they can. Mercedes keeps watching as her husband is carried off, and Horatio asks if she'd like to take a walk. Mercedes looks like she'd rather take a root canal sans anesthesia.
When they're walking, Horatio prods, "What does Carl get? A pardon four years after you take residency in the governor's mansion in Tallahassee?" Mercedes replies, "Be very careful, Lieutenant Caine. False accusations can ruin a career. I'd hate for that career to be yours." I like how we still don't know whether she was in on this or not -- it's the rare ambiguous ending. Horatio reminds her, "Councilwoman, that is a blade that cuts both ways." Then he leaves her to the tender mercies of the news media, as he has better things to do.
Oh, my God -- those better things might include Elena. Please, let us never introduce the prospect of a post-coital Horatio Caine into the library of scenes I have to recap. Anyway, Horatio's at Elena's door, brandishing takeout. It kills me to write this, but the food peace offering is kind of sweet. Elena has no problem shooting Horatio down with, "I already ate." Horatio tries for dessert; Elena counters, "I already ate that too." There's a moment of apologetic silence on both their parts, and then Horatio leans in to admit, "I, uh, I've been thinking about Raymond." Elena replies, "I think about him every day. I don't want to go there -- too complicated." Okay -- so we're looking at Elena as Raymond's pre-death squeeze. Maybe. Anyway, Horatio greets Elena's admission by asking, "What if I were to say you wouldn't have to go there alone?" Elena asks him if he understands what he's saying; Horatio vows that he does. Elena then invites him in for coffee, and we fade out before we can have the most brooding Taster's Choice commercial ever.