Hey everyone, it's the fabulous MGM Grand Hotel and Casino! How else are we to know we're in Vegas? Other atmospheric shots take place establishing that CSI has not stealthily switched locations in the interval between last week and this one. We see a shot of McCarran Airport in the rain, then the camera settles on a near-deserted parking garage. The elevator opens and we see a soignée young woman get out and begin walking to her car on the far side of the garage; the security guards don't notice her at all because they're gathered around a basketball game showing on TV. The woman crosses the deserted garage, disarms her car alarm, and prepares to open the door. Then every woman's worst nightmare happens: a man attacks her from behind, pushes her up against the car at gunpoint, and carjacks her.
Cut to a car winding through a deserted road outside Las Vegas; it's still raining, so presumably this is the same night. The camera switches to the woman from the shot: her suit jacket is gone, her pants are crumpled around her hips, and her blouse is ripped open. The car pulls over, and the occupants leap out to verify that yes, that is a human body by the side of the road.
Cue a battalion of crime-fighting vehicles speeding over to the crime scene. Sara, Gil, and Nicky get out. "Fulfill your contractual obligation as Captain Exposition," Sara orders, and Brass complies: the victim is young, well-dressed, black (or African-American; pick your ethnic designation of choice), and being taken to Cedar Palms Hospital after being shot in the head a few times at point-blank range. Gil orders Sara to go to the hospital with a sexual-assault kit and do a complete workup on the Jane Doe. Sara protests that she'd rather be shuffling through mud with Gil and Nicky, the better to provide one or both of them with another tedious opportunity to clumsily hit on her, but Gil nips that plot disaster in the bud and tells Sara to get the evidence before those clods in the ER do away with it. "Walk in the park, guys," Sara replies bitterly, leaving me to wonder if perhaps she has personal issues about working with sexual assault victims. The boys resume analyzing the scene; Nicky notes the profusion of footprints and wonders aloud how this happened. "Locard's Principle," Gil counsels, continuing, "He took a piece of her with him, and left a piece of himself here. We get to find it."
We get to ponder exactly what Gil means throughout the credits. Well, those of us who are not married to people screaming alternate lyrics about Gary Dourdan's hair as the credits roll get to ponder.
Back at CSI Central, Gil, Catherine, and Warrick are humping a series of file boxes through the halls. Have they been fired? No -- these are boxes of evidence for a murder case. A guy named McCall shot and killed his neighbor over a motorcycle; the DA assigned to the case can't make heads or tails of the evidence. Catherine testily inquires as to why the CSI assigned to the case can't make heads or tails of it either, and Gil tells her that the CSI in question -- one of Ecklie's merry men, by the name of Franovich -- conveniently quit the day before, citing burnout. Warrick responds by looking beleaguered. It's only 9:09; I shudder to imagine what he'll be doing by 9:51 tonight. Gil continues to bear glad tidings: it's a murder one case that's changed hands so many times, the DA can't make heads or tails of the case as a whole, and the trial's preliminary hearing is in four days. Catherine snits about pressure; Warrick kicks up the suffering a notch and stares at the boxes before him miserably. Gil then asks Catherine to step outside, and Warrick's expression shifts from acute pathos to intrigued-yet-baleful.
Gil's telling Catherine that the bank called. Apparently, her former husband Eddie -- whom avid recap readers will remember as the duplicitous, pancake-making bastard who slapped her with a Child Services investigation -- has taken out a second mortgage on the house he still jointly owns with Catherine, and the bank called to verify that Catherine was gainfully employed. Gil reminds Catherine that the bank's within its rights to grant the mortgage, since Catherine and Eddie are not yet divorced and the house is still tied up in the marriage. "We didn't want to sell it until the market went back up, and then we were going to split the profits on the house," Catherine spits, clearly livid with herself for not getting out while the getting was good and furious with Eddie for putting her investment in jeopardy. I do wonder: she lives in Las Vegas, where getting married and getting divorced are, like, twenty-minute processes. What's taking so long? God knows it only took thirty minutes for me to get my marriage license there, and that was on a Friday night with a holdup in the line when the guy in front of me had to have his bride-to-be produce a note from her legal guardian stating that it was okay for her to get married while still a junior in high school. How long can it take to get a divorce? Anyway -- Catherine and Eddie are still not divorced, so he can do whatever he pleases with the house.
Cut to Sara heading into the hospital room. The detective at the door drops a little more exposition: there's still no ID on the woman, and she's got two bullets in her brain which cannot be removed without surgery. Sara does a head-to-toe sweep of the Jane Doe, noting that she's married. After taking the woman's hand, Sara says, "She's warm." "Feels different, huh?" the detective lobs back, and Sara looks dismayed. She prepares to do the sexual-assault kit and tells the detective she wants him to leave: "We're going to need a little privacy here." The strings kick in, the light gets a quality I can only describe as Zwick-Herskovitzian, and we settle in for some character development vis a vis sexual assault examination. After a montage showing Sara doing a fairly thorough head-to-toe, the action slows again, and we see Sara positioning the woman's legs, then fetching a speculum from her kit. "I never really liked this part of my yearly exam," she muses as she sets the speculum. "These things are always freezing." So she breathes on it to warm it up -- something I can appreciate for the intention, but I do wonder about the sterility -- and begins to do the vaginal exam. Through the entire scene, Sara looks like she's steeling herself to stay in the room and do the job.
Back at the crime scene, Nicky's snapping photos of the bullet casing on the ground. Brass and Gil have been standing over him; Gil's Spidey senses tingle, and he sees something on the ground. He -- and we, by extension -- zoom in and we see what he sees: a belt loop. Gil orders Nicky to get a shot of it. After the three stooges establish that the belt loop belongs to the perp and not the victim, Gil announces, "I'm going to use scent pads." Nicky looks puzzled. That's our cue for the Forensics Fun portion of today's episode, where we get to learn a little something about crime-solving while enjoying the show. Today's lesson: "A dog's sense of smell is about 40 times more acute than a human's. A dog's nose is packed with dense rolls of membranes that absorb odor. Stretched out, these membranes extend about a third of the length of the dog's body. The membranes in a human nose? About the size of a postage stamp." As Gil is regaling us with comparative anatomy stats, he's futzing with something that looks like a government-issue Dustbuster. Nicky says as much, and Gil continues educating: "You place absorbent pads in the chamber, then run the machine over the suspected item. Then you take the pad, seal it in an envelope, and freeze it." Nicky's getting it: "Yeah, yeah. Then we pull them out when we know enough about this denim guy to get a proximal location." Yeah, that's about as clear as mud, Nicky. Thanks for trying. Gil steps in to rescue me from my own confusion: "There's a caveat." "You wanna explain that caveat?" Brass grumps. "Later," Gil says. I take back the rescue comment. Gil's leaving me hanging, and that's just wrong.
Meanwhile, the sunshine 'n' rainbows team is wading through all eight boxes of evidence. After some preliminary nattering about Eddie's latest duplicitous moves, Warrick shares the particulars of the case with us: "Two 25-year-old guys, Chuckie Hastings and Roy McCall, lifelong neighbors, one step up from a trailer park, got into a beef over a motorcycle in the owner's backyard." Catherine tells McCall's side of the story: he claims to have returned a smashed-up motorcycle to Hastings, Hastings lost his temper, and in the ensuing melee -- which we see in flashback -- McCall killed him in self-defense with the automatic he conveniently stored in his BVDs. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hastings claims that McCall shot Hastings in the back; the coroner's report confirms that Hastings was shot in the back. Catherine frames the key question in the case, asking if Hastings did attack McCall with a screwdriver -- warranting some measure of self-defense -- or not. "Well, we would need the screwdriver with McCall's blood on it to prove that now, wouldn't we?" Warrick snipes, and goes on to reveal that Franovich lost the key piece of evidence in the case before a single forensics test could be run on it. "We know why Franovich left. He quit before we could fire his ass!" Catherine fumes. Warrick gives her an amen. She continues, "You know who the DA will blame for this." "The same people Homicide will blame," Warrick concludes. No wonder the two of them have such long faces. They're about to get an interdepartmental ass-whooping for something they didn't even do.
Some ballistics goob is pressing Gil and Nicky for the details of the Jane Doe case while he matches bullets for them. Gil gives the generalities: raped, shot, and left for dead. Nicky warmly thanks the would-be murderer for being so thoughtful as to leave behind two cartridge casings. Nicky needs to work on his sardonicism; it comes off as naive gloating here, which is really kind of inappropriate given the circumstances. He continues to annoy me by babbling about the relative stupidity of felons: "You think the bad guys would figure we'd eventually start a database on cartridge casings, huh?" Yes, Nicky. Because bad guys are like that, spending all their time fretting about data warehousing and sandwiching actual crime in between Powerpoint presentations on content management systems. You big dork. There's a possible match; the bullet casings match those found at a crime scene in North Vegas. Gil instructs the lab tech and Nicky to keep working on confirming the match, and bows out to see Sara.
She's still in the hospital room, going through Jane Doe's belongings for clues. She picks up a medal, noting it's a St. Catherine's medal. Sara talks to Jane Doe about her medal: "St. Catherine? She studied science. She was tough and very outspoken. Went against the Emperor himself, chewed him out for persecuting Christians." The Concertina for Character Development kicks up in the background, and Sara continues her speech: "Took him two or three tries to execute her. She never gave up. She was brave." In a show devoted to upbeat endings, this would be the point where Roma Downey comes in and shares a story about the time she had lunch with St. Catherine up in Heaven, then reassures Sara of God's love here on Earth. But this is the godless CSI, so all that little scene did was establish that Sara knows her martyrs, and she now identifies with Jane Doe. Gil ghostly visage hovers in the doorframe as Sara presses the St. Catherine's medal into Jane Doe's hand; you can practically hear him thinking, "Don't touch her hand! She's evidence!" Then he barges in to interrupt Sara as she's solemnly promising to find out who did this. Sara composes herself and talks to Gil about the sexual assault kit. She then gestures over to Jane: "She's breathing." "She's evidence," Gil replies. Ow! Gil! I was only kidding! If there's a point to be made about professional detachment here, you're not really making it well. Speaking of making your point poorly, if at all, Gil follows that warm assessment of his fellow woman by reminding Sara, "If you chase two rabbits, you end up catching none at all." Yes, Gil. And forces prize victory, not protraction. Lay off the Sun Tzu before bedtime, okay?
Warrick and Catherine are walking through a neighborhood that could charitably be described as "dilapidated." They head over to one dingy little house and ask the widow Hastings to please help them understand what happened the day her husband engaged in his fatal fracas with McCall. She provides her own interpretation of events: she was doing laundry, she heard noises, she rushed outside and watched McCall shoot her husband. Catherine tries to reconstruct Laurianne Hastings' timeline with her own assessment of events; she and Warrick conclude that Laurianne was perhaps recalling events erroneously. The giveaway? McCall used a semiautomatic, which pulls off shots in two-tenths of a second; it would be awfully difficult for Laurianne to run out and survey the scene between shots one and two. The rest of the scene is Warrick and Catherine brainstorming likely scenarios.
Back at CSI Central, Gil, Nicky, and Sara are reviewing evidence on Jane Doe. They put the pieces they have together: the casings match a shooting in a gang neighborhood in North Vegas, and the hat found at the scene is embroidered with a cobra, indicating that the shooter was a member of the Snakebacks gang. The gang members apparently have the quaint habit of doffing their caps to whomever they shoot. "Some anthropological quirk of territoriality, like cats spraying on a bush," Gil notes. Sara studies the hat, noting that it has sweat stains which should yield DNA. I steel myself for a scene with Liam the lab tech, sporting his own gang colors and trying to give it up to the 702. "I could compare [the hat samples] to the samples I collected off of Jane at the hospital," Sara muses. Gil and Nicky both look up, alarmed that Sara's actually referring to the still-breathing woman as an actual person. "First-name basis, Sara?" Nicky inquires -- this, mind you, coming from a man who had Biblical knowledge of a homicide victim only a few weeks ago -- and Sara flees for the DNA lab.
Cut to Gil and Nicky in yet another bad neighborhood; they're meeting with a Detective Vega from the gang detail, and Vega's going to give us more backstory on the Snakebacks and their anthropological quirk of abducting women to rape and kill them. "Your guy might have left the neighborhood for a gang initiation; it means more when the victim's a civilian," Vega says. Nick notes that the neighborhood is packed with Snakebacks and the people who know them, and Brass chortles as he tells Nicky to have fun asking questions door-to-door. "Why can't we just use those scent pads?" Nicky asks Gil. "The dogs? Constitutional issue. We can't get a warrant for the evidence we find off the dogs' search," Gil replies. "Then why'd you even suggest it?" Nicky continues. "You're a grown man," Gil snaps. "Stop whining." Hee!
Warrick and Catherine are talking with Roy McCall and his court-appointed attack lawyer. Warrick reconstructs the events for those of us who missed the first two versions of the tale; McCall shows the scar down his arm from the screwdriver. The position and angle of the scar indicate that he's not lying. Warrick presses to find out whether Hastings was facing or turning away from McCall when he was shot. The lawyer says the two men were facing each other; Catherine notes that the evidence indicates otherwise. The lawyer responds, "Well, that's the coroner's problem. And after I tell any jury how your side managed to lose a piece of evidence as important as a screwdriver, really, how much weight will a coroner's report have?" Ladies and gentlemen, the triumph of rhetoric over empirical evidence. Catherine and Warrick leave the interrogation tank and fume over how little the judicial folks understand about the twisty trail evidence takes from collection to analysis; the battery of specialized tests demands that a piece of evidence be passed from one person to another through the course of an investigation. "It's just human error," Catherine fumes. "Defense attorneys have made a whole career off that human error," Warrick notes, without once managing to cough Johnnie Cochran or F. Lee Bailey's names. Just then, Catherine's cell rings and she picks up. It's Eddie, the perfect target for her foul mood.
Warrick and David the coroner review David's notes on Hastings' bullet wounds. We see the bullets entering from the back -- I mean, really see them, courtesy of the TMI-cam -- and careen around Hastings' body before exiting again. Or, to quote David, "entry wounds piercing the back, both small regular, with evidence of carbonaceous material typical of having just exited a gun, and they exited the front with evidence of keyhole irregularity." Okay -- so we've established that there was some sort of screwdriver assault and gunshots from the back. Warrick makes the best point of the night: "I'm not doubting your findings, but when guys go at it, they're not like gingerbread men. They're like bobbing, and weaving -- it's like WWF Smackdown." Oh, so there's also half-hour monologues and the People's Elbow. David counters, "Anatomically speaking, it's open and shut. You guys are the ones to put perspective on it." Warrick heads off, presumably to do just that.
Sara is sitting in front of a terminal, reviewing missing persons records for a possible match to her Jane Doe and softly humming the lyrics to Blondie's "One Way or Another." Gil comes over and notes that she's working pretty intently, then decides to pull a managerial intervention, Grissom-style. "Do you have any diversions?" he asks. "Do I what?" she replies absently, not taking her eyes off the screen. Gil continues, "You max out on overtime every month. You go home and listen to your police scanner. You read forensics textbooks..." Sara turns to look at him and says, "Yeah?" Gil's reaching here, and he says, "Every day we meet people on the worst day of their lives. It's a lot to deal with. Anyone who's had any time on this job knows you have to have a diversion in order to cope with what we see..." Sara turns to look at Gil again, clearly unhappy with where he's taking this. Gil finishes by asking, "What do you do for fun?" "I chase rabbits," Sara spits out. "And...I read crime books. And I listen to the scanner." Gil nods for a moment, then speaks again: "You need something outside of law enforcement. Catherine has her kid, you know. I sometimes...ride roller coasters." Yeah! And Warrick has his gambling, and Nicky has his one-man call-girl outreach program and...does anyone else find it odd that Gil of all people is the one telling Sara to get a life? Anyway, the pot continues to assess the kettle, what with Gil asking Sara, "What do you do?" "Nothing!" she shoots at him, then tries to return to her missing persons records. "What do you like?" he pushes. She turns again: "I don't like anything." Sara sounds defensive and lonely there; it seems to get to Gil. "You gotta find something to like. You can't get too close to the victims," he urges. "She's special to me. I can't help it," Sara says, trying to explain. "If you don't find something, they'll all become special and you'll burn out," Gil counters. Voice of experience much? Gil leaves her with that thought, turning in the door to ask her to leave soon. She promises that she'll log off.
Catherine and Warrick are examining Hastings' bloody tee. The entry holes confirm David's observation; Warrick points out the gunpowder, and Catherine notes that it's unburned gunpowder, indicating that the gun was fired less than three feet from the victim. The powder doesn't reconcile with the widow Hastings' contention that the men were five paces apart when the gun went off; nor does it jibe with McCall's contention that he was five paces away when the gun went off. The two CSIs decide to go to the gun range and reconstruct the bullet and gunpowder evidence there, based on varying distances. The winning evidence indicates that the two men were about two feet apart when the shooting began, and closer once it stopped. Unfortunately, that evidence doesn't jibe either: why would someone run toward their assailant as they shot them, and how would they do it while being shot in the back? Catherine muses that she saw something in her forensics catalog that might help. Is it...a neat and tidy resolution to this subplot? It's 9:40, and I have another twenty minutes to recap.
Cut to Nicky kvetching about Gil using the dogs now. "I spoke to Brass. He said we can't get a warrant on anything we find inside the suspect's house -- guns, jeans, nothing." "That's if we find him in his house," Gil counters. True -- if he's outside, it's a whole 'nother ball game.
Eight cups of coffee and a broken promise later, Sara's found a matching record: Pamela Adler, age 26.
Cut to the K-9 patrol: a bloodhound (aww!) and what looks like a golden lab (aww again!). Gil gives 'em a whiff of the scent pads, and the dogs are off at warp speed. Nicky watches the canine sub-4 milers and asks, "Are we supposed to be able to keep up with those guys?' "Yeah!" Gil says enthusiastically, and Nicky begins sprinting down the street after them. Gil smiles and shakes his head. The two dogs eventually lead to a boy dribbling a basketball in the driveway of a run-down duplex. "Back off, snoop! What do you raggedy mutts want with me anyway?" the kid says. Since, you know, the dogs are likely to answer him. Nicky catches up to the dogs and their handlers, catches one glimpse of the kid, and notices he's wearing jeans with a missing belt loop. "Guy's wearing the evidence in plain sight. We just got lucky," he tells Gil. Just then, the kid's mother comes out, hollering, "Tony!" then turning her attention to the assembled mass of law enforcement personnel and asking, "What is your problem?" Gil mildly tells the woman that he'd like to talk to her son for a minute or two. "You police, coming here with your attack dogs," she huffs. "Actually, they're scent dogs, and I'm not a police officer, I'm a forensic scientist with the Las Vegas Police Department," Gil corrects her. I wonder if that innate love of detail gets these guys in trouble sometimes. She's undeterred by precision: "What do I got to say to a forensic scientist?" "You could say hello?" Gil shrugs.
Warrick and Catherine have granted me my wish for speedy plot resolution: they've got a forensics dummy that will let them figure out how Hastings' fatal wounds came to be during the course of a fight. Catherine pokes a few long skewers in the dummy -- her error in calculations shows off the dummy's self-healing properties, meaning that the CSIs can stick the mannequin again and again without compromising it as a model -- and once she's set up the paths of the bullet wounds, she and Warrick try to figure out what happened. "Like I said before, guys don't just go at it like gingerbread men," Warrick says, bobbing and weaving to demonstrate. He wrestles with the dummy to try and push it into a bending position, and after Catherine snaps an incriminating Polaroid, the lightbulb goes off over both CSIs heads.
Cut to Tony and his mom talking to Gil and Brass. Sara comes into the observation area and hisses to Nicky, "Grissom told you to keep me out of this, didn't he?" Nicky nods in affirmation. The two turn their attention back to the questioning in progress, where Gil has guilelessly noted how very interesting he finds Tony's belt-loop-less jeans. Brass asks if Tony wouldn't mind donning some prison scrubs and handing over the jeans; Mom starts in on Tony's rights. "Chill, Moms," he instructs her, undressing and putting his jeans on the table in a show of bravado. "I got nothing to hide. It's no big thing -- cop said the lady isn't even dead." Gil takes a faceful of jeans -- Tony's aim is pretty good -- and concedes, "That's true; she's isn't. But if she dies within a year and a day of the shooting, then it's murder." Mom demands to know if this is some kind of trick; Brass assures her it most definitely is not, and they're treating the case as a murder. Tony's not terribly worried about that, noting that he's a juvenile and thus will not be suspect to the same penalties as an adult. Sara, who's been watching this whole exchange silently, turns away in fury. That'll learn her for not working in one of those states that puts minors on death row. "I guess the law is on your side, isn't it, Tony?" Gil inquires sweetly, "for now."
Eddie and Lindsey are waiting in the lobby area as Catherine comes wandering by with Warrick. "Hi, Catherine. Somebody wanted to see you," Eddie says, obviously hoping to a) use their child as a human shield against Catherine's wrath, and b) press a few guilt buttons while he's at it. Things are getting tense and ugly when Warrick displays an aptitude for dealing with children and whisks Lindsey off to check out the new games on his computer. Catherine and Eddie proceed to make the break room a very uncomfortable place to be. He apparently has issues with Catherine's vocational choices both present and past; Catherine points out that her glory days as a stripper are what supported him, and he counters, "Who paid to close up your nose?" There's been some debate in the forums as to whether he's alluding to paying for Catherine to get a nose job to correct a deviated septum, or whether he paid for her to go through rehab to kick a coke habit. I'll be damned if I know; perhaps someone who's had either a nose job or a cocaine habit can clue us in? Anyway, the argument escalates in intensity, and Eddie pins Catherine against a wall. "Let go of me!" she commands angrily, and you get the sense that she's talking about a whole lot of things beside the physical confrontation. He only furthers that impression by snarling, "I'll let go of you when I'm good and ready --" but doesn't get to continue, because Gil, of all people, has barreled on in to the break room and is physically separating the two. Gil makes it clear that Ed's not welcome in CSI Central, and Ed shoots back, "I always knew you two had a thing!" Oh, whatever, Ed. Catherine is nowhere to be found, presumably because she crawled under a desk in embarrassment.
Meanwhile, in another part of the show, Sara and Nicky are working on matching that belt loop to Tony's jeans. Sara's absentmindedly singing as she works, and she doesn't sound half-bad. Nicky says as much. "It's a-a habit. I don't even realize I'm doing it -- um, did you get that belt loop from the crime scene lined up yet?" she fumbles. Nicky rescues her from further awkwardness by making her day and showing her the belt loop; it matches the jeans. "Let's go tell the boss," Nicky says, and Sara nervously says she has something else to do first. Nicky warns her away from Tony, and Sara rightfully nails him for misreading her intentions. "It's something else. Promise," she finishes.
Warrick, Catherine, and the amazing self-healing dummy are in the DA's office, explaining how Hastings was facing McCall, and McCall still managed to shoot him in the back. Warrick demonstrates how the two men were tussling -- Hastings lunged forward with the screwdriver and got in a good gash, then McCall shot once in self-defense while Hastings was on top of him. The thing that'll do him in for murder, however, will be that second shot McCall fired off after Hastings was on the ground. The DA looks inordinately pleased, and twists the CSIs' arms into a repeat performance for the trial. He leaves, and Warrick takes the opportunity to wrap up the subplot we could all care less about by asking after Lindsey and using the subsequent family-related chitchat to tell Catherine, "You gotta get that divorce finalized, huh?"
The thing Sara had to do was visit Jane Doe, nee Pamela Adler, to tell her that they got her attacker. "We caught him. If you hadn't pulled that belt loop, we might never have found him, but...you did good." Her moment with Pamela is punctured by Pamela's spouse Tom, who's sitting quietly in the corner watching his comatose wife. The two conscious people in the room have a moderately awkward conversation; Sara passes over the St. Catherine's medal, and Tom reveals that Pam's going to live, and spend the rest of her life in Haven View Center -- "do you know that facility?" he asks anxiously, and Sara swallows hard before replying, "Yeah. I do." The writing team gets major points this week for making the point -- Pamela is never going to regain consciousness, or anything resembling a full life -- subtly and poignantly. The conversation tapers off with Sara promising to visit, and then she beats a hasty retreat. Once she's in the hall, she's hugging herself hard and trying not to cry.
In the scene, in Gil's office, Sara's lost that battle with her tears and is just talking while they roll down her face. "The husband doesn't get it," she tells Gil. "He's so happy she's going to live, he doesn't realize she's going to be in a vegetative state for the rest of her life." Gil doesn't say anything and Sara continues: "And that kid Thorpse is going to be out of juvie in 48 months. It's not fair." "It's the system," Gil replies softly. "What kind of system rewards the suspect when the victim is too tough to die?" Sara asks. Gil looks away for a moment, thinking hard. Sara pulls herself out of the chair and walks toward the door of Gil's office. "Sara..." Gil calls, and she turns around; she looks terrible. "You've got to learn to let this go, or you're going to spend all your time in hospitals trying to help the people you couldn't save," he says. Sara thinks this over for a moment, then replies, "I wish I was like you, Grissom. I wish I didn't feel anything." She turns to walk out, and Gil just sits in his chair, sighing. Thus endeth another CSI in typical fashion.