Major thanks to starri for being my unofficial CSI informant. And now a caveat before you begin this recap: I'm easily creeped out. My Mother the Scientist, who adores this show, often and loudly wonders what she did to get three such squeamish daughters. I'm thinking the room full of collected insectoid carcasses and previously-worn bug skins had something to do with it.
Shot of the glittering lights of Vegas. If I had Smell-o-Vision, the scent of abject desperation would be wafting around my living room. The camera pulls in a close-up to a package sitting on an examining table in a room lit with the blue lights of death. Ooh -- I love brown paper packages tied up with string! Wait, I have a feeling I'm not going to love this one. Al The Previously-Named-"David" Coroner carefully slits the box open and pulls out a huge white tub. There's something dark floating in it. Yes, that's a human head, all right. As Al examines the head, Gil sticks his in the way and comments, "I heard you got some head." Best part of that line? Neither man flinched or really reacted to the overtones. Al wonders how Gil knew, and Gil comments he's got his connections, which have something to do with Celine tickets and being apprised of the arrival of perishable goods. My idea of "perishable"? Leg of lamb. CSI's idea of "perishable"? Head of human. I think I'll put my apple aside now. The two guys examine the head. Al mentions that formaldehyde "fixes tissue but destroys DNA." I did not know that! Man, the most I learn from my regular recapping gig is a lot of technobabble, which is fairly worthless because it's all made up. They note a lot of "leaf litter," and some "animal activity" on the head. Because of the extreme decomposition, Al thinks determining time of death will be impossible. Looking at the ragged and rotting flesh at the neck, Al says, "This neck wasn't severed, it was disarticulated. No skill involved." "Disarticulated"? I so don't like the sound of that. Al recants this statement when he sees a cut on the left cheek, and Gil comments, "That took skill." Suddenly, the camera jumps inside the cut, and for a second I think we're going to see Angel's beating heart. Gil quotes Shakespeare: "The unkindest cut of all." Does that give us a hint who the killer will be, since that's what Antony said after Brutus, a trusted friend, stabbed Caesar?
Credits. Wow, this show has The Who singing the theme song? God, what a crappy theme song I have by comparison! Actually, scratch the "by comparison."
Hodges Podges and Al do some more head-hunting and hypothesize that with the existence of more "plant life" than "geological," it's possible the victim wasn't buried. Al comments that the hair and roots are clean, and I know it's not the case, but I can't help but think that means the guy was using Aveda's newest shampoo. Cat walks in, gives both men (or the head) a weird look, picks up a case file, and asks if they know when Gil's coming back. They don't. Cat takes a look a the file and asks, "Jackpot, Nevada? Where the hell is that?" Probably right between "Going For Broke" and "Completely Destitute."
“ Because all knowledge can be gained through sippin' coffee and eatin' hash browns at the local greasy spoon. Gil walks over to the local law, who is handily sitting right there, and we get a nice earful of the local color discussing Herman's Head. ”
Overhead twilight scenes of areas way too pretty and green to be the Nevada I drove through this summer. On I-80, there wasn't a spear of green until we hit Tahoe, and it was not until we literally crossed the border into California that this dramatic change took place. You see the sign, "Welcome to California, future land of stupid governors," and look ahead to verdant mountains. You turn around and see "Thank God you left Nevada behind," and a landscape that does nothing more than make you really thirsty. Since we find out that they're in Elko County, that's northeast Nevada -- as close to the Utah border as you can get -- and at least four hours from Vegas, so maybe it's just much nicer up there. Gil drives his gas guzzler (yes, yes, I know there are mountains out there, so it's an NUV [Necessary Utility Vehicle] more than an SUV) through Main Street, Smalltown and stops at a diner. Because all knowledge can be gained through sippin' coffee and eatin' hash browns at the local greasy spoon. Gil walks over to the local law, who is handily sitting right there, and we get a nice earful of the local color discussing Herman's Head. "Bet a wolf got 'em." "There's no wolves around here, dumbass! Bear!" "Ten bucks says satanic cult." Hee. I hate to say it, but those three guys were much entertaining right there than most weeks of Enterprise. The local law introduces himself as Lt. Alan Brooks and the other guy sitting at the table as his brother Leland. Lt. Brooks comments that things must be slow in Las Vegas for Gil to come all the way out to Jackpot to help them out. "Well, the Elko County sheriff made the request, we were happy to respond. It's an interesting case," Gil says. Lt. Brooks hmms that he doesn't find it all that interesting. Probably because heads roll on a daily basis around there. Br'er Leland comments that it was most likely a hiker or transient who met with an accident or fell. An accident where his head popped clear off his body? "That must've been a heckuva fall -- his head's in a plastic jar," Gil reminds him. Lt. Brooks brushes the whole thing off and says there isn't going to be much left of the body save for some "ki-otee" turds. Lt. Brooks adds that not one of the seven inhabitants of Jackpot has been reported missing, and he doesn't have the resources to go scarping about to look for heady remains. "Well, you do now," Gil smiles firmly. "There better be a whole lot more of you out there," Lt. Brooks comments. A pair of overalls gets up from the counter and leaves. "Have a good one, Marty," Lt. Brooks calls out. The pair of overalls barely looks back as he limps away. Gil mentions the unkindest cut on Herman's Head's face: "So there's not just a body out there, there's also a killer."
Las Vegas Lab. Hodges Podges tells Cat that spruce and fir tree fragments were found on Herman's Head. "Typical mountain forest," Cat shrugs. "Typical for nine thousand feet above sea level," Hodges Podges corrects her, and picks up a jar in his gloved hands. "The wood fragments are either cottonwood or aspen. And aspen only grows in places that have been recently cleared." "Fire, roads or...logging," Cat supplies. Hodges nods, "After major forest fires, manzanita bushes grow like weeds for decades." Cat adds there are no signs of manzanita leaves on Herman's Head. "Which means the head was on a damp, north-facing slope, a least nine thousand feet up, cleared but not recently exposed to fire," Hodges Podges finishes. How did they know it was north-facing? Was there moss growing on Herman?
“ I'm not sure if he's being snotty because he's annoyed Gil has an answer for everything, or if he's denigrating Gil for knowing so much about stuff he considers unimportant. Either way, he's a jerk. ”
Cat calls to harass Gil, and Gil suckers her into taking care of some sizeable stacks of paperwork on his desk. After Cat gapes at the mess, she tells him about Hodges Podges's final analysis of the leaf litter. Gil thanks her and hangs up. "Trouble with the wife?" Lt. Brooks asks. "Yeah, she hates it when we're apart," Gil deadpans.
More beautiful scenery shots of a really large lake that I'm pretty certain doesn't exist up there, as maps only show dotted lines for lakes, which usually mean lake beds. Although there is a reservoir and a river up there.
Gil questions the woman whose dog found the head. We get a scary slashback of the woman calling her German shepherd, Tripper, for dinner. Shots of the dog pulling the scalp away with his teeth. Ugh. Dogs like human flesh? In a move that earns major points with this animal-lover, Gil asks if the dog is okay. The woman said Tripper acted lethargic for a few days, so she took him to the vet and had some tests run. "He got better, just wanna keep him that way." She adds, "Where there's a head there's gotta be hands and feet and sooner or later, he'll dig'em up." "Or what's left of them," Lt. Brooks says. "No offense, Sylvia, but he's not exactly a scent hound." Tripper whimpers a bit at this. "All animals can smell rotting flesh. Studies have shown that when domestic pets bring back human body parts usually the remains are within a half-mile radius," Gil tells them. The woman is incredulous that they've done studies on something like that, and Gil says it happens more often than one would think. He then asks if she's noticed any buzzards or vultures hanging about. "All the time," Tripper's Mom says. "Thanks," Gil nods. Was that last response that helpful? Gil looks at the area behind them and mentions that it faces north. Lt. Brooks doesn't really care. "You know that expression 'heads will roll'? It's true, especially downhill," Gil informs him, and starts hiking. Heh. Lt. Brooks radios (I had to delete my verb of "comms") a "Bernie" and tells him to "drop the doughnut" because he's going to "earn [his] pay today."
Hike Town. "I hope so," is Gil's response to Lt. Brooks's question asking if he's afraid he's going to trip over something. Gil continues walking carefully and says that dead bodies make good fertilizer; one often sees "fresh green shoots" on a burial site. Ah-ha! That's why Mrs. Pleavish door took first prize for her roses so soon after her husband disappeared! "Must be nice to know the answer to every little thing," Lt. Brooks snarks. I'm not sure if he's being snotty because he's annoyed Gil has an answer for everything, or if he's denigrating Gil for knowing so much about stuff he considers unimportant. Either way, he's a jerk. "I prefer questions, actually," Gil the Unruffled says. "And I don't, I suppose?" Lt. Brooks retorts rhetorically. He then goes on to tell Gil that Doris (the waitress at the greasy spoon) has an ex-husband who "likes to smack her around every once in awhile," and lists a whole bunch of issues Jackpot has with its inhabitants, but as Gil doesn't seem to be listening, neither do I. Although when Brooks wearily finishes with, "Fire chief's a closet pyro and so forth," my ears perk up so I can giggle. It turns out that Lt. Brooks's point was that he doesn't have time to ask questions about "buzzards and such." Gil is still not listening as he examines an aspen tree. "That's an aspen tree, in case you were wondering," Lt. Brooks says. I'll bet it took a lot for Gil not to say that he wasn't wondering at all, since he just knew exactly what it was. One of Brooks's men calls out from the top of the hill that they found something.
“ It doesn't look like a real degree, either. It looks like a template stored in a computer that you can run off on a color printer, stick a gold seal on, and have a bunch of people sign. ”
A man in a checked shirt comes stumbling up the hill and stares down at Herman. "About time, Dale," Brooks says. Without even hearing his dead-giveaway whisper-like voice, you can just tell from the squared-off chin and squinty eyes that this is Jeffrey Combs. Combs recurs as an Andorian named "Shran" on Enterprise, but I like to call him "Excedrin PM". Dr. Excedrin PM continues to stare down at the body until Gil prompts him by confirming that he's the coroner. Dr. Excedrin PM looks up and nods: "Mr. Grissom -- I'm Dr. Dale Stearling, I sent you the head. How can I help?" Gil patiently explains that they can't touch the body until he authorizes it. "Oh," Dr. Excedrin PM says, looking back and forth at the officers. He steps closer to get another look at the bloody stump: "He's dead, you're authorized." Heh -- I like how he felt the need to take another step closer to determine that Herman was dead. Brooks gets fidgety about getting the body out. "There may be evidence in the gravesite -- we need to preserve it," Gil tells him. Brooks continues to act fidgety about what Gil wants them to do. "Now, for each foot of dirt that's removed, go on a separate bag. I'll sift through it later," Gil instructs. These guys are so hating his High and Persnicketiness, and I'm just loving it. Brooks starts to plunge his shovel in. "Hold on, make sure your shovels don't get within six inches of that body," Gil orders. This guy is so precise; he'd make the ideal pastry chef! Okay, ew. I didn't need to connect the dots like that. Brooks wants to get on with it already, as they are losing light. As they dig, Gil looks resigned to having a body hacked apart by flatfoot shovels.
At Dr. Excedrin PM's office, Gil appears to be examining the vet's degree. It doesn't look like a real degree, either. It looks like a template stored in a computer that you can run off on a color printer, stick a gold seal on, and have a bunch of people sign. Dr. Excedrin PM defensively blithers that he was in the ninety-ninth percentile on the MCATs but chose to be a vet. Gil gives him a bland look and says, "Well, veterinary school's harder to get into than medical school," and tells him he wasn't looking at the degree, he was looking at a picture of him and Doris. Dr. Excedrin PM admits they were married for a bit, but it didn't work out. So, he's the ex-husband that Brooks mentioned? He's such a shrinking character in this, but I guess that conceals a serious temper. What I find interesting is that he's her ex-husband but still manages to hit her. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad she got out of an abusive marriage, but it must be pretty difficult to have occasion to hit someone when you aren't living with them anymore. I wonder what the statistics for ex-spousal abuse are. You know, I'll bet my apartment manager would know -- he's an ex-chief of police who has been badgering me to collaborate on a book about domestic violence. He's got all the background, and he seems to think I have the publishing pull. I guess he'd be right if it was a book about smacking someone around with a sauce soubise or visiting violence by venison.