"Stop!" "Stop!" "Stop!" "Suspect is heading East on Lincoln!" "Slow down!" "Girls..." "Have you met Brady Jensen?" "College football star, future pro legend!" "Stop!" "You decided which team you'll go with?" "Uh, it doesn't really work like that." "You don't get to choose what team you play for?" "He gets the pick of the litter." "Stop!" "Stop!" "Suspect's heading north, at 719 Medium!" "We need backup!" "We need backup now!" "So, what'll it be?" "Don't worry about it, champ." "Your Agent's taking care of it." "Stop!" "He's not my Agent." "Yet." "But I will be, buddy." "Because I'm the best, and I only sign the best." "Okay, okay, I get it." "Don't make me shoot you!" "Hey, we'll have another bottle, babe, same bottle." "No champagne to celebrate?" "Your call, buddy." "Whatever you want." "Well, it's a little early to celebrate, don't you think?" "I mean, the draft's not till this weekend." "I'm already positioning you." "Top-tier team and endorsements from... here to China!" "I told you, endorsements aren't my focus." "No, thanks." "Can I get your autograph?" "Stop!" "Stop!" "MDPD!" "Stop!" "MDPD!" "Out of the way!" "Out of the way!" "Move!" "Move!" "Move!" "Officers in pursuit." "Suspect on the 1200 block of Collington East towards..." "Look out!" "Look out!" "Requesting assistance." "Stop!" "Stop!" "It's a dead end!" "You've got nowhere to run!" "Ryan, no!" "You're an idiot." "I almost made it." "Eric?" "I got him, H!" "You can't outrun this." "I heard it's someone famous." "I heard it's a celebrity." "Wait." "Stop the car, man!" "Hey, you're in no position to be giving orders, Brady." "Look, I didn't do this." "Please, man, you can't let the media see me." "Come on!" "Oh, they're gonna" ""Choirboy quarterback turns cold-blooded killer."" "It almost writes itself." "I didn't kill her!" "Come on!" "Hey, you calm down!" "You ran, all right?" "Guilty people run." "Listen, Kristen is my bottle girl." "So what, you take her out to the cabana, have your way with her?" "No, she's not that type of girl." "Look it was her idea to go to the cabana to talk." "She said she just wanted to get away from the crowd." "I'm sorry, it's just..." "I hate this job." "You seem like a really nice guy." "I really just need to quit." "Hey, look, it's all right." "We can go back inside." "So it got hot, got a little rough... maybe it was an accident." "No, when I woke up, she's in the pool." "I'm done listening to this kid." "Do you guys remember those lacrosse players from Duke?" "The media ruined their lives, and you're about to do the exact same thing to me." "Please don't do this." "No, Brady, you did this." "Let's go, Frank." "Dr. Mercier!" "Hey." "Little early for the night shift, isn't it?" "I'm covering for Dr. Loman." "He's teaching yet another seminar at Dade U." "Good to see you, Walter." "Dr. Mercier." "Miss Boa Vista." "Well, that's classy... our football star tossed the Vic in the pool right next to their love den from last night." "Does she have a name?" "Yeah, Kristen Banks." "She's one of the bottle girls here." "Bottle girl." "Most dangerous job in South Beach, no offense." "Bottle girls make you feel like a king when the party's poppin' off." "They're also the first ones to blame when you look at your bill the next day." "No truer words." "So, what do you think?" "Think she actually drowned?" "There's fluid in her lungs." "Could it have been an accident?" "Not with this." "She has double lividity." "Died on her back, flipped her to her front." "We're in Hinksville." "One." "Hey... guys." "I got a cell phone here." "Could belong to our Vic." "Damn, it's waterlogged." "Could take hours to dry out." "Maybe not." "Does anybody know where the ladies' room is?" "Can you move any faster?" "Girls' room making you a little nervous?" "My big sisters used to drag me into these when I was a kid." "I just never know where to look." "I'd say probably the ceiling's your best bet." "Not if you're three feet tall." "Oh, look at that..." "it actually worked!" "This is definitely Kristen's phone." "When was the last contact?" "Let's see." "Hmm." "That's kind of weird, there's no texts." "But the last phone call was to Sara Walker... for two minutes at 1:26 A.M." "I shouldn't have let her go with Brady." "You spoke to Kristen last night at 1:26 A.M." "She wanted me to cover her tables." "She was stepping off the floor." "Look, I-I really have to go." "I have to pick up my son at school." "How old is he?" "He's six." "What's his name?" "Lucas." "Kristen wanted me to sign her out so that she could stay with Brady." "Out at the cabana." "Did you ever go out there, Sara?" "No." "No, I'm-I'm really sorry." "I wish I could be more help." "Sara." "How'd you get those scrapes on your arm?" "My son... he, he, um, he really hates sunscreen." "Look, I..." "I really have to go." "We'll talk soon, okay?" "Yeah, thanks." "What do you mean, she didn't drown?" "In the pool." "She didn't drown in the pool." "There was no chlorinated water in her lungs." "So what is in her lungs?" "Alcohol..." "her stomach was filled with it." "So she shotgunned a bottle of alcohol." "No, no, this was definitely forced onto her." "Lower right crown over second premolar has been chipped." "It takes a lot of force to do that." "The bottle was jammed into her mouth until she drowned." "Then someone dropped her into the pool." "Do you want to, uh, head to the cabana, see if you can't find that crown?" "Yeah, why don't you see if you can find out what kind of alcohol killed her?" "Will do." "That's a great catch, Victoria." "I know." "Thank me later." "Come on." "Come on, get in here." "Lift your arms." "What are you guys looking for?" "Alcohol runoff." "Runoff?" "Yeah, runoff." "It only stands to reason you'd have some on you after you rammed the bottle down Kristen's throat." "Turn around." "I told you I never bought alcohol." "Didn't buy, you picked it up off a table; doesn't really matter to me." "All that matters to me is what you did with it." "Whatever he did with it, he didn't do in these clothes." "I told you, man." "Can I go now?" "No, you can't go now." "This isn't a bed and breakfast." "You don't come and go as you please." "You're hiding something, so you're going to sit in this cage and rot until I figure out what it is." "Okay?" "Let's go." "Hey, Cal." "Hey." "Yeah, I don't mean to interrupt your bar tabs or anything, but can you help me out with this?" "Sure." "Does that really say $15,000 in bar tab?" "It's a baseball player and his friends, and you're not going to believe it, but that is actually cheap." "The average bar tab last night was $21,000 for four bottles of liquor." "The markup is astounding." "And so... hot girls pushing it is somehow more worthwhile?" "I guess so." "What have you got on Kristen's phone?" "I have tried to dry out the battery twice." "I've tried every shortcut I know, and I cannot pull up the texts on this thing, so I was wondering if you could help me out." "I've got to get to Eric at the crime scene." "I'll run a SIM search." "Thanks, babe." "You're welcome." "I didn't force Kristen to do anything." "But you're the owner of the club and therefore her boss." "Yeah, I turned this place from just another bar into the hottest club in South Beach inside a year." ""I'm not doing this, it's not right."" "Well, maybe she didn't want to talk her quarterback into buying the top-shelf liquor, but that's the job." "That's the job in which you gain all the profits." "The girls do just fine." "I guess the same can't be said of Kristen, can it?" "I'm sorry she's dead." "When are you gonna get out of here and give me back my club?" "When I know how you figured in to Kristen's death." "Okay?" "I've been testing the stomach contents the M.E. sent up here." "It's champagne." "So you think you can identify the exact champagne that was forced into her?" "Not by name, no, but by year, yes." "Using radioactive carbon isotopes prevalent in the champagne, I can determine a vintage." "Here." "Um..." "Grapes... capture tiny amounts of carbon-14, a radioactive isotope that occurs naturally from cosmic Rays." "The thing is, C-14 ratios in the atmosphere have varied dramatically, especially since the 1940s." "Let me guess... nuclear testing." "Precisely." "Atomic explosions between the late '40s and 1963 significantly increase C-14 levels in the atmosphere." "Thusly, wine made in these years will have much higher levels than before or after." "So... what happened after 1963?" "Our penchant for fossil fuels has since diluted that carbon-14 in the atmosphere, giving us different benchmarks." "So can you give us a vintage for the champagne that the killer used?" "Levels of C-14 here are consistent with levels in wine from 1957." "1957... you sure about that?" "That's a rare bottle of champagne you're looking for." "I hope this helped narrow down your search, guys." "You know, the bottles at the Dorset are electronically tracked." "Then all we needed was the date." "Thanks, Travers." "Richard Ellison." "That's right, who the hell are you?" "Beat it, gentlemen." "I'm Lieutenant Caine." "Mr. Ellison, you were at the Dorset last night." "Yeah, I was entertaining clients." "Had a good time." "You ordered a very expensive champagne." "'57 Pierre Jousset... good stuff." "That champagne killed Kristen Banks." "I had a glass, so I killed her?" "Witnesses stated you were wearing a suit at the Dorset." "Where is the jacket that you wore last night?" "It's at a dry cleaners in Bal Harbour..." "French place." "You're welcome to check it out." "I will." "Hey." "You can grab the drink and that's it." "You understand?" "Take it easy, Sara." "Don't make me look bad in front of my clients." "Sara." "What are you doing here?" "Being a bottle girl is a 24-7 job." "Richard spent $25K on liquor last night." "I have to keep my clients happy and I have to keep the boss happy." "That's how I keep working." "You don't have to do this." "I do." "My son... that's what gets me through this." "I can help you." "Sure..." "Uh, I can't." "I can't implicate anyone." "The guys who go to the Dorset are very powerful people." "Sara!" "Sara?" "Drinks?" "Sara." "I-I have to go." "I understand." "Sara." "You know, I didn't find a bottle anywhere, and I'm not finding any champagne runoff." "I still can't find the victim's missing crown." "You know, if our quarterback did shove that bottle of champagne down her throat," "I don't think he did it here." "Witnesses confirmed seeing them leave together, the busboy saw them come in here, and then he didn't see her again until she was in the pool." "So where the hell did he do it?" "It's not where, it's when." "Come on." "Okay." "You know, when I worked scuba, we'd occasionally come across a condition called delayed drowning." "Right, when liquid seeps into the lungs and the victim doesn't realize it." "Yeah, we'd pick people from the canal... they'd be walking, talking." "Three hours later, they were dead." "They drowned." "The champagne goes into the stomach." "A bodily reaction happens that sends it into the lungs." "The champagne and the body's own acid cause the lungs to swell, drowning her in her own fluid." "The whole process can take several hours." "So that's why we didn't find any champagne out in the cabana." "No, it's because Kristen was still in this club when it was forced down her throat." "Yeah, I'll hold." "Nothing on a Richard Ellison?" "Yeah, that's good advice, but I've already tried the two dry cleaners in your area." "How about under a different name?" "Yeah, uh, witness said it was a gray, double-vented plaid, whatever the hell that is." "All right." "If something comes up, uh, give us a call." "Thanks." "Yeah, I'll get that call when pigs fly." "Richard Ellison giving us the runaround?" "Yeah." "Time to get a warrant." "Tried that first time I struck out with the dry cleaner." "Judge said there's no cause." "No cause?" "The guy bought the bottle of champagne that killed Kristen Banks and he's hiding his own clothes." "What else do we need?" "You're preaching to the choir, Walter." "Find something that gets us on Ellison's yacht, let me know." "CSI Wolfe, is it true you almost killed yourself during a foot Chase through downtown this morning?" "Erica Sikes." "Ryan." "You look well." "Thanks." "You look pretty good, too." "Is it true?" "Uh, yeah, there was a Chase this morning." "There was a police Chase." "I ran, I miscalculated, I stopped, I slid." "It was more of a stop-slide." "That's not even a real thing." "No, it's not." "Anyways, what do you care?" "The last time I checked, entertainment reporters weren't interested in police chases." "Well, I'm just following up on the murder at the Dorset." "You have a time of death on the victim?" "Oh, Erica, you've been in the business long enough to know that I can't comment on an ongoing case." "Why?" "You're lucky we go way back." "Someone's shopping this around." "It's a photo of Kristen Banks." "She's the victim." "Yeah." "And maybe the killer." "His arm, at least." "I just want to know if she's dead here, or just sleeping." "Where'd you get this?" "Third party." "You know I can't reveal my sources." "Word is, the guy that's cropped out is Brady Jensen." "And judging by your reaction, it is." "Everyone knows you have him in custody." "Yeah." "This is a hot case." "You give me till the end of the day, okay?" "You've got till 3:00." "Seem familiar, gentlemen?" "Where did you get that?" "From a news reporter." "In fact, that photo is being shopped to every media outlet from here to the West Coast." "What?" "Who took this?" "I believe you did, Chip." "You son of a bitch!" "You said you were gonna take care of this, that I didn't have anything to worry about." "Sit down!" "What did you think?" "You gonna blackmail him into being your new client?" "I didn't take this photo." "And yet, here it is, Chip." "You said, my friend, that she was gone when you woke up in the cabana, so, the photograph confirms you were lying." "Yeah, all right, I lied." "When I woke up, Kristen was on the bed with me, and he was there." "Hey, kid, wake up." "Wake up!" "This girl's lights out." "What the hell did you do?" "I didn't do anything." "She was already dead." "I wanted to call the paramedics, but he convinced me not to." "We have to call 911." "She's dead." "You call the cops, you go from number one draft pick to number one murder suspect." "Oh, man." "I screwed up." "What am I gonna do?" "It sounds like you need representation." "Here's how this works." "I help you, you sign with me." "You got it?" "Great." "Welcome to the family." "I'll take care of this." "I know it was the wrong thing." "I just..." "I didn't know what to do." "If I were you," "I'd look into signing with a new Agent." "So would I, because this one's under arrest." "I moved a dead body." "That's it." "Was no killing, no photos." "No killing, no photos." "No bail." "Call Delko, please." "He's gonna want to see this." "Still missing half a crown out there somewhere." "Found one half." "Thought I found the other, but it turned out to be..." "Confetti." "Metalized PVC, but yeah, confetti." "This aspirated into her lungs, which means that it traveled down her throat with the champagne." "Kind of blows your case right open." "Twice... in one day." "I'm just saying." "The Dorset." "This is CSI Eric Delko," "MDPD." "Need to ask you a question." "What time does the confetti drop there at the Dorset every night?" "Is this a joke?" "No, this isn't a joke." "If you don't want to be charged with hindering a murder investigation, you know, just answer my question." "What time?" "Uh, midnight." "Every night?" "Midnight every night." "Okay, thank you." "What's with...?" "Actually might have just given us a timeline for when Kristen began dying." "When the confetti was released." "Midnight." "Tell me something good." "Okay." "I just got the time of the inciting incident." "All right, I'll take it." "Well, the computer receipts say that the champagne was delivered to Ellison at 11:57 P.M., so it has to be sometime after that." "It was." "The confetti in Kristen's lungs puts her inside the club exactly at midnight when the champagne was forced on her." "Okay." "I'm guessing you want to take a look at the VIP seating chart?" "I do." "Well, I tell you what..." "I will look at the hard copies, and I will call you after I've done it." "All right, that's great." "Thanks." "Mm-hmm." "All right, raise it up a quarter turn, Ryan." "And then tilt it down just a smidge." "Just a smidge, huh?" "This day and age with all the technology at our fingertips, we're still referring to things in smidges, skoshes." "Incidentally, this is the same camera used to take a picture of Brady and Kristen?" "Well, yeah." "The software uses height analysis algorithms to estimate the height of the photographer." "Can it estimate to the nearest smidge?" "Positive." "Every digital photo contains EXIF data, which includes the type of camera used." "In this case, a 12.2 megapixel Notron camera." "Can you tilt it forward just a tad?" "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." "There it is." "The exact height and the angle the photographer used." "There are a million different ways to hold a camera, but at the end of the day, you've got to be able to see what you're shooting." "So, using the angle of the camera," "I can determine the eye line." "Looks like our photographer was five feet, three inches tall." "Well, that eliminates Brady's Agent." "Chip Ford is six feet tall." "I'm guessing it's definitely not a guy." "Not a guy." "We're looking for a girl." "All we have to go on is the height." "You know, one of the bottle girls knew that Brady and Kris were down at the cabana." "Let's start with her." "So you took that photograph of Kristen and Brady." "And I point that out because you told me you'd never been at the cabana." "Oh, God." "I didn't know she was dead." "Why'd you take the photograph?" "If I didn't, I was gonna get fired." "Because that's how Amanda rolls." "She makes all of us take pictures." "Actors, athletes." "You know, Sara, that's called extortion." "No." "It's like we're her own private paparazzi." "The whole idea of getting the guys drunk is for the pictures." "And the tabloids." "I'm caught." "There is no way out." "All I can think of is what happens to my son if I end up like Kristen?" "So you supplied the girls with cameras?" "Well, anyone can take pictures outside the club." "It's the stuff that goes on inside that the gossip mags really want." "Like the number one draft pick in bed with a bottle girl." "Especially if said draft pick is saving himself for marriage." "You know what I think?" "I think Kristen got sick of doing your dirty work." "I think Kristen got a sudden crush on the quarterback." "Which was what her text was about, wasn't it?" ""I'm not doing this"?" "Come on." "Brady was just too big a fish." "I couldn't pass up an opportunity like that." "Sara, need you to go to the private cabana and take some snaps of Kristen and Brady, mid-action." "I thought Kristen was supposed to be doing that." "Well, I'm not paying you for your thoughts." "Do your job." "Whether it's police evidence or full access, the picture's out there, and my club's standing room only for the next six months." "Because a picture of a dead girl with a choir boy quarterback would be a homerun for this club, wouldn't it?" "You're accusing me of killing her?" "Turn on your confetti, please." "What is it with you guys and the confetti?" "Turn it on." "So, Kristen inhales champagne with a side of confetti at midnight, unaware she's drowning herself, then heads out to a cabana for some alone time with Brady." "Where she's dead by morning." "Right, she's a victim of a delayed drowning, but not by the pool, which is what we found her in." "But Brady and his Agent insist they had nothing to do with Kristen or the champagne." "Yeah, well, they still conspired to make her death look like an accident." "Natalia, what do you have?" "Well, Calleigh pulled up the seating chart from last night, but not with a whole lot of expectation." "Well, not so." "You know, at the Dorset, where it's 20 grand a table, you tend to stay in one place." "Well, thanks to Horatio, we also know that the confetti does, too." "The what's..." "The what, now?" "Each mortar shoots a different color over every table, so, silver got shot over a baseball phenom's table." "Green was for a real estate mogul." "Blue was for our quarterback from last night." "And gold was reserved for one table." "Richard Ellison's." "Stop it!" "Come on, have a drink on me." "Stop it!" "Sure you don't want some more, huh?" "Huh?" "Get off of me!" "You know, he bought that bottle of champagne at three minutes before midnight." "He had to have forced it on her right there." "Let's prove it." "Because I spilled champagne on myself?" "You did more than that." "There we go." "Well, this is no crown, but this does put you in the VIP area at midnight." "Of course I was;" "It was my table." "Kristen and I were just having fun." "Just having a little fun, huh?" "Well, there's no crown on him, but he's got champagne all over his shoes." "Yeah." "Amazing how much of that stuff people waste." "Toss it around without a care in the world." "Fun, right?" "You know, it takes 150 PSI to displace a crown, HM?" "That was fun for you?" "You sure you don't want some more?" "Get off of me!" "She was my bottle girl." "She worked my parties, she took care of me." "All of a sudden, she starts acting like I'm a nobody." "All that money I spent, and she thinks she can just drop me?" "So yes, I may have gotten a little rowdy with her, okay." "I told you, I'm not your girl anymore." "I need to get back to my other client." "No, he went to the little boys' room." "Why don't you stay, have a drink?" "Wait, huh?" "Come on." "The girl humiliated you, and you wanted to do the same to her." "It stopped when she ran away." "She was fine." "She was not fine." "She died from the champagne hours later." "I never meant to hurt her." "It's called... involuntary manslaughter." "I could go to prison for this?" "I don't think you understand the situation." "Your actions killed the girl." "This is about Sara, isn't it?" "If you ever contact Sara again," "I'll find you and deal with you myself." "Okay?" "Sources say that this arm belongs to All-American football star Brady Jensen." "Brady Jensen in bed with a dead woman." "Just how does he bounce back from that?" "Can he bounce back from that?" "Looks like he's just being released from police custody..." "let's see if we can get an interview." "Brady, Erica Sikes, Full Access." "Is it true that your Agent attempted to cover the murder of Kristen Banks?" "He's not my Agent." "So you're saying you had nothing to do with the murder?" "No." "Do you have anything to say to your fans, to those who've looked up to you?" "Erica, I made some terrible choices." "It's a long, hard road back for me." "But my name and career are insignificant compared to what happened to Kristen." "If I have any fans left out there," "I'd ask that you think of her family before you waste time looking at a photo that Erica bought with blood money." "You're not a journalist, you're a jackal." "That was, uh..." "Wow." "A jackal." "I have never seen her speechless before." "Hey." "Hey." "So, you're out of here?" "Yep, I'm leaving." "I'm gonna go have dinner with a friend." "A friend, huh?" "Trying to have a life outside of this place?" "I'm trying." "It's none of my business." "Well, sure it is." "We're friends." "That's the kind of thing that friends talk about." "Yeah, I guess they do." "You know, I love you like family." "Yeah, I know." "That's what we are, right?" "Absolutely." "Have a good night." "You, too." "Kristen and I, we were a lot alike." "We... we weren't cut out for this." "Every day was another compromise, another... demand." "You gonna be okay?" "Yeah." "I'm gonna take us back home, focus on my son, not clients." "You don't have to pay for our trip." "Don't worry about it." "What about Kristen?" "What about her body?" "Kristen will go home, too, and rest in peace." "Maybe her family will find comfort in knowing that you caught the killer." "That's the hope." "Thank you." "Come on, sweetie." "Take care of your mom." "Okay?" "Hey, Sara?" "You take care." "Let's go."