CSI: Crime Scene Investigation s15e08 Episode Script
Rubbery Homicide
There's a lot of damage to the neck.
I'm counting three sharp-force injuries, and I saw five more in the back.
Got arterial spray over here.
So he was standing right there when he was stabbed.
You know, if that's the case, you'd expect to see more blood on his torso.
He must have been dressed, right? Clothing shielded him from the blood, and the killer stripped him? Possibly.
Got a lipstick case here.
It's got bloodstains on it.
A woman was here? Could be another victim.
Maybe an attempted rape that took a turn.
Guy picks on the wrong woman, she pulls out a blade and stabs him.
Yeah, then why wouldn't she just run away? Stripping a victim usually suggests a sexual component.
Maybe our mystery woman was the predator.
Could be a vigilante.
I think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves, actually.
You may be right.
Hey, guys? What is it? Uh, I'm not sure.
But it kind of looks like a face stamped in blood.
Might be the dead guy's face.
Yeah, but our victim barely has any blood on his face.
I'm not so sure he could leave a mark like that.
There could've been a struggle during the stabbing.
Assailant gets blood on his or her face, gets taken down, face-planted onto the concrete, leaving the impression.
Could be our first impression of the killer.
Who are you? Who, who, who, who? Who are you? Who, who, who, who? I really wanna know Who are you? Oh-oh-oh Who Come on, tell me who are you, you, you Are you! So, how is the Blood Whisperer doing with the blood portrait? Not so bloody well.
Image filters are giving me no additional detail, and I tried facial recognition software with no luck.
A face no forensic method could love.
You know, the weird thing is, if you or I had our lovely faces smeared in blood and mushed into concrete, the resulting stamp would be bolder in some areas but not in others.
Right.
Because our faces aren't flat.
Yeah, but this face is.
Well, we think it could be the face of our killer.
So any chance it's a physical deformity of some sort? Maybe.
Well, DNA says that all the blood at the scene belongs to the victim, and prints gave us an I.
D.
His name is Nelson Kern.
He's a local with a few priors for burglary.
Officers are headed to check out his apartment now, and Nick just pinged his cell.
Yeah, flip it open.
Let's see what we got in there.
There's a bloody purse right there.
Suggests female killer.
You know, there was a dropped lipstick.
Nick.
Purse might be hers.
Oh It's rubber.
Like some kind of life-size doll.
Or a costume.
Yeah, maybe.
It's hollow.
So we got fake body, real blood.
Yeah, looks like it.
And if Nelson Kern's cell phone ended up in here, I'm betting that's his blood smeared all over it.
Hey, buddy.
Hey.
Homicide find anything in Nelson Kern's apartment? No, nothing useful.
Apparently the guy was a loner.
No job, no family in the area.
So how's it going with her? We're doing pretty good.
Doc's still working on the body, but he did send these over.
The stab wounds in the suit line up perfectly with the stab wounds in Kern's back.
So clearly he was wearing this when he was attacked.
Do we know why he was wearing it? Yeah, I found some similar suits online and a site dedicated to those who wear them.
They call themselves Rubber Dolls.
Men who wear these suits and masks transform into females.
It's a form of full-body cross-dressing.
Like living Barbies.
Or, in this case, not so living.
Slight bruising on the edges of the lacerations suggests the weapon wasn't particularly sharp.
Maybe a dull knife.
I'm not so sure it was a knife.
Based on the square edges of the wounds.
Severed his carotid artery.
C.
O.
D.
was exsanguination.
Looks like a human bite mark.
Yeah, it's one of several incidental injuries I noted, including abrasions on his wrists and bruising on his arms.
Could be he was bound.
He was also under the influence.
Tox screen showed alcohol and ecstasy in his system.
Did you hear about the rubber suit? Yeah.
Dressed up and messed up.
Bad combo.
I pulled a lot of trace from the suit's skin.
Uh, granted, a lot of it may be transfer from the Dumpster, but so far we've got two perfumes, baby oil, carpet fibers and residue from champagne, vodka and mint liqueur.
Ooh, mint.
Sounds like a wild party.
- Mmm.
With a brutal end.
The blood smeared on the mask, that would explain how the face was stamped on the concrete.
We may not know much about Nelson Kern, but maybe the suit's maker does.
Superglue fuming didn't provide any viable prints, but there was one embedded in the silicone.
Check it out.
Looks like someone touched the skin before it was set.
We know who? Print came back to a local named Belinda Goff.
I told you it'll stretch, but there is no packing Babe Ruth into Beyoncé.
Uh, excuse me.
Ms.
Goff? Uh, your height's gonna cost you.
Pardon me? It's $1,500 for the standard doll, but you're, what, six-two? Big and tall ain't cheap or easy.
No.
No, I'm not interested in purchasing.
I'm, um I got a few questions for you.
Okay.
Um why don't you go get comfortable in your skin.
Okay, let me guess.
College professor doing a sociological survey, uh, "Inside the Bizarre World of Rubber Dolls.
" Actually, my interest is not academic.
It's criminal.
I'm D.
B.
Russell with the crime lab.
Can you take a look at these for me and tell me if you recognize them? He was killed while wearing her.
Yeah, she's my work.
Right.
Okay.
And what about Mr.
Kern there? What can you tell me about him? Nothing.
The men who come here, they're not big on names.
They-they pay with cash.
And-and when my creations walk out this door, they take on a life of their own.
Doing what, exactly? Look once transformed, the dolls might go out together, flaunt their curves.
Depending on whatever intimate anatomy they've paid me to install, they can No, I see.
I see.
Kind of.
Look, Rubber Dolling is just a way for men to inhabit the bodies of beautiful women.
For whatever the reason, from gender dysphoria to pure curiosity.
Um, you said that the-the dolls hang out together.
Do you know where? A man was murdered.
Maybe one of his fellow dolls might be able to Can you hold? Oh.
Oh.
- Go here.
Just don't say I sent you.
If you get bounced, I mean.
Well welcome to the dollhouse.
You're staring.
Yeah.
Well, so are you.
At least we're not the only ones underdressed.
The dolls have their admirers.
So, we're, like, what, a couple of blocks from the crime scene, right? That odds are pretty good that Nelson Kern was here last night.
Killer could have stalked him from here.
Somebody must have seen something last night, right? Shall we shall we mingle? Sure.
Call me.
Hey! Stop! Hey! Hey.
Take it easy.
Now, why are you running off? LVPD.
Ladies, ladies.
Come on, now.
Hey, girls, come on.
Let's everybody just take a breath now.
We don't want to mess up our suits, do we? Do I have to tell you my name? Or you can start with telling me why you ran.
I'm a high school counselor.
The last thing I need is my extracurriculars going public.
I just I figured that you and the other cop were raiding the place.
What made you think I was a cop? Please.
It's 31 flavors of freak in here.
In walks Mr.
Vanilla.
Scanning the place like some Nordic Terminator.
How'd you know I was? Never mind.
Actually, we're CSIs.
We're here investigating the murder of this man.
You know him? No.
What about her? Charlene.
Charlene's dead? I'm afraid so.
What can you tell me about her? Charlene was a newcomer.
Started showing up maybe six weeks ago, but quickly became the belle of the ball.
Were all of the other dolls as charmed by her? Well, I'm sure some of the more Raggedy Anns around here were jealous.
Roomful of divas, there will be rivalries.
And these suits don't breathe, so it can get heated.
Excuse me.
Do you mind if we chat? Will you excuse us just for a second? Thank you.
Um face-to-face? Would that be all right? I couldn't help but notice you've got a nasty scratch on your knee there.
I tripped.
These, uh, four-inch heels.
Murder, I bet.
Worth the pain.
Where'd you take your tumble? I'm-I'm only asking because that-that shade of blue-- there's a wall painted that color in an alley not too far from here, and one of the dolls was-was killed last night.
I believe her name was Charlene.
If there's something you can tell us, we'd appreciate it.
Anything.
I didn't fall.
Okay.
All right.
What-what happened? I don't wear this for attention.
It's just, it's something to see in the mirror to make this world suck a little bit less.
I understand.
Someone else didn't.
I was attacked.
Last weekend after leaving here.
Yo, I bet it makes you sweat.
That costume.
It makes you stink.
You know what it makes me? Sick.
You perverts disgust me.
Did you report it to the police? I had enough humiliation.
Okay.
- But if this same animal killed Charlene I did catch his license plate.
What kind of perv goes out like that? What do you mean by that? Wearing that costume, hiding his face.
Guy's obviously embarrassed of himself.
So, you want to look him in the eye? Huh? Is that it? You want to see his face? No, man.
We're cool.
What'd be the point? Yeah, what's the point? Take a look at the face of one of his friends.
Someone didn't like the outfit he had on, so they cut him out of it with a knife.
No, you don't think I did that.
No, I didn't do that.
When was this? When was he killed? Last night.
I was clocked in all night, pulling grave.
Boss will tell you.
Just ring him up.
Look, look, all right, yeah, I roughed up the other one.
If I'm getting charges for that, all good, but I ain't a murderer.
No charges.
The victim doesn't want to press any.
Doesn't want to show his face in court.
Somehow, he's the one who's ashamed.
What the? Henry.
Your befuddlement is showing down the hallway.
This is all so weird.
What do you have? A DNA result, and a ghost story.
I'm listening.
I was swabbing the Charlene suit, still hoping to find a sample of touch DNA from the assailant.
I noticed the doll's earrings, figured their sharp edges could have caught a chunk of the killer.
Sure enough, there were skin cells embedded in one of them.
I ran DNA on the skin cells and got a hit in CODIS.
A match to a woman who died two years ago.
Charlene Brock.
Charlene? Like the suit? They don't just share a name.
They share a face.
I've seen that woman before.
I mean, the real her.
Charlene Brock had a short career as a model in the early '80s, including one poster that sold millions.
Oh.
That dress.
Just like the one on Rubber Charlene.
Let me get this straight.
So, pinup goddess dies, is reborn in rubber, only to get murdered? With DNA from the real dead woman on the rubber body.
Insane.
Charlene Brock's family still lives in town.
Might be worth a call.
I'll text Russell.
What the hell?! This guy was dressed up as Mom, wearing her earrings? It's completely sick.
Mr.
Brock, it's my understanding that Charlene passed away what was it, two years ago? Mmm.
Mom had an aneurysm out of nowhere.
Well, I'm sorry.
Now, this man that was killed, um, Nelson Kern? Recognize him? No? Connected to your mother maybe? Char still had some fans.
You know, fellas who'd grown up worshipping that poster, you know? Dad had an estate sale right after her death, and sold all of her stuff.
Well, then, it's possible that Mr.
Kern purchased those earrings from that sale, right? Maybe to make his doll more authentic.
This isn't right.
Somebody steals her image and walks around dressed up as her? Get over it, Jonah.
No need to sue for copyright infringement.
You don't think it's creepy? Just a lonely guy who wanted to be close to her.
That's all.
That was me a few decades ago.
I remember in '79, Charlene was a waitress, and I was just starting out my modeling agency.
I convinced her to pose.
That pinup made a nice buck, let me tell you.
And she married me.
Gave me two wonderful children, and she turned out to be one hell of a partner at the agency.
Sounds like quite a woman.
Yeah.
And whoever stabbed that doll's lucky they didn't try it on the real Charlene Brock.
She wouldn't have let him walk away.
If you ever thought those reality show housewives were catty, they got nothing on these vulcanized vixens.
Web forum for Vegas Rubber Dolls.
Nick's hate crime suspect alibi'd out, so now I'm focusing on doll-on-doll drama.
The gossip, the grudges.
And this forum is where they like to sling a lot of dirt.
Find anything helpful? - Maybe.
Charlene, it turns out, has a rival doll.
The mysterious and alluring Lexy.
Hmm.
It's not one of the dolls that Russell and Greg met at the club.
Story I've been able to put together from the forum is that Lexy was the queen of the club until Charlene showed up last month, became the new hot hot thing.
And Lexy wasn't happy about it.
Social snub could become motive.
Do we, uh, know Lexy's real identity? Nobody breaks character on these sites.
I messaged Lexy, but no response.
But I noticed she wasn't in any of the posted club photos from the night of the murder.
Well, maybe because she was outside in the alley waiting to attack Charlene.
Unis just found Charlene's-- well, Nelson Kern's-- car a couple blocks from the club.
You want to check it out? Absolutely.
- Let's do it.
Unis cleared it, but they didn't search it? Whoa.
Sara.
We know Charlene was Kern's rubber ride the night of his death, but take a look at this.
This looks familiar.
That's Lexy.
Rubber Charlene's rival doll.
I don't get it.
Nelson Kern was wearing the Charlene suit when he died.
What's he doing with Lexy in the trunk? As far as I understand, every guy only has one Rubber Doll persona.
Doesn't make sense that Kern would be both Lexy and Charlene.
Okay.
I got a crowbar and bolt cutters.
Break-in gear.
Kern had a few priors for burglary.
Taking a flier on this one, maybe, but let's just say that Nelson Kern usually stepped out at night as Lexy, the belle of the rubber ball.
Until Charlene shows up, making Lexy and Kern old news.
That would make Kern jealous, right? Jealous enough, maybe, with his history of B-and-Es, to break in and steal Charlene from her owner.
And then don Charlene for the night.
I buy it.
But if we're right, then who's Charlene's owner? And where did Kern steal her from? Maybe these will help answer that question.
There's some trace in the blades.
Looks like concrete powder.
This morning I noticed you were doing some concrete work back here.
Yeah, just, uh, just trying to keep the place looking nice.
My wife loved this house.
You appear to have had a break-in back here.
Mr.
Brock, I'm gonna need to take a look inside.
My wife was my world.
That Charlene suit was yours, wasn't it? Nelson Kern broke in and stole it.
Stole her.
From me.
I loved her.
I lived for her.
Did you kill for her? Stan, you lied to me.
Told me you didn't know anything about the suit.
My children were sitting right there.
They wouldn't have understood how I-I clung to everything that was left of their mother.
Is that why you went to this, um, Belinda Goff-- had her make you one of those suits? I stumbled across her work online.
And I sent her some pictures of Charlene.
And I brought my love back to life.
It wasn't just dress-up.
I could feel Charlene's spirit all around me.
Others could feel it, too.
The presence of a special being.
But one of the other dolls didn't appreciate that you stole the spotlight.
Lexy.
Right.
We found the Lexy suit.
We know that it belonged to a Nelson Kern.
His DNA is all over it.
Mr.
Kern took a look at you and Charlene, and he figured that if he couldn't outshine the new girl, he'd find some way to become her.
Broke into your place, he stole the suit and he took your wife out for a spin.
And it cost him his life, didn't it? Mr.
Russell, much as I may cherish the memory of my wife, her beauty, and wanted to possess it, I would never hurt someone else for trying to possess it, too.
I was doing some digging, and I checked police activity in the alley the night of the murders.
There was a parking ticket issued to an Escalade, and the carpet fiber trace that we found on the Charlene suit is consistent with the interior of an Escalade.
And the vehicle is registered to this guy.
I met him at the club.
He's one of their admirers.
Let's bring him in.
Hi, Adrian.
I'm CSI Finlay.
I, uh, would like to talk to you about Charlene.
We know she was in your vehicle.
We found carpet fibers that are consistent with the interior of an Escalade on her doll suit.
You know what it is I love about the dolls at that club? How little they speak.
They're as close to the ideal woman as I've ever met.
Wow.
I can't imagine how you could have struck out with real women.
Well, real women are just as fake but lie about it.
Well, if I were to tell you that my eyelashes are not this great would you be honest with me? Fair enough.
Charlene did join me in my vehicle.
We'd been flirting with each other for the past few weeks at the club.
So tell me what happened in the car.
Oh, we, uh, played around.
Then she left.
With abrasions on her arms and a bite mark on her shoulder.
Which I bet is going to be a match to those fake veneers you got in there.
What can I say? I like rough sex.
She had thick skin.
I did my research on you, and I did find that you have a history of sexual assault.
Allegations.
All dropped.
Uh-huh.
Well, you know what I think happened? I think that Charlene was so messed up that she decided to get into your car.
And then when you started to hurt her, she bailed.
So you followed her-- 'cause you didn't like getting rejected by a blow-up doll-- and then you stabbed her.
Stripped off her suit, because everybody at the club knows who Charlene is, but, uh, Nelson Kern, he's a nobody.
Well, truth is I showed her too good of a time.
She couldn't contain herself.
And that voice that groaned out? Deep-sixed the mood.
I kicked her out and drove off.
Am I free to go? Got any evidence from the suspect's SUV yet? Finn is still working the carpets and the upholstery, but so far we haven't found any blood.
Even though Kern was stabbed outside, in the alley Yeah, you would have expected that Graham would have tracked some of the blood back into the vehicle.
You sure would.
What is all this lovely stuff? Well, this is Adrian Graham's mobile sex pantry.
Lotions, lubes and other sinful sundries that he kept in his SUV.
We found them neatly organized.
I was hoping in his cleanup that he left a smear of blood behind, but, uh, no such luck.
Excuse me a sec, here.
Baby oil.
Nick found trace amounts of baby oil on the Charlene suit.
Now, it's possible that that some of this got transferred from the suit onto the assailant.
I'm not sure what that gets us.
Graham already admitted that he was with her.
He just denies being there for the murder.
Right, but whoever the killer is, we have no indication of his movements in that alley in the moments right after the death.
No shoe prints, no blood trail.
Oil trail could be very helpful.
Baby oil fluoresces at a lower frequency than biologicals, so I've set the ALSs at 525 nanometers.
There's a lot of oil here, where the body was.
Uh-huh.
Oh, there you go.
Trail of oil going off in this direction.
Oily part of the suit must have been dragged along.
Huh.
Brushed the wall here.
It's the murder weapon.
It's a nail file.
Consistent with the wounds that Doc Robbins found.
Sharp-pointed but square-edged.
See this logo right there? - Uh-huh.
That's the Brock family modeling agency.
Murder with a corporate sponsor.
We pulled a fingerprint off of the weapon, Jonah.
And it's yours.
The weapon is one of 20 I gifted friends of our agency at the memorial after my mom died.
It was a gesture in her honor.
Really? A nail file as a tribute? It was kind of her thing.
Those dealing with Charlene Brock knew that if she started working on her cuticles she wasn't happy, and you better make her happy.
Don't come into my office with excuses, you cowardly piece of I gave the file out as a memento.
My prints might be on every one of 'em.
You know, I might buy that had I not learned about another file.
Your recent motion to remove your father as head of the modeling agency.
Uh the company started slipping after my mom died.
She was the guts, the-the cutthroat, the whip that my dad needed.
And after she died, I noticed that he started slipping.
Professionally and otherwise.
You knew about his Rubber Dolling.
I think you talk about it in your statement.
Hey.
Yeah, I knew about all that.
I saw a few of his selfies when I borrowed his laptop one day.
Hey, whatever the old man needs to get his kicks.
But if a rival photo agency pops a picture of him in his costume everything that he and my mom built goes away.
Instead of going to you.
The board shut you down, which left you only one other way to take your dad out of the picture.
You just didn't know that the wrong man was in the suit.
Ms.
Finlay, I didn't stab anyone, and I'll prove it to you.
I spent the night of the crime producing a photo shoot, and I spent the rest of the evening in the company of one of the models.
I have video.
You feeling good? Mm-hmm.
- Mm-hmm.
I guess talking isn't her thing.
We don't have to talk, beautiful.
Whoa.
Checking out Jonah Brock's alibi, are you? Yeah, the time stamp on the video puts him at home between 11:00 p.
m.
and 2:00 a.
m.
Well, the murder was around midnight.
So, unless Jonah messed with the metadata Look at him.
Does he strike you as the type of guy who spends a lot of time playing around with a computer? I don't know.
I mean, first impressions aren't always right.
Right.
The way you were spotted for 5-O in .
5 seconds at the club there, Columbo.
Russell told me about that.
Whatever.
So obviously Jonah Brock's alibi checks out.
He's not our killer.
No.
Did we get anything else off the nail file? There were minute bits of fingernail lodged in with the crosshatches.
DNA came back unknown female.
Oh, and there was some unusual trace mixed in.
Particles of gold.
Gold? Hang on a second.
Check that out.
Ms.
Irina Turri.
You remember her, right? She's back in Helsinki right now.
We couldn't bring her in, but we talked to her on the phone, and she said that her nails were filed by the assistant at the photo shoot.
That would be you, right, April? That same file found its way into Nelson Kern's neck.
I already told you I didn't know that man.
Why would I stab him? Well, because you weren't really stabbing him, were you? You were stabbing your mother.
And your father.
I love my father.
I was the one who defended him when my brother tried to destroy him.
Right.
The business deposition, right? You painted your dad as having suffered under your mother's tyranny.
It's quite the eulogy for your for your mom.
It was the truth.
Dad and I always stood up for each other, ever since I was a kid, every time my mom would Would would what? If you didn't live up to my mother's expectations, she would crush you.
And I guess the perfect daughter that she wanted wasn't me, so it's hard enough to see that in your mom's eyes.
It's harder when she starts taking it out on you.
I can see that.
So when your when your mother passed away, you must have felt like you were free of her cruelty.
Your dad was free, too.
We'd survived.
We were done with her.
Only, your father didn't want to be.
He still loved her.
He loved your mother.
He loved her so much he wanted to bring her back to life.
See, I think that was a betrayal that you just you couldn't live with.
Could you? I would have ignored it.
Pretended like I didn't know about the locked room, the suit.
What I saw when I followed him that night As ghastly as it was, I could have forgiven him.
But then he made his choice.
What choice? Four days ago, I-I turned 30.
The only person in the world I wanted to celebrate with was Dad, and then he called and said he didn't feel well and he needed to cancel.
And I could hear the club music in the background.
He chose your mother over you.
Again.
Then what happened? You go out, follow her into the alley, you wait for her to be alone? Then you realized your mistake.
Why did you rip off the suit? I had to throw her away.
April? Why couldn't you just let her die, Dad? She was a monster.
Oh, April.
Go to hell.
I never saw this before.
But you you remind me so much of her.
Go on.
Get her out of here.
Shift's over, Greg.
It's not work.
A guy could tell I was law enforcement across a dark club.
By just looking at me.
So? You are.
- But it's not who I am.
It doesn't define me.
And so I've just been looking at old photos of all the different stuff I used to do.
Parties, traveling.
Kind of early for a identity crisis.
I guess.
Listen, Greg people are never just one thing.
Like, look at your friends.
This guy, Mr.
Sweet Dad.
You really think that's all he is? I once watched that guy eat a beer can.
True story.
People are complicated.
It's never that simple.
Everybody has layers.
People read "cop," maybe I'll at least get a free cup of coffee.
If they give you free donuts, that means they're making fun of you.
Well, how about if I update my status to say, "Taking a friend out for a beer.
" Me? Yes.
I would love that.
All right, hold on.
Ooh.
Yeah, I love that place.
I'm counting three sharp-force injuries, and I saw five more in the back.
Got arterial spray over here.
So he was standing right there when he was stabbed.
You know, if that's the case, you'd expect to see more blood on his torso.
He must have been dressed, right? Clothing shielded him from the blood, and the killer stripped him? Possibly.
Got a lipstick case here.
It's got bloodstains on it.
A woman was here? Could be another victim.
Maybe an attempted rape that took a turn.
Guy picks on the wrong woman, she pulls out a blade and stabs him.
Yeah, then why wouldn't she just run away? Stripping a victim usually suggests a sexual component.
Maybe our mystery woman was the predator.
Could be a vigilante.
I think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves, actually.
You may be right.
Hey, guys? What is it? Uh, I'm not sure.
But it kind of looks like a face stamped in blood.
Might be the dead guy's face.
Yeah, but our victim barely has any blood on his face.
I'm not so sure he could leave a mark like that.
There could've been a struggle during the stabbing.
Assailant gets blood on his or her face, gets taken down, face-planted onto the concrete, leaving the impression.
Could be our first impression of the killer.
Who are you? Who, who, who, who? Who are you? Who, who, who, who? I really wanna know Who are you? Oh-oh-oh Who Come on, tell me who are you, you, you Are you! So, how is the Blood Whisperer doing with the blood portrait? Not so bloody well.
Image filters are giving me no additional detail, and I tried facial recognition software with no luck.
A face no forensic method could love.
You know, the weird thing is, if you or I had our lovely faces smeared in blood and mushed into concrete, the resulting stamp would be bolder in some areas but not in others.
Right.
Because our faces aren't flat.
Yeah, but this face is.
Well, we think it could be the face of our killer.
So any chance it's a physical deformity of some sort? Maybe.
Well, DNA says that all the blood at the scene belongs to the victim, and prints gave us an I.
D.
His name is Nelson Kern.
He's a local with a few priors for burglary.
Officers are headed to check out his apartment now, and Nick just pinged his cell.
Yeah, flip it open.
Let's see what we got in there.
There's a bloody purse right there.
Suggests female killer.
You know, there was a dropped lipstick.
Nick.
Purse might be hers.
Oh It's rubber.
Like some kind of life-size doll.
Or a costume.
Yeah, maybe.
It's hollow.
So we got fake body, real blood.
Yeah, looks like it.
And if Nelson Kern's cell phone ended up in here, I'm betting that's his blood smeared all over it.
Hey, buddy.
Hey.
Homicide find anything in Nelson Kern's apartment? No, nothing useful.
Apparently the guy was a loner.
No job, no family in the area.
So how's it going with her? We're doing pretty good.
Doc's still working on the body, but he did send these over.
The stab wounds in the suit line up perfectly with the stab wounds in Kern's back.
So clearly he was wearing this when he was attacked.
Do we know why he was wearing it? Yeah, I found some similar suits online and a site dedicated to those who wear them.
They call themselves Rubber Dolls.
Men who wear these suits and masks transform into females.
It's a form of full-body cross-dressing.
Like living Barbies.
Or, in this case, not so living.
Slight bruising on the edges of the lacerations suggests the weapon wasn't particularly sharp.
Maybe a dull knife.
I'm not so sure it was a knife.
Based on the square edges of the wounds.
Severed his carotid artery.
C.
O.
D.
was exsanguination.
Looks like a human bite mark.
Yeah, it's one of several incidental injuries I noted, including abrasions on his wrists and bruising on his arms.
Could be he was bound.
He was also under the influence.
Tox screen showed alcohol and ecstasy in his system.
Did you hear about the rubber suit? Yeah.
Dressed up and messed up.
Bad combo.
I pulled a lot of trace from the suit's skin.
Uh, granted, a lot of it may be transfer from the Dumpster, but so far we've got two perfumes, baby oil, carpet fibers and residue from champagne, vodka and mint liqueur.
Ooh, mint.
Sounds like a wild party.
- Mmm.
With a brutal end.
The blood smeared on the mask, that would explain how the face was stamped on the concrete.
We may not know much about Nelson Kern, but maybe the suit's maker does.
Superglue fuming didn't provide any viable prints, but there was one embedded in the silicone.
Check it out.
Looks like someone touched the skin before it was set.
We know who? Print came back to a local named Belinda Goff.
I told you it'll stretch, but there is no packing Babe Ruth into Beyoncé.
Uh, excuse me.
Ms.
Goff? Uh, your height's gonna cost you.
Pardon me? It's $1,500 for the standard doll, but you're, what, six-two? Big and tall ain't cheap or easy.
No.
No, I'm not interested in purchasing.
I'm, um I got a few questions for you.
Okay.
Um why don't you go get comfortable in your skin.
Okay, let me guess.
College professor doing a sociological survey, uh, "Inside the Bizarre World of Rubber Dolls.
" Actually, my interest is not academic.
It's criminal.
I'm D.
B.
Russell with the crime lab.
Can you take a look at these for me and tell me if you recognize them? He was killed while wearing her.
Yeah, she's my work.
Right.
Okay.
And what about Mr.
Kern there? What can you tell me about him? Nothing.
The men who come here, they're not big on names.
They-they pay with cash.
And-and when my creations walk out this door, they take on a life of their own.
Doing what, exactly? Look once transformed, the dolls might go out together, flaunt their curves.
Depending on whatever intimate anatomy they've paid me to install, they can No, I see.
I see.
Kind of.
Look, Rubber Dolling is just a way for men to inhabit the bodies of beautiful women.
For whatever the reason, from gender dysphoria to pure curiosity.
Um, you said that the-the dolls hang out together.
Do you know where? A man was murdered.
Maybe one of his fellow dolls might be able to Can you hold? Oh.
Oh.
- Go here.
Just don't say I sent you.
If you get bounced, I mean.
Well welcome to the dollhouse.
You're staring.
Yeah.
Well, so are you.
At least we're not the only ones underdressed.
The dolls have their admirers.
So, we're, like, what, a couple of blocks from the crime scene, right? That odds are pretty good that Nelson Kern was here last night.
Killer could have stalked him from here.
Somebody must have seen something last night, right? Shall we shall we mingle? Sure.
Call me.
Hey! Stop! Hey! Hey.
Take it easy.
Now, why are you running off? LVPD.
Ladies, ladies.
Come on, now.
Hey, girls, come on.
Let's everybody just take a breath now.
We don't want to mess up our suits, do we? Do I have to tell you my name? Or you can start with telling me why you ran.
I'm a high school counselor.
The last thing I need is my extracurriculars going public.
I just I figured that you and the other cop were raiding the place.
What made you think I was a cop? Please.
It's 31 flavors of freak in here.
In walks Mr.
Vanilla.
Scanning the place like some Nordic Terminator.
How'd you know I was? Never mind.
Actually, we're CSIs.
We're here investigating the murder of this man.
You know him? No.
What about her? Charlene.
Charlene's dead? I'm afraid so.
What can you tell me about her? Charlene was a newcomer.
Started showing up maybe six weeks ago, but quickly became the belle of the ball.
Were all of the other dolls as charmed by her? Well, I'm sure some of the more Raggedy Anns around here were jealous.
Roomful of divas, there will be rivalries.
And these suits don't breathe, so it can get heated.
Excuse me.
Do you mind if we chat? Will you excuse us just for a second? Thank you.
Um face-to-face? Would that be all right? I couldn't help but notice you've got a nasty scratch on your knee there.
I tripped.
These, uh, four-inch heels.
Murder, I bet.
Worth the pain.
Where'd you take your tumble? I'm-I'm only asking because that-that shade of blue-- there's a wall painted that color in an alley not too far from here, and one of the dolls was-was killed last night.
I believe her name was Charlene.
If there's something you can tell us, we'd appreciate it.
Anything.
I didn't fall.
Okay.
All right.
What-what happened? I don't wear this for attention.
It's just, it's something to see in the mirror to make this world suck a little bit less.
I understand.
Someone else didn't.
I was attacked.
Last weekend after leaving here.
Yo, I bet it makes you sweat.
That costume.
It makes you stink.
You know what it makes me? Sick.
You perverts disgust me.
Did you report it to the police? I had enough humiliation.
Okay.
- But if this same animal killed Charlene I did catch his license plate.
What kind of perv goes out like that? What do you mean by that? Wearing that costume, hiding his face.
Guy's obviously embarrassed of himself.
So, you want to look him in the eye? Huh? Is that it? You want to see his face? No, man.
We're cool.
What'd be the point? Yeah, what's the point? Take a look at the face of one of his friends.
Someone didn't like the outfit he had on, so they cut him out of it with a knife.
No, you don't think I did that.
No, I didn't do that.
When was this? When was he killed? Last night.
I was clocked in all night, pulling grave.
Boss will tell you.
Just ring him up.
Look, look, all right, yeah, I roughed up the other one.
If I'm getting charges for that, all good, but I ain't a murderer.
No charges.
The victim doesn't want to press any.
Doesn't want to show his face in court.
Somehow, he's the one who's ashamed.
What the? Henry.
Your befuddlement is showing down the hallway.
This is all so weird.
What do you have? A DNA result, and a ghost story.
I'm listening.
I was swabbing the Charlene suit, still hoping to find a sample of touch DNA from the assailant.
I noticed the doll's earrings, figured their sharp edges could have caught a chunk of the killer.
Sure enough, there were skin cells embedded in one of them.
I ran DNA on the skin cells and got a hit in CODIS.
A match to a woman who died two years ago.
Charlene Brock.
Charlene? Like the suit? They don't just share a name.
They share a face.
I've seen that woman before.
I mean, the real her.
Charlene Brock had a short career as a model in the early '80s, including one poster that sold millions.
Oh.
That dress.
Just like the one on Rubber Charlene.
Let me get this straight.
So, pinup goddess dies, is reborn in rubber, only to get murdered? With DNA from the real dead woman on the rubber body.
Insane.
Charlene Brock's family still lives in town.
Might be worth a call.
I'll text Russell.
What the hell?! This guy was dressed up as Mom, wearing her earrings? It's completely sick.
Mr.
Brock, it's my understanding that Charlene passed away what was it, two years ago? Mmm.
Mom had an aneurysm out of nowhere.
Well, I'm sorry.
Now, this man that was killed, um, Nelson Kern? Recognize him? No? Connected to your mother maybe? Char still had some fans.
You know, fellas who'd grown up worshipping that poster, you know? Dad had an estate sale right after her death, and sold all of her stuff.
Well, then, it's possible that Mr.
Kern purchased those earrings from that sale, right? Maybe to make his doll more authentic.
This isn't right.
Somebody steals her image and walks around dressed up as her? Get over it, Jonah.
No need to sue for copyright infringement.
You don't think it's creepy? Just a lonely guy who wanted to be close to her.
That's all.
That was me a few decades ago.
I remember in '79, Charlene was a waitress, and I was just starting out my modeling agency.
I convinced her to pose.
That pinup made a nice buck, let me tell you.
And she married me.
Gave me two wonderful children, and she turned out to be one hell of a partner at the agency.
Sounds like quite a woman.
Yeah.
And whoever stabbed that doll's lucky they didn't try it on the real Charlene Brock.
She wouldn't have let him walk away.
If you ever thought those reality show housewives were catty, they got nothing on these vulcanized vixens.
Web forum for Vegas Rubber Dolls.
Nick's hate crime suspect alibi'd out, so now I'm focusing on doll-on-doll drama.
The gossip, the grudges.
And this forum is where they like to sling a lot of dirt.
Find anything helpful? - Maybe.
Charlene, it turns out, has a rival doll.
The mysterious and alluring Lexy.
Hmm.
It's not one of the dolls that Russell and Greg met at the club.
Story I've been able to put together from the forum is that Lexy was the queen of the club until Charlene showed up last month, became the new hot hot thing.
And Lexy wasn't happy about it.
Social snub could become motive.
Do we, uh, know Lexy's real identity? Nobody breaks character on these sites.
I messaged Lexy, but no response.
But I noticed she wasn't in any of the posted club photos from the night of the murder.
Well, maybe because she was outside in the alley waiting to attack Charlene.
Unis just found Charlene's-- well, Nelson Kern's-- car a couple blocks from the club.
You want to check it out? Absolutely.
- Let's do it.
Unis cleared it, but they didn't search it? Whoa.
Sara.
We know Charlene was Kern's rubber ride the night of his death, but take a look at this.
This looks familiar.
That's Lexy.
Rubber Charlene's rival doll.
I don't get it.
Nelson Kern was wearing the Charlene suit when he died.
What's he doing with Lexy in the trunk? As far as I understand, every guy only has one Rubber Doll persona.
Doesn't make sense that Kern would be both Lexy and Charlene.
Okay.
I got a crowbar and bolt cutters.
Break-in gear.
Kern had a few priors for burglary.
Taking a flier on this one, maybe, but let's just say that Nelson Kern usually stepped out at night as Lexy, the belle of the rubber ball.
Until Charlene shows up, making Lexy and Kern old news.
That would make Kern jealous, right? Jealous enough, maybe, with his history of B-and-Es, to break in and steal Charlene from her owner.
And then don Charlene for the night.
I buy it.
But if we're right, then who's Charlene's owner? And where did Kern steal her from? Maybe these will help answer that question.
There's some trace in the blades.
Looks like concrete powder.
This morning I noticed you were doing some concrete work back here.
Yeah, just, uh, just trying to keep the place looking nice.
My wife loved this house.
You appear to have had a break-in back here.
Mr.
Brock, I'm gonna need to take a look inside.
My wife was my world.
That Charlene suit was yours, wasn't it? Nelson Kern broke in and stole it.
Stole her.
From me.
I loved her.
I lived for her.
Did you kill for her? Stan, you lied to me.
Told me you didn't know anything about the suit.
My children were sitting right there.
They wouldn't have understood how I-I clung to everything that was left of their mother.
Is that why you went to this, um, Belinda Goff-- had her make you one of those suits? I stumbled across her work online.
And I sent her some pictures of Charlene.
And I brought my love back to life.
It wasn't just dress-up.
I could feel Charlene's spirit all around me.
Others could feel it, too.
The presence of a special being.
But one of the other dolls didn't appreciate that you stole the spotlight.
Lexy.
Right.
We found the Lexy suit.
We know that it belonged to a Nelson Kern.
His DNA is all over it.
Mr.
Kern took a look at you and Charlene, and he figured that if he couldn't outshine the new girl, he'd find some way to become her.
Broke into your place, he stole the suit and he took your wife out for a spin.
And it cost him his life, didn't it? Mr.
Russell, much as I may cherish the memory of my wife, her beauty, and wanted to possess it, I would never hurt someone else for trying to possess it, too.
I was doing some digging, and I checked police activity in the alley the night of the murders.
There was a parking ticket issued to an Escalade, and the carpet fiber trace that we found on the Charlene suit is consistent with the interior of an Escalade.
And the vehicle is registered to this guy.
I met him at the club.
He's one of their admirers.
Let's bring him in.
Hi, Adrian.
I'm CSI Finlay.
I, uh, would like to talk to you about Charlene.
We know she was in your vehicle.
We found carpet fibers that are consistent with the interior of an Escalade on her doll suit.
You know what it is I love about the dolls at that club? How little they speak.
They're as close to the ideal woman as I've ever met.
Wow.
I can't imagine how you could have struck out with real women.
Well, real women are just as fake but lie about it.
Well, if I were to tell you that my eyelashes are not this great would you be honest with me? Fair enough.
Charlene did join me in my vehicle.
We'd been flirting with each other for the past few weeks at the club.
So tell me what happened in the car.
Oh, we, uh, played around.
Then she left.
With abrasions on her arms and a bite mark on her shoulder.
Which I bet is going to be a match to those fake veneers you got in there.
What can I say? I like rough sex.
She had thick skin.
I did my research on you, and I did find that you have a history of sexual assault.
Allegations.
All dropped.
Uh-huh.
Well, you know what I think happened? I think that Charlene was so messed up that she decided to get into your car.
And then when you started to hurt her, she bailed.
So you followed her-- 'cause you didn't like getting rejected by a blow-up doll-- and then you stabbed her.
Stripped off her suit, because everybody at the club knows who Charlene is, but, uh, Nelson Kern, he's a nobody.
Well, truth is I showed her too good of a time.
She couldn't contain herself.
And that voice that groaned out? Deep-sixed the mood.
I kicked her out and drove off.
Am I free to go? Got any evidence from the suspect's SUV yet? Finn is still working the carpets and the upholstery, but so far we haven't found any blood.
Even though Kern was stabbed outside, in the alley Yeah, you would have expected that Graham would have tracked some of the blood back into the vehicle.
You sure would.
What is all this lovely stuff? Well, this is Adrian Graham's mobile sex pantry.
Lotions, lubes and other sinful sundries that he kept in his SUV.
We found them neatly organized.
I was hoping in his cleanup that he left a smear of blood behind, but, uh, no such luck.
Excuse me a sec, here.
Baby oil.
Nick found trace amounts of baby oil on the Charlene suit.
Now, it's possible that that some of this got transferred from the suit onto the assailant.
I'm not sure what that gets us.
Graham already admitted that he was with her.
He just denies being there for the murder.
Right, but whoever the killer is, we have no indication of his movements in that alley in the moments right after the death.
No shoe prints, no blood trail.
Oil trail could be very helpful.
Baby oil fluoresces at a lower frequency than biologicals, so I've set the ALSs at 525 nanometers.
There's a lot of oil here, where the body was.
Uh-huh.
Oh, there you go.
Trail of oil going off in this direction.
Oily part of the suit must have been dragged along.
Huh.
Brushed the wall here.
It's the murder weapon.
It's a nail file.
Consistent with the wounds that Doc Robbins found.
Sharp-pointed but square-edged.
See this logo right there? - Uh-huh.
That's the Brock family modeling agency.
Murder with a corporate sponsor.
We pulled a fingerprint off of the weapon, Jonah.
And it's yours.
The weapon is one of 20 I gifted friends of our agency at the memorial after my mom died.
It was a gesture in her honor.
Really? A nail file as a tribute? It was kind of her thing.
Those dealing with Charlene Brock knew that if she started working on her cuticles she wasn't happy, and you better make her happy.
Don't come into my office with excuses, you cowardly piece of I gave the file out as a memento.
My prints might be on every one of 'em.
You know, I might buy that had I not learned about another file.
Your recent motion to remove your father as head of the modeling agency.
Uh the company started slipping after my mom died.
She was the guts, the-the cutthroat, the whip that my dad needed.
And after she died, I noticed that he started slipping.
Professionally and otherwise.
You knew about his Rubber Dolling.
I think you talk about it in your statement.
Hey.
Yeah, I knew about all that.
I saw a few of his selfies when I borrowed his laptop one day.
Hey, whatever the old man needs to get his kicks.
But if a rival photo agency pops a picture of him in his costume everything that he and my mom built goes away.
Instead of going to you.
The board shut you down, which left you only one other way to take your dad out of the picture.
You just didn't know that the wrong man was in the suit.
Ms.
Finlay, I didn't stab anyone, and I'll prove it to you.
I spent the night of the crime producing a photo shoot, and I spent the rest of the evening in the company of one of the models.
I have video.
You feeling good? Mm-hmm.
- Mm-hmm.
I guess talking isn't her thing.
We don't have to talk, beautiful.
Whoa.
Checking out Jonah Brock's alibi, are you? Yeah, the time stamp on the video puts him at home between 11:00 p.
m.
and 2:00 a.
m.
Well, the murder was around midnight.
So, unless Jonah messed with the metadata Look at him.
Does he strike you as the type of guy who spends a lot of time playing around with a computer? I don't know.
I mean, first impressions aren't always right.
Right.
The way you were spotted for 5-O in .
5 seconds at the club there, Columbo.
Russell told me about that.
Whatever.
So obviously Jonah Brock's alibi checks out.
He's not our killer.
No.
Did we get anything else off the nail file? There were minute bits of fingernail lodged in with the crosshatches.
DNA came back unknown female.
Oh, and there was some unusual trace mixed in.
Particles of gold.
Gold? Hang on a second.
Check that out.
Ms.
Irina Turri.
You remember her, right? She's back in Helsinki right now.
We couldn't bring her in, but we talked to her on the phone, and she said that her nails were filed by the assistant at the photo shoot.
That would be you, right, April? That same file found its way into Nelson Kern's neck.
I already told you I didn't know that man.
Why would I stab him? Well, because you weren't really stabbing him, were you? You were stabbing your mother.
And your father.
I love my father.
I was the one who defended him when my brother tried to destroy him.
Right.
The business deposition, right? You painted your dad as having suffered under your mother's tyranny.
It's quite the eulogy for your for your mom.
It was the truth.
Dad and I always stood up for each other, ever since I was a kid, every time my mom would Would would what? If you didn't live up to my mother's expectations, she would crush you.
And I guess the perfect daughter that she wanted wasn't me, so it's hard enough to see that in your mom's eyes.
It's harder when she starts taking it out on you.
I can see that.
So when your when your mother passed away, you must have felt like you were free of her cruelty.
Your dad was free, too.
We'd survived.
We were done with her.
Only, your father didn't want to be.
He still loved her.
He loved your mother.
He loved her so much he wanted to bring her back to life.
See, I think that was a betrayal that you just you couldn't live with.
Could you? I would have ignored it.
Pretended like I didn't know about the locked room, the suit.
What I saw when I followed him that night As ghastly as it was, I could have forgiven him.
But then he made his choice.
What choice? Four days ago, I-I turned 30.
The only person in the world I wanted to celebrate with was Dad, and then he called and said he didn't feel well and he needed to cancel.
And I could hear the club music in the background.
He chose your mother over you.
Again.
Then what happened? You go out, follow her into the alley, you wait for her to be alone? Then you realized your mistake.
Why did you rip off the suit? I had to throw her away.
April? Why couldn't you just let her die, Dad? She was a monster.
Oh, April.
Go to hell.
I never saw this before.
But you you remind me so much of her.
Go on.
Get her out of here.
Shift's over, Greg.
It's not work.
A guy could tell I was law enforcement across a dark club.
By just looking at me.
So? You are.
- But it's not who I am.
It doesn't define me.
And so I've just been looking at old photos of all the different stuff I used to do.
Parties, traveling.
Kind of early for a identity crisis.
I guess.
Listen, Greg people are never just one thing.
Like, look at your friends.
This guy, Mr.
Sweet Dad.
You really think that's all he is? I once watched that guy eat a beer can.
True story.
People are complicated.
It's never that simple.
Everybody has layers.
People read "cop," maybe I'll at least get a free cup of coffee.
If they give you free donuts, that means they're making fun of you.
Well, how about if I update my status to say, "Taking a friend out for a beer.
" Me? Yes.
I would love that.
All right, hold on.
Ooh.
Yeah, I love that place.