Yes!
What are you so excited about?
It's the latest issue of "Skymall."
Oh-- sweet.
Oh, really, darling,
who subscribes to "Skymall"?
Isn't perusing all that dreck on the plane enough?
Dreck? Mother, I will have you know,
this is the gateway
to the hottest new inventions in the world.
Where else can you find a remote control
that has a bottle... opener?
What?
I think it's Alexis' decision letter
from Stanford university.
Oh, kiddo.
You okay?
Yeah, it just makes it so real.
She grew up so fast.
Well, what do you expect,
her to live here forever?
Well, her? Yes. You...
Mm.
Mm. Watch it.
Is that the mail?
Oh, yeah.
You have one here from a Mr. Stan Ford.
Is that anyone you know?
Well...
Darling?
I-I didn't get in.
What?
Oh, sweetie. I'm so sorry.
But I picked all my classes.
I bought t-shirts.
I-I had it all planned.
How could Stanford think she's not worthy?
She's perfect.
Last week you didn't want her to go.
Yeah, but I didn't not want her to get in.
I was sure she would get in.
You got in.
Well, I wouldn't now.
Anyway, put your bruised ego aside.
I'm sure she's crushed.
Well, actually, right now she's in denial.
When I left, she was on the phone with admissions,
explaining to them, they'd made a mistake.
Where's the body?
That is an excellent question.
You mean there's no body?
Nope. Just lots of blood.
Whosever it is,
there's no way they survived.
Well, where'd they go?
You're the one with all the crazy theories, Castle.
Walking dead.
But there are indications that the body was moved.
I think I know who moved it.
I got witnesses that said they saw an unmarked white van
fleeing the scene just after 7:00 A.M.
They get an eye on who was behind the wheel?
No, but we got unis canvassing for eyewitnesses
and checking every street-level security camera
in a 5-block radius.
Tire tracks.
Okay, get a cast of the tire tread.
CSU might be able to get make and model.
There's two different-size footprints.
There was at least two of 'em.
Yeah, but there's no tread on the footprints.
Must have been wearing booties.
Missing body,
killers who literally cover their tracks,
anyone else getting
a quick-strike assassin squad vibe?
Come on, Castle. You're not saying
this is some kind of black-ops job?
I'm not saying it. The evidence is saying it.
I'm betting this guy's buried at sea by now.
Lanie, there's an imprint in the blood.
Yeah, it looks like a box or a case.
Might have been our victim's.
nuclear launch codes probably.
Hey, Ryan, there's a pattern.
Let's see if CSU can ID it.
Is there a problem?
Oh, no. Sorry.
It's just that word, "pattern."
Jenny and I, we're still registering for the wedding.
China, silverware, stemware--
sheets, not to mention...
CSU, imprint, got it.
Yo.
I'm pretty sure I got a cause of death.
You mean besides massive blood loss?
Gunshots.
Neighbors heard a pair go off at 6:40 this morning.
6:40? Are you sure?
Uh, positive. Why?
Because Ryan's witnesses saw a van
racing outta here at 7:00.
Who would kill someone, wait for them to bleed out,
and then take their body?
I guess that rules out quick-strike assassin squad.
An imprint in the blood is your best lead?
Well, based on stitching, CSU determined
that the briefcase is an Underwood,
which is pricey, and only two local shops sell them.
They're giving us customer information.
Sounds like a long shot at best.
We're waiting on tire tread analysis,
and detective Ryan is overseeing the review
of over 50 security cameras looking for that van.
What about the victim? Any closer to an ID?
Based on blood,
Dr. Parish determined that our victim is a male.
So we're looking for missing persons reports
of men in that area.
Men? You've narrowed the victim pool down to men?
Uh, well, in New York City,
that actually eliminates over four million women, so...
Mr. Castle, I don't know what the mayor sees in you,
but I know how you're alike.
He's term-limited.
Maybe if I sent her flowers--
No. No.
So an investigation without a body...
that's kinda new, right?
You know, there have been murder investigations
where authorities haven't found the body.
Yeah, but i-in those cases,
they still know who the victim is.
Father of four disappears on fishing trip,
blood found in family garage.
Where do you start
when you don't know who the victim is?
You...
uh...
you--you--you know, you could...
We really need to find the body, don't we?
Yeah. Pretty much.
I may be able to help.
Security cam footage near the alley
clocked three vans that matched our witnesses' description,
two Astros and an Econoline.
It's the Econoline.
- Tire tread analysis just came back. - You get plates?
Yeah, the Econoline is registered to a PW storage.
It's only six blocks from our crime scene.
All right. Let's go.
Plates match.
Beckett.
Door.
Ready?
What the hell?
What's in these things?
I don't know.
Judging from the size of 'em,
you'd almost expect there'd be...
- People! - Jeez.
They're people.
They look frozen.
What the hell is this place?
Sync by YYeTs, corrections by Alex1969 www.addic7ed.com
Who are they all?
Does anyone else have the sudden urge
to run through the streets, screaming "They're here"?
Yeah, this is detective Beckett.
- I need every CSU tech-- - Movement.
Movement, 10:00.
NYPD! Show us your hands!
Don't shoot! Don't shoot!
- Now! - Now!
Turn around.
We're just doing our job.
Killing and freezing people is your job?
No. He was already dead when we arrived to pick him up.
We work for Passageway, a cryonics company.
- Cryonics. - Turn around.
That explains the roomful of human popsicles.
They all have contracts with us.
We cryopreserve them.
To be brought back to life
in a science-fiction future where death has a cure.
Think they can put me under till the wedding?
How did you know he was dead before we did?
He was wearing a bio-watch
with a pulse monitor and GPS.
We're notified immediately when a client's pulse stops.
We were there in 15 minutes.
That explains the timeline problem.
Even if that's true, what were you thinking,
moving a shooting victim?
Why didn't you call 9-1-1?
We couldn't wait.
In cryonics, every minute counts.
We had to get him frozen as quickly as possible
t-to keep his brain alive.
His brain isn't alive. It's dead. He's dead.
That's a matter of opinion.
Dr. Ari Weiss,
CEO of Passageway.
This is my attorney, Johnny Rosen.
I imagine you have many questions.
Yeah, starting with who's the murder victim
you took from my crime scene?
His name is Lester Hamilton--
a biology professor at Hudson university.
- Can you call it in? - I'm on it.
He also happens to be
an old friend from Harvard medical school.
It's ironic he died so young.
Why is that?
He conducted cutting-edge research
developing life-extension techniques.
Not that it did him any good.
So he worked with you?
No.
Lester focused on how to extend life before death.
I created Passageway in order to preserve the hope
of future life, after death.
You got any celebrities in here?
Ted Williams?
Jack Frost?
We don't discuss our clients.
Well, you're gonna have to discuss this one.
Lester Hamilton was murdered,
and my ME will be taking custody of his body
as soon as she gets here.
Detective, our client-- Professor Hamilton--
has an iron-clad agreement with Passageway
to have his body cryopreserved upon his death.
Short of a court order, he's not going anywhere.
And any attempt to take him would constitute
tortious interference,
and we would sue you and the NYPD into oblivion.
Okay. Got it.
DA won't back us up on this one.
They say that the case law is murky.
I'll say it's murky.
A life-extension researcher is killed,
then a shadowy cryonics company absconds with the body?
This has all the hallmarks of a vast
and insidious conspiracy.
I'm still trying to figure out how to explain it to Gates.
They steal our victim and then threaten to sue us?
Sir, it's a legal chicken-and-egg problem.
Since Hamilton's body is on private property,
we can't get it without a warrant,
but it's gonna be tough to get a warrant,
because without the body,
we can't even prove he was murdered.
You get that doublespeak from their counsel?
No, sir. My mother was a lawyer.
Anyway, trust me
this is the argument that they will make.
Okay. Then where are we?
Well, the cryonics technician said that
Hamilton was shot twice in the chest.
They turned over his clothes,
and based on the holes in the shirt,
it--it looks like it was a large-caliber bullet.
There's still money in his wallet,
suggesting it wasn't a random mugging.
Well, what about the briefcase?
Technician said that there wasn't a briefcase at the scene.
I called up Hamilton's wife.
She was adamant that he left the apartment this morning
with a briefcase in hand.
She's on her way in right now with a--
a Dr. Philip Boyd.
He's a colleague of Mr. Hamilton's.
Yes.
Hamilton's office at Hudson university
was broken in to three days ago
and his computer was smashed.
- Security never found out who did it. - Check into it.
See if you can find something campus cops missed.
Yeah.
Sounds like something in that office or briefcase
was worth killing for.
Then find out what, detective.
And get the wife to release his body.
Yes, sir.
I can't do it.
I have to honor Lester's wishes.
Mrs. Hamilton, you do understand
that without your husband's body,
we might not be able to solve his murder?
If preservation is discontinued,
he's gonna be gone forever.
With all due respect, he already is gone forever.
Lester would dispute that.
He and I have been colleagues at Hudson for 20 years now.
And, uh, he's a true believer.
For him, the keys to life extension,
to reversing death itself, were within reach,
so he would never give up his chance at revival.
Do you know why he chose to focus on life extension?
We fell madly in love with each other.
He told me that one lifetime together wasn't enough.
He wanted more.
So do I.
Mrs. Hamilton, we think that whoever killed your husband
might have stolen his briefcase.
Do you know what was in it?
His research for the Ambrosia project.
He always had it with him.
Ambrosia as in
the food Greek gods ate to achieve immortality?
And what was the Ambrosia project exactly?
Philip, how would you explain it?
Well, it's a little outside my wheelhouse,
but Lester was developing
pharmaceutical implants that cause the body
to produce young cells instead of aging ones.
He expected it to extend
the human lifespan by ten years.
A treatment like that would be worth a fortune to Big Pharma.
Billions.
Though most of the money would have gone to Beau Randolph.
Beau Randolph?
The guy behind "College Girls Gone Crazy"?
Mm-hmm.
How is...
How is a porn mogul connected to all this?
Us researchers take our funding where we can get it.
Randolph made a killing in porn,
and now he fancies himself a venture capitalist.
He is funding Lester's research, you know?
He was. Lester cut all ties with him.
And why is that?
Lester wanted to take an open-source approach--
publish his research online,
and then develop it with his peers to speed up the process.
And that way, no one could hold a patent on the results.
And how did Randolph feel about that?
Oh, they had awful fights about it,
but Lester was adamant.
In fact,
he was supposed to upload the data today.
When did your husband
and Mr. Randolph have their falling out?
Three days ago.
Three days ago--that's when his office was broken in to.
Wh--
Beau Randolph is distasteful, of course, but...
Do you really think--
I think that losing billions of dollars
is motive for murder.
So not only is Beau Randolph the proud owner
of a Smith & Wesson .45 automatic...
Which is a large enough caliber
to have created that entry wound in our victim.
He also has a carry permit.
Wh--I couldn't even get a carry permit.
- How did he get one? - The hard way.
Several guys saw their girlfriends in his videos
and beat the hell out of him.
No longer jealous.
The gun still doesn't tie him to our murder.
Yeah, but this might.
A charge on our vic's credit card.
At 6:30 this morning, he bought breakfast at Medusa diner.
I talked to the waitress. Guess who was with him.
Beau Randolph.
And there was a whole lot of yelling going on.
6:30, that's 10 minutes before Hamilton was shot.
Come on, Castle.
The Ambrosia project--
it sounds like a Robert Ludlum novel
where the millionaire playboy
kills a researcher to get his hands
on the secret formula for eternal life.
Yeah, well, ten years is not eternal life.
Would you do it? Would you get the implants?
I don't think I need 'em. Huh?
I mean the...
pharmaceutical implants.
So I could live to 100 instead of 90?
No, I think I will pass.
What if you could stay the same way you are now
for the next ten years?
I don't want to stay the same.
How could you not want ten extra years?
Well, one thing I've learned
is that you never know how much time you have.
And if I thought I had more,
I just might end up wasting it.
Yeah, you're gonna need to get those implants,
otherwise, you'll get older
and ten years from now, I'll still be exactly the same.
Isn't that how you'll be anyway?
Detective Beckett.
Mr. Randolph will be right out.
Great. Thank you.
Everyone here for "Sorority Pillow Fight #7,"
come on back.
Someone needs to get these girls
clothes made of actual fabric.
Whoa. When did you become so judgmental
about practically naked women?
Since my daughter hit college age.
And there he is--
defiler of coeds.
Detective Beckett.
Beau Randolph.
Are you sure you're not here to audition
for my "Post-Docs Play Doctor" series?
No.
Then what can I do for you?
You can answer a few questions about Lester Hamilton.
Like why did you kill him?
Yeah, I was with professor Hamilton
at the diner this morning.
The only crime was how bad the food was.
Witnesses say that you fought.
That's right.
I'd sunk millions into his research,
and suddenly, he wants to give it all away?
If there's one thing internet porn has taught me,
you don't get rich by giving it away.
Is that why you killed him,
so you could secure Ambrosia
before he uploaded it for everyone to see?
That's why I walked home and called my lawyer
to issue an injunction.
The doorman said you came home at 7:10.
Sounds right.
Lester Hamilton was killed at 6:40.
That's plenty of time for you to put two in his chest
before walking home.
I didn't kill him, but I know who did.
Do you really?
Would you care to share?
Look, last month, the NIH rejected him for human testing.
Now I told him the setback was temporary.
But he said he was too close to a breakthrough.
And he wasn't gonna let a bunch of bureaucratic scientists
get in his way.
A week later,
I notice $100,000 missing
from the account I set up for him.
You think he went ahead with human testing without approval.
Yes...
in secret.
And then he tells me to take a hike.
I think he had that breakthrough.
I think the Ambrosia project worked.
That's a very interesting theory, Mr. Randolph.
But you still haven't told us
who you think killed Hamilton.
If he was doing illegal testing,
where were his test subjects coming from?
Hmm?
I can tell you this,
they weren't clean-cut college kids.
They're the kind of folks who don't mind needles
and are likely to possess firearms.
Here's my view, and unlike yours,
mine is based on fact.
You sunk millions of dollars into Hamilton's research,
and just as you thought
that Hamilton...
was making a breakthrough, he cut you off.
That is motive.
You have a large-caliber gun.
Hamilton just happened to have been shot
with a large-caliber gun.
That is means.
And you were seen arguing with Hamilton
ten minutes before he was killed.
That is opportunity.
It's conjecture, detective.
You have no proof.
Actually, I do.
CSU just found that your 45-caliber gun
was fired this morning.
Ouch.
You know what we call that?
The smoking gun.
Well, that had nothing to do with Hamilton.
There was a flock of pigeons on my roof this morning,
squawking,
and I was trying to sleep.
Pigeons?
That's what you're gonna go with?
Given that the only evidence you have
is frozen inside Mr. Hamilton,
yeah,
that's what I'm going with.
In the meantime,
I'd like my lawyer.
Smug, self-satisfied son of a bitch.
Yes, but with no witness to the shooting,
all we've got is a gun.
Since we can't match ballistics without the bullets,
we can't even prove it's the murder weapon.
Thank you, Mr. Castle. I know how ballistics works.
Sir, we need that body,
otherwise, we don't have a case.
I'll call the DA. I don't care if case law's murky.
We have a suspect now.
Here's the deal, boys--
the DA's office believes that we currently
have sufficient grounds to obtain a warrant
and take custody of Lester Hamilton's body
as evidence in his murder investigation.
You know we'll fight you, right?
Do you really want to risk
that case law will be established on the basis
of these extraordinary circumstances?
Case law that will limit the rights of all your clients.
Now I'm hoping that we can find another way,
but I need that body.
We can't surrender our client's chance
at a long, productive future life
because it proves inconvenient for the state.
Then I'm sure you'll be hearing from
the district attorney's office shortly.
There may be another way.
Our admittance X-rays show that Hamilton's heart
was damaged by the bullets.
So maintaining the body is no longer a priority.
Cryonics is mostly about preserving the brain.
By the time the technology exists to revive Hamilton,
we'll surely be able to regenerate our bodies.
Bottom line--
we can keep the courts out of this,
and you can have Hamilton's body immediately
if you agree to leave his head in storage
at Passageway.
Then we have a deal.
Now all we need to do
is match ballistics to Randolph's gun.
They're not a match.
What do you mean, they're not a match?
I mean, the bullets in Lester Hamilton's chest
were not fired by Beau Randolph's gun.
Are you sure?
No, I just sit down here all day and make stuff up.
Of course I'm sure.
Sorry.
Here's the ballistics report.
Randolph's gun is a .45.
Headless here was shot with a .38.
Getting that body was supposed to sew our case up
not blow it apart.
How can those bullets not match?
I have a theory, but you're not gonna like it.
You know, I'm open to anything right now.
Randolph is innocent.
Yeah, you're right. I don't like it.
Randolph can't be the only one who wanted Hamilton's research.
Maybe a competing life-extension researcher?
Maybe. I'm gonna call his wife up...
and see what she knows.
Alexis?
Yeah, she's spinning out.
She's never not gotten something she set her sights on.
Do you mind if I--
No, no. You should be with her now.
- You're sure? - Yeah, Castle.
I think I can manage without you for a few hours.
Right. Don't look so happy about it.
Hey. Yo, Ryan. What's up, man? Where you been?
Down at the college,
running down that break-in in Hamilton's office.
- So listen to this... - Mm-hmm.
What the hell is this?
That, my friend, is Beau Randolph's alibi.
A dead pigeon?
CSU found it on the roof of his building
with a slug in its belly from his .45.
Seriously?
So Randolph really did commit murder, huh?
Yeah. Just writing him up for animal cruelty right now.
Maybe there's still time to cryonically freeze the little guy.
Hamilton's office?
Yeah.
So first off, Hudson's campus cops--
wow-- I know what we'll be doing
when we're fried and don't care anymore.
At least they bagged the evidence.
We were able to pull prints off Hamilton's smashed computer.
They match one of his students-- an Eddie Peck.
Straight A's, no record.
Then what was he doing breaking in to Hamilton's office, breaking his computer?
Well, tell me if this answers your question.
His father is a lead researcher at Smith & Briar Pharmaceuticals.
Big pharma.
Young Peck stole Hamilton's research for his dad.
That look familiar, Peck?
It should. Had your prints all over it.
We know you broke in to Hamilton's office.
What were you looking for?
It wasn't supposed to turn out this way, I swear.
I just--I didn't want to be a disappointment.
To who, your father?
You did this for him, didn't you?
You don't know what he's like.
- What did you do with the research? - What research?
Professor Hamilton's, the Ambrosia project.
It was inside his briefcase,
and that's why you killed him, isn't it?
Killed him? No, no.
I asked him to change my grade.
Excuse me?
I met this girl--Suzy--at the beginning of the semester.
I'd never been in love before, but I fell hard, man.
When I wasn't with her,
all I could do was daydream about her, you know?
What the hell are you talking about?
What does your love life have to do with any of this?
'Cause of Suzy, I didn't study for
professor Hamilton's midterm. I got an "F."
We don't get F's in my family,
especially in bio? My father would kill me.
So I broke in to Hamilton's office
and tried to change the grade in his computer,
but I didn't know his password.
I got frustrated and threw it against the wall.
Don't you lie to me, Peck.
Hamilton's grade report said you got an "A" on his midterm.
That's 'cause after class the next day,
I followed him, tried to work up the courage
to beg him to change my grade.
But before I could, we were in this scary neighborhood,
and he went into this seedy hotel.
And what was he doing there?
I don't know.
But he came out, like, an hour later,
and when he saw me, he totally wigged.
Like eyes-popping-out- of-his-head crazy.
He--he offered to change my "F" to an "A"
in exchange for me never telling anyone he was there.
This hotel have a name?
The 130th Street Inn.
That little beady-eyed guy in 24, a big-time scientist?
Get out.
How long had he been coming here?
Ah, booked his room solid for the last month.
Paid cash.
What was he doing here for a month?
Sweet pea, this is a "don't ask, don't tell" hotel.
So you didn't ask, but could you tell?
Little dude made a big deal
about no one ever going into his room for any reason,
not even to clean.
Ah, I figured he had a blow-up doll collection or something.
Whoa.
This some boy-in-the-plastic-bubble thing or what?
I'll tell you something, I am not cleaning this up.
Please stay back, ma'am.
Twist my arm.
Dude, there better not be body parts in there.
Just...
Scalpels...
Drill.
Is that a laser?
Lidocaine. That's an anesthetic.
Syringes?
It's an operating room, bro.
Who the hell was Hamilton operating on, and why here?
His Ambrosia project.
He said he was on the verge of a major breakthrough
but got turned down for human testing.
Looks like Beau Randolph was right.
Hamilton decided not to wait.
Who would sign up for an illegal experimentation
of an untested surgical procedure?
Oh, I don't know. If it'd make you feel better, live longer,
hell, I'd give it a try.
Though not in a sleazy hotel. I need five stars.
Any sign of Alexis this morning?
Oh. No.
When I got home last night, she was sacked out on the couch.
I had to carry her up to bed. That's the first time in years.
Poor baby.
She hasn't been herself since getting that rejection.
Hey, sweetheart. What's in the box?
My life of lies.
I'm throwing it all out.
Oh, honey, all your awards? You worked hard for these.
Did I?
Half of them are participation trophies.
Super-pee-wee soccer.
You remember the time...
you scored a goal off your head, and you didn't even realize it?
And I got a trophy for that?
We didn't even win a single game.
Oh, come on. You weren't supposed to keep score.
Yeah? Well, Stanford keeps score.
Some of these awards are for actual achievements--
Franklin middle school spelling bee champ,
Marlowe prep French award.
The one I wanted was Stanford.
Sweetheart, I-I know Ashley is going to Stanford--
This has nothing to do with Ashley!
It's me, dad! I'm a failure!
Hey, just because you didn't get into one school
does not make you a failure.
But you are gonna have to accept
that you didn't get in and move on.
How?
I just wanted to give her the childhood I never had.
Maybe I overprotected her.
You gave her a great childhood, Castle.
It's not a bad thing.
Not if she's incapable of handling rejection.
Look, we all get our hearts broken eventually.
Just give her some time. She'll find her way.
As long as she doesn't end up auditioning for Beau Randolph.
So any word on what was going on
in Hamilton's hotel of horrors?
Lanie's running test results on the bloody instruments,
but so far, it looks like at least one test subject
wasn't pleased with the results.
CSU found that note in the hotel.
"You told me this would work. I trusted you."
Looks like Beau Randolph was right.
Hamilton was doing human testing.
Looks like it didn't go as planned.
Maybe Frankenstein's monster
came back and killed Frankenstein.
No luck ID'ing the note's author.
The only prints CSU found in the room were Hamilton's.
What about Hamilton's wife?
We checked with her, his colleagues,
and his students.
No one even knew he was doing any secret research.
Well, someone knew about it. Canvass around the hotel.
There's a big homeless population in the area.
Maybe that's where he got his subjects.
You know, I don't get Hamilton
on a character level.
Why would he risk
his reputation, his safety, to do illegal testing...
in some flophouse?
I mean, he was ready to give away his research,
so it wasn't the money.
Why was he in such a big rush?
Lanie's got the DNA results.
So the labs tell us who Hamilton's test subjects were?
Preliminary DNA results
from the needles and the drill show the DNA
is all from the same person--
Lester Hamilton.
So Lester wasn't doing the procedures on someone else.
- Someone was doing them to him. - Well--
And he decided to put his money where his mouth was,
using himself as a test subject.
But then who was doing the procedures on him?
And how did it even get him killed?
Can I just--
Maybe the treatment was a success.
Hamilton realized he was on the cusp
- of a revolutionary life-extension breakthrough-- - Oh, my gosh--
Could you be--
Guys!
Hold up.
Stop doing that thing you do for one second.
Thank you.
Now all of the theorizing is cute as usual.
But we've got a problem.
How so?
The Ambrosia project implant is supposed to be in the patient's arm.
I checked his arms, in fact,
I checked every inch of Hamilton's body.
There were no intrusions or wounds anywhere.
I don't understand. I thought you said the needles had his DNA.
They do.
And his brain matter, too.
So whatever they were doing, they were doing to his head?
Which is the only part of Hamilton's body
that you haven't checked yet.
Get me his head,
and I can tell you what this is all about.
We had an agreement.
That was before, when Mr. Hamilton's head
wasn't relevant to this case.
- Now it is. - Please.
Dr. Weiss, I have a warrant,
and you're welcome to read it.
I know it's legal, but think of Lester Hamilton's wishes.
His wishes right now
come second to this murder investigation.
Now open the door.
I'll be as minimally invasive as possible, Dr. Weiss.
Any invasion at all will destroy memory,
personality, vital functions.
Oh, my God.
What is it?
It's gone.
The thermal storage unit should be right there.
You gotta be kidding me.
Are you saying, you lost his head?
I don't understand.
How does my husband's head just go missing?
That's what we're trying to figure out, Mrs. Hamilton.
Do you have any idea who could have operated on him
at the 130th Street Inn?
I already told detective Beckett,
I don't know anything about that.
Now I need to find him immediately.
I need to make sure that his wishes are being respected.
I understand, and I promise you
that we are doing everything that we possibly can--
What about Dr. Weiss? He's in charge over there.
Have you spoken to him?
Detective Beckett is with him right now.
I'm just as concerned about Hamilton's head
as you are, detective.
There must have been a break-in at our storage facility.
A break-in? Really? Is that what you're going with?
We've never had anything like this happen to one of our clients.
It's the only thing that makes any sense.
No, I will tell you what makes sense, Dr. Weiss.
Either you're part of a cover-up,
or you're a murderer,
or both.
What? W-why would I kill anyone?
I have a family.
Well, then did you take them into consideration
when you colluded in moving a body
from a murder scene.
That was a one-in-a-million circumstance,
and everyone ended up getting what they needed.
Then why is it, at every step of this investigation,
you have gotten in my way?
Hamilton ends up dead and in your custody.
The DA's about to turn over the body to me,
and you negotiate to keep the head.
I get a warrant for the head,
and suddenly, it ends up missing.
The only thing I'm guilty of is trying to protect
Lester Hamilton's desire to be cryopreserved.
I don't know anything about his murder.
Please check with my company.
There must have been a break-in.
What's up?
Turns out there was a break-in
at the Passageway storage facility
in the middle of the night.
No way. And they took the head?
Security video. Just watch.
Last night, 3:32 A.M.
Hamilton's storage container?
Yep.
Who the hell's that?
Hamilton's dear friend and colleague.
Dr. Boyd.
NYPD. Open up, Boyd.
I don't think he's opening up.
- He went out the window to the fire escape. - Yeah, you think?
Just excited.
He's got the head. Beckett, he's got the head.
I can see that!
Dr. Boyd, stop!
Oh! Oh, oh, no!
Oh!
Talk about taking a header.
Ow!
Oh! Ow!
I'll get the head.
Get up.
I got it! I got Hamilton's head.
I think it's okay.
You are under arrest
for the murder of Lester Hamilton.
I didn't kill him.
I was trying to save his life.
He's gonna be fine.
That's a relief.
Why would anyone steal a head?
So, Dr. Boyd, it seems we caught you red-handed.
I didn't kill him.
Well, then why did you steal his head?
Did you miss him?
We know about your operating room at 130th street,
and you were doing surgery on Hamilton's head,
but it had nothing to do with life extension.
So either you tell me about it,
or we take the head back and we find out on our own.
He came to me a month ago,
complaining about severe headaches.
An MRI showed
that he had stage IV glioblastoma.
A brain tumor?
Inoperable, untreatable--
he only had a few months to live.
Well, then why did he go to you?
Why didn't he go to a hospital?
Because as a scientist,
he knew the limits of current therapies,
and he was familiar with my work--
nanoparticle genetic therapy.
English.
Targeted treatment of tumors.
I'm years away from human testing, but...
he was my best friend.
How could I say no to him?
So you set up shop at the hotel to keep it secret.
If anyone found out,
I'd lose my tenure,
my funding, reputation.
We couldn't even risk using existing operating suites.
Lester swore he wouldn't even tell Cynthia.
And then he got the money from Beau Randall's fund
in order to get you your supplies.
Yeah.
I did...
Five procedures over the month.
And was he getting better?
No.
A few days before he was killed,
I did an MRI that showed that the tumor was...
still growing.
The treatment had failed.
A brain tumor? That's why Hamilton wanted
to put his project online--
in hopes that someone would finish his research.
Yeah, I've got Esposito running down Boyd's alibi
just in case.
Alexis?
What's wrong?
Everything.
How do you do it, dad?
Do what?
Well, that letter that you have
framed in your office.
- My first manuscript rejection. - Yeah.
How can you stand having it there?
Because it drives me.
And I got 20 more of those before Black Pawn
ever agreed to publish "In A Hail of Bullets."
That letter...
That letter reminds me of what I've overcome.
Rejection isn't failure.
It sure feels like failure.
No, failure is giving up.
Everybody gets rejected.
It's how you handle it that determines where you'll end up.
My whole life has been about making sure
I could get into any college I wanted.
What's it about now?
Give it time.
You'll figure it out.
Whew.
She okay?
Were any of us at that age?
Nah, it'll suck until it doesn't.
Yeah, well, speaking of sucking,
Boyd alibied out.
He was at a department breakfast
the morning that Hamilton was killed.
I mean, we caught the guy with our victim's head.
99 times out of 100,
you catch someone with a guy's head,
he killed the guy.
Yeah. Well, Boyd also provided
the MRIs of Hamilton's head.
Lanie confirmed that the tumor
would've ravaged his brain in a couple of months.
So in an odd way, he got lucky.
How so?
Well, Dr. Weiss said that cryonics
was all about preserving the brain.
If Hamilton had lived, his brain would've been destroyed.
Cryonic preservation wouldn't have been an option.
So then our killer inadvertently
saved him for the future.
Unless...
"One lifetime together wasn't enough."
That's our motive.
Maybe it wasn't so inadvertent.
Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Hamilton.
I understand that you've already spoken
with Dr. Boyd.
Yes.
It's a lot to process.
Yeah.
How can I help you?
Well, we were hoping that you could shed
some light on some evidence
that just came in.
What's that?
Your husband's computer, the one his student smashed?
The tech people here
managed to recover a list of recent downloads.
Included on that list
was Passageway's contract termination form.
Any idea why your husband would download that?
No.
Well, it must be a mistake.
Actually, the tech assured us
that the download list was clean.
Are you sure he didn't say anything to you about that?
Because the best I can come up with
is that your husband decided that
working on his research until his brain gave out
was more important to him
than cryonically preserving himself.
But you disagreed with him, didn't you, Mrs. Hamilton?
How could I disagree with him
when I didn't even know about the tumor?
I think you did know,
and that's why you killed him.
So he would be preserved for the future
before his brain was ravaged.
After shooting him, you took his briefcase.
This is insane.
It's just wild conjecture.
Actually, it's not.
You got rid of the gun, of course.
But we found your husband's briefcase
hidden in your building's basement.
There were traces of your husband's blood on it.
I gave him that briefcase...
When we got engaged.
I couldn't just leave it behind.
I had known for weeks
that there was something wrong,
but Lester said it was just stress.
And then a couple of nights ago,
he passed out when he was getting ready for bed.
Then he told me the truth.
But...
he wasn't in his right mind.
He was too concerned about his research.
I needed to protect
our future.
Our eternity together.
It's what we always dreamed of.
So, detective, would you consider this
to be a crime of passion?
I would consider this a crime of love.
Nice.
Though that would depend
on whether Cynthia Hamilton was in love or insane.
Well, sometimes there's a fine line between the two.
Oh, Dr. Weiss.
I have your release forms ready to go.
I'm grateful, detective. Castle.
So I'll just need you to sign down there at the bottom,
and the charges against you
and your employees at Passageway
will officially be dropped by the department.
I'm happy to put this behind us.
- Excuse me. - Yeah.
It's a bio-watch signal. A client has just flatlined.
Well, that's strange. What is it?
The signal--
it's coming from inside this building.
The ring on her right hand.
Cyanide pill.
Detective Beckett,
permission to have my technicians
come and get her?
Yes, of course.
Wouldn't it be something if they reunited
a hundred, even a thousand years from now?
Well, anything's possible.
You really believe that?
That's what the great love stories are about, right,
beating the odds?
I hope they make it.
Me, too.
Sync by YYeTs, corrections by Alex1969 www.addic7ed.com