stop! stop! suspect's heading north, at 719 medium! we need backup! we need backup now! woman: so, what'll it be? don't worry about it, champ. your agent's taking care of it. delko: 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! agent: 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! brady: i told you, endorsements aren't my focus. no, thanks. can i get your autograph? ♪

♪ (panting) (passing horn honking) stop! stop! mdpd! stop! (passing horn honking) (frustrated grunt) delko: mdpd! out of the way! out of the way! move! move! move! stop! (over radio): officers in pursuit. suspect on the 1200 block of collington east towards... look out! look out! (passing horn honks) requesting assistance.

stop! stop! wolfe: it's a dead end! delko: you've got nowhere to run! delko: ryan, no! (panting) (grunts) you're an idiot. i almost made it. (gun hammer cocks) eric? i got him, h! (grunts) you can't outrun this. ♪ yeah! captioning sponsored by cbs c.s.i. productions

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(siren wailing) onlooker: i heard it's someone famous. i heard it's a celebrity. brady: wait. stop the car, man! delko: 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 have a banner day with this: "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. tripp: 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. (indistinct radio transmission) no, brady, you did this. (lively chatter nearby) let's go, frank. (camera shutters clicking) (indistinct radio transmissions) simmons: dr. mercier! (chuckles) 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. simmons: 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? boa vista: yeah, kristen banks. she's one of the bottle girls here. bottle girl. most dangerous job in south beach, no offense. simmons: 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. hmm. so, what do you think? think she actually drowned? mercier: there's fluid in her lungs. could it have been an accident? not with this. (boa vista groans) she has double lividity. mercier: died on her back, flipped her to her front. we're in hinksville. population: one. (shutter clicking) (thudding nearby)

(thudding continues) ♪ hey... guys. i got a cell phone here. could belong to our vic. damn, it's waterlogged. could take hours to dry out.

boa vista: maybe not. does anybody know where the ladies' room is? (dryer whirring) (whirring continues) 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. (laughing) (beep) oh, look at that-- it actually worked! this is definitely kristen's phone. when was the last contact? (beeping) let's see. hmm. that's kind of weird, there's no texts. but the last phone call was to sara walker... (beeping) ...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. um... 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. (phone ringing) (beep) sara. how'd you get those scrapes on your arm? my son-- he, he, um, he really hates sunscreen. look, i... (sighs) i really have to go. we'll talk soon, okay? yeah, thanks. delko: 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. wolfe: come on. come on, get in here. lift your arms.

(device beeping) 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. (beeping) (cell phone rings)

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? (sighs) 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?

when i know how you figured in to kristen's death. we went around the country asking women to speak frankly about something no one wants to talk about. it's time to get real about what happens in the bathroom. stop all the cutesy stuff. and start talking about what you really want from your toilet paper. it's time to talk about clean. feeling clean is so important. quilted northern soft & strong is now 50% stronger than the leading rippled brand, to help protect against breakthrough. for myself, for my family. it keeps us clean. i use quilted northern. quilted northern soft & strong. protection for a confident clean or your money back.

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travers: i've been testing the stomach contents the m.e. sent up here. it's champagne. huh. 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... (clears throat) 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. (scoffs) sara: 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. ellison: sure... uh, i can't. i can't implicate anyone. the guys who go to the dorset are very powerful people. ellison: sara! sara? drinks? caine: sara. i-i have to go. i understand. sara. boas vista: 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.

delko: 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. (garbled radio transmission) (camera shutter clicking) 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. (choking) 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. (gasps)

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. (laughs) 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. agent: 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! (panting) 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. chip: she's dead. you call the cops, you go from number one draft pick to number one murder suspect. (breathing heavily): 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. wolfe: 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.

(speed-dialing) (phone ringing) 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. amanda: what's with...? (beep) actually might have just given us a timeline for when kristen began dying. when the confetti was released. midnight.