Post by cellogal on Aug 21, 2008 13:27:12 GMT -5
December 26, 1999
Customer-service line at Big Box Mart, or some similar retail establishment, where Wham’s “Last Christmas” plays in the background. Man, return lines are the absolute last place I want to be the day after Christmas. Eek. Employees busily work to accept returns.
In a separate place, someone works, equally busily, assembling what looks suspiciously like a bomb. This can’t be good.
Back at Big Box Mart, a young employee ‘s attention is diverted by an attractive female employee, and he goes over to talk to her, asking her if the customers are bothering her. She complains that they’re rude, and wants to know what’s up with the music, since Christmas is over. She’s got a point. The guy’s surprised the girl isn’t hanging out in the back room with the rest of them; she smiles and says she doesn’t smoke, since it makes her hair smell. The guy then asks her if she’s got anything going back to the manufacturers in China. She gives him a blank look, and he asks her, incredulously, if she’s never played the China game. She doesn’t know what that is, so he explains it: first one to find something not made in China wins. They start combing through products, all of which are Made In China. She finds something Made In Taiwan; the guy says that’s the same thing. Oh, it so isn’t.
Meanwhile, the bomb guy has finished and is putting his creation into an ornate box of some sort.
Back at the store, the girl is noticing that, like, everything’s made in China, and that it’s kinda sad, then asks him if anything’s made here anymore. “There’s me,” the guy says, “you, and, depending on how many kids we have…” Uh-oh. Back away, not today. The girl instantly shuts down, telling the guy that he’s sweet, but she’s got a boyfriend. Undeterred, he says it’s all right, he’s got time. Uh-oh. Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that he doesn’t? The guy heads to the back room with a cart full of returned products, including…oh, snap…the ornate box, which turns out to be a cheerfully tinkling music box. He goes through the double doors at the back and then…ka-blam. There’s a huge explosion.
In the evidence warehouse, a TV reporter chirps about the post-Christmas bombing that killed Curt Fitzpatrick, telling viewers that authorities are still looking for any information, while a detective places Curt’s box on the shelf.
Present day
Gym locker room, where we see the aftermath of another explosion. Stillman explains to Lilly that a pipe bomb was placed in one of the open gym lockers; half a dozen injured, and one critically, whom Lilly surmises is the guy who opened the locker. Stillman confirms this, saying the victim’s name is John Wojciechowski, which, thanks to subtitles, I am able to spell. Stillman goes on to say that they found the guy’s left hand embedded in the opposite wall, with his Air Force Academy ring still on it. Eegads. That was an unnecessarily graphic tidbit. “A pilot?” Lilly asks. “Not anymore,” Vera remarks drily.
A CSU is examining the rubble, and…it’s Louie! Hi, Louie! He tells Lilly it was an IED, “nasty little b*tch in a box.” Lilly’s not sure what he means, so Louie explains, for the benefit of those who have never, ever, watched a minute of world news coverage in the last seven years, which apparently includes Lilly, that an IED is an Improvised Explosive Device, and this particular one is a trip-wire triggered pipe bomb enclosed in some sort of wooden box. Stillman adds that the bomb was packed with screws, nails, and other assorted pieces of scrap metal, and Vera proclaims it a junk bomb. Lilly points out that this isn’t exactly a cold job, and Stillman explains that it may be related to at least two, maybe three prior bombings. Louie enumerates them: a Big Box Electronics bombing in 1999, an engineering firm in 2001, and a county hospital two years later, all with the same MO. Lilly recalls that there hasn’t been a bombing fatality in Philadelphia in five years, and Stillman says they thought the guy who did this one was locked up or long gone. “Or killed himself?” Vera asks, and Louie concurs, saying it often happens to people who play with explosives. “Or who go to the gym in the morning,” Vera adds. Lilly asks if the Feds ever looked into it; Stillman says they looked, but never found a link. The attacks were local and never used the mail, so there was no federal jurisdiction. Vera asks if there was any link between the targets, and Louie says it seems pretty indiscriminate. Vera then reaches the disturbing conclusion that they have no idea what this lunatic wants, or where he’s going to hit next. “Just that he’s alive and well,” Stillman says. “And back with a vengeance,” Lilly concludes.
Credits.
Bedroom, where we get the brief, but entirely welcome surprise of a not completely dressed Scotty, who’s hunting around in the bed for something. The beauty of the moment is ruined completely when ADA Thomas comes in with a giant mug of coffee and wearing Scotty’s shirt. He tells her he was just looking for that shirt, and she makes a comment about beginning to think he was a vampire, since this is the first time he’s stayed until sunup. I’m beginning to wonder why he bothered staying this time, as she is about the last thing I’d want to see first thing in the morning. Scotty sits down on the bed next to her and says he’s not sure how much longer they’re going to be able to keep this on the down low, since people are talking. She sounds disgusted and asks who, and Scotty snarks that he’s never met a DA afraid of publicity. She laughs and tells him that it depends what kind; “lady’s got a reputation, you know.” Yes, and yours is Scotty’s Latest Ill-Advised And Hopefully Short-Lived Love Interest. Scotty, to my horror, says he was just thinking about making an honest woman out of her; she tells him to get real and points out that he hasn’t even bought her breakfast yet. He suggests dinner, saying he knows the perfect place. Oh, Scotty. As your paramour just said, get real. ADA Thomas has similar sentiments, saying she was kind of enjoying the sneaking-around stage. Dinner, she points out, might involve having a real conversation. “Well, that’s why they invented wine,” Scotty replies. Oh, dude. If you have to get drunk to have a real conversation, this is definitely not a match made in heaven. ADA Thomas flirtatiously asks him if he’s sure he wants to spoil it, just when things were going so well. “We’re adults,” Scotty says, taking an uncertain sip of coffee from another laughably gigantic coffee mug, “I’m sure we’ll find something to talk about.” Uh-huh. “You mean besides dirtbags and doers?” she replies. Scotty apparently decides to hold off on trying to have a real conversation until he’s got that wine in front of him, because his response to this is to tell ADA Thomas he needs to requisition that shirt. Blecchh.
Squad room. Kat tells Jeffries that initial forensics confirm that the bomb contained parts consistent with the three other attacks, and Jeffries adds the casualty toll: two dead, two critically maimed over a nine-year period. They lament that the Feds are neither willing to help nor share information, and Stillman isn’t surprised, then asks for the locations and victims. They are: Big Box Electronics back in 1999, which killed Curt Fitzpatrick, a 21-year-old floor manager who died on the scene; Kinetic Core Engineering in 2001, which blinded Eugene Schmidt, a 42-year-old father of three, and a bombing at the county hospital in 2003 which killed 30-year-old physician’s assistant Roderick Poole, and now the gym and John Wojciechowski, an engaged commercial airline pilot. There’s no common denominator except wrong place wrong time, Kat observes, and Stillman theorizes that it could be the locations the bomber’s after; since they’re all public places with a lot of foot traffic, he may want to take out as many victims as possible. “One angry sociopath,” Kat comments. Stillman asks if the bomb construction tells us anything, and Jeffries says there’s a trigger mechanism, so the bomber isn’t some garden-variety crackpot mixing fertilizer and ammonia. I’m not sure Tim McVeigh counts as a “garden-variety crackpot,” but I digress. Kat says the bomb squad is reconstructing the explosives, and Stillman, noting that they have a fresh crime scene for once, asks if they’ve lined up interview with all the witnesses. They have, Kat says, except the cleaning crew at the gym; the night manager seems to be stonewalling. Jeffries thinks he’s afraid since many of his employees are illegals, and Kat says they should threaten to bring in ICE and shut him down if he doesn’t give them every last name. Stillman urges them to keep this in-house, since they don’t need the Feds coming in to muck things up. Jeffries then says that the hospital called; the pilot’s out of surgery, and Stillman says that, after he sees his family, anything he can remember will help.
Wojciechowski’s hospital room. John tells Lilly that it was like a thunderclap, and he didn’t know what hit him. Lilly sympathizes with him, saying she knows it was hard, but anything he can remember might help. John tells her that everything just went blank; he came to and was on the ground and reached down to prop himself up, but couldn’t. He says he and Jen just bought their wedding rings, too. Lil asks him if he saw anyone suspicious in the area beforehand who looked out of place or didn’t belong; he didn’t, then tells her that when he got his hearing back, there was this awful ringing, and he heard a whistling sound. With all the chaos, he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
Locker room. John lies bleeding on the floor; amid alarm bells and shouting voices, he sees a man walking away slowly, whistling a tune I can’t quite place.
John knows he was going into shock, but swears he heard somebody whistling. “Who the hell would do that?” he asks. Lilly asks him if he got a look at that guy, and he didn’t; not a good one, anyway. She asks him if the song sounded familiar; not really, he says. He asks if she thinks it was the guy who did this to him, and she says it’s possible that the bomber stayed nearby to see if it worked. John angrily instructs Lilly that, if she catches him, to tell that bastard that he’s still alive. Go, John.
Interview room, where a Hispanic man sits at the table. Behind the glass, Jeffries explains to Scotty that their subject is Angel Perez, a Mexican illegal, and a night janitor at the sports club. Scotty asks where Jeffries found him, and Jeffries says it was Saks Park, and he tried to escape when they IDed him. He adds that Angel is pretty upset right now, and doesn’t speak a word of English. “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Scotty says, confident that he speaks a language Angel can understand.
Scotty goes in and greets Angel in Spanish, then asks him, in English, why he ran from the police. No answer. Scotty tries Spanish again, and Angel merely gives him a blank look. Scotty’s figured out the game: Angel doesn’t speak English, but he doesn’t understand Scotty’s Spanish. Maybe not, but it sure is pretty. Scotty sits down and tells Angel that he’s got a cousin who works in ICE, so if Angel doesn’t spill everything he saw in the next ten seconds, they bounce his sorry ass onto the next bus to the border. He then pulls out his phone and starts to dial. “Oye, Jorgito,” Scotty says cheerfully into the phone, and that’s when Angel finally speaks, saying, in pretty darn good English, that he understands. Scotty tells “Jorgito” to hold on a sec, then listens to what Angel has to say. It’s not what he saw, he says; it’s what he heard.
Locker room. Angel’s cleaning out the lockers, and on a top shelf, he spies that wooden music box. He opens it, and it immediately begins playing the same tune that the guy in John’s flashback was whistling. John comes in then, and Angel puts the box back in the locker. The two men exchange a smile as Angel leaves.
“A music box?” Scotty asks incredulously, and Angel says that later, a bomb went off, possibly from the same locker, and everything went crazy. He got scared and ran, thinking it was his fault. Scotty tells Angel to sit tight, since they’re going to need him to give an exact description of that box. Angel starts to cry, but Scotty reassures him by thanking him in Spanish.
Squad room. Stillman’s as incredulous about the music box as Scotty was, but Scotty explains that it’s the kind with the brass cylinder inside; turn it, and it plays a song. Vera tells them that almost all wooden music boxes date from the turn of the century, and Stillman remarks that there can’t be too many companies still in business making those. Vera’s found one in Vermont that still supplies parts. A nice old lady there has told him that they sell cylinders that play mostly American standards, and a customer in Philly ordered multiple cylinders playing “John Henry.” Scotty says this could have been the song playing on the box, and Vera says they’ll ask the DA’s office to subpoena the purchasing records. Stillman reflects on John Henry, the steel-drivin’ man, and Scotty recalls that story from childhood: railroad guy with a hammer. Vera adds that he raced again a steam drill tunneling through a mountain, and Scotty remembers that John Henry won. “Then he keeled over and died,” Vera adds grimly, then says it meant something to the bomber. “Man versus machine?” Stillman guesses, while Scotty theorizes that he’s a disgruntled anti-government type, or maybe a militia nut job. Vera points out that this doesn’t exactly connect the locations.
ADA Thomas shows up then with the purchasing records: the buyer’s name is Carl Baxter, who paid with a credit card, and has a Mantua shipping address. Ever-helpful, she’s also gotten them a search warrant for the residence, and tells her to let her know if there’s anything else they need on this. Stillman issues instructions to call SWAT and the bomb squad.
Carl Baxter’s apartment. Louie’s secured the premises and tells the assembled detectives that there’s nobody home. “Better pray for no surprises,” Vera comments as they head in. The place is a mess, with trash everywhere, and nothing out of the ordinary except newspaper clippings about all the bombing victims. This leads Stillman to conclude that they’re not so random after all, and Lilly realizes that he was targeting individuals, not locations. Vera then spies a ten-year-old wedding announcement for a Luke and Beth Ross, and Lilly recalls that name from the gym’s member list. Vera notes that there’s no photo or anything on John Wojciechowski, leading Lilly to guess that the bomber hit the wrong guy. Stillman points out that, if that’s the case, he’s got some unfinished business. “And we just found his next target,” Vera concludes.
Squad room. Lilly says they dusted for prints and have the whole block staked out. Stillman asks if they got anything from the canvas, and Lilly says the building manager thinks Carl’s a squatter. Stillman asks about the wedding announcement, and Lilly says it’s for Luke Ross, a portfolio manager who lives in Chestnut Hill, then asks Vera what they’ve got. Vera has a music box; home entertainment system circa 1900. It has a brass cylinder, and the music is produced by metal keys that pluck a comb. He adds that the bomb squad said it was rigged to trigger the explosion. Stillman looks the cylinder over and concludes that a trip wire triggers a fuse after a full revolution. “After the song ends,” Lilly adds. Stillman theorizes that people admire the craftsmanship and want to touch the box, but as soon as they open it, it starts the song and arms the bomb. He then surmises that it takes some serious electromechanical skills to rig one of those with a pipe bomb. Lilly asks Vera about the song, and Vera tells her that “John Henry” is an underdog, David and Goliath story, and is also a protest song. “Against the machine?” Lilly asks. “Or management,” Vera adds. “Production efficiency at the expense of the worker.” Stillman reads a couple lines from the song, which express John Henry’s promise to work himself to death before letting the machine beat him down. Vera observes that John Henry did exactly that. Stillman observes that the bomber thinks his cause is noble, Vera adds that he has something to prove, and Lilly finishes by saying that he has “his own pretty little killing machine.”
Ross home. A little girl sees Jeffries’ gun and asks him if it has real bullets in it; Beth tells the girl, Mia, to go watch The Pink Panther. She reluctantly agrees and scampers off to reveal…hey! It’s Sean from Judging Amy! Actually, it’s Luke Ross, who confirms that he’s a financial planner, but has never had so much as a dispute with a client. Kat asks if anyone else he knows might be holding a grudge, and Luke denies it. Jeffries asks Beth the same question, and she remembers that one call a couple months ago, from the bank, about their credit card. Luke says it was nothing, but Beth disagrees, saying it was definitely something.
Ross home, where we hear the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Snow (Hey-O).” Beth’s on the phone, and the caller asks her if they have any recurring monthly charges on the card. She lists newspapers, a DVD rental subscription, and Luke’s monthly gym membership. The caller asks the name of the gym, and she gives it to him. He then asks if there were any additional charges to the gym that she’s aware of, and Beth says there may be charges to the juice bar. The caller asks when those charges would occur, and she says it’d be Tuesday and Thursday mornings, around 7:00. The caller thanks her, then says there are just a few more questions. He then asks if Luke’s still employed at Mutual Heritage Bank; she chirps that he is, then asks why. The caller snarks that it must be nice, making a living off the backs of others. Wait, doesn’t he claim to represent a credit card company? How is that different, exactly? The caller then creepily expresses hope that they’re enjoying their new purchases; he loves the blue curtains, by the way. Eegads. Beth, rightly creeped out, asks who it is, but all she gets is a dial tone.
Beth tells Kat the police said they couldn’t do anything about a prank call, and Kat concludes that this is how the bomber knew Luke’s routine. Luke realizes that he didn’t go to the gym yesterday; he took Mia to school, and Beth adds that she was upset by that call at the time, but to think it could have gotten Luke killed….again, eegads. Jeffries asks Luke if he knows what the caller meant about how he makes a living; Luke doesn’t. Kat says they’ll check his phone records and see if they can trace the call. Beth says she doesn’t understand why this is happening to them, and Jeffries reassures her by promising a police detail for their family.
Squad room. Kat and Scotty tell Stillman that the bomber calls his targets, posing as a credit card rep to get their daily routines, then go after them in public places to make it seem random. Kat tells him that Luke got lucky; John Wojciechowski, not so much. Stillman says that info stays here; if the press doesn’t know that the intended target was missed, maybe the bomber doesn’t either, and there’s no sense in endangering Luke. Scotty adds that the mysterious phone call was traced back to a pay phone at the 20th Street Station. Stillman instructs them to go there and check the station security cameras. ADA Thomas, who’s been standing there listening all this time, says that Carl Baxter isn’t going anywhere; she subpoenaed his credit card to get his social, and it turns out that the real Carl Baxter has been imprisoned since 1995. Oh, snap.
Frackville Prison. Carl Baxter sarcastically greets “Philly’s finest,” represented by Vera and Jeffries, and asks him if there’s a reason for the strip-search. Vera tells him it’s so he won’t spontaneously combust. Heh. Carl’s still wondering what gives, pointing out that he doesn’t use or deal meth anymore; they can ask anyone. Vera asks Carl about his former truck-driving days, and Carl says he used to go to California, the Crank Capital. Now, there’s a new tourism slogan for ‘em. He says if he hadn’t brought it in, it’d have been someone else. Jeffries reminds Carl of his military service, and Carl says the judge gave him a choice at age eighteen: Army, or jail. “Can’t say it helped much,” he shrugs. Vera asks if that’s where he learned about munitions, demolitions, explosives…when Carl denies it, Jeffries tells him they’re talking about pipe bombs. “Pipe what?” Carl asks, then remarks that the detectives are smoking some better stuff than he ever had. Heh. Jeffries, the wheels turning, asks Carl if he graduated from high school. Carl retorts that he’s working on his GED. Vera realizes the same thing Jeffries has: this isn’t their guy, then informs Carl that someone’s stolen his identity. Jeffries says they just can’t figure out why he picked Carl. Vera summons the guard, and as they’re handcuffing Carl to take him back to his cell, Vera tells them to hold up: he’s noticed the tattoos on Carl’s wrists: John Henry. Carl says they’re his two boys, all but grown up now. Eep.
Stillman’s office. Vera insists the bomber had to have picked Carl for a reason. Stillman thinks perhaps the bomber did time with Carl, but Vera and Jeffries point out that Carl’s never shared a cell, and no one on his cell block even comes close to the profile. Jeffries thinks the bomber’s leading them; trying to tell them something. “About John Henry?” Stillman asks, and Vera says Henry fought to prove that he still had value as a human being. “Protect his job, his way of life,” Jeffries adds, and Vera concludes that the bomber’s angry, lashing out at some personal beef. Stillman asks if perhaps the bomber’s lost something, but they’re interrupted by Kat, who tells them that PDOC’s webmaster has found a number of hits to Carl Baxter’s profile page, which were traced back to a local branch of the Philadelphia Public Library.
Library. A librarian tells Lilly and Kat that Mr. Baxter is there quite a bit, and is such a nice man. Kat asks if he’s on the computer, and the librarian says he is from time to time, but points to his usual table and says he mostly sits over there, reading or staring at the photos on the wall. The detectives take a look, and Kat notices one with a caption reading “John Henry Road, 1976.” Kat asks where that is, and the librarian thinks it’s in Germantown, the section with the streets named after the builders of the Pennsylvania Railroad. She only knows because Mr. Baxter told her he grew up on that block. Well, now, that’s a significant bit of random information, don’t you think?
John Henry Road, which is now deserted. Kat and Lilly check out the place, and Kat notices a sign announcing a web design firm to be constructed on a vacant lot; “Coming Soon in 2001,” it reads. Despite this announcement, it’s clear that nothing’s going up there anytime soon. Kat concludes that this is what the bomber’s been trying to tell them. “The place where he grew up,” Lilly remarks. “Gone…and forgotten.”
Customer-service line at Big Box Mart, or some similar retail establishment, where Wham’s “Last Christmas” plays in the background. Man, return lines are the absolute last place I want to be the day after Christmas. Eek. Employees busily work to accept returns.
In a separate place, someone works, equally busily, assembling what looks suspiciously like a bomb. This can’t be good.
Back at Big Box Mart, a young employee ‘s attention is diverted by an attractive female employee, and he goes over to talk to her, asking her if the customers are bothering her. She complains that they’re rude, and wants to know what’s up with the music, since Christmas is over. She’s got a point. The guy’s surprised the girl isn’t hanging out in the back room with the rest of them; she smiles and says she doesn’t smoke, since it makes her hair smell. The guy then asks her if she’s got anything going back to the manufacturers in China. She gives him a blank look, and he asks her, incredulously, if she’s never played the China game. She doesn’t know what that is, so he explains it: first one to find something not made in China wins. They start combing through products, all of which are Made In China. She finds something Made In Taiwan; the guy says that’s the same thing. Oh, it so isn’t.
Meanwhile, the bomb guy has finished and is putting his creation into an ornate box of some sort.
Back at the store, the girl is noticing that, like, everything’s made in China, and that it’s kinda sad, then asks him if anything’s made here anymore. “There’s me,” the guy says, “you, and, depending on how many kids we have…” Uh-oh. Back away, not today. The girl instantly shuts down, telling the guy that he’s sweet, but she’s got a boyfriend. Undeterred, he says it’s all right, he’s got time. Uh-oh. Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that he doesn’t? The guy heads to the back room with a cart full of returned products, including…oh, snap…the ornate box, which turns out to be a cheerfully tinkling music box. He goes through the double doors at the back and then…ka-blam. There’s a huge explosion.
In the evidence warehouse, a TV reporter chirps about the post-Christmas bombing that killed Curt Fitzpatrick, telling viewers that authorities are still looking for any information, while a detective places Curt’s box on the shelf.
Present day
Gym locker room, where we see the aftermath of another explosion. Stillman explains to Lilly that a pipe bomb was placed in one of the open gym lockers; half a dozen injured, and one critically, whom Lilly surmises is the guy who opened the locker. Stillman confirms this, saying the victim’s name is John Wojciechowski, which, thanks to subtitles, I am able to spell. Stillman goes on to say that they found the guy’s left hand embedded in the opposite wall, with his Air Force Academy ring still on it. Eegads. That was an unnecessarily graphic tidbit. “A pilot?” Lilly asks. “Not anymore,” Vera remarks drily.
A CSU is examining the rubble, and…it’s Louie! Hi, Louie! He tells Lilly it was an IED, “nasty little b*tch in a box.” Lilly’s not sure what he means, so Louie explains, for the benefit of those who have never, ever, watched a minute of world news coverage in the last seven years, which apparently includes Lilly, that an IED is an Improvised Explosive Device, and this particular one is a trip-wire triggered pipe bomb enclosed in some sort of wooden box. Stillman adds that the bomb was packed with screws, nails, and other assorted pieces of scrap metal, and Vera proclaims it a junk bomb. Lilly points out that this isn’t exactly a cold job, and Stillman explains that it may be related to at least two, maybe three prior bombings. Louie enumerates them: a Big Box Electronics bombing in 1999, an engineering firm in 2001, and a county hospital two years later, all with the same MO. Lilly recalls that there hasn’t been a bombing fatality in Philadelphia in five years, and Stillman says they thought the guy who did this one was locked up or long gone. “Or killed himself?” Vera asks, and Louie concurs, saying it often happens to people who play with explosives. “Or who go to the gym in the morning,” Vera adds. Lilly asks if the Feds ever looked into it; Stillman says they looked, but never found a link. The attacks were local and never used the mail, so there was no federal jurisdiction. Vera asks if there was any link between the targets, and Louie says it seems pretty indiscriminate. Vera then reaches the disturbing conclusion that they have no idea what this lunatic wants, or where he’s going to hit next. “Just that he’s alive and well,” Stillman says. “And back with a vengeance,” Lilly concludes.
Credits.
Bedroom, where we get the brief, but entirely welcome surprise of a not completely dressed Scotty, who’s hunting around in the bed for something. The beauty of the moment is ruined completely when ADA Thomas comes in with a giant mug of coffee and wearing Scotty’s shirt. He tells her he was just looking for that shirt, and she makes a comment about beginning to think he was a vampire, since this is the first time he’s stayed until sunup. I’m beginning to wonder why he bothered staying this time, as she is about the last thing I’d want to see first thing in the morning. Scotty sits down on the bed next to her and says he’s not sure how much longer they’re going to be able to keep this on the down low, since people are talking. She sounds disgusted and asks who, and Scotty snarks that he’s never met a DA afraid of publicity. She laughs and tells him that it depends what kind; “lady’s got a reputation, you know.” Yes, and yours is Scotty’s Latest Ill-Advised And Hopefully Short-Lived Love Interest. Scotty, to my horror, says he was just thinking about making an honest woman out of her; she tells him to get real and points out that he hasn’t even bought her breakfast yet. He suggests dinner, saying he knows the perfect place. Oh, Scotty. As your paramour just said, get real. ADA Thomas has similar sentiments, saying she was kind of enjoying the sneaking-around stage. Dinner, she points out, might involve having a real conversation. “Well, that’s why they invented wine,” Scotty replies. Oh, dude. If you have to get drunk to have a real conversation, this is definitely not a match made in heaven. ADA Thomas flirtatiously asks him if he’s sure he wants to spoil it, just when things were going so well. “We’re adults,” Scotty says, taking an uncertain sip of coffee from another laughably gigantic coffee mug, “I’m sure we’ll find something to talk about.” Uh-huh. “You mean besides dirtbags and doers?” she replies. Scotty apparently decides to hold off on trying to have a real conversation until he’s got that wine in front of him, because his response to this is to tell ADA Thomas he needs to requisition that shirt. Blecchh.
Squad room. Kat tells Jeffries that initial forensics confirm that the bomb contained parts consistent with the three other attacks, and Jeffries adds the casualty toll: two dead, two critically maimed over a nine-year period. They lament that the Feds are neither willing to help nor share information, and Stillman isn’t surprised, then asks for the locations and victims. They are: Big Box Electronics back in 1999, which killed Curt Fitzpatrick, a 21-year-old floor manager who died on the scene; Kinetic Core Engineering in 2001, which blinded Eugene Schmidt, a 42-year-old father of three, and a bombing at the county hospital in 2003 which killed 30-year-old physician’s assistant Roderick Poole, and now the gym and John Wojciechowski, an engaged commercial airline pilot. There’s no common denominator except wrong place wrong time, Kat observes, and Stillman theorizes that it could be the locations the bomber’s after; since they’re all public places with a lot of foot traffic, he may want to take out as many victims as possible. “One angry sociopath,” Kat comments. Stillman asks if the bomb construction tells us anything, and Jeffries says there’s a trigger mechanism, so the bomber isn’t some garden-variety crackpot mixing fertilizer and ammonia. I’m not sure Tim McVeigh counts as a “garden-variety crackpot,” but I digress. Kat says the bomb squad is reconstructing the explosives, and Stillman, noting that they have a fresh crime scene for once, asks if they’ve lined up interview with all the witnesses. They have, Kat says, except the cleaning crew at the gym; the night manager seems to be stonewalling. Jeffries thinks he’s afraid since many of his employees are illegals, and Kat says they should threaten to bring in ICE and shut him down if he doesn’t give them every last name. Stillman urges them to keep this in-house, since they don’t need the Feds coming in to muck things up. Jeffries then says that the hospital called; the pilot’s out of surgery, and Stillman says that, after he sees his family, anything he can remember will help.
Wojciechowski’s hospital room. John tells Lilly that it was like a thunderclap, and he didn’t know what hit him. Lilly sympathizes with him, saying she knows it was hard, but anything he can remember might help. John tells her that everything just went blank; he came to and was on the ground and reached down to prop himself up, but couldn’t. He says he and Jen just bought their wedding rings, too. Lil asks him if he saw anyone suspicious in the area beforehand who looked out of place or didn’t belong; he didn’t, then tells her that when he got his hearing back, there was this awful ringing, and he heard a whistling sound. With all the chaos, he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
Locker room. John lies bleeding on the floor; amid alarm bells and shouting voices, he sees a man walking away slowly, whistling a tune I can’t quite place.
John knows he was going into shock, but swears he heard somebody whistling. “Who the hell would do that?” he asks. Lilly asks him if he got a look at that guy, and he didn’t; not a good one, anyway. She asks him if the song sounded familiar; not really, he says. He asks if she thinks it was the guy who did this to him, and she says it’s possible that the bomber stayed nearby to see if it worked. John angrily instructs Lilly that, if she catches him, to tell that bastard that he’s still alive. Go, John.
Interview room, where a Hispanic man sits at the table. Behind the glass, Jeffries explains to Scotty that their subject is Angel Perez, a Mexican illegal, and a night janitor at the sports club. Scotty asks where Jeffries found him, and Jeffries says it was Saks Park, and he tried to escape when they IDed him. He adds that Angel is pretty upset right now, and doesn’t speak a word of English. “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Scotty says, confident that he speaks a language Angel can understand.
Scotty goes in and greets Angel in Spanish, then asks him, in English, why he ran from the police. No answer. Scotty tries Spanish again, and Angel merely gives him a blank look. Scotty’s figured out the game: Angel doesn’t speak English, but he doesn’t understand Scotty’s Spanish. Maybe not, but it sure is pretty. Scotty sits down and tells Angel that he’s got a cousin who works in ICE, so if Angel doesn’t spill everything he saw in the next ten seconds, they bounce his sorry ass onto the next bus to the border. He then pulls out his phone and starts to dial. “Oye, Jorgito,” Scotty says cheerfully into the phone, and that’s when Angel finally speaks, saying, in pretty darn good English, that he understands. Scotty tells “Jorgito” to hold on a sec, then listens to what Angel has to say. It’s not what he saw, he says; it’s what he heard.
Locker room. Angel’s cleaning out the lockers, and on a top shelf, he spies that wooden music box. He opens it, and it immediately begins playing the same tune that the guy in John’s flashback was whistling. John comes in then, and Angel puts the box back in the locker. The two men exchange a smile as Angel leaves.
“A music box?” Scotty asks incredulously, and Angel says that later, a bomb went off, possibly from the same locker, and everything went crazy. He got scared and ran, thinking it was his fault. Scotty tells Angel to sit tight, since they’re going to need him to give an exact description of that box. Angel starts to cry, but Scotty reassures him by thanking him in Spanish.
Squad room. Stillman’s as incredulous about the music box as Scotty was, but Scotty explains that it’s the kind with the brass cylinder inside; turn it, and it plays a song. Vera tells them that almost all wooden music boxes date from the turn of the century, and Stillman remarks that there can’t be too many companies still in business making those. Vera’s found one in Vermont that still supplies parts. A nice old lady there has told him that they sell cylinders that play mostly American standards, and a customer in Philly ordered multiple cylinders playing “John Henry.” Scotty says this could have been the song playing on the box, and Vera says they’ll ask the DA’s office to subpoena the purchasing records. Stillman reflects on John Henry, the steel-drivin’ man, and Scotty recalls that story from childhood: railroad guy with a hammer. Vera adds that he raced again a steam drill tunneling through a mountain, and Scotty remembers that John Henry won. “Then he keeled over and died,” Vera adds grimly, then says it meant something to the bomber. “Man versus machine?” Stillman guesses, while Scotty theorizes that he’s a disgruntled anti-government type, or maybe a militia nut job. Vera points out that this doesn’t exactly connect the locations.
ADA Thomas shows up then with the purchasing records: the buyer’s name is Carl Baxter, who paid with a credit card, and has a Mantua shipping address. Ever-helpful, she’s also gotten them a search warrant for the residence, and tells her to let her know if there’s anything else they need on this. Stillman issues instructions to call SWAT and the bomb squad.
Carl Baxter’s apartment. Louie’s secured the premises and tells the assembled detectives that there’s nobody home. “Better pray for no surprises,” Vera comments as they head in. The place is a mess, with trash everywhere, and nothing out of the ordinary except newspaper clippings about all the bombing victims. This leads Stillman to conclude that they’re not so random after all, and Lilly realizes that he was targeting individuals, not locations. Vera then spies a ten-year-old wedding announcement for a Luke and Beth Ross, and Lilly recalls that name from the gym’s member list. Vera notes that there’s no photo or anything on John Wojciechowski, leading Lilly to guess that the bomber hit the wrong guy. Stillman points out that, if that’s the case, he’s got some unfinished business. “And we just found his next target,” Vera concludes.
Squad room. Lilly says they dusted for prints and have the whole block staked out. Stillman asks if they got anything from the canvas, and Lilly says the building manager thinks Carl’s a squatter. Stillman asks about the wedding announcement, and Lilly says it’s for Luke Ross, a portfolio manager who lives in Chestnut Hill, then asks Vera what they’ve got. Vera has a music box; home entertainment system circa 1900. It has a brass cylinder, and the music is produced by metal keys that pluck a comb. He adds that the bomb squad said it was rigged to trigger the explosion. Stillman looks the cylinder over and concludes that a trip wire triggers a fuse after a full revolution. “After the song ends,” Lilly adds. Stillman theorizes that people admire the craftsmanship and want to touch the box, but as soon as they open it, it starts the song and arms the bomb. He then surmises that it takes some serious electromechanical skills to rig one of those with a pipe bomb. Lilly asks Vera about the song, and Vera tells her that “John Henry” is an underdog, David and Goliath story, and is also a protest song. “Against the machine?” Lilly asks. “Or management,” Vera adds. “Production efficiency at the expense of the worker.” Stillman reads a couple lines from the song, which express John Henry’s promise to work himself to death before letting the machine beat him down. Vera observes that John Henry did exactly that. Stillman observes that the bomber thinks his cause is noble, Vera adds that he has something to prove, and Lilly finishes by saying that he has “his own pretty little killing machine.”
Ross home. A little girl sees Jeffries’ gun and asks him if it has real bullets in it; Beth tells the girl, Mia, to go watch The Pink Panther. She reluctantly agrees and scampers off to reveal…hey! It’s Sean from Judging Amy! Actually, it’s Luke Ross, who confirms that he’s a financial planner, but has never had so much as a dispute with a client. Kat asks if anyone else he knows might be holding a grudge, and Luke denies it. Jeffries asks Beth the same question, and she remembers that one call a couple months ago, from the bank, about their credit card. Luke says it was nothing, but Beth disagrees, saying it was definitely something.
Ross home, where we hear the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Snow (Hey-O).” Beth’s on the phone, and the caller asks her if they have any recurring monthly charges on the card. She lists newspapers, a DVD rental subscription, and Luke’s monthly gym membership. The caller asks the name of the gym, and she gives it to him. He then asks if there were any additional charges to the gym that she’s aware of, and Beth says there may be charges to the juice bar. The caller asks when those charges would occur, and she says it’d be Tuesday and Thursday mornings, around 7:00. The caller thanks her, then says there are just a few more questions. He then asks if Luke’s still employed at Mutual Heritage Bank; she chirps that he is, then asks why. The caller snarks that it must be nice, making a living off the backs of others. Wait, doesn’t he claim to represent a credit card company? How is that different, exactly? The caller then creepily expresses hope that they’re enjoying their new purchases; he loves the blue curtains, by the way. Eegads. Beth, rightly creeped out, asks who it is, but all she gets is a dial tone.
Beth tells Kat the police said they couldn’t do anything about a prank call, and Kat concludes that this is how the bomber knew Luke’s routine. Luke realizes that he didn’t go to the gym yesterday; he took Mia to school, and Beth adds that she was upset by that call at the time, but to think it could have gotten Luke killed….again, eegads. Jeffries asks Luke if he knows what the caller meant about how he makes a living; Luke doesn’t. Kat says they’ll check his phone records and see if they can trace the call. Beth says she doesn’t understand why this is happening to them, and Jeffries reassures her by promising a police detail for their family.
Squad room. Kat and Scotty tell Stillman that the bomber calls his targets, posing as a credit card rep to get their daily routines, then go after them in public places to make it seem random. Kat tells him that Luke got lucky; John Wojciechowski, not so much. Stillman says that info stays here; if the press doesn’t know that the intended target was missed, maybe the bomber doesn’t either, and there’s no sense in endangering Luke. Scotty adds that the mysterious phone call was traced back to a pay phone at the 20th Street Station. Stillman instructs them to go there and check the station security cameras. ADA Thomas, who’s been standing there listening all this time, says that Carl Baxter isn’t going anywhere; she subpoenaed his credit card to get his social, and it turns out that the real Carl Baxter has been imprisoned since 1995. Oh, snap.
Frackville Prison. Carl Baxter sarcastically greets “Philly’s finest,” represented by Vera and Jeffries, and asks him if there’s a reason for the strip-search. Vera tells him it’s so he won’t spontaneously combust. Heh. Carl’s still wondering what gives, pointing out that he doesn’t use or deal meth anymore; they can ask anyone. Vera asks Carl about his former truck-driving days, and Carl says he used to go to California, the Crank Capital. Now, there’s a new tourism slogan for ‘em. He says if he hadn’t brought it in, it’d have been someone else. Jeffries reminds Carl of his military service, and Carl says the judge gave him a choice at age eighteen: Army, or jail. “Can’t say it helped much,” he shrugs. Vera asks if that’s where he learned about munitions, demolitions, explosives…when Carl denies it, Jeffries tells him they’re talking about pipe bombs. “Pipe what?” Carl asks, then remarks that the detectives are smoking some better stuff than he ever had. Heh. Jeffries, the wheels turning, asks Carl if he graduated from high school. Carl retorts that he’s working on his GED. Vera realizes the same thing Jeffries has: this isn’t their guy, then informs Carl that someone’s stolen his identity. Jeffries says they just can’t figure out why he picked Carl. Vera summons the guard, and as they’re handcuffing Carl to take him back to his cell, Vera tells them to hold up: he’s noticed the tattoos on Carl’s wrists: John Henry. Carl says they’re his two boys, all but grown up now. Eep.
Stillman’s office. Vera insists the bomber had to have picked Carl for a reason. Stillman thinks perhaps the bomber did time with Carl, but Vera and Jeffries point out that Carl’s never shared a cell, and no one on his cell block even comes close to the profile. Jeffries thinks the bomber’s leading them; trying to tell them something. “About John Henry?” Stillman asks, and Vera says Henry fought to prove that he still had value as a human being. “Protect his job, his way of life,” Jeffries adds, and Vera concludes that the bomber’s angry, lashing out at some personal beef. Stillman asks if perhaps the bomber’s lost something, but they’re interrupted by Kat, who tells them that PDOC’s webmaster has found a number of hits to Carl Baxter’s profile page, which were traced back to a local branch of the Philadelphia Public Library.
Library. A librarian tells Lilly and Kat that Mr. Baxter is there quite a bit, and is such a nice man. Kat asks if he’s on the computer, and the librarian says he is from time to time, but points to his usual table and says he mostly sits over there, reading or staring at the photos on the wall. The detectives take a look, and Kat notices one with a caption reading “John Henry Road, 1976.” Kat asks where that is, and the librarian thinks it’s in Germantown, the section with the streets named after the builders of the Pennsylvania Railroad. She only knows because Mr. Baxter told her he grew up on that block. Well, now, that’s a significant bit of random information, don’t you think?
John Henry Road, which is now deserted. Kat and Lilly check out the place, and Kat notices a sign announcing a web design firm to be constructed on a vacant lot; “Coming Soon in 2001,” it reads. Despite this announcement, it’s clear that nothing’s going up there anytime soon. Kat concludes that this is what the bomber’s been trying to tell them. “The place where he grew up,” Lilly remarks. “Gone…and forgotten.”
