NCIS: Origins

.

Who's Eddie? Boyfriend.

He's moving in.

No. Wait, no, they're fine.

Get out of the car! (SHOUTING)

Get out of the car now!

Gibbs! (SHOUTING IN SPANISH)

Lower your weapon now!

What I don't like are workplace distractions.

Workplace distractions.

They were great.

You grab a drink,

tell a joke, play a game.

And somehow, all the awful things

you saw and heard that day

seem less awful.

Franks called her a workplace distraction.

He didn't mean it as a compliment.

I didn't know he said it until later.

She usually didn't repeat things like that.

Ah!

Thought I had you.

Maybe next time.

Hmm.

Hey, when Franks gets done with his paperwork,

we're gonna grab a drink.

I can't.

I'm going out with the girls

to celebrate Vera's profiling thing.

Well, that's later, right?

Should grab a drink with us first.

Randy's coming, too.

Nah, it's been a long week.

I need to get out.

She said she needed to get out.

Back then, I didn't know what she meant.

Later, she told me she felt like she was in a box.

: We're getting too old for this crap.

Come on.

You're off the clock.

- Live a little. - Mm-hmm.

Mm? Mm?

Sexy.

She told me she felt like the box

was getting smaller and smaller.

Thank you.

To the brand-new

NIS Profile Criminal...

- Oh, so... - Damn it, what do you call it?

Criminal Profiling Program!

Trailblazer right here!

Yeah, Strickland!

Oh!

- (DANCE MUSIC PLAYING) - Oh! I have this record!

Oh! (LAUGHS)

My favorite song.

What the hell are you doing?

Hey.

Where are we going?

Get out of my car, dude.

Oh, you didn't ask me to come with you?

It was loud in there.

I gotta go to work.

You a drug dealer?

Come on, man, get the hell out of here.

I got a boyfriend.

Too bad.

Come and find me when you don't.

She told me she felt trapped.

And she hated herself for getting that way.

Damn it.

We were just about to send a search party out for you.

Suicide?

Petty Officer Second Class Greg Piccolo.

28 years old. Fire controlman.

A neighbor heard loud music playing for hours, called the cops.

Family been notified?

What the hell's wrong with your lips?

Hey, Dominguez. Great to see you.

I mean, horrible circumstances,

as always, I'm guessing?

- Mm-hmm. - I know nothing.

The asshat that called me,

he just said show up here, so...

The the victim is a 26... 28-year-old male.

Gunshot wound to the head.

Appears to be self-inflicted.

There's a .38 in his left hand.

Great, thanks.

Oh, I told my grunts

to bring the gurney in through the back.

They're not grunts, they're good kids.

O'Malley said they're reading them

out loud in there.

"But I won't be able to stop myself

from nearly ripping it."

: Yeah.

"Then, I'll slip off my skirt,

and I'll slip my tongue in your..."

- (CLEARS THROAT) - Hey.

Box under the bed had letters

and photos from a pen pal.

Yeah, uh, forensics already

snapped pics of 'em, so we were just...

Um... This one says her and the victim

were supposed to meet for the first time tonight.

Guy sets up a romantic dinner, goes the whole nine,

lady pen pal never shows,

guy's so broke up about it,

he offs himself.

You sure about that cause of death?

Could've been blue balls.

Hey, Randy,

keep reading, I could use a couple pointers.

Okay.

Um...

"I can't wait to,"

uh, redacted,

um, "your,"

uh, redacted,

"until it," you know,

uh, yeah, redacted.

Oof.

She goes on to say how excited she is

to finally get what Greg's gonna give her.

In reference to his johnson?

Hey, Franks, I need you out here.

I found a series of broken blood vessels

on the victim's left thumb and forefinger.

- They fresh? - Yup.

They match the positioning of the weapon.

Somebody forcibly made him pull that trigger.

This isn't a suicide.

Excuse me, miss?

You all missed something. It could be blood.

No. No, no, no.

It was sitting right here. It could be blood.

No, I dropped it. It's mine.

- My lieutenant told me not to... - What?

My lieutenant said not to...

I don't care what your lieutenant said, dude.

This is my scene.

I'm telling you I dropped it. I'm telling you it's mine.

Hey.

Hey, the hell's your head at tonight, huh?

Those of you who haven't heard,

we're looking at a homicide.

I need a sweep for evidence

and transport to forensics.

Someone grab those letters from the bedroom.

Let's get this place bagged and tagged.

Hey, I thought you were staying at Vera's.

Oh, we had a call last night. Homicide.

The woman that wrote these letters is our best suspect.

I'm trying to read them, but...

- Pictures of letters, huh? - Mm-hmm.

It's too blurry. You don't have the originals?

They're at the lab.

They're from the crime scene?

Why didn't you look at them there?

The guys bagged them before I could.

How'd that happen? You're always first on the scene.

Hey, why'd you, uh,

why'd you stay here last night

when you knew I would be at Vera's?

I thought I could make you coffee when you got home.

But now you beat me to it.

You know what? I'm gonna go hop in the shower.

Oh, my deadline got pushed.

I mean, for the Tribune, not the long-form.

I still have maybe 300 words to go,

but tomorrow really cleared up.

I thought maybe I could start moving some stuff over early.

I, um,

I haven't made space in the closet yet.

That's-that's fine.

I can just keep it in boxes until you do.

It's okay.

Okay.

Morning, Woody.

Hey, buddy. You lost?

I was hoping to read those letters

they dropped off last night.

Yeah, I was gonna give you a call about these

once I had a second to drop off my bag

and do my morning meditation.

Phil!

I forgot my keys at home.