Major Crimes

Victim's name is Thomas Palmer, stock broker.

Neighbor was on her morning walk when she noticed his trunk open,

and it looks like blunt-force trauma, sir.

Several serious whacks to the torso,

but it's the one that smashed through

the back of the skull that shut him down.

Yeah, well, briefcase, coffee.

I imagine he was on his way to work.

If he was, it was early.

Body's in slight rigor, making time of death about 4:30 A.M.

Ye Gods, 4:30.

Stock brokers usually get in a few hours

before the morning bell in New York.

Well, it's a young man's game.

Not a word.

All right, and with all due respect to Mr. Palmer

and his stock market connections,

it still begs the question...

Why is this a major crime?

Two days ago, sir, Mr. Palmer and his wife

were assaulted in this same driveway.

L.A.P.D. investigated, but maybe not enough, sir.

Uh-huh... Liability issues.

All right, what happened on Monday?

According to the crime report,

as Palmer was arriving home from work,

stranger yanked him out of his car and beat him up.

Palmer's statement says

he might've cut the guy off in traffic, sir.

Uh-huh... road rage.

The holiday season has begun.

Mrs. Palmer came out of the house to break the fight up.

She got caught in the middle.

She ended up with a broken wrist.

He had his nose broken.

This is what they look like after the attack.

- Ugh. - Victim said he saw a guy take off

in a gray pickup truck with the extended cab.

He's taller, muscular, brownish hair.

All right, both assaults involved the car.

Was anything stolen from the trunk?

Hard to know.

All right, why don't you guys start checking

on the personal and the professional life of our victim.

I'll go back downtown to see the wife.

Wife's still here, sir, in the house with Amy.

Refused to leave.

- You'll see. - Oh, all right.

I'll go talk to Mrs. Palmer now.

Um, Sanchez, Buzz,

would you mind, uh, helping me, please?

Is she cooking?

I think Mrs. Palmer's in shock, Lieutenant.

She's already signed the consent form allowing us

to search her house, so I'm giving her a moment.

Fine.

Mrs. Palmer.

Mrs. Palmer.

One second. A-almost done.

Mrs. Palmer.

I know this is a difficult time,

but we have to ask you to leave your house, ma'am.

But, uh, we have a guest coming tomorrow...

Tom's boss and his wife, my sister and her kids.

Oh.

May I offer you some coffee?

Uh, no, no, ma'am. Thank you.

We've already had some, but if you could go

with Detective Sykes for a moment, I'd appreciate it.

Thank you. Thank you.

What... what about, um... What... what about the...

We'll take care of it all.

Buzz, I want you to memorialize everything in this house.

Sanchez, if you would please escort

Mr. Palmer's body to the morgue.

Thank you.

God, pumpkin soup.

Add it to the list of things I will never understand.

Ah, good morning, Captain.

Sorry to interrupt your holiday prep,

but you're going to be needed at the morgue.

As Kendall suggested, cause of death

is blunt-force trauma to the back of the head.

Here's the point of contact.

About an inch wide, about two inches deep,

sprinkled with traces of iron filings in the scalp.

But he sustained other injuries.

This broken knee... That had to hurt.

Iron filings could be a crowbar or a wrench.

That'll do it.

All the injuries indicate the victim was hit from behind,

- probably taken by surprise. - No defensive wounds?

Not from this morning,

but he had several from a couple days ago.

Poor guy was in a fight on Monday.

- Westside road rage. - Ah.

I've asked for countywide reports

on traffic-related incidents involving pickup trucks, ma'am.

These older wounds correspond with fists,

which is consistent with a face-to-face confrontation.

My professional opinion...

Beat up on Monday, murdered on Wednesday.

The victim was having a rough week.

Face-to-face confrontation.

If Mr. Palmer saw his attacker that close,

chances are his wife did, as well.

What we're really interested in is the fight two days ago.

Where were you when it started?

Um, sometimes Tom forgets to eat lunch,

so I was in the kitchen making

a grilled cheese sandwich for when he got home.

What time was that?

Oh, uh, 3:00.

I heard an argument in the driveway.

I went to the door, and there was this man yelling at Tom

for the way that he passed him on the highway.

I couldn't see his face,

but I could tell that he was mad.

I ran outside.

I-I don't know why.

I just... I tried to get him away from Tom,

and that's when he grabbed me and threw me to the ground.

I-I fell on my arm.

Then he started kicking me.

Tom tried to get him away.

I wanted to call 911, but...

Tom rushed me to the hospital

and then we called the police from there.

Can you describe your attacker at all?

Oh, gosh.

It all happened so fast.

He was white, taller than Tom, brown hair.

If you saw the attacker again, would you recognize him?

Maybe.

I-I-I don't know.

What I remember is that anger.

I don't even know where it was coming from.

Your husband told the police

he saw the man leave in a gray pickup.

Yes, there was a pickup.

Gray?

Well, i-if Tom said that, it probably was.

He's usually right about that sort of thing.

Is there any chance your husband knew his attacker?

No, no, I actually asked him that

because, um, Tom would get these calls

at all hours from upset clients.

You can lose a lot of money in the stock market,

and some people blame the broker, which is crazy.

Had your husband been having any trouble with anyone recently?

No, no.

He... he was under a lot of stress

before the promotion, but most people loved Tom.

Oh, God.

His parents.

How do I do that?

How do I tell his parents?

I have no answers yet.

I'm still searching the Palmers' personal e-mail accounts

for threats and other red flags,

and I'm waiting for a warrant on his work address.

Nothing suspicious in their texts.

I'm looking up previous destinations on their traffic apps.

Oh, great news. That's wonderful. Thank you.

Is that the print report on the victim's car?

Oh, no, no. That was a free-range butcher.

He promised to save a ham for me.

I-I talked him into it.

But I've got to go get it right away.

Uh, but I had S.I.D. send the report to Sykes.

And it says nothing inside or outside the victim's vehicle

matches up to anyone in the criminal database.

And Thomas Palmer had no criminal record, either.

So, what are we investigating...

- A scuffle between two saints? - Oh, I wouldn't say that.

According to the H.R. department

at Hamilton/Lockwood where Mr. Palmer worked,

there were two complaints filed against him professionally.

One through his office accusing him

of making sexually inappropriate remarks and jokes, ma'am.

Well, did you write any of the jokes down?

Well, you know, just to see how inflammatory they were.

Don't lose your ham, Lieutenant.

The, um, second complaint was filed a month ago

with Finra, F-I-N-R-A,

which means... I'm looking it up.

Financial Industry Regulatory Authority.

What? I read the Wall Street Journal.

The, uh, fifinf... what she said, complaint says that he poached

clients and accounts from other brokers, ma'am,

and both complaints were filed by the same person, Jordan Garcia.

- Jordan. - Stealing clients and dirty jokes.

I wonder how unusual this stuff is in a stock broker's office.

Just found something promising

in the trash folder of Palmer's e-mail

from last Friday.

"If you think I'm letting you walk away with all my work,

you have a big surprise coming, asshole."

J.G.?

- Jordan Garcia. - Great.