Elementary

Previously on elementary...

How did you come to hear of me, Ms. Wen?

I knew your brother, Mike.

You don't like me very much, do you?

I don't have to like you, i just have to help you.

Before my stepfather adopted me, i was Joan Yun.

Why don't you just admit you're my half sister?

Running away won't work.

I'm a detective, I'll just find you again.

I've got nothing to say to you.

With a really big problem; The least you could do

is tell me how long you've known I exist.

Two years.

But you never called me, you never came to see me.

Because I never wanted to have this conversation with you.

It wouldn't have been this conversation.

It would have been, "hi, Joan, I'm lin, I'm your half sister."

You want to know more about me? Fine.

My mom came to the U.S. in 1980.

She met your dad, got knocked up.

For a few years, he held it together, we were a family,

and then one day out of the blue, he takes apart our TV,

says it's sending messages that could hurt us.

He went off his meds. Mom didn't understand.

She didn't know anything about schizophrenia.

She hardly spoke English.

A few days before he abandoned us,

he told her about his first family,

you, your brother, your mom.

That must have been hard for her.

The hard part was having to raise me by herself.

The stuff he said before he left,

that could have been more ranting.

That's why she didn't tell me about it

until she had a health scare a couple years ago.

I searched your names on the Internet,

"Joan," "oren," "Mary,"

then I dug a little deeper,

found out you worked for the police

with a guy named Sherlock,

and he had a brother who had just died.

Why didn't you just come and see me then?

Because I realized I already had all the family I needed.

I only came to you for help because I was desperate.

But, hey, now you've got the whole story.

So why don't you do what I always intended to do...

Pretend you never heard it,

forget all about your crazy-ass dad's other family.

What if that's not what I want?

It doesn't matter.

It's what I want.

You're two minutes early.

Bell: Time of death is a little before 4:00 A.M.

Victim is Phoebe Elliot.

She was an assistant at a marketing firm

that does a lot of business with Asia,

so she would work late, then hit the gym.

She used rideshare apps like zooss to get around.

So Ms. Elliot summoned a zooss car to pick her up around 3:45.

Gym's door camera doesn't cover the street,

but it does show her leaving the gym

when her driver, sharif, was about two minutes out.

He arrived and found her body.

She was shot from this direction.

Blood splatter that way.

There's a void to the right.

Where's the missing blood?

Probably on the shooter's car.

You saying this was a drive-by?

Not so much a drive-by, more like a parked-by.

Car approaches from this way,

she mistakes it for her rideshare,

approaches the car only to be gunned down.

And the car departs with her blood

on the inside of the passenger door.

Does she look familiar to you guys?

No. Why? I don't know.

I could swear I've seen her somewhere before.

Most drive-bys, the perps don't use their own car,

they steal one.

What's your point?

When we were poking around for next of kin this morning,

all that turned up was a brother, Keith.

Just did a two-year stint for grand larceny auto.

Man: I've been living with Phoebe since I got out.

She was helping me get my life together.

She means...

She meant everything to me.

Listen, two days ago,

one of your neighbors called in a noise complaint.

She wouldn't give her name,

just said she could hear you and your sister arguing.

I don't remember fighting two days ago.

But you and your sister did fight.

No.

I mean, yeah.

You know, sometimes.

It was rough.

Moving in with her.

She... she had all these rules.

Was one of them, "don't shoot me

whilst pretending to be my rideshare"?

Bell: Her phone is missing.

We're pretty sure it was taken by whoever shot her.

Maybe you sent her some texts you didn't want us to see.

I will do whatever you want to prove I didn't do this.

You want me to take a polygraph? No problem.

Want me to give you a sample of my DNA?

I will do whatever it takes.

Just please rule me out

so you can find the person that really killed Phoebe.

All right, say we believe you.

Can you think of anyone else who had reason to kill Phoebe?

Maybe a stalker? Stalker?

She was getting a lot of attention lately.

Something about a selfie she took when she was in college.

That's where I knew her from.

She was in the culture section of the dispatch.

How does a selfie make her newsworthy?

Ephraim hill is an appropriation artist from Portland.

He pulls images from social media

and then recontextualizes them as art.

His show has been touring the country,

but this is his first time in New York.

His work has been getting a lot of buzz.

So this guy rips off other people's selfies,

blows them up,

and then charges a hundred grand apiece?

I'm surprised we're not investigating his murder.

The rise of social media has created

a generation of narcissists

eager to offer up their private images for public consumption.

But like peacocks spreading their tails,

such displays, whilst feeding self-esteem,

also risk attracting the attention of predators.

You think Keith Elliot was on to something?

Someone saw her picture here, got obsessed?

It's one possibility,

but some of the women whose images have been stolen

have been very upset.

Some have threatened to sue.

Maybe Phoebe was one of them.

Ah, it's about time.

What's about time?

My assistant called the police yesterday.

I'm Ephraim hill.

You are here about a break-in, are you not?

No. There was a burglary here?

Do you see any art in these empty spaces?

One might argue there's no art in the occupied spaces either.

One might.

In fact, I'd welcome it.

See, argument creates awareness,

and awareness drives sales, but two nights ago,

someone broke in and stole five of my portraits.

Tragic as that must be, we're here about Phoebe Elliot.

We were wondering how she felt

about being included in your exhibit.

Well, why?

She was murdered just before 4:00 A.M.

We'd show you the crime scene photographs,

but you'd probably just recontextualize them.

Oh, my god.

And, what, you're here because you think that I...?

A lot of the women were not happy about becoming your muses.

No, but Phoebe wasn't like that. She was flattered.

She reached out through my agent to say so.

She even did some personal appearances here.

You mind telling us where you were around 4:00 this morning?

Ephraim: I was on a plane.

Coming home from Paris.

That's where I was when i learned about the burglary.

Do you think there's a connection?

The timing is curious, let's just leave it at that.

No, you don't understand.

If the same person committed both crimes,

if someone had a problem with me and Phoebe,

I think I might know who it is.

You are not an artist.

You are a misogynistic phony.

And all the little fangirls who support you are just as bad.

But when you stole my image, you messed with the wrong woman.

You all deserve what's coming.

So you can understand why we wanted to speak with you.

Can you tell us where you were the past two nights

between midnight and 6:00 A.M.?

I was here, sleeping.

You sounded pretty serious about getting revenge

against Ephraim hill and women like Phoebe.

I did, didn't I?

I'm working on a part for this off-off-Broadway show.

She's an anarchist, like, really angry.

But it's a character; I would never kill anyone.

I'm a vegan.

Holmes: So when you threatened revenge,

what exactly did you have in mind?

Here, I'll show you.

These are portraits from Ephraim's exhibit.

I put on a wig and went into the gallery one day.

I used a hidden camera and took pictures of his pictures