Hawaii Five-0

Oh!

Yeah, I'm heading there now. I'll see you in a few.

Hello, Julius.

(Hawaii Five-O theme song plays)

He's dead. He is dead.

Good morning to you, too.

I swear, I think that I am gonna kill this little punk.

Nice. Okay.

Who we killing? This, uh,

kid in Grace's math class--

his name is 'Apane--

and he's been texting her nonstop. Text, text,

text, text,

text, text.

How do you know he's been texting her?

Because I bought her a new cellular phone

and somehow in the family cloud share plan,

whatever you call it, it got

mixed up and I'm receiving all of her text messages.

So you've been spying on her.

I'm not spying on my kid. What'd I just say?

Number one. Number two, it's called parenting,

so you know.

It's also... spying. All right?

Look, I didn't come here to, uh...

What, you... What the hell is that? What are you doing?

What?

What do you mean, "What?" You just put butter in your coffee.

Yeah, it's grass-fed butter. Try it.

You out of milk? You out of your mind?

What's the matter with you?

No, it's a, uh, it's a team guy thing.

We do it to boost energy, enhance brain function.

Hey, enhance brain function-- you should try it.

Maybe you'll think more clearly.

Oh, thank you. I think I'll have my, uh,

heart attack the old-fashioned way.

Well, suit yourself.

This kid again.

Relentless. He is completely relentless.

Listen to this one. I think you'll like it. What is that?

"Hey, G." Her name's Grace, first of all.

"What's your favorite kind of candy?"

She says Hershey's Kisses.

He says, "Awesome. Me, too." Yeah.

You know why you think it's funny?

Because you don't understand subtext. Subtext.

They're two kids

talking about candy

the day before Valentine's Day.

Romance is in the air,

Danny. Romance is in the air?

Romance is in the air. No, romance is not in the air.

You know why? Because she's 12.

There should not be any romance in her airspace, period.

Would you listen to me for a minute, please? Relax.

Just relax. She's a great kid.

You raised her right. You got to trust her.

I do trust her. I trust her very much.

It's him-- this little thug-- I don't trust.

All right. Let's take him out.

Okay, now you're talking.

McGarrett.

We're on the way. We got to go.

Sanitation crew came across the car this morning.

Any witnesses?

Everyone was at the Chinese New Year's Parade

a block over.

Dr. Shaw.

What do we know?

Just the obvious. The depth of

the ligature marks around the victim's throat suggest

the assailant was very powerful and most likely male.

All right, what about T.O.D.?

Based on this stage of rigor, I'd estimate

between 10:00 p.m. and midnight.

Anything on him?

Cash is still here.

All right, so this definitely wasn't a robbery.

California guy. Uh, Julius Brennan.

What do you suppose this is for?

What's that on his knee? Right knee.

Some sort of grease stain.

Looks fresh.

He was looking for something on the undercarriage here.

What, like a bomb?

Or a GPS device.

All right, so whatever it was,

this guy thought somebody was out to get him.

Yeah, well, it looks like he was right.

As darkness falls on the embattled city of Fallujah,

the fighting has only intensified.

A short while ago, we were forced to pull back

and dig in here after taking heavy mortar fire

from the insurgent stronghold behind me.

Brennan was an award-winning freelance journalist

and documentarian. Mm.

Anybody bringing a camera to a gunfight got my respect.

You know, I got to know some of

these embeds when I was downrange.

I got to tell you, they're a special breed.

I mean, they're driven and they're committed,

but... they're crazy.

Well, back in 2010, he was seriously wounded

covering the genocide in the Congo.

Made a full recovery in the States.

All right, we know what he's been up to lately?

Yeah, two years ago,

he published a series of freelance pieces

on the surge of violence in Detroit.

He hasn't published anything since then.

What was he doing here on the island? Don't know,

but TSA has him arriving a week ago.

He purchased a one-way ticket at LAX

on the day of the flight.

All right, so, last-minute trip to Oahu-- doesn't sound like

he was coming here to just chill out. I agree with you.

Chin, reach out to some of his previous employers,

see if you can find out anything about him

working on a story while he was here.

Well, if he was, could be the reason he was killed.

You seem upbeat today, Dr. Bergman.

Oh, with very good reason.

Tomorrow's Valentine's Day, and I have planned

a romantic evening with my lovely paramour Sabrina.

Man's got game.

I like it.

And may I ask what Cupid has

in store for you? I have a date with my Kindle

and a nice bottle of Cab.

Ah, how wonderfully pathetic.

What's pathetic is a made-up commercial holiday

dedicated to the patron saint of not only love,

but of epilepsy, fainting and the plague.

Mm. Well,

romantics, such as myself, view

Valentine's Day as a perfect opportunity

to express our true feelings for the one we love.

Saint Valentine was brutally murdered by a Roman emperor.

Where's the love in that?

Max?

You ever seen

anything like this before? Never.

Max, what are we looking at here?

What is this, some kind of message from the killer?

More like a message from our Vic.

The angle of the handwriting

indicates Mr. Brennan wrote on himself.

It's called hypergraphia.

It's a behavioral condition

characterized by an intense desire to write.

It's a symptom associated with temporal lobe

epilepsy and can be triggered

by high-stress life events.

He's had plenty of those.

Yeah, or maybe the stress of thinking

somebody's out to kill you.

Looks like a code.

That was my first

assumption as well, until I took a closer look.

The words are backwards.

"Isolated, desolate,

"solitary, trepidation, dismay, consternation.

3.14 pi infinity..."

What does this mean? Do you guys understand this?

It actually makes sense that it doesn't make sense.

Think of it as nervous doodling,

a frenzied firing of neurons in the brain.

Some people who suffer from hypergraphia

write in a coherent and logical manner.

Others, like Mr. Brennan,

have a more jumbled style.

Yeah, Kono?

We tracked down the motel room that our Vic was staying in.

You're not gonna believe what I'm looking at.

Actually,

I bet I can.

I really hope that Brennan left

a credit card for the incidentals.

Well, HPD found the place tossed when they arrived,

but whoever let themselves in--

they did a number on his camera and his laptop.

They took the memory card and the hard drive.

And probably anything else that could

tell us what he was up to.

Well, they didn't take his words.

Maybe there's something in all of this that can

help clue us in to what got him killed.

Look, I'm not naive.

I knew that eventually this was gonna happen.

You know, it was inevitable my daughter's

gonna start talking to boys. I get it, she's 12.

But, uh, I did not think that I would have a, um,

a front-row seat to the, uh,

prepubescent pillow talk.

You know? And the emojis-- forget about it.

I mean, I can't tell you how much time I spent trying

to decipher what, uh,

birthday cake, puppy dog,

thumbs-up means, you know? So...