CSI Miami: The Law, a Rope, and Love

April 14, 2009
By Kayla Oetting BRONZE, Two Rivers, Wisconsin
Kayla Oetting BRONZE, Two Rivers, Wisconsin
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Humming the latest Lady GaGa song, Blake Santyon glided in her bare feet, slowly, with a slight strut, susceptible to the cold concrete beneath her feet. She stopped at a lawn chair and took off her cover up, revealing her swimsuit. As she walked toward the water, she elegantly put her wavy blonde hair in a messy bun. Blake decided to take a late night swim after an exciting day of her Spring Break vacation. Just as she was about to take a dive, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure dressed in all black peer in her direction then sprint off, leaving behind a lifeless body afloat a raft in the pool.
“Hey; hey you!” she cried, but no one responded. Blake quickly swam over to the body to check for any possible pulse. None. She then pulled the raft, with the body on it, to the concrete and pulled it up, onto the surface. After one last check for a heartbeat, she flew to the lobby to call 911.

Welcome to Miami.

The next morning because on CSI Miami, night deaths are always investigated in the early morning, for some unknown reason:

“And do we have a cause of death, Frank?” inquired Detective Horatio Cane. He stood with his side to Frank, sunglasses in hand, as he circumnavigated the body and watched Ryan snap pictures of the crime scene.

“Not yet Horatio; Alex is on her way,” he retorted. “From what I can tell, there are several abrasions to the neck indicating strangulation, and what looks like a through-and-through with the bullet.”

“Frank; we need to find that bullet,” Horatio said just as Eric and Callie appeared in a silver CSI Hummer. “Callie, dust the raft over there for prints. Eric, talk to our witness and find out what she saw. We need to find this killer.”

Callie got right to her job. She took the raft in her latex, glove-covered hand and gently sprinkled it with the black print revealing dust. None to be found. She continued the process on the front of the purple inflatable, and encountered a fraction of a print right near the edge. Callie took the lifting tape, pressed it neatly onto the print, lifted, and wha-la; she found herself some evidence.

“So tell me what you saw, Miss Santyon,” Eric began. He had out a notebook and pen ready to take notes of her story. “I- I- I was just about to take a dive into the pool when I saw this- this person look at me, throw something toward the fence, and then run… Run for their life… That’s when I noticed the body. The person left it behind, I know they did it,” Blake described.

“Okay,” Eric jotted that down, “Now tell me what you remember about the suspect.”

“I couldn’t tell if it was a m-man or a w-w-woman, but they were in all black. A ski mask, black Adidas sweatpants, and what I-I think was a black basketball team sweatshirt. I don’t- I don’t think they had anything in their hands, other than whatever they threw,” Eric could tell this was hard for Blake to talk about. After all, she couldn’t be any older than twenty-three. Murder most likely isn’t on her resume of previous sights.

“All right, thank-you very much for your help. We’ll be in contact,” he smiled that custom, warm, crooked smile of his. She shyly smiled back.

As soon as he completed the interview, he took his kit and went over to the fence Blake described. He squatted down and examined the area, but saw nothing. But that’s when he noticed a disruption in the sand; something had been removed!

“Horatio! Come here; I think you’ll want to see this,” Horatio maneuvered over toward Eric, who positioned a square and photographed it. “It looks like maybe some type of rope was here… Our witness said she saw the suspect throw something, and then run. Who would’ve been able to get it before we got here? Blake was here the whole time…” Eric looked up, in thought. “What if our suspect dropped it when he was running…? Then when Blake went to call 911, he came back to pick it up…”

“Check the fence for epithelials. Our killer may have leaped the fence, judging by the fresh paint chippings,” Horatio noted.

So, Eric got back to work, but couldn’t help but watch Callie. She was just so darn beautiful. Why couldn’t he just work up the courage to go ask her out? Apprehension she’d say no? Psh, hardly a reason. That got him thinking about the day they first met: It was an early Monday summer morning, about four years ago, and also Eric's first day as a CSI with the Miami-Dade crime lab. The team was checking out the scene on the beach where a body was found, and Callie was the one he noticed. Back then she had her straight blonde hair in a nice pony tail, and she was dressed in a black suit, as she searched for prints on a purple inflatable lying next to the body; much like the scene today. She looked up and saw him, smiled, then introduced herself. Eric fell in love right away.

“Eric! I found this rope in the dumpster a block away, on 3rd. You may be interested?” Ryan said, all excited, on his trot over to Eric’s general direction. He handed it over to Eric’s rubber-gloved hand.

“Hey, thanks, I’ll get this back to the lab,” Eric stated.

Back at the lab, Natalia was hard at work. She ran prints, DNA, and she was now inspecting the rope. She found some skin cells and then ran them for DNA.

“Oh, honey, you’ve been through quite a bit,” Alex said to the deceased victim on her metal examination table, as she continued with the autopsy. So far, Alex has concluded that the victim is a 28 year old female that first was shot in the chest, but didn’t die right away because the bullet just missed the main artery, so the killer then strangled her to death with the rope Ryan found earlier. Next she scraped underneath the victim’s fingernails to check for skin cells she might have picked up if she scratched her killer, then sent them to Natalia to look at closer. To identify the victim, Alex ran her fingerprints through Codis and it came up as Carmella Carmichael, a female Lawyer that works right there in Miami. Alex then passed this information onto Ryan so he could further investigate.

Ryan decided to Google this girl to see some previous cases she worked with. Maybe our killer could be a client not happy with her work. His hands glided over the keyboard, typing her name. Up popped “Carmichael is Fired By Client”, a headline worth looking into. Turns out, Carmella said she couldn’t emotionally handle defending her client because of the torturous murder they, indeed, did commit. The client was not happy about this so firing Carmichael seemed to be the only way out. Ryan scrolled down the screen. The client’s name was Vince Brittania, and he was scheduled for another hearing this Friday. Ryan knew just who he needed to speak to, so he ran Brittania through the company database to find out where he lived.

“Open up! This is Miami-Dade PD!” No one answered so the SWAT team kicked down the door. Not far behind were Horatio and Ryan holding up their guns in defense in case the suspect was armed. Initially, they figured no one was home, but that’s when they noticed someone dressed in all black, like Blake described, dart across the backyard lawn. Luckily, police men are smarter than most people, and already had the house surrounded, so the person in all black didn’t stand a chance. He was being taken to the station.
“Sir, what’s your name?” inquired Eric.

“Vince. Vince Brittania,” he answered.

“We have an eye witness that says she saw you dropping off a dead body at the Hilton hotel pool late last night. Care to explain?”

Vince just leaned back in his chair like a bad-boy and rolled his toffee-brown eyes then ran his hand through his mocha-brown hair. His features make him look like he just walked out of a coffee shop.

“A guy paid me to drop off the body by the pool.”

“And your reason for running…?” Eric said with an irritated tone of voice. He would never admit it, but he was slightly intimidated. Vince had the exterior look of the type of guy he knew Callie was attracted to.

“I’m not stupid. If the night before I dump a body, and the next day the police are at my door, I’m not exactly gonna open the door and welcome them in,” Vince smirked.

“Oh really? Well explain this,” Eric laid out a photograph of the rope.

“So? It’s a rope,” he was clearly just a rude person.

“Ahh, but what you don’t know is that my lab found your skin cells jammed in this rope used to kill Carmella Carmichael. AND, your DNA was found under her fingernails as she scratched you in the fight for her life. I’ll bet you 10,000 dollars that if I have you take your sweatshirt off, I’ll find scratches on your arms,” Eric felt very powerful now. He was the man. Boo-ya! “And not to mention the little mishap you and she had over your case. Any jury will find that to be a little something called motive,” You could now see the panic rush into Mr. Brittania’s face.
“Whatever. I don’t feel like explaining… Just take me in,” Vince gave up.
“Okay, but that leaves me with one last question: Who shot her?” Eric tried to complete the inquiry.
“Ugh, I told you already, just take me the heck in!” Mr. Brittania’s attitude wasn’t very chipper, clearly.
“You heard him, fellas; take him in,” Eric said to the police men standing by the door. He found his man. Yes! Eric silently congratulated himself.
To make his day complete, Eric decided he would work up the nerve to ask Callie on a date. He strolled over to her direction. She was concentrating on the microscope in front of her, examining a bullet. “Hey Callie,” he smiled.
“Oh, hey Eric! What’s on your mind?” Callie smiled back.
“I was wondering… What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“I think I’m free. Why?”
“I would like if you’d be my date… I’ll take you out to dinner then we can go take a walk on the beach. Is…Does that sound ok?” Eric’s hands were getting sweaty. He really liked this chick!
“Eric,” she had this look on her face like she was about to disappoint him, “Of course. I thought you’d never ask,” Callie beamed that gorgeous smile Eric fell in love with. She had him worried for a second there!
Case? Solved. Day? Complete. Callie when she smiles at Eric? Priceless.

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