Roger Daltrey screams his comprehension of that command. I check the credits to make sure Rory Cochrane's still in them. Yup -- we'll be seeing no death-of-a-regular tonight. That's a shame: killing off a lead character without warning would be a hell of a great way to shake this show's predictability.
It's a miracle! Speedle's sitting up and looking typically unimpressed with the world as an EMT takes his pulse and announces that his blood pressure's 140/100. The EMT gives us the ostensible reason why Speedle will be up and running around by the episode's ten-minute mark: "The chest contusion is what took the wind out of him. If his lungs were collapsed, he'd be blue by now." Horatio looks on, thanking God that Speedle got shot because at least that boy's got the sense to wear an undershirt, as opposed to Delko with his fashion-forward caftanesque tops. Speedle then asks Horatio about the guy he was riding with: "Hollis?" Horatio shakes his head: "No. You okay?" After hearing about Hollis? Probably not. Speedle lies about being fine, and Horatio's already half turned-around with the sunglasses sliding into place as he prepares to leave; Horatio says, "All right. I'll be back. Hang in there." Go toward the light, Speedle! There's still time! Then your...cousin, that's it, your cousin can surface on CSI: Original Flava next year as Jim Speedle. "What?" he'll say to a stunned Warrick and Catherine. "We were cousins -- identical cousins." "Cousins only share 12.5 percent of their DNA. What are the odds that two individuals would come up with such similar genetic profiles?" a puzzled Nicky would ask. And then Gil would smack him down.
Meanwhile, back on the episode that actually aired -- as opposed to the one in my brain pan -- Horatio's off telling a uniform, "With a shot-out tire, they should be within a one-mile radius and already in a safe car. Let's check the street for tread debris." Let's see Horatio actually participate in any of those first-person-plural activities he announces. Anyway, Horatio heads over to Alexx, who sorrowfully tells him, "Hollis got one in the head. You can tell his family he went quick." Horatio grumps, "Shouldn't have to tell them at all." Before they can get into the what-should-have-beens, the EMT comes over to apprise Horatio of the woman and child's condition: "Kid checked out fine. Mother got shot, upper humerus. They're at a clinic. She says to tell you 'thank you,' wants to bake you a cake." Knowing Horatio, cakes will trigger some tragic event in his past concerning rain and never having that recipe again and sweet, green icing flowing down. Right after the EMT puts in his bid for a slice of that cake, he wanders off so that Horatio can turn to a bald and irritated-looking detective and say, "Five hundred dispos and we've never had a problem." The detective questions the very existence of disposal day: "We take the dope out of evidence, test it to make sure nobody pulls a switcheroo, then cart it across town? We should just burn it at CSI. And witches. And heretics. And redheads. Let's burn them all!" Okay, he stops a little short of that. Horatio replies, "Remind Me to order the industrial-sized incinerator next time." The two men joust about how this could have gone wrong, and conclude that someone leaked the classified disposal date and/or route to someone else. This makes me think of my original questions about the dispatch: was the dispatch chick on it? How did they roll the funeral procession into the proceedings so smoothly? Why didn't a funeral procession with a police escort just happening by a dispo run raise any red flags from the word go? Anyway, Horatio pooh-poohs the idea of the dispo route being secret by reminding the detective, "There are no secrets in Miami. Only useful information."