As this asinine call to arms unspools, we see: Calleigh loading a pistol and squeezing off a few rounds at the firing range; Alexx wiping down her morgue table while appearing to bop to the radio; Speedle getting on a bright yellow motorcycle and taking to the streets sans helmet; Delko, back in a "check out these guns!" shirt, washing his truck; Megan packing up a desk in her house, stopping to check a portrait of her with someone I presume was her husband.
As if that's not enough, there's an ethereal soprano ululating in the background, clearly meant to add an elegiac note to what was obviously supposed to be a letter that echoes why these Miami CSIs are drawn to their vocations. Personally, I prefer theHomicide version: "We speak for the dead." It beats ending as this episode does, with Horatio back out at the crash scene to brood, and brood, and brood. And brood some more.