Back at CSI Central, the big red bag with the body in it is getting X-rayed; Nicky and Sara study the tangle of bones to see what discernible clues there are. Sara asks, "Wouldn't it be easier to unzip the bag and see what shape our vic is in?" David the lab tech -- not to be confused with David the More-Fun-By-The-Minute Coroner -- gives a tight little smile and says, "I like to put that off until the last possible moment with decomps." Who can blame him? Any natural phenomenon that produces by-products like "putrescene" and "cadaverine" (both of which are deteriorated amino acids and -- hold on, because this is only the third documented instance in which I am actually putting my college education to work -- when amino acids break down, they can produce chemicals which are partially composed of molecular compounds known as sulfhydryl groups. Are y'all familiar with hydrogen sulfide, i.e. rotten-egg smell? Now imagine it on a much greater scale) is going to stink to high heaven; I'm grateful that all those "in the future, we will have Smell-o-Vision!" guys were wrong. Sara, David, and Nicky continue to examine the body via X-ray; Sara sees a coin she pegs as a half-dollar. David tersely corrects her by noting that it's a silver dollar, adding, "I've done a few of these." Well -- looks like someone got over his little crush from last season. Both Nicky and Sara blink in the face of David's experience. Nicky pegs a medical implant, and David notes a plate in the guy's head. Sara pushes to open the bag as David warns, "By the sound of things, he's been dead for about two months." She cocks her head and asks, "Sound?" Oh, Sara. You should know all this. Without going into timelines and all, all bodies inevitably do the following: rigor mortis, livor mortis, desiccation and putrefaction. The alternatives to putrefaction -- mummification and adipocere formation -- are rarer. And if this guy's slopping around, it's unlikely he turned into liquid soap (adipocere formation is when the body fats transform into a waxy, soap-like substance). But, since Brass isn't around to make faces, I suppose someone's got to act as the expository device. "You weren't here when ESD brought this in," David says. "Not for lack of trying," Nicky smirks; Sara gives him a mortified look.
We transition from the red bag continuing the squishy remains of John Doe and back to the orange fingerprint. Catherine is inspecting the graffitoed locker; a brittle-looking blonde tells her, "That's Dennis Fram's locker." Catherine asks if Dennis "Stick" Fram had his locker decorated on a regular basis; the blonde punts by noting, "I'm the school counselor. I don't know every move these kids make." Catherine's not having it: "It's obvious -- or a young man wouldn't be dead." Damn, Catherine. Warrick, meanwhile, is playing with something that looks like a walkie-talkie on steroids; it beeps quietly and regularly, and he's geekily grooving on it. Gil pops in and asks excitedly, "Is that a polymer-sensor proboscis?" "Cyranose 320," Warrick replies. "Company sent it to me gratis for a week. They figure if it helps, CSI will buy one." Gil notes that the Cyranose helps to the tune of roughly ten grand apiece, plus tax, shipping, and handling. Warrick, who's desperately in love with his new toy, tries to justify the purchase by pointing out that if the killer chewed a unique brand of tobacco, or was possessed of a unique type of halitosis, the Cyranose would pick it up. Gil's unmoved: "If that thing ran out of here and bit the shooter on the ass, the county wouldn't pick up a ten thousand dollar purchase order." Warrick, realizing that appealing to Gil's geeky side is not going to pan out, tries a different tack: "I thought it was our job to speak for the victim, no matter what it took." "Our job is to think, Warrick; machinery should never matter more than our mind," Gil rebuts. He says that now, but wait until the Necromanose 250 pops into his mailbox and he's got a handy tool for speaking with the dead. He then thinks of a solution for Warrick's technophilia: an Erlenmeyer flask, a glass tube, and an air pump. Warrick notes that Gil's solution costs roughly one percent of his. He then tries one last plea -- "absorption agent!" Gil smiles and gives Warrick a thinking exercise: "Fresh out. Improvise." He then walks out, leaving Warrick looking -- everyone together now -- beleaguered.