Cut to Brass saying with the brand of deadpan insincerity only he can conjure, "You must get pretty jet-lagged flying to Bulgaria. Or is it Romania -- Karl?" Dr. Lavalle looks embarrassed. She says, "I haven't been Karl Benway for a very long time." Brass replies, "Yeah -- like three days ago when you killed Vern Saldusky at the E-Z Access storage unit? That's a hell of a place for an operating room. I mean, why not go all the way and use the men's room at the bus station?" Gil finally pipes up and says, "We found your fingerprint there." "I never said I wasn't there. I attended Vern's surgery. He was terrified. I tried to calm him," Dr. Lavalle says. Brass thinks she succeeded: "You don't get any calmer than dead." "I'm a counselor," Dr. Lavalle insists. Brass sighs and asks, "Is that how your fingerprint ended up in a three-day-old vagina? Counseling?" Dr. Lavalle snaps, "I've devoted my life to helping those cast out by gender prejudice. Where would these souls be without me?" Alive? Not needing colostomy bags? Not stuck in a hellish netherworld between genders?
Dr. Lavalle continues, "Who will stand in judgment as to who's a candidate and who's not? Dr. Mercer? The accredited physician?" Or something like that. The monologue continues for a while in the me-me-me vein, and after Dr. Lavalle quavers with outrage that "I've been performing gender reassignment surgeries for ten years," Gil points out that she's been doing so without benefit of a medical degree. Brass asks, "How many Verns have there been?" "How many Wendys?" Gil adds. Dr. Lavalle eventually breaks down: "Vern was an unfortunate tragedy. I have no idea what happened to Wendy." Brass thinks he knows: Wendy saw Dr. Lavalle with Vern, so Dr. Lavalle killed her lest the secret get out. Dr. Lavalle snots, "That's impossible. After I saw Wendy at the clinic, I went straight to my daughter's soccer game. I have nothing more to say." Gil chirps, "We need you to say, 'Ahhhh.'" Out comes the DNA sample swab.
Cut to Mia and Catherine chatting as Mia explains that the DNA she collected from the latex gloves was female, so that more or less knocks out the now-arrested Dr. Benway. The doctor had help.
But not from her husband, who is the antithesis of "calm," "cool," and "collected." Warrick rolls his eyes at Francis's histrionics and deflates the man's delusions about affecting the CSIs with a blasé "Officer, could you escort this man out of here?" Nicky's object lesson from that? He's noticed that Francis is a spitter. This news excites Warrick. Nicky swabs the glob of spit for further analysis, while Warrick pokes through the house and finds an unraveled videotape. Attracted by Francis's shouting -- and maybe the potential for even more spitting -- Nicky heads outside in time to see Francis bullying the "scrumptious pumpkin"-saying woman of many scenes ago (Amber) to take his daughter away from the scene because "she's your kid too, you take some responsibility." Because Amber was so irresponsible as to protest that she had to take the night shift at the hospital. Amber stubs out her cigarette with her white hospital clog, then snaps at her daughter before driving off again. Nicky heads over and grabs the still-damp, still-smoking butt.