Uh-oh. The house is being gutted by the clean-up crew, obliterating all the evidence our guys needed to collect. Gil comes back into CSI Central, barrels into Ecklie's office, and calls him a son-of-a-bitch. Go, Gil, go! Gil accuses Ecklie of spiking the crime scene in an effort to thwart the investigation; Ecklie rebuts that the crime-scene clean-up was on the schedule, and had Gil been a more diligent paper-pusher, he'd have known that. Gil ends their discussion by throwing a coffeepot at the door; Warrick stands behind him, wearing a look that indicates his desperate wish to be anywhere else right now. Ecklie slithers out, and our two guys are left staring at the collection of broken glass sitting in a pool of fluid. Gil has another Eureka! moment and tears off to try and browbeat something resembling an accurate recollection of the crime scene from the lying Damon.
Cut to Gil in the prison, talking to Damon's sister. He asks what kind of husband and father Damon was; the sister gives props to the fatherhood portion of Damon's rep, but dodges the spouse question. This is the second conspicuous omission of the wife as a significant part of Damon's life. Hmmm. Gil watches Sis leave, then goes in to talk to Damon. After sparring with him for a few seconds -- they really can't engage in complex verbal games, what with it being 9:53 and all -- we find out that Damon was not, in fact, leaving to buy the wife ice cream, but leaving her, period. They had a fight, she threw a decorative kerosene lamp, and he took off to cool down. He came back and the house was on fire. Well, consider the Damon case nearly wrapped up.
Meanwhile, Nicky's coming by the Monaco to place his bet. He goes over to Teller #12 to drop off the money and inquires as to the cashier's last day on the job. The cashier, who is snorting more than Don Simpson on any given year in 1980s, ducks the question, then sneezes. Nicky has his instinctive Eureka! moment and realizes that the cashier killed Joey, became flustered and forgot to pick up the wad of cash on the floor, but managed to pick up Joey's route. Case closed.
Back at the prison -- free of any other felons wandering about with vendettas against the forensic scientists who helped convict them -- Gil swings by to see if Damon needs a ride. It turns out he doesn't. "Your sister," Gil says and, once again, William Peterson has managed to subtly pronounce skeptical quotation marks. Damon finally comes clean; that woman isn't his sister, but his mistress. "Would you have helped me if I told you that my wife and I fought that night, and that I was leaving her for another woman?" Damon asks Gil. "I don't judge people," Gil responds neutrally. Indeed -- he really doesn't need to when he's got Catherine to be judge and jury on adulterers. "It's funny -- when I got out, I thought I'd feel...free," Damon continues. "And?" Gil continues pitilessly. He's really pissed. Damon's oblivious to anyone other than himself, however, so he just babbles on: "I feel --" "Responsible?" Gil asks, twisting the knife a little. Damon nods, then runs off to his girlfriend -- no thanks for Gil, no nothing. Gil watches the two lovers embrace enthusiastically. The camera pulls away on him slumped against his car, lost in thought while the couple walks off into the sunset.