Back at CSI Central, Catherine and Sara are standing over Sandy's waterlogged body. David confirms that Sandy did die of drowning, something of a neat trick when you consider that the three-foot-tall kid was in roughly eighteen inches of water. ["Apparently, most child drownings occur in shallow water. It's not totally out there." -- Sars] Sara brainstorms all the possible explanations from a scientific perspective; David disabuses her of those notions and explains that the only injury Sandy had was a fractured forearm -- a spiral fracture, no less, which would imply that her arm was twisted. We see the fracture, courtesy of the TMICam -- is there no wound that doesn't get this treatment? -- and we establish that it happened seconds before Sandy's death. Catherine spins a hypothesis about Roger pulling Sandy out of the car to molest her, then panicking and drowning her when he realized he couldn't escape. Frankly, that sounds staggeringly ill-thought-out and stupid, even for a criminal. Sara pokes some holes in that theory, then repairs to find Brass. Catherine leaves the morgue too, and promptly runs into Sandy's mom. Sandy's mom asks what all relatives of the recently-departed ask: when is the body going to be released for burial? I don't know why the show keeps running these kind of scenes: number one, the funeral home is typically the entity responsible for figuring out when the body is released, even when the deceased is being autopsied by a medical examiner; and number two, most police departments are structured so that relatives of the deceased are dealing with an investigative officer or some sort of public-relations specialist. The odds of the relatives wandering about the morgue are really pretty damn small. Anyway, Catherine's all gooey maternal sympathy, and Sandy's mom starts acting a little weaselly about the circumstances of Sandy's death: "I thought it was an accident. You read all the time about dangerous amusement parks can be." Cut to Catherine looking a little pensive. Sandy's mom continues with: "You think it can never happen to you. You think you can protect your kids." The whole time she's delivering this screamingly suspicious monologue, her eyes are fixed to the left as if there's something on the wall that she'd rather be looking at. Catherine continues to try and flesh out the story; Sandy's mom hedges on details.
The casket salesman from way back when has returned! It's a pity my brain shut down in self-defense last time he was on the show and I relegated his plotline to a one-paragraph complaint. It keeps me from fully appreciating the attempt at continuity this time out. Anyway, I can feel my higher brain functions powering down every time this guy opens his mouth -- or that could just be the bottle and a half of wine I've had -- and to make a tedious scene less so: organ theft happens, apparently funeral directors are in the business, and there's a tidy profit to be made from selling people's parts under the radar. I laugh at the scriptwriter's feeble attempts at misdirection.
Nicky strides through the lab, looking for Warrick to share the exciting news that the fecal sample he took in Susan's backyard matches with one they found at the crime scene (you know, the one with the premium steak and rice) -- with one critical difference: the backyard sample has human tissue in it, and the human tissue matches the jogger's DNA. Warrick then turns to checking the surgical tools for blood, using reactive agents leukomalachite and hydrogen peroxide. The reagents turn blue, thus indicating the presence of heme (red). Nicky comments on the strangeness of it all; I roll my eyes at the stiltedness of it all. Roll the science a little more smoothly next time, boys.