Crime Lab. Doe puts on his detective hat. He's staring at Elizabeth's rib cage, where he finds a French oak seed. Which is peculiar, because that particular kind of oak is very rare, and it doesn't grow within 6,000 miles of Seacouver. Frank steps in as John says, "Didn't you say the body was found in --"
Frank finishes: "An oil drum." Now they're in the evidence room. John discovers that said oil drum is really a fermenting tank used to make wine. John Doe is like Fox Mulder on super-speed. Frank says, "So whoever killed Elizabeth had to have access to something like this." See, now everyone's a genius. "That narrows it down a little bit." John takes the line of thought that much further: "A vendor. Someone who works in a fermenting plant." Cue the "amusing" crack, "Yeah, great, it's either Ernest or Julio Gallo." Doe goes on to say that only three companies exported French oak during 1968. Frank says, "I'll run it." For a second, I thought he said, "I'll run with it," meaning he'll take the fermenting tank on a little field trip.
We're back in front of the computer with the same clerk who looked up Prescott's driver's license in the first place. She finds a company called Columbia Terrace Vineyards. Apparently, it's the only winery on the west coast still importing French oak today, and get this -- they've been in business since 1968. Co-inky-dink? I don't think so. Frank looks at the printout and says, "Says here the owner's William H. Leverton." Joe responds, "William Henry Leverton, born 1967, deceased 1968." Eureka! Light bulbs start flashing. Frank says, "That's how Prescott did it." The two of them start to leave the computer room, and Frank says, "Stole a dead kid's ID, established a new label, and kept on making wine." They turn a corner. "We're bringing some friends along for this one. This guy's got a way with a knife." Yeah, but you guys are cops -- with guns. If you played rock-knife-gun, the later would always come out on top. And how come John Doe knew that William H. Leverton died in 1968? If he's an encyclopedia of births and deaths and near-deaths, why can't he flip through his mental alphabet and find his own damn self, saving us all the trouble of watching an entire season of this show?
The police cars race to Columbia Terrace Estates. Frank, the SWAT team, and John freaking Doe, who's not even a cop and doesn't carry a weapon, go into the house. Damn. I hope he gets shot. And then sues the Seacouver Police Department for reckless endangerment or something. Any. Way. Flashy guitar music follows the SWATs up the stairs and into the bedroom, where William Leverton, or Steven Prescott, lies on a regulation hospital bed with an oxygen mask on. At least the nurse stands with her hands above her head. You'd think that someone might have, oh, I don't know -- called ahead to find out if the guy was even healthy before taking an entire SWAT team over there?