Oh, except the difference between Chris Carter and me is that Chris Carter is allowed -- nay, encouraged -- to nap through entire episodes, and I have a contractual obligation to watch them. Too bad, too, because I was having this really great dream about Spike from Buffy. Blah yada, because no one heard the shot echoing through the crawlspace, our intrepid agents decide that the killer must have been elsewhere. You think? Oh, whatever. Just keep going through the motions, people. Don't mind me.
Elsewhere turns out to be the roof. Yes, indeed, the gunman would have to have been a hell of a good shot, to shoot through the roof, through the crawl space, and right smack into that dead guy's scalp. I wonder if he's got special, unusual, otherworldly talents which allow such great marksmanship, or if he merely watches a lot of Annie, Get Your Gun. Scully calls for the crime-scene investigators. She wonders aloud how the dead guy knew he was about to be shot. Oh, maybe that's the ever-so-tenuous paranormal reason this case got directed to the file of X. Doggett, the eagle eye, spies a small piece of scorched cloth on the ground. As he bags it, he explains to Scully that it's an "old Godfather trick," wrapping the gun in a towel to muffle the sound of the shots. He's now sure the killer was on the roof. Too bad this isn't an episode about a killer obsessed with The Godfather, because I could use a little horse-head-in-the-bed action to liven this up. Doggett wonders idly how the gunman made such a killer shot (so to speak), and Scully spins some really yawn-inducing theory about thermal imaging, that Doggett dismisses for an equally boring reason, and I decide I'd rather read my copy of InStyle Weddings instead of paying any attention to anything that anyone on the screen is saying. Don't worry, stalkers, I'm not getting married (as if! I have no life. I barely even leave the house. I'm like a goddamned hermit. And spare me your advice about how I will never met a man if I don't leave the house, because I already have a mother, thanks). My best friend from college is, though, so, you know, it's all wedding-tastic around here. Doggett comments that a police station is a "pretty ballsy place for a hit," and Scully gives him this look like he's the most smoking hot piece of man meat she's seen in months. Although that could totally be the hormones. And I certainly hope she's learned her lesson as far as the whole Lurve In the Lush Basement Office goes.