May 21, 2011: Interview Room A
Jackie sat down at the table and pulled the top of three thick file folders sitting at her right elbow. On her left, a video camera would be an unbiased observer during the interviews.
Catherine sat across from her, watching as the woman read through the file. Catherine hid her impatience well, aware that Jackie may be taking so long to see if Catherine would slip up and say something she shouldn’t. Jackie looked up at her camera and started recording. She leaned on the folder open in front of her, crossing her arms over it.
“Please state your name,” Jackie requested.
“C.S.I. Catherine Willows.”
Jackie flipped to a page in the folder, reading something. “And what was your relationship with Capri Martinez?”
“There wasn’t any.”
“Does that mean you didn’t know her?”
“No. I mean that I didn’t have a relationship with her.”
“What were your feelings toward her?” Jackie flipped to another page. She retrieved a pen and paper, and jotted something in short hand. Catherine didn’t attempt to drudge up her memories of how to read shorthand.
“I didn’t invest any feelings towards her.”
“Did you want her dead?”
“No. I just wanted her gone, I wanted my fellow C.S.I. and myself to be safe, and I wanted EMS to be able to find locations of emergencies. Capri was keeping that from happening.”
Jackie looked up at Catherine. “November 9th, 2008, you had a physical confrontation with Capri, did you not?”
Catherine had expected that to surface during this interview. Her lips thinned for a moment as the memory came back…
November 9, 2008: 10:45 AM
Grissom and Warrick ran into the reception area of dispatch and stopped.
Greg sat in a chair as EMT Casey Thompson carefully pushed an I.V. needle into his arm. Greg’s exposed skin had second and third degree sunburns. He looked like he was barely aware of what was happening around him. Soot smeared across his clothes and had changed his hair color to almost black. The second paramedic and receptionist stood at the door, watching what was happening inside the dispatch room.
The men heard Catherine scream in the next room, “…AND IF THAT WASN’T ENOUGH, THE DAMNED THING STALKED US MOST OF THE FUCKING DAY!”
Warrick told Grissom, “I got Greg. Go.”
Grissom hurried into the dispatcher room but slowed to a stop with the other dispatchers. Catherine was as badly sunburned as Greg, her blonde hair and clothes were stained with black soot, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. But if she was in pain or suffering, it was impossible to tell. She was clearly after Capri and it took two men to hold her back and away from Capri. She had managed to corner the young dispatcher in a corner of a desk and wall, and the girl had a darkening black eye - likely from one of Catherine’s clenched fists.
Catherine continued screaming at Capri, “YOU NEVER CHECKED THE DIRECTIONS! YOU’RE JUST COVERING YOUR ASS WITH THAT LIE! TO DO IT TO ME IS ONE THING, BUT GREG… HE’S THE ONLY PERSON THAT EVER DEFENDED YOUR SORRY ASS! HE TRUSTED YOU! YOU ACT LIKE THE WORLD OWES YOU SOMETHING. THE ONLY THING THE WORLD OWES YOU IS A MATCHING BLACK EYE!”
Capri screamed back, “I AM GOING TO SUE FOR THIS ONE, BITCH!”
Catherine yanked free, tearing several blisters in the process. Before anyone could grab her, Catherine had her hands wrapped around Capri’s neck. She slammed the smaller woman to the desk, pinned her down under a knee, and wrapped both hands tight around Capri's throat. But she wasn’t trying to choke the woman, just making sure she had Capri's full attention. Regardless, Capri’s eyes widen in fear when she saw the rage older woman’s eyes.
“If you breathe even one word of this to a
lawyer, I will destroy you,”
Catherine threatened. “This was my town long before you were even a thought,
little girl! You push me any further, and I will run you out of town like the
bitch you are. Do you feel me?”
Capri didn’t answer right away and Catherine didn’t move. Slowly Capri nodded.
Catherine let her go, slowly backing up. Capri sat up on the desk, avoiding looking Catherine in the eye. No one moved for several minutes. Grissom finally pushed his way through the group of people and slid his hand into her hand, the only part of her uninjured. Catherine's head whipped around - she was prepared for a fight! When she saw it was only Grissom, she relaxed and finally let her tiredness and pain show. Grissom gently placed a hand on her back and guided her toward the front door.
“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Grissom quietly said. “You and Greg look like you could use some water and sleep.”
She rested her head on his shoulder, letting him lead the way.
May 21, 2011: Interview Room A
Jackie closed the folder. “I’m curious why you didn’t go straight to the hospital when you reached help that day.”
“I wanted her to see, in the flesh you might say, what one of her mistakes had done.”
“What would you have done if she hadn’t quit that day?”
“Pester her supervisor every day and point out every little mistake she made until he fired her.”
Jackie sat the folder in a box on the floor. “Thank you. I’ll call if I have any more questions.”
“No questions about where I was when Capri was murdered?”
“You were at 164 Rose Hip Circle. You suggested the death was a suicide. The officer on scene tells me you decided it rather quickly, but that you planned to hold off on your report until the M.E. could confirm your findings. You practiced good procedure, C.S.I. Willows.”
Catherine was surprised by the compliment. “Thank you.” She stood and left the room.
May 21, 2011: Capri’s Apartment
Sara worked her way through the living room. She stopped at the couch. There’s a half-finished dinner plate and cup of soda. There is a receipt from one of Las Vegas’ quick marriage chapels. Next to the receipt was a notebook was a list of names, some with addresses. Likely, she and her new husband had been deciding whom to tell about their spur of the moment nuptials.
Sara noticed that many common words on the list written in a way that holding them to a mirror would show them spelled correctly, but backwards. Those words had been crossed out and corrected in a different handwriting. It bothered Sara that the handwriting was familiar, but her mind couldn’t figure out why that was.
She walked into the kitchen. Supper utensils, pots, and dishes sit in the drying rack. On the table, there are textbooks and homework for two business classes. A binder lays open and she sees several handwritten essays peeking out. Sara pulls one out. The essays, like the list, has several words written backwards, and the words are corrected by the same familiar handwriting.
To herself she said, “Capri was dyslexic.” She shook her head a little – how did everyone manage to miss that about her?
Sara continued searching. Back in the living room, she spotted a brown hair teetering on the edge of a vent. She carefully collected it with a pair of tweezers and held it up to the light. Will it lead to a killer?