Well, it’s all shabazzle in the second episode as the CSIs have to deal with the fallout from letting Holly get shot on her first day in the job. Warrick, modelling an earring which I am sure doesn’t last beyond the first season, is taking most of the flak.
Not only is Sara Sidle on Warrick’s case (WOOP WOOP) but a creepy old judge guy in a Crimplene shirt keeps following him around.
Poor Warrick. Luckily his gambling skills are so proficient that he’s able to make $11,000 in A SINGLE HOUR to pay off the judgeface… for now. (Why is he still working at CSI? He could be making a killing on the blackjack tables!)
There’s also a case to solve – and guess who’s involved?
OH YEAH it’s another Speccy White Guy! Granted this one is ‘the victim’ not the criminal but he’s still pretty unpleasant. He dumps his girlfriend when he wins $40 million on the slots. Who can blame her for killing him?
He is pretty stacked I guess. He probably could do better. On the other hand, his muscular build, while pleasing to the eye, puts him outside the true SWG stereotype (and is probably the real reason why HE HAS TO DIE).
Nick (probably feeling some hunky sympathy) isn’t too impressed with the girl whodunnit. She gets his best face.
The real story of the episode though is the establishment of the CSI team we KNOW AND LOVE. Sara rocks in from San Francisco (albeit, not to everybody’s best pleasure: she has Catherine’s hackles up straightaway) and Brass is moved away from CSI and onto Homicide.
We all know what that means…
Nick: Who’s gonna run the unit?
Grissom: For now, me.
YOU KNOWZ IT, G-DOG! “For now” my ass.
Last word goes to Nicky, who with typical incisiveness asks Grissom the question on EVERYBODY’S minds.
Nick: How do you know all this crap?