Jeff Kaminsky had a busy few days.

It all started when he had implemented a plan he'd been working on for several months. He stole a huge bit of money from the political campaign he was assigned to work for. He thought that he'd have an easier time getting away with it if he provided the police with the mother of red herrings.

He'd never been that close with his identical twin, Ronald. It always incensed him when people assumed that they did everything together. The reality was that the twins were actually very different. In school, Jeff had excelled, and Ronald, not able to keep up, only succeeded at trouble. Once Jeff went off to college, Ronald was finally able to be himself and straightened out a bit. That was, until he ran into a little trouble with the IRS and spent some time in prison.

When Ronald was close to being released, Jeff reconnected. Ronald, needing any help he could get, was eager to make the reconnection, even with their troubled history. But the entire time, Jeff was working toward his plan, which Ronald was an unwitting participant in.

Jeff thought he was so smart. He stole 500 thousand dollars from his contracted employer, a US Senator. The next day, before anyone had noticed, he withdrew it all in cash, placed it into a black duffel bag. He had to laugh at himself for being very cliché, but it was functional, and the only thing to carry a large amount of money he had in his apartment.

After taking the money, he waited at his apartment, preparing for the middle phase of his plan. Ronald showed up around 6. They had dinner, talked about things. Ronald mentioned he had an interview the next day, but he still had no suit. Jeff suggested he try on the new Abboud suit he had just bought. While Ronald sat in the computer chair in Jeff's apartment, going over his resume, Jeff had snuck up behind him and injected the back of his head with a neurotoxin. Ronald lost control of his body instantly, but was still alive. Jeff apologized to his brother, as Ronald's brain slowly began to die. Another challenge was to remove Ronald's fingerprints. Jeff thought that eventually, the police may figure things out. But he thought his diversions would buy him enough time to slip into anonymity. After that, he gathered up whatever he needed, including the money, made a call to Clay Eller, and then went off to Ronald's work, as Ronald.

He knew that there were lockers at the grocery store Ronald worked at. He needed somewhere to store all his belongings while the police began looking into things. He enjoyed the total lack of mind power needed to do the stocking job. But he needed to be there in case the police began looking into Ronald's background.

The next day, he had called the police to tip them off about the body. He had expected to show up after the NYPD, to further sell his alibi. But when he showed up, he thought he'd see a uniform or a badge. Instead, he saw a man… he thought he recognized from a book he'd read once. He panicked a bit, not knowing if the man was with the police or something worse. He ran, eluding the man and two detectives who had shown up. He took a day to lay low in a cash only hotel to plan out what to do next. He had found out the precinct that was handling the investigation. He thought that the best way to deflect suspicion was to just go to the police, perhaps leading them in another direction.

He did that, discovering that the man he saw in his apartment wasn't a cop, but was the writer he suspected. Just doing research. Apparently he and the lady detective had been brought in by his boss, Josh Lyman.

After that, he had gone to identify the body of his brother, as himself, then went to his apartment. After the Squad had left, he snuck back out, back to the locker at the grocery store, to get his bag of money, and returned to Ronald's apartment to see what he could salvage. He'd only take what he could carry. He'd planned to take a train somewhere, anywhere, and begin building a new life under a different name.

After gathering up his things, he left apartment 2F and headed for the stairwell. He was almost ready to take them two at a time, but figured he was so close to finishing his plan, he didn't want to risk a rolled ankle. But getting to the bottom of the stairs, he saw a sight that put his heart in his throat. The lady detective, along with the writer, and two other men were walking toward him.

"Mister Kaminisky?" Beckett said.

He did his best to hide his panic. "Detective… what are… do you have any information on my brother's murder?"

"We are following several leads. The information you provided was very helpful in getting us nearer to an arrest."

He faked being pleased. "Great."

"But I wanted to just connect with your parole officer, Lieutenant Henderson, here," She motioned to the taller of the two men, "just to make sure that you were doing OK."

Jeff was burning through his memory. He had met Henderson one time, shortly after Ronald was released. "Well, it was rough… what happened to Jeff. I'm trying to move on."

"Detective Beckett's concern is well founded." Lieutenant Henderson said. "This is a great trauma you've been through, Ronald. I'm here to help."

Jeff hesitated. He wasn't sure how to proceed.

"In fact," Henderson continued, "one of my other parolees has also gone through something similar." Here, he turned to the fourth person of the group, a short, bulky man with glasses and bushy hair. "This is Errol Ross."

Errol shot his hand out to shake, and eventually, Jeff took it. "Nice to meet you, Errol." Jeff said.

Ross didn't respond. He continued shaking Jeff's hand, looking into his eyes. Jeff thought something must be afoot, judging by the length of the handshake. He retreated his hand, and tried to continue the ruse.

"So. What were you in for?" Jeff asked Ross.

Ross continued to stare at him a moment longer. He then turned to Beckett and shook his head back and forth.

This was the cue that Beckett had been waiting for. "Jeff Kaminsky, you're under arrest for theft, and for the murder of Ronald Kaminsky."

Suddenly, Jeff was grabbed on either side by two more detectives. The darker skinned one took Jeff's duffel and opened it, showing the overflow of cash to the rest of the group. The skinnier one cuffed him.

Jeff looked at the door. He was so close. "What gave me away?" He asked.

"Well, you threw us a few too many diversions." Beckett said. "The whole case seemed to be something out of a bad mystery book."

He looked down, defeated.

"Well, that and…" the writer started, "If you were going to be posing as Ronald, you may have at least wanted to know the name of the man he shared a cell with for almost two years." He motioned to Errol.

"Which you may have known if you ever came to visit him." Ross finished.

The two detectives led him out the door. Just a few minutes ago he was hoping to catch a train to Florida, or Texas, or LA. Now, his chance at freedom was as cold as his victim.