"CSI: Miami" had a different look last night as it became a metaphor for corporate greed and the health care crisis -- all with the help of a tank full of deadly jellyfish.

And you know what else is sweet? Jesse's mysterious past. As we begin, he's at a Renovation Warehouse charity event, for reasons unknown. So is Ryan, who just happens to be moonlighting as a security guard. What a wonderful coincidence. The security boss explains to Ryan how to read people and eyes Jesse, saying he looks like he's stalking prey. Ryan laughs as if to say, "Haha, you idiot. That guy is a cop. I'm smarter than you." But when Ryan says hi to Jesse, the lies start flowing. Jesse is not there as a plus-one (he paid $10,000), and he lies about a mysterious woman from his mysterious past. Hmmm.

But when Jesse isn't busy telling lies, he is busy trying to save a janitor who fell into a 5,000-gallon tank filled with box jellyfish. He jams his arm in the water for, like, a second, gets stung, and watches the guy die. Calleigh pours a little salad dressing on the boo-boo, and he is a-okay. Science wins again! Too bad they didn't think to pour salad dressing into the tank when the poor janitor was thrashing around.

The obnoxious, self-righteous CEO of Renovation Warehouse interrupts Horatio and Walter as they investigate the balcony the janitor fell from. The CEO has ammonia on his pants and an above-the-law 'tude. Usually this is the way procedurals set up a false leads -- just make a character's behavior over-the-top and too obvious. But this guy is returning to the scene of the crime, and since the days of "Dragnet," that has only meant one thing: guilty.

When the widow shows up within hours to get the death certificate for a life insurance policy, she seems like an obvious suspect, too: She's out for the loot. But it's not that simple. She and her late husband were poor, and the company's health insurance policy was a joke. Her husband had a lot of health problems, and they were barely getting by. And even though they find her palm print on the balcony where her husband fell to his death, we can pretty much rule her out because she has a sweet face and didn't even know about the life insurance. Calleigh digs into the policy and finds out that Renovation Warehouse took it out on the janitor, and is the beneficiary.

That's what's known as a "dead peasant policy," the CEO obnoxiously explains to Horatio. The CEO says that they "invested" in the janitor, and that the policy offsets the company's loss. Time for a Horatio zinger: "What you should have invested in is a decent health care plan." Pow! Take that, corporate America.

Along with zingers, we still need some evidence, and some bitchiness from Jesse's mystery woman. After they drain the 5,000-gallon tank o' death, Jesse somehow -- SOMEHOW! -- finds a couple of sequins inside some coral. Wha-huh?! Okay, fine. I mean, that has to be harder than finding needle in a haystack, but I'll let it go. When they corral all the hot women who wore sequined dresses that day to find a match, it just so happens Jesse's ex pops up. She accuses him of stalking her again. (Again?)

Meanwhile, Horatio wants to see the janitor's employee file, and the CEO thinks it will be cute to deliver hundreds of boxes of with all the employees' files to bury the cops in paper. Very clever, but it backfires. Looks like Renovation Warehouse is knocking off its own employees to rake in the insurance loot. Millions! Goldman Sachs does this too, right?

They investigate the suicide of an employee who netted the company a million bucks, but they have to hurry, because the body is on a slab at a medical school. A quick peek at her eyes and it's oh so obvious that she was strangled before she was hanged. Rope burns on some wooden beams seal the case: It's murder. They nail an uppity executive who rolls over on the CEO in about two seconds. And it turns out that the sequins are from the dress of the woman Jesse is stalking. It also turns out that she is the CEO's "assistant," but doesn't take too many memos, if you know what I'm saying, wink wink. So when she and the CEO were otherwise occupied right before the janitor died, a couple of sequins got snagged on the CEO's watch and fell into the tank with the dead janitor.

But guess what? The CEO says that the janitor attacked him, and he's not alive to deny it, so it looks like self-defense. And besides, CEOs are above the law. We know that already. He brags that he'll be bailed out before sunset -- heh, "bail out," get it? -- and, as promised, he's on his yacht, chilling with a martini (two olives). These people get away with everything!

Except this time. Vigilante justice is our only hope, so the brother of the woman who was strangled pops a cap in the CEO's back with absolutely no concern for what will happen to the man's martini. The delicious beverage crashes to the deck of the boat, and the olives helplessly bounce around. That's the problem with vigilante justice: sometimes innocent martinis pay the price for someone else's crime.