06x20 - The Pinocchio in the Planter

[bunniefuu]

(murmuring of adults and children)

(whistle blows)

(diving board springs)

(splash)

(women laughing)

(women giggling)

(women murmuring)

WOMAN: Come on, hurry up.

(woman giggles)

(screams)

(screams)

(screaming): Oh, my God!

Oh, my God! Somebody help me!

Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

Help me! Oh, my God!

WAITRESS: Thanks, Eddie.

Mmm...

Nothing like a cup of decaf to wake you up in the morning.

Caffeine's completely off-limits?

Yeah, unless I want a baby break-dancing on my bladder.

On the bright side, you must feel a wonderful sense of accomplishment.

Drinking decaf?

No. Becoming a mother.

It's incredible.

You're creating new life as we speak.

Right now I'm eating a muffin, you're forming a pancreas.

(laughs)

Right, right.

So, I assume you didn't ask me to breakfast just to talk about decaf. What's on your mind?

Nothing.

Can't I just enjoy your company?

Of course. I am very charming.

How's Hodgins?

He insists on putting on my shoes every morning.

Perhaps because, in a literal sense, you're carrying a tremendous load.

He's trying to compensate.

Overcompensate.

Last night at the grocery store, he tried to carry my purse.

Well, maybe he senses a change in your mood, you know, something you're not saying.

(cell phone rings)

Oh, this is him right now.
(cell phone rings)

(phone beeps off)

Wow. You're not going to get it?

I just saw him at my shoe ceremony a half an hour ago, and I'm going to see him in the lab.

Well, you know, you're both dealing with a lot.

Your baby is at risk. We're fine.

I just wanted to catch up.

(car horn honks)

(siren wails, stops)

(indistinct chatter)

HODGINS: Hey, it's-it's me.

Um, we got called to a crime scene, but we'll be back in an hour.

So, call if you need anything.

I swear my wife just sent me to voice mail.

BRENNAN: Well, maybe she's too busy to take your call.

HODGINS: Yeah, but then her phone would have rung six times.

It only rang twice.

She rejected me.

Hey, Pigpen.

What are you doing here?

My own wife just rejected my call.

Ooh... Couch time.

But I don't know why. I mean, do you think...

No. No. I Just want to know why you're here, that's all.

Why is he here?

Dr. Hodgins needs to sample the soil to help determine time of death, while I inspect the remains.

In a shallow grave, it would normally take anywhere from three days to three years to reach this stage of decay.

BOOTH: A local cop said the planters are new and the playground's only been here for about a week.

BRENNAN: The large, projecting mastoid and general robusticity suggest the victim is male.

Moderate osteoarthritis of the humeral head suggests mid-to-late 40s.

Oh-ho. Look at this.

Huh? Down here?

Looks like a key to a nice car.

Maybe it was the victim's?

That or the k*ller's.

Well, we'll take it back to the Jeffersonian.

Angela can determine make and model of the car.

HODGINS: Hey, is that what I think it is?

What's that?

Ooh... it is. BOOTH: What?

Check this out.

Meet... Ugh. Wow.

...Necator americanis, aka "hookworm."

No, thank you. Whoa!

Hookworms.

HODGINS: Man. Plural. They're everywhere.

The victim's a**l sphincter relaxed upon death, causing him to defecate.

That's exciting. Yes indeedy.

This man was definitely host to a parasite.

BRENNAN: We need to take this planter and all the soil back to the lab for further examination.

Okay, back to the lab. Here we go.

Come on. Wa-wa-wait.

Wa-wa-wa-wait, what?

What are you doing now? Well, hookworms crawl at a prescribed rate of exactly one foot per day.

And this little renegade made it three feet, 4 1/16 inches.

Suggesting he d*ed three days, eight hours and...
45 minutes ago.

Give or take a minute. Good job with the poop clues, Hodgins.

Secret is in the soil. It always is.

Okay, well, why don't you ask the dirt who k*lled him and why nobody saw it, huh?

♪ Bones 6x20 ♪
The Pinocchio in the Planter
Original Air Date on April 28, 2011

♪ Main Title Theme ♪ The Crystal Method

(whistles)
Wow.

Looks like this guy got a b*ating.

There is severe blunt force trauma at the coronal suture and across the sagittal ridge.

Likely cause of death?

Yes, it is. Oh.

(cell phone rings)
Oh.

This is Wendell Bray.

Oh. Sure.

No, I-I understand.

Thanks for letting me know.

(hangs up phone)
Who was that?

It was a guy who owns a bar.

They're looking for a bartender on Monday nights.

And due to your low socioeconomic status, you applied for the job?

I'm broke, yeah.

And apparently someone else had more experience.

Cam said she needed an intern to do some extra hours.

Unless you were looking for something alcohol-related.

No. I'll ask.

Thanks, Dr. B.

Given that this is an open fracture, it's possible the m*rder w*apon came into contact with the bone.

I'll ask Dr. Hodgins to swab.

You might want to ask nicely.

He's a little grumpy today.

Because you refused to take his call.

Wait a minute. You didn't do the pre-complete ring off did you?

What, the what?

I mean, it's one thing to let the call ring through to voice mail, but it's another, when you make a point of cutting the call off after one or two rings.

I mean, the caller knows. It's like a slap in the face.

I mean, even if I did do that, it really wouldn't be any of your business.

I finished looking at the key you guys found at the crime scene.

Were you able to determine the year and model of the vehicle?

Even better. This is something called a "smart key."

It's a tiny microchip that stores the owner's custom settings.

Does it belong to the k*ller or the victim?

I don't know. The personal info is encrypted, so I'm working on that now.

So Angela decoded the smart key; got the victim's name?

Yeah. He'd been missing four days, which fits time of death. And the dentals, they match.

His name is Ross Dixon.

Look at that. Thank you.

So he lives here all alone?

Well, his wife, uh, left him last year, and moved to Madrid.

The kids are all grown up.

Nobody's talked to this guy for a long time.

He must have been wealthy.

He was an ad guy.

A what?

Advertising.

He owned his own advertising agency.

Well, I picked the wrong business.

SWEETS: Wow... Now this is a bachelor pad.

BOOTH: Yeah, if you're one of the Jetsons.

What are we looking for?

Anything that, uh, you know, just screams out at us.

SWEETS: I don't see anything.

Nothing's out of place.

BOOTH: Oh, you're the shrink, you see.

You just got to feel the vibe.

The vibe? That's right, "the vibe," all right? I have a trained eye.

Okay, what do you see?

What do I see? That box.

What do you think's inside that box?

Should we find out?

Let's find out.

All right. Oh, look.

Dixon's portfolio.

Mm-hmm.

SWEETS: Slambolt Energy Drink.

BOOTH:
"Punch your yawn in the face!"

Have you ever tried the stuff? It's caustic.

Wow. This guy worked on some pretty big accounts: Roadsafe Insurance, Russian Moose Vodka...

Hank-furters.

BOOTH: Wasn't there a big scandal about this recently?

Yeah, a well-publicized recall, after it was discovered they don't contain any actual meat.

So "100% pure beef"... It's a lie.

Advertising does have victims.

Maybe one of them wanted revenge.

Maybe that's stretching it a bit.

No. Not at all. Sure was good at what he did. Look at all these trophies.

Francuzzi & Schess.

That's a-that's a big agency.

Seems like Dixon worked there until he hung out his own shingle about six months ago.

Maybe he was fired.

You know, something had to prompt his departure.

Well, it's a place to start.

BOOTH: It's not like anyone else is missing him right now.

Hey, I was just about to come look for you.

Well, here I am.

You are grumpy.

Grumpy? No.

Who even says "grumpy"?

Well, Angela.

Angela said I was grumpy?

Hodgins, she did not reject you.

She rejected your call.

It was a pre-complete ring off.

From my wife, dude.

Are you really going to tell me that's nothing?

Okay, no.

So what did you do?

Nothing.

I-I-I make her breakfast, I tie her shoes, for God's sake.

Well, there's got to be something.

Are you going to talk to her?

Of course not.

She's pregnant. The hormones are running the institution.

What do you got?

Well, this particular fracture wound was open, so I was hoping that you'd find some trace.

Let me take a look.

Yeah.

So...

(rubber gloves snap)
Where are you going?

I'm off to talk to Cam about my hours.

Yeah?

You want more of them or less of them?

As many as I can get.

Well, Cam responds best to just calm logic.

I was thinking outright flattery.

Yeah, you'll do fine.

Hi, Dr. Saroyan.

Are you examining the victim's stomach contents?

SAROYAN: Small intestine, or what's left of it.

Great.

So, Dr. Brennan told me that you needed someone to put in some extra hours around the lab.

I'm available.

I think I'm just going to divide the hours equally among all the interns.

Oh.

I'll... post the schedule by the door.

But Dr. Saroyan, I'm the only one who needs those hours.

Financially speaking.

However... all of you are equally qualified, and that's all I'm supposed to take into consideration.

You understand, don't you?

Of course. But the decision is ultimately yours, isn't it?

Are you... questioning my ability to make a fair decision, Mr. Bray?

No. No. Not at all. I...

Okay.

I, uh...

I found something unusual about the victim's facial bones.

Remodeling indicates that he suffered two broken noses, a fractured left orbital socket, and a hairline fracture near the right mental foramen; all separate incidents in the past year.

Then someone didn't like him.

Or multiple someones; or the same someone, multiple times.

Either way, it looks like the hits just kept on coming.

Yeah.

Dixon had his face broken four times?

Four separate times. And after the last one, he filed as*ault charges against Nicole Francuzzi.

As in Francuzzi & Schess. Yeah.

His old boss. I really want you to watch this.

Hey, that is our victim.

What's this? Some awards show.

The woman's Francuzzi?

BOOTH: Yeah. Yeah, yeah. But watch.

(chuckling): This is classic.

Here it comes. What?

BOOTH: Poom!

Oh...! Right?

The hit broke Dixon's nose.

So he quit, filed charges.

(paper rustles)
She countered with her own suit.

"Tortious interference"? Yeah, accused Dixon of intentionally damaging her business.

A civil judge ruled in Dixon's favor last Tuesday.

Day before the m*rder. You know what?

I think I should go have a word with Ms. Francuzzi.

(clicks computer keys)

(sighs)
You don't think I had anything to do with this?

Nah... Just because you assaulted Ross Dixon, you sued him for a million dollars... I didn't as*ault him.

We were having an argument.

You broke his nose.

He provoked me, Agent Booth.

He ruined the-the firm that I built with my partner from the ground up.

So you did what you had to do?

You sure you don't want a lawyer here?

Why should I? I didn't do anything.

Where were you last Wednesday?

I don't know. Ask my secretary.

So, you don't know where you were last Wednesday, or what you were doing?

It was probably some charity function or something.

Listen to me.

I wasn't the only person who had something against Ross Dixon.

You're the only one who hit him in the face.

Our creative director did it, too.

Just not in front of a camera.

What's with this guy?

Why is everybody so angry at him?

One day, out of nowhere, all of a sudden, he turned into a real ass.

Just like that. We worked together for eight years. We were a tight team.

But about a year ago, he decides he's going to speak his mind-- non-stop-- to whomever, and whenever he wants.

Can you give me an example?

He insulted everyone: coworkers, clients...

He even called the CEO of Blaster Burger a "horse-faced buffoon."

We lost six clients in six months.

This guy have a brain tumor or something?

Worse. He grew a conscience.

There was a Christmas toy we pushed one year; a little robot man who wore a little beanie.

Some kid choked on the propeller.

Did the kid die?

No, he was fine.

But Ross felt really guilty about it.

He joined some group to help him be more honest.

Honest? Radically honest.

SWEETS:
Radical honesty is a controversial notion, recently popularized by an organization called The Honesty Policy.

Yeah, well, I never heard of it.

Well, their theory is that by speaking the absolute truth, we free ourselves of any pressure to make a good impression, and thus become truly free.

So they just say whatever they want and they piss people off.

SWEETS: Yeah.

It can be very aggressive.

Well, it explains why everyone in Dixon's life bailed in the last year.

I see no reason why telling the truth would be considered aggressive.

It is when you do it without exception.

I mean, the small fictions that we call "white lies" play a crucial role in human interactions.

It's the glue that holds us together.

How? A world without lies would be far more efficient.

If-if no one had any feelings. But people do.

Do you lie to me?

No, Bones, I don't.

I would argue you're doing it right now.

Uh-ho!

Okay, fine, I am. It's not a big deal.

It is.

Tell me a significant instance in which you have lied to me in the past.

Oh, this is a good discussion.

Maybe you should try it, Agent Booth.

I can't think of anything.

Again you are lying. Whoa...

We're here.

Maybe you can benefit from this group.

You're pushing it, Sweets, you really are.

You're pushing it. What?

BRENNAN:
Whoa... The Honesty Policy meets at the same community center where the body was found?

BOOTH: Maybe we can get something out of it.

(beep)

BOOTH: What are you doing?

SWEETS: Whoa! Ghost driver!

How'd you do that?

It's called "Intelligent Parking Assist."

BRENNAN:
The car guides itself into the parking spot.

BOOTH:
Wow! Look at that, huh?

Does it solve murders? Of course not.

Good. I like my job.

Hey. So...

I tested the trace found on the broken clavicle.

It's titanium. Titanium?

Yeah. How could you bludgeon someone with a w*apon as light as titanium?

Mmm. Don't assume that it's a w*apon.

I reconstructed the bone and found some remodeling around a 37-millimeter gap.

Gap? Wait. Like the bone is missing?

Yeah. The bone on either side has signs of osteitis.

It's likely that a titanium implant was used during surgical repair.

Then I know where to find it.

The guy's implant has to be in here someplace.

An excuse to use your magic gloves.

Magnetic gloves. Check that out.

(guffaws)

Hey, so did you hear?

Our victim was in a cult?

It's not a cult. Yeah. It's worse than a cult.

These people knowingly advocate full-blown insanity.

Hmm, they advocate telling the truth.

And I think it... sounds like a good idea.

Hmm, I don't know.

Personally, I like to maintain a certain degree of couth.

"Couth"? Who says "couth"?

I just did.

Can I be honest?

You're a pretty strange dude as it is, but when you use words like "couth," you seem really strange. Really.

That make you feel better?

Yes. It did.

Good. Can I be honest with you?

Yeah. Go for it.

Okay, when you were going out with Angela, I once planned your m*rder in great detail.

I appreciate your honesty.

This is good. This is good.

Uh, no. I don't-I don't know about that.

Feels a little creepy.

I wonder if it'll work on Dr. Saroyan.

Hey, whoa! She's the boss, so, you know, you're going to want to go easy.

Why? Honesty is the best policy.

No...

No, no. No, it's not.

(sighs)

BOOTH: Okay, so this is the place.

BRENNAN: You should make an announcement, requesting that the k*ller volunteer his guilt.

BOOTH: But that's not going to work.

BRENNAN: But they vow to be honest.

I'm sorry, this is a private meeting.

Right... the, uh, Honesty-Policyheads.

(claps hands)
So... where do I sign up?

Oh, no sign-up needed, just... check your lies at the door.

Burt Iverson, attorney-at-law. You are...?

Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI.

And this here is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan.

Is it possible for a lawyer to be entirely honest?

Well, a group dedicated to exploring the truth is likely to attract individuals who have made a habit of lying on a regular basis.

Oh.

Uh... God.

SWEETS: Agent Booth has a phobia.

He fears clowns.

I don't fear them. I just don't like them.

Uh, nobody likes him. He's a creep.

CLOWN: What's the haps, jackasses?

Uh, sorry I'm late.

Big party this afternoon.

Kids screaming, moms bitching; It was chaos. IVERSON: Agent Booth, this is an opportunity for you to express your true feelings.

What? No.

Attention, everyone.

Our guest would like to start things off this evening by telling us why he hates clowns.

Oh.

What do you got against me, suit?

Nothing.

No, no. You got a problem, you come out with it.

Why should we let you stay here if you're not going to be honest with us?

He has a point.

What? Tell the group something you've never told anyone before.

Come on, FBI, try it. No.

(whispering): While I don't espouse the rhetoric of this group, it might help to gain their trust.

We want their cooperation.

Come on.

Fine, fine.

MAN: The truth from the FBI.

I can't wait.

Sometimes when I don't have clean underwear, I go commando.

(group cheers, applauds)
WOMAN: Oh, commando.

BOOTH: All right, that's enough.

It's a m*rder investigation, so...

Anyone here ever have a problem with Ross Dixon? Raise your hand.

Who's he talking about? I don't know.

Who's he talking about?

I did. Ha!

Told me my act sucked.

It pissed me off.

Were you with him last Wednesday night?

As a matter of fact, I was.

Something you'd like to share with us, Mr. Clown?

Yeah. I got a warrant for felony as*ault.

And I'm too cheap to hire a lawyer.

BOOTH (laughs): That's not funny.

All right, why don't you come with us?

Just cuff the clown, will you?

Me? Yes.

(elevator dings)

Hey!

Hey, what are you doing here?

What's he doing here? Uh, he's a suspect.

This is just going to take a minute, okay?

No, I'm sorry. I got to go.

What did my wife say to you?

Come on, guy-to-guy, no "doctor-patient confidentiality" stuff.

Nothing. She didn't say...

Okay. Something was obviously on her mind, but she wouldn't talk about it.

(sighs)

She wouldn't pick up when I called her, and, you know, she's been polite.

Polite?

(laughing): Yeah. It's awful.

Yeah, she's withholding something.

I suggest you ask her directly what's on her mind. Okay?

Honesty is the foundation of any strong marriage.

Radical honesty.

Where's the tough guy?

Uh, Agent Booth had a pressing matter.

Afraid of a red nose.

What a baby.

Okay, I don't understand why people pay you to entertain children.

I'm cheaper than the other clowns.

But you're right, I'm horrible.

Because you tell the truth?

Hey, an ugly kid is an ugly kid, and a bargain is a bargain.

Did you k*ll Ross Dixon?

No, I did not.

Why were you with him the night of the m*rder?

Some of us got together to watch the game over at my place.

Half a dozen or so.

It was... lame.

Yeah, and when did the game end?

Five-ish. Everybody left, Ross included.

Were there any arguments?

No. It was all friendly.

What did you do after the game?

I had sex with a hooker.

Okay. Well, I'm going to need the prost*tute's contact information to confirm your alibi for the time of the m*rder.

Yeah, sure, kid, you confirm my alibi.

(chortles)

Did Ross tell you where he was going when he left that night?

Yeah, out to dinner somewhere.

Did he say with whom?

You didn't ask.

That's right.

I didn't care.

I only care about myself.

(passes wind, groans)

Really?

What? It's an honest bodily function.

(laughing)
It's honestly wrong.

Hey, is it important to the case that I ate broccoli?

Just leave the door open.

Look, these so-called honest people are no better than liars.

Why? You would think they'd be exceptionally cooperative during interrogation.

They are, but nobody tells blabbermouths anything.

So their own honesty prompts others to avoid telling them the truth.

Dixon went out to dinner the night he was k*lled.

He didn't tell anybody where he was going.

If it helps, Cam is analyzing the contents of the duodenum.

Duode... No, let's talk about something else, all right?

We're eating.

I'm avoiding what I would really like to talk about.

Why would you do that?

It's a difficult subject.

It's become one of those... pachyderms in the room.

What exactly is the pachyderm?

I would like you to reveal an instance in which you have lied.

Oh, geez, not this again.

You think you're protecting me, but by avoiding the truth, you inevitably cause greater harm.

No, no, I wouldn't do that.

I wouldn't do that to you.

Lying to spare my feelings?

Maybe it's to spare my own feelings.

I'll tell you what.

I'll give you an example when we're finished solving this case, okay?

I won't forget.

I know. You won't forget.

I do not like that painting.

Wha... What?

I am attempting to open an honest dialogue between us.

By insulting my painting?

By stating what I think, regardless of the consequences.

Now you try it.

Something is obviously on your mind.

Hodgins, we don't...

I'm a big boy.

I can take it.

Yeah, I'm not... I'm not so sure about that.

Wow. That's... That's nice.

Big vote of confidence there for the man you're going to spend the rest of your life with.

Okay.

You've been a little bit underfoot lately.

You can't even see your feet.

Yeah, but I-I know you're there.

You're overcompensating.

You're... You're too cheerful.

I'm not supposed to be cheerful?

We're going to be having a baby.

Yeah, I know that. I know that.

I-I just... I think we could be more honest about what we could face with the baby.

Oh, Angela.

No, this is real.

Just say it.

No matter how many smiles we plaster on our faces, it's still real, so just say it.

Leber Congenital Amaurosis.

The baby could have Leber Congenital Amaurosis.

We talked about this.

Even if the baby is blind, we can get through it.

Yeah, but it doesn't mean that I'm not scared, or that you're not scared.

You just want us to smile and go through this as though nothing's wrong, and I can't do that.

I'm sorry, I just can't...

Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.

I'm... I'm sorry. I...

I was just trying to help.

Yeah, I know, I know.

Sometimes I can't breathe, I get so worried.

Well, that's why you have me.

And that's why I have you.

This kid is so lucky to have you for a mother.

You're no slouch yourself.

You can be kind of a jerk sometimes, but that's what I love about you, too.

Excuse me, Dr. Saroyan.

Uh, Dr. Hodgins wasn't able to find the victim's titanium implant, but he did find a few shards of what may be bone.

I'll take a closer look.

Was the victim missing any bone?

As far as we know, only a portion of the clavicle.

Hey, did you hear about the whole radical honesty thing?

I did. What do you think?

I am sure it has its time and its place.

Great. I should get the job.

Excuse me?

The job. I need it.

It should be mine.

Based on...?

Financial need.

Daisy and Fisher-- they don't need the money.

I mean, neither does Vincent.

And Arastoo's family is-is loaded.

I need it.

That's a factor. However...

My ability-- it can't be an issue.

I'm-I'm smart and helpful and thorough.

Uh, I'm very pleasant company.

I've been instrumental in solving numerous cases.

True, but... No. No buts.

When you look at the situation objectively, I should get the job.

You are not perfect, Mr. Bray.

Nor are you.

Don't push it.

(clears throat)

Of course.

I appreciate your honesty.

All right, you have the job.

I have to do this because it's how I feel.

But you will lose the job if you don't let me go.

Of course, of course.

Again, I really, really appreciate your honesty.

Aced the job.

SAROYAN: Go, Mr. Bray. Hoo-hoo!

So, I got the results of the stomach contents.

What do goat cheese, tomatoes, truffles and cornmeal mean to you?

Pizza?

Pizza.

The victim's last meal was truffle pizza.

I guess so. I had to check out all the fancy pizza places in D.C.

Oh, no, please tell me it wasn't Farini's.

I love that place. It was Farini's.

Well, they're the only ones that serve truffles on their pizzas. Yeah.

And get this. The manager...

The manager recognized Dixon by name.

He was a regular?

Restaurant had to comp his meal because he got into a fight with a waiter by the name of Jonah Hinkle.

Did Hinkle punch him in the nose?

No. He poured a beer over his head.

Oh.

It's likely Dixon said the wrong thing then, and if it escalated to v*olence, it was probably personal.

BOOTH: Well, there he is.

Hinkle is the victim's son.

BOOTH:
Can you tell me why you and your dad weren't talking?

There's no records of any phone calls between the two of you here.

I haven't called him in at least six months.

Why?

'Cause he was a douche.

I've heard.

Nothing I could do was ever good enough.

He stopped paying for my tuition last quarter.

He told me I wouldn't get through school anyways.

I was too lazy, and it was a waste of his money.

This was after he... got honest?

Yeah.

No one really wants to know what you think of them, right?

At least not in my family.

My mom got a divorce.

He drove us all away.

So why was he in your restaurant the night that he was k*lled?

He came in to apologize.

Out of nowhere.

He said he wished he didn't hurt me with the things he said, but... he still meant it.

Hmm. Some apology.

Yeah. Yeah, I got pissed, but I overreacted.

I didn't know it was the last time I was gonna see him.

Was it?

Yeah.

I tried to go home and see him that night, but I didn't go in.

There was a car in the driveway, and just...

A car? Did you see who it belonged to?

There was a lady wearing a neck brace.

He was talking to her in the doorway, and then she went inside.

I think they were arguing?

Hmm.

So, you didn't know her?

No.

You tell me what the car look like?

It was a little red convertible.

It was banged up pretty good, too, like she was in an accident.

I'd know it if I saw it.

Dr. Brennan, I found something unusual during my microscopic examination of the bones.

These faint microfractures appear in a diagonally-descending pattern anterolaterally on ribs four through eight.

Well, I've seen this type of microfracturing before in automobile accidents.

It's caused by the compression of a taut seatbelt.

So then, a pattern on the left ribcage indicates that the victim was a passenger on the right side of the hicle.

Very good, Mr. Bray.

Dr. Saroyan gave me the job.

Oh. What persuaded her?

I did. I was honest with her about my-my need and my ability.

Well, why wouldn’t you have de that before?

Because she's my boss, and I was nervous.

So you're a coward by nature?

What? No.

But you just said...

Forget it.

You know, Dr. Brennan, you may not realize it, but you can be extremely abrasive.

Oh, no. I'm well aware of that.

(sighs)

MONTENEGRO: So, I have something else to tell you, now that we're just getting it all out in the open.

sh**t.

When you leave your socks on during sex, I feel like I'm making love to a guy in a nursing home.

Is that a good or a bad thing?

Honey. Hmm?

(clears throat)

Uh... (imitates Bray clearing throat)

These chips aren't bone. They're wood.

Impossible.

Carbonized wood.

Check it out.

I guess that does look a little like carbonized wood.

Red oak, as a matter of fact.

I-I'm sorry. Who-Who's the king?

Oh, yeah. I'm-I'm the king.

I'd be happy to crown you.

Oh, is that honesty, or are you just being mean?

It's tough to tell.

I guess if I'm going to be honest with others, I've got to be honest with myself.

I really should have caught that.

It's okay.

You're still part of the royal family.

Guys, what is this line right here?

(computer chirping)

BRAY: Looks like a nerve fiber.

Oh, my God. This is a bone implant.

Wait. A wooden bone implant?

Wood and bone are biocompatible, though these implants are still considered experimental.

Surprised you didn't know that.

So my error is totally understandable.

An error nonetheless.

"Nonetheless" is strange, like "couth."

MONTENEGRO: Okay, uh, if the implant was made of wood, then why would you find traces of titanium?

I found nothing titanium in the soil.

Or on the body.

The clavicle was the only open fracture.

Then the victim must have been bludgeoned by a titanium w*apon.

Wendell ruled that out.

For obvious reasons.

Hodgins agreed with me.

Proving that you can both be wrong as well as childish.

(both stammering)

No. Nah.

The rear-end damage is consistent with the sudden impact required to cause microfractures to the ribs.

Right. The car belongs to Dorothy Emridge.

Dixon was a passenger in the accident about a month ago.

Did he receive medical attention?

No, he refused it on the site, and so did she, but she later claimed that she had serious neck injuries.

Then why didn't she get help?

Well, according to the report here, the incident happened at 2:00 a.m.

(whispering): All right, uh, she's a married woman.

I think they were having an affair.

That's not very honest.

Shh. Just let me take care of this.

Mrs. Dorothy Emridge, correct?

Yes, it is.

Were you in a car accident with Ross Dixon?

Well, you know, these questions, they're only going to get harder.

Yes. I was in an accident with Ross.

See that?

Like your group says, it's always good to tell the truth.

In her case, maybe not.

So, were you and Ross Dixon having an affair?

We were having an affair.

I'm impressed. She's very forthcoming.

Mr. Dixon's son saw you arguing with Mr. Dixon the night that he was k*lled.

What were you arguing about?

BOOTH: What was it?

You were having an affair. It went bad, so you k*lled him?

I'm not saying another word till I talk to my lawyer.

I wouldn't, either, if I were you.

What?

So, your attorney is Burt Iverson, esquire.

Small world.

Yes.

I met Mrs. Emridge at an honesty meeting.

We were talking. She told me about her car accident, and I offered to represent her.

Doesn't seem odd to me.

Describe your neck injury in as much detail as possible.

No, no, no. Let's forget the fender bender.

Let's just get straight to the m*rder.

I assure you that my client did not bludgeon Ross Dixon.

Ross was an honest man, right?

What did he do, thr*aten to tell your husband about the affair?

That is not what happened.

Let me handle this.

Dorothy had no motive to hide her affair.

She was already in the process of filing for divorce when Mr. Dixon was k*lled.

And the affair would mess up the settlement?

I didn't hurt Ross.

She couldn't have.

Ms. Emridge suffered a left laminar fracture of her sixth cervical vertebra as a result of the automobile accident.

Oh.

Oh, what?

A laminar fracture of the sixth cervical vertebra would certainly impair her ability to bludgeon. But I'll need to see X rays to confirm.

I have found that it's a real relief to say what's on your mind.

I can see that.

I mean, I never would have gotten the job if I hadn't been honest.

And even Hodgins pointing out my mistake has made me more careful.

I suppose that's good.

It's liberating.

For instance, a week ago, I never would have felt comfortable telling you how acrid I find your perfume.

It's not perfume.

It's lotion, and I like it.

(computer beeping)

Hello, all.

Any more mistakes, Wendell?

I was just telling Dr. Saroyan how much more careful I am now.

You know, perhaps it's the monitor, but you look like a flying squirrel, Hodgins.

Okay, that's it.

I don't care what you do on your own time, but from now on, unless we are talking about the evidence, I do not want to hear one more honest word in this lab.

Honesty is clearly the downfall of civilization.

Civility, propriety and manners are its redeemers.

Understood?

Loud and clear.

You tell 'em, Cam.

So you went to find a m*rder w*apon?

Yes. You are in luck.

At first I was confused by titanium.

But then I had an idea.

Check this out.

Titanium paint!

SAROYAN: The monkey bars?

Yep.

See, they're steel, right?

But they're coated in titanium dioxide.

And they were assembled shortly after Ross Dixon's death.

So they were lying loose the night of the m*rder.

If one was missing, it would look suspicious.

So the k*ller hid the m*rder w*apon in plain sight.

I mean, who would think to look at the monkey bars?

I'll call Booth.

We'll need a warrant to take it all apart.

We'll see you guys back at the lab.

Bye.

Nice.

Can you see us hanging out at a place like this?

Yeah, all three of us.

You know, I know what Cam means.

But I'm glad we talked.

Me, too.

Yeah? Mm-hmm.

Oh, hey. Do you think you can tie my shoe?

Absolutely.

Do the tops of my feet seem fat to you?

Not at all.

These are the skinniest foot-tops I've ever seen.

You wanted to see me?

Dorothy Emridge's attorney dropped off her X ray.

He wants you to verify her injury.

And there's also a new policy in the lab.

Well, what's that?

You are the only person who's allowed to be radically honest, and that's only because I can't stop you.

Well, that's too bad.

I prefer everyone speak their minds.

I actually don't care what you prefer, because this is my lab, and I make the rules.

Then perhaps Wendell won't be able to tell you how ashamed he felt that he might have hurt your feelings after you were so generous to give him the extra work.

He was quite emotional.

Really? Yes.

Although I told him that I also find your lotion to be a bit pungent.

This is indeed a left laminar fracture of the sixth cervical vertebra.

That's what we need to know.

But this-this isn't Dorothy Emridge's neck.

It isn't?

The pointed mental protuberance suggests this woman is Caucasian.

Dorothy Emridge is African-American.

This X ray belongs to another woman?

I'm certain it does.

So the honest lawyer lied to us?

I'll tell Booth.

I like it.

Did you bring back those X rays?

I'll be needing them for court.

Oh, no, we'll be keeping them.

Don't worry. We're not going to be using them to file a fraudulent lawsuit.

(chuckles)
What are you talking about?

Those X rays do not belong to Dorothy Emridge.

That's ridiculous.

Dorothy wasn't injured in that accident.

You see, you promised her a big settlement if she played along.

I was just basing my case on the information I was given.

Ross Dixon found out from Dorothy what you were planning to do.

And since, hey, he was an honest guy, he was going to tell the truth and, uh, expose you.

You would have been disbarred.

You see, here, I have a list of injury cases that you filed in court.

My guess is you knew you were going to do some jail time, so you k*lled him.

That's pure speculation.

No, we have proof.

You wiped it clean.

But your fingerprints are on the inside of the pipe.

Inside.

You see, there's no such thing as an honest lawyer, Bones.

As I suspected.

BOOTH:
Now, look, these honesty people tell more lies than the average bear.

Upon what criteria are you determining that the bear is average?

How many lies it tells?

(laughing): What?

(laughs)

Mr. Bray told me that I'm abrasive.

Do you agree with that?

Well, you speak from the heart, Bones.

It makes you you.

You're just saying that to protect my feelings.

Oh, I know where this is heading.

Here we go.

Well, now that we've solved the case, you promised that you would give me an...

An example of when I lied to you.

I got it. All right.

Fine. Okay. Do you remember when I broke up with Hannah?

Of course. That was very recently.

I didn't lie to you. I just didn't tell you how much it meant to me that you were there for me.

It meant the world to me.

But you didn't tell me, so you lied by omission.

Well, you didn't ask me.

Therefore I didn't tell you.

I'm an exceptional partner.

Yes, you are.

Why is it so difficult to tell me something I already know?

It's hard to explain.

Some things are better left unsaid.

To things that we don't say.

Did you hear what happened to the clown?

No. What happened?

Violating parole.

Did he go to prison?

Five to seven years.

Well, that is one more clown off the street.

Ain't that the truth?

Ha! Hey, hey!