10x03 - The Purging in the Pundit

[bunniefuu]

I don't know, have you seen Planet of the Apes?

It's like the post-apocalyptic future down here.

Brenda, relax.

The soup kitchen is just on the next block.

There have to be easier ways to spice up a college application.

It's all about community service.

Colleges don't care about test scores anymore.

Couldn't we have picked a less creepy community?

Whoa, Brenda, do you see that?

There's a guy over there in the storm drain.

He looks stuck.

Help me get this stuff out of the way.

Seriously?

Do you want to go to Harvard or not?

Sir, are you okay?

Does he look okay, Brenda?

(sighs)

Sir, we're going to get you out.

Grab the other side and pull.

One... two... three!

(screams)

(chittering)

You're right.

This is going to make an awesome college essay.

How long have you been up?

Oh, not too long.

I just wanted to read this new piece on the Flyers.

I'm telling you, Hextall's gonna win us the Cup this year.

You didn't sleep again, did you?

I was, uh, it was in and out.

I was probably just, you know, getting used to this new house and all.

Booth, you haven't slept well in a long time.

I'm worried that something is wrong.

You were falsely accused.

You were in prison.

You've been through a lot.

Well, so have you.

Not as much as you.

Sweets would say that you have avoidance issues.

Oh, avoidance issues. What?

You're still not trusting the people you work with.

I'm concerned you're not dealing with the trauma you suffered.

Listen, Sweets has passed away, okay? God bless his soul.

And you know what?

You don't even believe in psychology.

Right?

You know what, I...

Let's not talk about this now.

Please?

All right, look, I'll sleep when I'm tired.

But for now, I'm gonna make you pancakes.

I know you've missed my pancakes.

(phone ringing) Yes, you have. Pancakes coming up.

Booth...

Yeah... Right, right, okay.

Ooh... on our way.

Sure.

Well, it looks like someone is sleeping the big sleep.

So much for the pancakes.

They found a body under the bridge in Garfield Heights.

I'll get Christine ready for day care.

(indistinct radio chatter)

Saroyan: The victim was found by a couple of high school kids who didn't realize the guy was dead because weasels were making the body move.

Booth: Whoa, they must've freaked out.

Saroyan: Actually, one was pumped.

Said something about it being what she needed to get into Harvard?

These trusty hands are all yours.

Put me to work. Aubrey, what are you doing here?

Well, you know, I was in the neighborhood and I heard the call, so I sort of figured I'd stop by-- holy crap!

(gagging): Oh, man...

Oh, my God.

Where's the other half of him?

That's the worst thing I've ever seen.

Saroyan: Really?

I'd only give this about a 7.5.

I'd give this a six.

You know, the floaters are much worse.

Yeah, well, you know, give me a nice, clean g*nsh*t any day.

It seems you're not familiar with the expl*sive nature of a head wound.

Aubrey: Okay, okay, hazing the new guy. It's really funny.

So what the hell happened here?

The victim got stuck in the drain and animals ate the half they had access to.

I could see how he got stuck.

He was obese.

Well, half of him still is obese.

Blunt surface of the orbital margins indicates the victim is male, Caucasian.

Well, the inside of the pants confirms the male part.

Ooh, wait a sec. This is not an accident.

Look at the bottom of his soles.

Aubrey: Totally clean.

Didn't walk here on his own.

It's a body dump.

Or an attempt at one, at least.

I found our ravenous little culprits!

Aubrey: Oh. Rats.

Never been a fan.

Hodgins: Rats?

Don't embarrass yourself, Aubrey.

These are stoats, aka short-tailed weasels.

Anyone have time of death for me?

Uniformity in scoring on the cortical surface suggests the stoats are the lone scavengers.

Hodgins: And given the level of predation, I'd say three days.

I'm gonna see what else I can find.

Three days.

Aubrey: His pants are pricey.

This is high-quality gabardine.

Yeah.

And his shoes are Italian. Expensive leather.

Booth: Well, look, the big question is what was Daddy Warbucks doing down here?

Could've been buying dr*gs.

Wouldn't be the first time in this neighborhood.

Hodgins: Found it! I found the stoats' den.

And... (grunts)

...it is filled with evidence.

Booth: Yeah, music to my ears.

Hodgins: Yeah, no, lucky for us, the stoat actually lines his den with the remains of his prey.

Is that his...?

Hair? Yeah.

And those are phalanges.

Saroyan: And an eyeball.

Oh, God, it's his tongue.

Yes. Very observant, Mr. Aubrey.

Aubrey: Thank you. Oh, man... there's one still inside.

Oh, God... and he's eating...

He's eating, oh, man.

Hodgins: Yeah.

It's a fun job, right?

♪ Bones 10x03 ♪
The Purging in the Pundit
Original Air Date on October 9, 2014

♪ Main Title Theme ♪

The Crystal Method

♪ ♪

On the lower thoracic and lumbar vertebrae, I'm seeing numerous osteophytes.

A common skeletal injury for the morbidly obese.

Note the perimortem fractures to the nasal bones.

And also the anterior dentition, the upper left central incisor and the lateral incisor.

Saroyan: That would suggest a hard blow from a right-handed assailant.

But not hard enough to be fatal.

Before we continue, I would like to... offer my condolences.

Dr. Sweets was a good man.

Yes, he was.

He was a very good man.

Fuentes: Colleagues can be like family.

I had an assistant in Habana, and like Sweets, he was like a brother.

Guys, can we please not talk about Sweets right now?

If we do, we're going to start crying and contaminate the evidence.

Brennan: Booth thinks it's odd, but I find relief when analyzing decomposed remains.

Yes, Booth is correct.

All right, my sartorial work is finished.

This guy is ready to go freestyle.

Saroyan: Discoloration to the scrotum. Likely from trauma.

Looks like our k*ller fought dirty.

Ms. Montenegro, it is so good to see you again.

You too, Rodolfo.

What?

He's eye candy. Just deal with it.

Are you here just to gawk or did you finish your reconstruction?

Uh, well, the skull was relatively unscathed, but before I add dimension to the face, I do need an estimate of the victim's weight.

Oh...

Based on the measurement of the bi-iliac breadth, as well as the femoral head, I'd say 136 kilograms.

Montenegro: So... factoring in the weight...

Saroyan: Oh, no.

It's that guy.

The blowhard.

Is "blowhard" some kind of a job?

Hodgins: He was a talk radio host who was ignorant and angry.

It's a lethal combination.

Well, it certainly was for him.

Hutch Whitehouse? He's the victim?

Yeah, do you know him?

Yeah.

His fans are called Hutchheads.

He's, like, a big-time conservative talk show host.

Went to UVA before dropping out to become a top 40 DJ.

Now he's a right-wing icon, syndicated nationwide to the tune of

$10 million a year.

He's pro-g*ns, pro-capital punishment, pro-vouchers, anti-immigrant, anti-choice, anti...

Wow. You really know your Hutch.

Nah, I just did a background check online.

I really want on this case.

Why, because it's a high profile case?

Yeah.

And because he almost made me throw up.

His remains.

Aubrey, just put the football down and go back to your desk.

And, uh, one more thing.

Uh, his wife of 15 years, Miriam, is waiting in the conference room.

Okay, all right, you know what? I'll go talk to her, you hold on to that.

I could come, too.

Nope, nope. I'm fine.

Are you sure? You handpicked me, remember?

And Sweets agreed that...

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second.

Okay, I picked you to work for me, okay?

Not to be my partner. Let's not get that confused.

You know, me being here isn't the reason Sweets is gone.

I-I need to go talk to this suspect, okay?

So you just put that right up on the wall up there.

You say he was k*lled three days ago?

Well, approximately.

See, the Jeffersonian, they're still trying to be a little bit more specific.

So, um...

You never reported him missing.

You didn't say anything to the authorities.

Hutch and I...

...lately, we've led separate lives.

All right, so you were getting a divorce.

No.

God, no.

Just... busy.

Hutch had his show, and I promote women's rights issues all over the country.

I was in Charlotte three days ago.

So you and Hutch weren't on the same political wavelength.

On some issues we were, and some we weren't.

Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?

Supposed to be, huh?

Searching for a motive.

I understand.

I also stand to come into quite a lot of money now that Hutch is gone.

Yeah, you do.

$30 million worth, according to this contract.

Some people value their relationship more than money.

You're right.

So can you think of anyone who'd want to hurt your husband?

Half the people who listened to his show probably wanted him dead.

Right, he was offensive.

You should talk to Bob Gordon, his producer.

And Alan, his co-host.

They kept track of all the crazies.

Had to, for insurance reasons.

Fuentes: All the damage

I found on the upper half of his remains is superficial.

So you think cause of death must be south of the border?

Yes.

Unfortunately, I cannot clean the bones until you are done testing the urine.

That is correct, Dr. Fuentes.

So unless you want to test the urine yourself...

No, gracias.

Okay. So the first sample came back negative for dr*gs, alcohol, no poisons...

Look at his cortisol level.

Saroyan: That can't be right.

When someone's att*cked, their cortisol levels spike.

It's a direct response to stress.

And his oxytocin levels are up.

It's like he was enjoying being m*rder*d.

Hutch Whitehouse: Everyone's talking about voter reform.

How about this?

You don't speak English, you don't vote.

Oh.

And those kids sneaking in?

They grow up. If we starve them out now, no problem in the future.

There are simple solutions, citizens.

More g*ns, not less.

Celebrate diversity?

How about celebrate our own kind? Huh?

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Shut that crap off, will you?

Man, that's horrible.

I was hoping you'd say that.

Well, what do you know about his producer?

Well, his name is Bob Gordon.

And he's a mega-billionaire.

Like the one percent of the one percent.

He's also a big-time donor to all the conservative super PACs.

Did he have any beef with Hutch?

No reason to.

Hutch was the golden goose. He brought in hundreds of millions in ad revenue.

He does have a record though.

Two DUI's.

One arrest for hunting deer without a license... while intoxicated.

Great.

So drunk, armed and dangerous.

What about Hutch's on-air partner?

Alan Spaziano.

He was Hutch's on-air punching bag.

Hutch called him a Demo-crap, one of his go-to jokes.

Does he have a record?

No.

Spaziano's so clean, he's practically Canadian.

Clean but humiliated.

Sounds like a suspect to me.

Yeah. Thanks for bringing me along, Agent Booth.

I really appreciate it.

You should.

Man: How many times do I have to say it till it gets through that thick, commie skull of yours that when you're fired, it means you don't work here anymore?

I can do the show on my own, Bob.

I don't need Hutch!

There's no money in liberal talk, Alan.

"There's no money in liberal talk, Alan." And I should know 'cause all I care about is money."

It depends on who's doing the talking, Bob.

Booth: Okay, break it up.

The two of you, just get to your corners there and stop finger-pointing at each other. FBI.

We've got a few questions we'd like to ask about Hutch.

You're the producer?

Yeah. Bob Gordon.

When's the last time either one of you heard from Hutch?

Three days ago.

Early morning, Hutch calls in, leaves some boo-hoo message on my cell that he's feeling sick.

So, you're the compassionate type?

Listen, two months ago, I gave Hutch a mega deal.

Ever since, he's been acting like a complete diva.

I went to his house to drag his butt out of bed, only he wasn't there.

Okay, great. Do you still have that voice mail?

I deleted it.

You deleted it! Well, that's pretty convenient.

Okay, well, I'll tell you what. Why don't you hand over your phone so we can help retrieve those messages for you?

You ever hear of the Fourth Amendment?

Yeah, it helps with people who have something to hide.

We can get a warrant, pull it off your cell company's servers.

I thought the government didn't bother with warrants anymore.

They just spy on whoever they want.

You-- Hutch's hobby was to humiliate you, huh?

Use you as a punching bag.

Hutch was just playing a part.

He doesn't believe half of what he's saying.

The show is dead and so is your career.

Yeah. Not much of a motive, is it?

Aubrey: What about enemies outside of the station?

His wife said you had to keep a record for the insurance company.

Yeah. Be my guest.

Those are just the credible threats.

Knock yourselves out.

People really hated him.

Yeah, what can I say?

The man was a star.

Dr. Fuentes? I hear you have something of interest to show me?

I'm still cleaning the southern half of the victim, but I want you to take a look at the radius, scaphoid and trapezium.

Perimortem ligature marks.

The victim was bound at time of death.

I also found some bilateral microfracturing on the hyoid.

He was strangled.

Although the pressure wasn't sufficient to be fatal.

So, still no cause of death.

No.

But I have seen injuries like these before.

In Habana I was told to obscure evidence like this... after the Rapid Response Brigades would interrogate a prisoner.

The secret police.

Yes. Another reason why I defected.

These lacerations to the wrists, plus the strangulation and the repeated strikes to the genitals...

The victim was tortured prior to death.

Yes. But what was it they wanted to know?

Wow. All these boxes are filled with threatening letters to the victim?

Yeah, Booth read over everything looking for potential suspects.

"Booth"? Booth read through all this?

Hey, I tried to help, but apparently Booth's trust doesn't extend that far.

These are the letters he thought stood out.

And these are all from the same guy?

Yeah. I took a quick glance. I agree with Booth.

Dude was obsessed with Hutch.

Each letter rants against something he said on his show.

So, an angry liberal?

You'd think, but no.

Radical conservative.

Thought Hutch was too soft.

Oh.

From the postmark, I was able to determine which post office picked up the letter.

So, it was somewhere in this area.

Did you cross-reference that with individuals with criminal records?

I did.

Saroyan: Yikes, 78 names.

Remind me not to walk in that neighborhood at night.

Yeah, all the letters had pretty basic grammar and punctuation, sloppy penmanship.

Yeah, probably no more than a high school education.

Okay, well, when I eliminate the college graduates, I'm left with a list of 45 names.

Oh, we can get that number down because the king has arrived.

King of the lab? Isn't that a little passé?

I found some trace on the reverse side of a couple of the letters. I put it up on the server.

This guy's anger actually worked well for us.

He pushed so hard with his pen that the paper picked up particulates from the writing surface below.

Asbestos, PCB and lead.

Meaning he is living in a building which should be condemned.

Thank you, thank you.

Hold the coronation, Your Majesty.

All right.

Okay, just look up buildings in the area which failed inspection.

Saroyan: Wow, okay.

Montenegro: William Byers, arrested two years ago for assaulting a Muslim with a baseball bat.

All hail the king, baby.

King of the lab!

Oh, boy.

I had a local black and white confirm that Byers is home.

Yeah, me, too. Heading there now.

Oh, I'll just be a sec.

No, no, no. Taking Bones.

But the guy's a psycho. He could be dangerous.

What? You don't think I can take care of myself?

What? No! But I could help.

I get it that it's tough to trust somebody new.

But I thought we were really starting to get along.

Right. That's good. That is good.

Why don't you let things just, uh, run their course, okay?

Sure.

Brennan: If Byers is dangerous, why didn't you bring Agent Aubrey as backup?

He's a good agent, isn't he?

Look...

Aubrey is fine, okay?

But you, you are my partner.

Your world has to be bigger than just you and me, Booth.

It is, all right? I'm back to work, aren't I?

Well, objectively that's true.

But you still don't seem to trust anyone.

And you have to, to do this job.

I trust you.

Then listen to me. Sweets said that you have to believe in something again, something bigger than yourself.

I do.

My family.

You haven't been to church since you've been released.

You don't even believe in God.

But you do.

And you used to believe that people were good.

And they deserve to be trusted.

Look, Bo-- let's not, not now, all right, Bones?

Not when we're about to go after a m*rder suspect.

Look, I love you, but you really have no idea what you're talking about.

I made a professional call with Aubrey, that's it.

I am fine.

(muffled music playing)

FBI, Mr. Byers. Open up!

I don't think he can hear you, Booth.

The music is at least 85 decibels.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

If it's safe enough not to bring Aubrey...

Just...

...it's safe enough to enter.

Just stay behind me, you understand?

Mr. Byers? FBI.

Your door was unlocked.

The music is horrible.

Mr. Byers?

Oh, Booth?

He's ordering fertilizer.

He's making a b*mb.

(music stops)

What the hell are you doing here?

All right, hold it right there. FBI.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, all right. All right, easy.

Come on.

Booth, oh!

(grunts)

Easy. Easy. All right.

Byers: I do not recognize your authority.

(grunting)

So we found your manifesto in your apartment.

I tell you, there's a lot of misspelled words in there.

So now the problem's believing in the white race?

When it's all the foreigners that are coming in here and destroying the country.

Is that who you were gonna make the bombs for?

You got to open your eyes, man.

The Mexicans are coming in here, taking our jobs. The blacks, all of 'em on dr*gs.

What about Hutch Whitehouse?

The traitor?

Oh, yeah, yeah. I mean, he talks a good game.

But when I wanted him to spread the word about the armed uprising, you know what he did?

He slithered off like a little garter snake.

So he doesn't deserve to much less be the spokesman. Which is probably why he was m*rder*d three days ago, right?

God works in mysterious ways, doesn't He?

He sure does. So did you do it?

Did you m*rder him? Did you k*ll him?

Let me tell you something, I ain't a coward like Hutch.

So, yeah, I admit it. I did it.

And everybody's gonna know my name. So you can let everybody know that that's the future that they have if they don't support white America.

You tortured him.

He begged for mercy, and I didn't give him none.

Just finished him off, you cut his head clean off.

That's-that's right. That's how you send a message.

That's how you create a name for yourself.

You got it. You got it. I took him by his fat neck and I sliced deeper and deeper.

WA... Hey, where you going? Where you going?

Hey, you know what, you're lying, okay? He wasn't decapitated.

S-So, wait, you just gonna... y-you gonna... just gonna let me... let me go?

No.

No, I mean, you were gonna make a fertilizer b*mb. You're just a pure white t*rror1st who's going to jail for a long, long time, and I'm gonna make sure that no one ever knows your name.

(door opens)

La Tierra llamando Dr. Brennan.

Por favor...

What, Dr. Fuentes?

I-I was concentrating on the radius.

're positing t*rture, but... look at the damage to the radius.

Mmm. I see what you mean.

Compared to what I've seen in Cuba, the damage is relatively slight.

Saroyan: So... we're looking for a compassionate torturer?

And look at the pelvis.

There's evidence of calcification.

Which would suggest that he had been hit in the cojones before.

Based on the topography of the calcification, I'd say multiple times in the last year.

That might explain his low cortisol levels.

If he'd been tortured before, he could become accustomed to the pain.

Look. Look at the ligature marks on the victim's wrists.

Calcification of the scaphoid and trapezium.

Eres una mujer brillante y hermosa.

(chuckles) Sí.

Isn't that what happens when someone's bound and tortured?

He was tortured. But it was his choice.

So he was into S and M?

Yes. He enjoyed it.

Booth asked me to look into Hutch's finances.

I found a lot of big cash withdrawals on the nights he wasn't home.

For his dominatrix.

Well, S and M is hip now apparently.

50 Shades of Grey is outselling Harry Potter.

Hutch, h-he was a public figure.

I just...

I can't see him doing the deed at home or in a hotel or someplace where he has no control.

Oh, you're good.

Give me a sec. Hutch had a loan-out corporation, and one of the assets was an office space that's empty.

But for some reason he spent six grand to soundproof it.

Looks like we found ourselves a sex dungeon.

You want to tell Booth or should I?

No, you call him.

It should come from someone he trusts.

Booth: It's creepy, right?

I mean, sex is about love, not being tied up and beaten.

I disagree.

What?

Sex and v*olence are two of humanity's most primal urges.

An amalgamation of them is a logical by-product.

Bones, S and M isn't a peanut butter cup.

It's not two great tastes that go together.

You enjoy being bitten.

Bi... No, I don't.

When we make love, sometimes I nibble your ear.

Your response is very positive to say the least.

Look, a nibble is a lot different an being whipped.

All degrees of the same thing.

Look, I think the Inquisition, you know, would've been a lot different with nibbling, if you ask me.

Booth (whistles): Whoa, look at this place.

You could perform Cirque Du Soleil in here.

There are many possible m*rder weapons.

Whips, chains, nipple clamps, Luna beads...

Ah, you sound excited there, Bones.

Wha... I'm fascinated, as a scientist.

Ooh.

Right. Okay.

You know, I can probably get to two shades of Grey, but I'm not gonna be making 50.

I'll tell you that.

There should be something here that could give us cause of death.

Look at this in the chair, it looks like dried blood.

This could potentially be where he was m*rder*d.

Mm-hmm.

Definitely blood.

Hmm.

Brennan: Hmm.

I'm seeing a lot of bodily fluid, as well.

No surprise there.

Everywhere, Booth.

They must have been having sex as well.

At least he got something out of it.

No, with the damage to his testicles, the sex would have caused even more pain.

Right, right. Okay.

Well, if the dominatrix's DNA is on file, you know, I can bring her in.

Montenegro: This is a recreation of the victim.

Okay, can we move close into the victim's skull.

Okay.

Now, I reevaluated the cracked dentition and nasal bone fractures I found earlier.

Originally, I thought that it was the result of multiple strikes.

You think a single strike did all this damage?

I hope so.

Now, it was so much easier in Cuba when we could just make up the evidence we needed.

But since we don't have that luxury, please put a ball gag into the victim's mouth.

Yeah. Uh...

A ball gag...

It's a common piece of S and M paraphernalia, but it wasn't at his office.

I know what a ball gag is, I just don't have the graphic in my system.

Oh. How strange.

What about a golf ball?

What about a squash ball?

That is a much more accurate facsimile.

Oh, yeah. That's a great idea.

We had a guy die on a squash court once-- so that's perfect.

I mean, it's not perfect.

But it's... it's helpful for...

Yeah.

...this.

Okay, squash-ball gag.

Now, simulate a strike to the victim's face.

We don't yet have a m*rder w*apon, but it's got to be something flat and hard, like a piece of tile, but with enough force to fracture the nasal bone.

Okay.

But it's not gonna be enough to k*ll him.

Oh. But, look, it did k*ll him.

The nasal bone fractures caused the victim's nose to swell and obstruct the airway.

Right. Yes.

And with his nose swollen shut and the ball gag in his mouth, he would have suffocated.

We found cause of death.

But wait.

Why wouldn't the dominatrix have removed the ball gag and saved his life?

So, Ms. Skarsgard, we found your DNA in Hutch Whitehouse's... what is it-- dungeon?

I'd call it a fantasy space.

And of course you found my DNA there.

I'm not a housekeeper.

It was Hutch's job to clean up.

Oh, fantasy space?

Right.

Last year you were arrested on as*ault charges.

An angry wife.

I was defending myself.

Well, two angry wives, it says here.

Wow, you really have a penchant for v*olence.

Agent Booth, I'm a dominatrix.

If the rough stuff bothered me, I wouldn't be fit to do my job.

Both charges were dropped, by the way.

Right, maybe not this time.

What is this about?

Is Hutch pressing charges or something?

No, Hutch is dead.

He choked on his ball gag after being smashed in the face.

Oh, my God.

You really thought you could get away with it, huh?

You think that...

No. This would not happen on my watch.

I'm a professional.

Oh, a professional. What, do you guys have some kind of a union?

I'm a licensed therapist.

I provided a safe, reliable service.

Right, so you were his, um... (chuckles) ...therapist?

Yes.

Hutch felt great guilt that he made his money inciting the worst in people.

Oh, and your beatings helped him with that?

I never b*at him.

He was disciplined, which fulfilled his need to feel punished.

Making progress, too.

I can't believe he's dead.

Progress?

Wow, what-what kind of progress were you making?

Hutch was thinking of quitting his show, becoming a moderate, a voice of reason.

Agent Booth, I swear, when I left him he was fine.

He could have released himself whenever he wanted to.

When you left him-- well, you left him bound and gagged.

Abandonment was important to Hutch.

But the handcuffs and restraints I used had safety releases.

It was up to him to decide when he had had enough.

I would never harm a client.

Both distal tibias and fibulas indicate he visited this woman quite frequently.

I should have ruled out t*rture much earlier.

Both of us were deceived by the evidence.

Now Booth needs more evidence to tie the dominatrix to the crime.

Of course.

How is your husband?

Is it difficult for you now that he has been back?

From prison?

Is this another attempt to bed me?

Because Booth and I are fine.

No.

Not at all. I just know the effects of trauma.

My brother was betrayed by the police he worked with.

Like Booth.

Oh. I'm sorry, I... I assumed you were...

Oh, please.

You're beautiful, I'm handsome, misunderstandings like this are common between people such as us.

True.

Mm.

What happened to your brother?

Well, he had to learn to accept that there were things that were beyond his control. That's part of life.

So he accepted the basic principles of quantum physics.

He knows nothing of physics. But he accepted the basic principles of the Callan-Symanzik equation, which states that expectations will fail in a quantum world.

Thank you for that, Dr. Fuentes.

I'm not sure what I did.

There's a tendon fiber imbedded in the tibia.

I also found a gap in the cortical bone near where the tendon attaches.

The victim was pulled at the extremities by a device like a rack. Did you find any such device in the victim's S and M retreat?

No.

Which suggests perhaps he was seeing more than one dominatrix.

Mm-hmm.

Yeah, yeah, okay.

Right, thanks.

Yeah, that was Bones. She-She was saying that the, uh, the body was, uh, stretched or something.

You know? But it couldn't have happened in that room.

You know, maybe it was... was, uh, another dominatrix.

Yeah, or his wife.

No, no, not the wife. She was out of town.

Yeah, but I talked to the front desk clerk at the hotel in Charlotte where she was staying when he was k*lled.

And the alibi-- did it stick?

Yes and no.

Uh, we should bring her in. And when we do, I want to be there for the interrogation.

Oh, you want to be there?

Well, you can't always get what you want.

That's a Rolling Stones song.

You should keep playing that in your head over and over again.

(laughs) You are an idiot, you know that?

Excuse me? Do you really think you're gonna do better than me?

You should get out while you can.

Look, I know that what happened to you is messed up.

And then what happened to Sweets.

But remember that Sweets trusted me to work with you.

So when you treat me like crap, you're treating Sweets like crap, too.

Here's everything I got from talking to the hotel.

Good luck with the wife.

I don't know what the fuss is all about-- so I requested a ground floor room at my hotel. Lots of people do that.

Right, but they usually don't thr*aten the front desk until they get that room. Why was that so important?

I did not k*ll my husband.

Oh, no, you just wanted a room right near the exit, right?

So, what, you could sneak out, go to the movies and come back without anyone knowing?

I was in that hotel room all night long.

That doesn't clear you, you know? If you were seeing another man, you're gonna want your husband dead.

I was not having an affair.

That's how Hutch dealt with his problems. I tried to help him so that he wouldn't have to get slapped around or whatever it was that he did.

So you know about the dominatrix?

I know that Hutch was miserable.

He hated the work he was doing.

I tried to help him, but all he wanted was her.

Anger. Another motive.

That night...

I was dealing with things my way.

I needed that room so that I could buy dr*gs without anyone seeing me.

It would've ruined Hutch if I got caught.

dr*gs? Okay, I'm gonna need the name of that dealer.

I don't know his name. And it wouldn't matter if I did, because I don't have an alibi.

Not until 8:00 a.m. the next morning.

You have to believe me.

I have a problem.

Yes, you have a problem.

And you have a big problem.

Fuentes: I reevaluated the tears to the victim's tibias and fibulas.

The ones we thought were caused by stretching?

Yes. The problem I discovered was the lack of resistance from any of the surrounding tendons or cartilage.

I thought it was because he was unconscious.

Even unconscious, the body exhibits an involuntary resistance to injury.

Which is what I explained to the good doctor. He had to be dead for the injuries to occur.

So the stretching was caused when his body was moved under the bridge for disposal.

Dragging wouldn't have caused the injury.

But suspending him would, if he was upside down with his full weight pulling his tendons taut.

So how does someone move a man the size of a small elephant?

Well, I went back and I checked our victim's socks and the cuffs on his pants.

He really is quite brilliant.

As are you, Doctor.

Thank you.

I'm waiting.

Right, right.

So I found animal hair. Some weasel, but mostly white tail deer, which at first was confusing, 'cause I thought, Bambi, why are you an accomplice to a m*rder?

Of course.

The k*ller used a deer hoist to move the victim.

That's right.

What is a deer hoist?

It, uh... Hunters use them in order to hang and transport the deer that they've sh*t. But now we got to figure out who uses...

We already have.

Hutch Whitehouse's producer is a deer hunter.

So we recovered Hutch's blood from your truck.

I'm a hunter, there's no secret about that. If you found blood, it would have been deer blood.

I loved Hutch.

Based on your views of climate change, I know that science is not your forte, but trust me, the blood work is incontrovertible.

Well, maybe, uh, someone took my truck.

It was the middle of the night.

You seriously want to go with that?

'Cause the prosecutor is gonna make your life a living hell if you go with that story, pal.

Fine.

I admit it. I did it.

I disposed of the body, but I did not k*ll Hutch.

Why would I?

Why? Because Hutch was gonna quit.

Okay, and he wasn't following your little party line.

Please.

There never was any party line.

That was just a way of making money.

Hutch would have been a damn Bolshevik if it paid well enough.

So would I.

Oh, that gives you a good motive.

You were going to lose advertisers.

So I'm guilty of being a money-grubbing hypocrite.

If that's against the law, then, throw me in jail, throw away the key, but everything else that I told you was the truth.

After I got his message, went to his house.

Have it out with him... verbally.

But he wasn't there.

So I called Miriam.

Wait a second. You talked to his wife?

Yeah. She told me about his other place.

And that is where I found him.

Dead.

Handcuffs, leather, ball gag.
It was revolting.

I could not let the cops Because it would have destroyed your station.

Yeah.

Brennan: So you dressed him in his regular clothes and took him to the storm drain.

How was I supposed to know that he wouldn't fit?

Again, science and math would have helped you a great deal.

Okay, so the producer told us he threw these down another storm drain.

The good news is, the bag was tied shut, so the evidence is pristine.

There's lots of blood on this stuff.

Probably from Hutch, but I can see if any of it came from the k*ller.

Oh, there's a shard of something imbedded in the ball gag.

May I?

Mm-hmm.

It's a splinter from a fractured upper left central incisor.

Wow, it would have taken a lot of force to break it off and imbed it in the bone.

More than a blow from a fist.

I believe so, yes.

I am going to measure the width of the shard, and perhaps we can build a profile of the w*apon.

7.5 millimeters.

And the ancillary fractures, I determined the length of what struck him was 123 millimeters.

So, he was hit with something roughly the size of a pack of cards?

Let me see the tooth.

Looks like there's some kind of trace on it.

(computer whirring and chirping)

Yeah, there's, like, an accumulation of textile fibers.

Lint. It's simpler to say "lint."

Right. Okay, so we're looking for something hard enough to cr*ck bone, about the size of a deck of cards, plus lint.

The k*ller could have been carrying something in his pocket.

A cell phone?

Montenegro: I was isolating the ambient noise on the voice mail, trying to figure out where Hutch was when he placed this call.

It wasn't his S and M room?

It should have been to fit in with the timeline, but, no, it wasn't.

I'm so impressed you were able to pinpoint an exact location from a handful disparate sounds Uh, actually, I-I couldn't do that.

Oh.

No need to worry.

You are still a valued member of our team.

I'm not finished yet, sweetie.

A twist? Please continue.

So, uh, I realized that I shouldn't have been focusing on the background noise at all, but rather, the message itself.

Hmm.

Hutch: Hey, Bob, it's Hutch.

I'm not feeling too well, so I won't be coming in.

I'll call you later on.

Now, listen to this sound file that I pulled off Hutch's show.

Hello, caller. This is Hutch.

What's your question?

Same person.

That's not a twist.

Well, it's not the same person.

That is a twist.

Listen to this.

Man: Hey, caller, let me tell you why the right is dead wrong when it comes to g*ns.

Well, that doesn't sound anything like the victim.

It's the victim's co-host, Alan Spaziano.

Now look what happens when I run all three recordings through the voice recognition software.

So, I found clear deviations on the pitch and tone in both of Hutch's voice files.

But the pitch and tone were a perfect match for Alan Spaziano.

Spaziano pretended to be Hutch in order to obfuscate time of death?

And to give himself an airtight alibi.

Uh, Bones, come on.

Spaziano's waiting. You ready to go in?

I'm not going in.

Whoa. What do you mean you're not going in?

You're not needed at the lab, okay?

You have everything we need to nail him.

I agree. I've gone over all the forensic evidence with Agent Aubrey.

Remember it's pronounced "Albi-cans," not "kahn."

What if I just say "thrush"?

No, no. I will not have my science dumbed down just because you don't know Latin, is that clear?

Excuse me for one second.

I need to talk to you.

What?

You're not a shrink, okay?

Just stick to bones and stuff that you know.

I am using what I know Booth.

As an anthropologist, I understand the danger inherent in making your world too small.

After times of national trauma, many countries become isolationist.

It happened in Japan with the sakoku policy, the United States after World w*r I.

Would you stop? This is not time for a history lesson.

There is someone in there we need to interrogate.

Now let's...

Brennan: This is precisely the time.

Those countries needed time to rebuild, but then, eventually, they had to reengage and recognize that they had allies they could trust.

You do, too. You can trust him, Booth.

I know a good man when I see one.

I picked you, didn't I?

I'll meet you at home.

(sighs)

Yup, yup, I know.

Back to my desk.

Would you get your ass in here, okay?

What was it, uh, "kahn"? Right? Is that what she said?

No, cans, cans, cans, cans.

Cans.

Booth: Look, we know that the call from Hutch was actually you.

(laughs airily)

I was just messing with Bob.

I mean, that's all.

You can't arrest me because I can do voices.

True. That's why we arrested you for m*rder.

Why would I k*ll Hutch? Without him, my career is finished.

Well, I couldn't agree with you more, right?

Which is why you used your cell phone to video Hutch in his S and M gear. So you could blackmail him, force him to stay on the show.

What you didn't realize was the handcuffs had a safety release.

When Hutch saw you, he freed himself and att*cked.

That's when you struck him in the face with your cell phone, causing Hutch to drown in his own blood.

You have no proof of anything you just said.

Booth: Oh, no. Actually, we do.

Right? I mean, we found bacteria on the victim's tooth that was transferred from your phone.

Disgusting fact-- cell phones carry ten times more bacteria than a toilet seat.

Your wife is a fountain of information.

Yup. Among the bacteria we found was one called Candida albicans. It causes blotches on the gums.

Look, all we got to do is just swab your gums, match your DNA, and that's all the proof we need.

It was an accident.

I didn't know that he was going to att*ck me.

I was trying to save my job.

I'm not a violent person.

I'm anti-g*ns.

I'm against the death penalty.

This is not who I am.

It was an accident!

(door opens)

It was an... it was an accident.

♪ I got you... ♪

Brennan: DNA is a match, so conviction is assured.

All right, so, since you weren't in interrogation, you're not gonna get one of these, I don't think, huh?

Us sharing a celebratory drink is never contingent on my presence at time of arrest.

Besides, I'm not sure you...

I want whatever it is you're making.

Let me give you a little taste. You're gonna love it.

It's called a B&B.

Oh. You named it after us?

Beer and bourbon.

I'm kidding.

Just, go ahead, try it out. You'll love it, all right?

Just expand your world.

That's excellent. It's excellent, right?

I-I mean, 'cause it's got a little...

It's got some tequila in there.

A little ginger beer, some creme DE cassis. I mean, it's-it's a weird combination, but it works somehow.

Like us.

Like us. Shake it, baby.

(laughing)

(knocking)

Are you expecting someone?

No. Are you?

No.

Aubrey, come on in.

I come bearing gifts.

Or gift actually. I wasn't sure if you guys were wine drinkers, but I, uh, just wanted to say thanks to both of you for letting me join the team.

Uh, means a lot. Look at that, huh?

Wow, a whole $9.99 worth.

Which is a lot given his salary.

Very understanding.

Come on in, huh? I'll make you a drink. Come on.

I'm good. I'm good.

Yeah, I can be obnoxious when I drink, you know.

Don't want to screw up a good thing here, so, just gonna take it slow.

Yeah. See you tomorrow.

Yeah. Tomorrow.

Brennan: Thank you.

Good night.

(door closes) You know what? You were right about him.

He was good.

I mean, he is good.

You know what he told me?

He thinks you're the best agent in the department.

And I agreed with him.

Oh, okay, so that's how you want it now.

I get it. You in the lab, me out in the field with him.

Was he that good?

Yeah. You know what? He was good.

And of course, I handpicked him.

But we're still partners.

You still need me, right?

Oh, someone sounds a little insecure.

Are you teasing me?

No. What? Am I? No.

Stop, Booth. Just make me another drink.

Another drink?

Stop, Booth!

Come on.