Bones (2005–2017): Season 12, Episode 2 - The Final Chapter: The Brain in the Bot - full transcript

The team must find out if a man involved with creating robots was killed by his own creation.

(dogs barking)


Chin up, Gaston.
(clicking tongue)

Eyes forward.

I said... (clicks tongue)

(clicks tongue differently)



Patty, have you seen
Lady Carlisle?

I can't find her anywhere.

Oh, relax, Donald.

I'm sure she's just off
sniffing butts

like the creepy
little mutt that she is.

Lady Carlisle!

Lady Carlisle?

I'm serious.

I turned around for one second
and she just ran off.


(fleeting paw steps, barking)


Lady Carlisle...

♪ ♪

(clicking tongue)

Lady Carlisle.

Better not be out
here fraternizing

with the raccoons again!

I swear, if Gaston's so much
as scuffed his pedicure,

there is gonna be hell to pay!




Gaston, drop it!


I said...

...drop it!

(clicking tongue)

Bones, you're incredible.

I mean, how do you
even have a case file

when you haven't
ID'd the body yet?


This file is
from the archives.

In light of Zack's
new disclosures,

I'm reexamining the evidence
from the lobbyist's murder.

Well, you know what,
you're doing the right thing.

All right, giving Zack
another chance.

I am simply looking
for the truth.

So far, the evidence
is inconclusive.

At least there's
a lot of it there.

No, these files
are not for Zack's case.

They're for my surprise party.

Bones, you do realize
you're not supposed

to plan your own
surprise party?

The traditional custom
is illogical.

Being startled is
unpleasant, while

engineering a surprise
for others has proven

to be quite pleasurable.

Okay, can you at least tell me
what you want for your birthday?

No, my party has a strict
"no gift" policy.

It's right there
on the invitation.

Come on, Bones,
this is a big one.

You're turning 40.

You're flipping
the old odometer.

I can assure you that
I have everything I need.


How about one
of those chunky

stone necklaces
you like to wear?

Booth, I'm serious.
So am I.

Well, if you
don't want a thing,

you know, how about,
like, an experience?

I know!
Go to a concert.

No, the Tuvan
throat singers

already passed
through town last month.

BOOTH: Not quite the concert
I was thinking of, Bones.

(indistinct chatter)

Who's a good boy?

Who's a good boy? Yeah.

How many times do I
have to tell you?

Don't be so rough
on his topknot.

Ma'am, I'm just trying

to do my job here, okay?

Techs are flagging

all the drag marks.

This is crazy--
there's evidence

all over the place.

Yeah, including these dogs.

They didn't just snack on
the body, they rolled in it.

BRENNAN: Judging from the
multiple layers of predation,

it appears the other
scavengers got to it first.

(indistinct radio chatter)

SAROYAN: Given the degree
of tissue decomp,

this body's been out
here three or four days.

Well, the techs said there's
no sign of struggle, so tell you

what, I'm gonna go take
a look on the trails here

and see if I can
find any evidence.

The pronounced linea aspera

of the left femur
indicates the victim is male,

while the degeneration on

the femoral head suggests
he was in his 40s.

Well, this is strange.

There's a piece of plastic

fused to the flesh
on the victim's wrist,

but there's no evidence
of burnt tissue.

Oh, it's almost as mysterious

as Dr. B's birthday party.

Oh, speaking of which,
I know it's a surprise,

but can you give us a
hint on the dress code?


Wearing clothes
would be advisable.

Couldn't find a trail, but

found this, huh?

Smoking the dope.

Not surprising.

This is a local teen party spot.

Hey, if there's any weed still
in that pipe, I'll take it.

Back to the lab for
a forensic workup, guys, geez.

Could you all
please stop yammering

and just get on with it?
I have to wash the blood

from Gaston's coat
before it sets.

You need to be patient.
Ma'am, please,

we're trying to
solve a murder here.

If my dog's fur ends up pink,

I promise you,
there will be hell to pay.

You know what, I'm just gonna
expedite the process here, okay?

Thank you, finally
somebody's listening to me.

Stop! What are you doing?

It took me two years
to grow out that coat!

Whoa, whoa!

Hey, ma'am...
Ma'am, ma'am.

Just let go
of my clippers...

Is it as bad as I think it is?

♪ Bones 12x02 ♪
The Final Chapter: The Brain in the Bot
Original Air Da

♪ Main Title Theme ♪ The Crystal Method

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

This body shows extensive

evidence of postmortem
blunt force trauma.

I found multiple fractures

on the left tibia
and fibula.

(phone buzzes, beeps)

unknown number? Yes.

I want to ignore.

Also, the right ribs
three through six,

the right radius,
and the ulnae.

And don't get me
started on the tissue.

Whatever the dogs didn't eat

was bruised, scraped
or punctured.

The location
of the trauma suggests

the body was dragged on both

anterior and posterior planes.

Dr. Brennan, I've
been meaning to ask,

would it be okay
if I put you

down as a reference?

Now that I've finally

completed my PhD,

I've applied for a job

as lead forensic
anthropologist at the NFL.

Whoa, they need

forensic anthropologists
in pro football?

I think the NFL
Daisy's referring to

is the National Forensic Lab.

I will be a reference, Dr. Wick,

but I advise you
not to get your hopes up.

In light
of your young age,

landing a job

of that status would be
a long shot at best.

Uh, didn't you get your job here

when you were still
in your 20s?


But that was clearly
an exceptional circumstance.

(phone beeps, buzzes)

Angela, don't you need
to get that?

Sorry, yeah, um...

Okay, this is the third time
that this unknown number

has called today.

Hey, good news.

I was able to pull prints off
that pipe,

so I sent it

to Booth and Aubrey.

You're... asymmetrical.

Ange, you said it was
barely noticeable.

Anyway, based on the
colonization of mold spores

on the marijuana that was
in the pipe, I was able

to determine
that it was last smoked,

like, 80 hours ago, so...

So whoever was smoking
in the woods was probably there

right around the victim's
time of death.


I'm s-s-sorry, Dr. Hodgins.

Okay. All right.
(clears throat)

You Randy Stringer?

Uh, yeah.
But I didn't call an Uber.

Oh, I'm not Uber.

FBI. Here to ask you
a few questions

about last Friday night.

We have evidence that
you were in the woods

at Greenwood Barrens.

Far as I know, there's no law
against communing with nature.

Well, unfortunately for you,

there is a law against drugs.

We found your marijuana pipe.

According to your record,

you got picked up
twice for selling LSD

and once for assault
with a deadly weapon.

Nah, nah.
I'll tell you what happened.

I was in the parking lot
at a Phish show,

cutting up some salami
with my pocketknife,

when the pigs nabbed me
for dealing.

What is this, 1969?

I'm telling you, man, the only
thing I assaulted that day

was some nice Soppresatta.

Or, uh, maybe it was pepperoni.

Do you recall seeing
anything unusual

in the woods that night?

Well, there was one thing.

Uh, a dude walked in
with a flashlight.

At least I think it was a dude;
it was too dark to tell.

Any idea what time it was?
Where he was coming from?

Yeah, uh, he came in from the,

well, the northwest corner,

probably around 11:30 or so,

'cause Animation Domination
was on by the time I got home.

Uh, what's this about, anyway?

Someone dumped a body
in those woods.

Talk about littering.

When will people learn
to respect Mother Earth?

BRENNAN: How is the facial
reconstruction coming?

Oh, I didn't need one.

It turns out that
that thing that Cam found

fused to the victim's wrist

was a skin-mounted

bio-electronic fitness monitor.

If Angie can figure out a way
to access it wirelessly,

she may be able
to find the victim's ID.


Hodgins, your eyebrow appears
to have grown back.

Sorry to ruin your laugh-fest,
there, but, yeah.

I constructed a replacement
using hair from my own beard.

(quiet laughing)


Oh, here we go again.

(phone beeping, buzzing)

Oh, come on.

Are you kidding me?

Yeah. Hi.

Listen, I don't have
any credit card debt,

and I'm-I'm just not interested
in buying one of your cruises,


Are you sure you're calling
for me?

Yeah. No, that-that...

Can you give me one second?


Maybe she is buying a cruise.

I was under the impression
that bio-electronic devices

were not yet available
to the consumer market.

Yeah, as far as I know, they're not,
but, I don't know, maybe our victim

had a connection
to the tech world.

(quietly): Wow.

You guys are never gonna
believe this,

but I just won
a MacArthur Fellowship.

You know, the one that everyone
calls the "genius grant"?

Congratulations, Angie!

That's unbelievable!

Uh, MacArthur is one of the most
prestigious awards

a scientist can get.

Yeah, I know, um... wow.

They said my work with the
Angelatron was "groundbreaking."

Good job, Ange!

See? I always knew
I married a genius.

Well, technically you did not.

Though Angela
is incredibly talented.

Thank you?

Dr. B.
Angie's your best friend.

You got to at least try
to be happy for her.

I am.

It's simply
that I never imagined

you would ever achieve
this honor,

let alone before I did.

In other news,

it looks like I found
the wireless password

for the fitness monitor.

It belonged to an Ian Goldberg.

Looks like he was
some kind of pioneer

in the field of
artificial intelligence.

Yeah, no.

I knew this name
sounded familiar.

He's the guy that makes
those awesome robots

that work with
the children

on the autism spectrum.

Let's check it out.

Good morning, Riley.

Shall we practice
our introductions?

To paraphrase Stephen Hawking,

our focus at Social Cybernetics

isn't so much
artificial intelligence...

as beneficial intelligence.

For a child
on the autism spectrum,

social interactions
can be overwhelming,

but robots like AMI provide
a simple, stress-free

which allows them to make

great strides.

Good work, Riley.

There's someone
who deserves the genius grant.

Who would want to kill a guy
like this?

(music playing)

(turns music off)
You know, you're awfully quiet.

You're not upset about Angela

winning that whole
McDonald's award?


No, not in the slightest.

I am simply focused

on planning my party.

It's not every day

that one turns 40.

(phone ringing)


Sorry to bug you, Dr. B,

but I wanted to show you

three antemortem contusions

I found hidden

in the blunt force trauma

on the back of the skull.

See these marks

on the occipital
and left parietal?

Based on the shape and spacing,

they were caused
by metacarpophalangeal joints

two through four.

Someone punched our victim.

What are you talking about?
In the back of the head?

That's a rookie move.

Looking at the force profile,

I'm guessing whoever did it

sustained a hand injury.

Thank you, Dr. Wick.

(music resumes)

So, let me ask you a question.

What's with this
Social Cybernetics place?

I mean, what, are we talking,

like, full-on C-3PO or R2-D2?

I have no idea what that means,
but Ian Goldberg's work

was in artificial intelligence.

The robots he created have
complicated neural networks

that are designed to emulate

the human brain.

Come on, no robot's brain

i-is ever gonna beat
a human one.

Are you kidding me?
At the end of the day,

humans have something

that robots will never have.

The soul.

The existence of a soul

has never been proven
with scientific data.

Soul is not something
you prove, Bo...

("Hot Blooded"
by Foreigner plays)

H-Hey! Listen to that!

It's something you feel.

Do you hear that?!

That's our song! Listen.

You hear the soul in that?

♪ Hot blooded ♪

♪ Catch it and see ♪

♪ I got a fever of 103 ♪

♪ Come on, baby ♪

♪ Do you do more than dance? ♪

I can't believe it.
I've known Ian half my life.

We've worked
on AMI's development

ever since our days at MIT.
Who's Amy?

The name is an acronym for
Advanced Modular Intelligence.

Of course.

WOMAN: Here, let me
introduce you.

(Brennan laughs)

AMI, please
come say hello

to Agent Booth
and Dr. Brennan.

(Brennan and Booth laugh)

really amazing.

Hello, Agent Booth,

Dr. Brennan.

Look at that.
I am very pleased

to meet you.

AMI, your enunciation
and speech patterns

are incredibly nuanced.

I am also fluent

in eight languages.


Well, so am I.

Very impressive.

For a human.

As we continue to educate AMI

on the subtleties

of human emotions,

I'm afraid she's picked up
a few bad habits.

This robot can recognize
facial expressions?

Yeah, better than most people.

AMI, please tell us
what you observe.

Dr. Brennan appears

78% curious

and 22% jealous.

Agent Booth is

94% amused

and six percent skeptical.

And you, Kate, are

100% nervous.

Oh, well,
of course I am.

I'm being questioned by the FBI.

Thank you, AMI.
Your work here is done.

So, um, you and Ian didn't
have any bad blood, did you?

Oh, no, we had a very fruitful
working relationship.

Had Ian lived,
I am confident that

we would have
reached singularity

within the next decade.

- Sorry, singularity?
- Uh, singularity

is when intelligent machines

become indistinguishable
from humans.

So, did you notice
anything unusual

about Ian's behavior
last Friday?

Oh, unfortunately,

I was out of town,
delivering a speech.

But I can give you his

online calendar.

Ian was highly scheduled,

so I'm sure everything
that he did should be on there.

Bones, Bones,
take a look

at that guy with the...
the wrist brace.

Excuse me, sir.

Yeah. How'd you get that

injury on your wrist?
It's okay, Alan,

they're with the FBI.

Then they should be smart enough

to realize that it
isn't an injury at all.

It's carpal tunnel.

You know, from sitting
at a computer all day.

A compressed median
nerve would not cause

the knuckles to swell.

I'm a little bit bloated,
so what?


Ow! You are hurting me.

Booth, it's just
as I suspected.


His second and third metacarpals

show significant

Speak English, please.

This man does not suffer

from carpal tunnel syndrome,

but he does have
a boxer's fracture.

Don't need a robot
to figure that out.

I've reviewed
your medical records,

Alan, and the injuries
to your metacarpals

are an exact match

for the bruises on Ian's skull.


So I hit him.

That doesn't make me
guilty of murder.

Well, I'm not sure
I trust the guy

that sucker-punched his boss
in the back of the head.

I had just worked

my third 16-hour day in a row

when Ian tried
to force me

to work through
the weekend.

- I was tired. I lost it.
- Really?

You know what I think?
I think you mixed it up with Ian

and you ended up killing him,
that's what I think.

That's ridiculous.

If one of my

struck me on the skull,
I'd have fired him on the spot.

Please. Do you know how hard
it would be to replace me?

I am far and away the
best coder they have.

BOOTH: That's great.

Where were you
last Friday night?

Same place I always am--

my desk at Social Cybernetics

where I was coding
all night long.

Well, our team
will have to verify that.

Yeah. Sure.
Go right ahead.

But if you
want to find

the actual killer,
you ought to be questioning

those nuts from
Stop the Robopocalypse.

The Roba what?

They are

a radical group
who believe that A.I.

is out to destroy humanity
by enslaving the human race.

Yes, and Ian's

favorite hobby was
going onto their blogs

and baiting them into fights.
The same Ian

that built these robots that
helped these autistic kids?

I know-- that seems
out of character.

Not if you knew the guy.

Ian's death may have been
a loss to the field

of artificial intelligence,
but in reality...

the guy was a dink.

Did he just say "dink"?

I think he did.

Any word from the NFL?

Not yet.

But I can't stop
stressing about it.

Even if they do call
Dr. Brennan

for a reference,
what if it backfires?

You know, she does have
a tendency to be blunt.

That is one way of putting it.

Do you think it'll seem like
a red flag if I call the NFL

and I ask them to use you
as a reference instead?

I think you should
focus on your work

and try not to
worry so much.

(takes deep breath)

Well, there certainly is
plenty to focus on.

12 separate instances
of blunt force trauma,

and yet there's
no consistency

in directionality
or size.

It's like the victim was hit
with a bunch of different objects

from... multiple angles.

After he was already dead?

Yes and no.
There's also evidence

of perimortem blunt force trauma

on the frontal bone
at the coronal suture.

It must have been obscured
by all the postmortem damage.

Huh. I'll have Hodgins swab,

see if we can identify

the murder weapon.

Oh, and, Daisy...


the NFL doesn't hire you...

you'll always have a job here.

♪ ♪

Hey, uh, according
to Alan's computer,

he was telling the truth.

He was logged in and working
until 4:00 a.m.

last Friday night.
The guy's a coder--

you don't think he
could have faked that?

With Social Cybernetics'
network security?

It's not likely.
Great. So all we got

are a bunch of dead ends
and a creepy talking robot.

What, are you
afraid of AMI?

You're not?
Well, have you met her?

She's actually
pretty adorable.

Yeah, now--
but in another few years,

AMI and her little buddies start
getting more advanced,

then we stop being the
smartest thing on the planet.

Wow, Aubrey, I never knew (phone rings)
you were so paranoid.

(sighs) Hey, you know
that anti-A.I. group,

Stop the Robopocalypse?

Why? Are you thinking
of joining?

That's funny.

It turns out their leader

crashed one of Ian's
speaking engagements last year

and struck him in the leg
with a baseball bat.

Guy by the name
of Matthew Coburn.

I wish you'd told me you
were into model trains.

I would have brought
Lance Jr. with me.

I am not playing
with trains, Daisy.

I am making a map.

Since Booth couldn't
track the drag marks,

I customized
an old Jeffersonian display

so it can match the particulates
found in Ian's injuries

to specific locations
in the woods. For example,

we got birch sap in the victim's
left ulna fracture,

and the scrapes
on his legs have pollen

from these swamp azaleas.

Problem is, there are
so many random drag marks,

finding a pattern
will be next to impossible.

It's like we're looking
at chaos theory.

I have to say...

it's good to see you back to
your old self, Dr. Hodgins.

And I wasn't talking about
your eyebrow or your legs.

Thank you, Daisy.
I think it just, you know,

took me a while to realize
that my legs are merely a way

for me to carry around
what's in here.

And, you know, what's in here.

I'm happy for you.

And I really need
your advice.

Oh, I would say "shoot," but you
did once put a bullet in my arm.

I need you to
level with me.

Do you think I
really have a chance

of landing that lead
anthropologist job?

'Cause the thought
of not getting it

makes me feel like
such a failure.

Daisy, look, I know that
you and I have a history of...

getting on each other's nerves,

but I do think you're
a highly skilled scientist.

I agree. But Dr. Brennan

was already running
the Jeffersonian

when she was five
years younger than me.

Yes, but life
is not a competition, Daisy.

Trust me, if I've learned
anything being in this chair,

it's that happiness comes
from accepting what you have.

But what if what I have is
just one big question mark?

(sighs): Yeah.
Tell me about it.

Look at this thing.

I mean, it's so insane

that it's actually
kind of brilliant.

Well, our victim was
a computer genius.

Chances are his killer
was pretty smart, too.

Which means they
could have purposefully

hauled Ian's body
through the woods

in order to obscure
the other evidence.

You're really not gonna get your
own wife a birthday present?

Bones swears she doesn't
want anything, so...

All right. Well, I mean...

I'm no expert on women,

but that really sounds
like a trap to me.

Is this really where
the head of Robopocalypse lives,

in the middle
of this industrial wasteland?

Well, this is where Angela tracked down
his, uh, Wi-Fi coordinates,

so he's got to
be in there.

AUBREY: Am I the only one
smelling barbecue here?

Good nose, Aubrey.


(music playing on headphones)

Matthew Coburn?

How you doing?

Uh, we'd like to have
a word with you.




♪ ♪

(door opens)

Come on, Matthew,
give it up, will you?


You're kiddin' me, huh?

Get off my partner.
Come on, let's go.

Thanks for showing up,


Hold on.

Just because I blogged about the
military smart drone program

doesn't make me guilty
of treason.

I had no idea those files
were classified.

We didn't bring you in here
because of your blog, Matthew.

You're under investigation for
the murder of Ian Goldberg.

Why would I want to kill him?

You tell me.

You're the one who attacked him
with the baseball bat.

After that, you lost
your job, your house,

your wife filed for divorce.

I think you blamed Ian for that,

so you decided to come back and
finish him off.

I never meant to hurt Ian.

I tried to smash
his robot,

only he stepped in
to protect the damn thing.

Well, destruction of
property is still a felony.

You'd want to destroy robots,
too, if you realized

what the government
was doing with them.

They're weaponizing this stuff.

Turning them into
autonomous robot killers.

Hold... hold on a second here.

I-Ian didn't even make weapons.

I mean, the guy made robots
that helped autistic kids.

So he said.

Guys like Ian always claim
that they're trying

to save the world,
but the only thing

they care about is selling out

to the highest bidder.
Do you know how many

"amazing scientific discoveries"

were turned into
weapons of mass destruction?

Einstein's relativity
became the atom bomb,

an amazing new garden herbicide
turned into Agent Orange...

Mr. Coburn, where were you
last Friday night?

In my RV,

writing a very important post
about why people should

take action to stop men
like Ian Goldberg

before it's too late!

Don't worry. I'm gonna
take action, all right.

By holding you right here.

♪ ♪

Dr. Brennan...

No, Daisy.
I still have not heard

from the National Forensic Lab.

I will inform you
the minute I do.

Have you found any evidence
of dislocation?

Both the wrists and elbows
show a remarkable number

of hairline fractures.

That is not surprising,

as shoulder dislocation is
a common feature of bodies

that have been dragged
for any distance.

True, but based on the tearing wounds
to the synovial membranes,

it looks more like someone

tried to rip his arms
from his sockets.

No human is capable
of inflicting

this amount of damage.
HODGINS: Oh, yeah?

How about a robot?

So the swab results to the blunt
force trauma to Ian's skull

showed an amalgam of magnesium
alloy and plastic resin.

The same material
that AMI is made from.

Okay, I can't believe
I'm saying this,

but we need to look
at that robot.

BOOTH: All my years
on the job, and now

I have to question
this bucket of bolts.

BRENNAN: Think of it as
a learning opportunity.

Oh, come on, Bones.
Are you kidding me?

There's no way that a robot
could have motive.

I mean, this is just insane.
I'm pretty sure she didn't

get into the car and drive
Ian's body into the woods.

No, but it is possible

AMI was used
as the murder weapon,

in which case
she may have

valuable evidence.

We know AMI
is far more intelligent

than the majority of suspects
you've interrogated.

Well, I can't argue that.

My proprietary algorithm
allows me to recognize

millions of objects, gestures,
and voice commands.

See, Booth?

AMI is no different than us.

That is not accurate,
Dr. Brennan.

Unlike you, my memory
will never degrade with age.

Okay, let's just stop
the chitchat here, shall we?

Let's just get with the program
and get this over with. So...

did you, AMI,
attack Ian Goldberg?

No, I did not.

You didn't hit him in the head?

Even by accident?
No. Never.

Great, I'm being stonewalled
by a robot.

Booth, let me try.
AMI, can you share with us

any memories you may have
of Ian Goldberg

from last Friday, the 12th?

I have no memories
of Ian Goldberg from that date.

You're lying.
That can't be true.

(quietly): He... We have
multiple witnesses who said

that they saw Ian programming
the robot that day.

AMI's not capable of lying.

Her A.I.'s
not that sophisticated.

Okay, AMI,

you don't remember

I do not, because my memory
from Friday the 12th

has been deleted.

Who deleted those files?

(whirring, trilling)

What's happening here?
I-I don't know.

Oh. Dad. What are
you doing here?

My party doesn't start
for another seven hours.

Well, I had to run some errands,
and I thought, why not swing by

and have some one-on-one time
with my favorite daughter.

It's nice to see you. But
I-I am in the middle of a case.

Oh, I-I don't want to interrupt
you. I-I just, uh...

wanted to spend some time
with you.

Is everything okay?

Sure. Absolutely.


I ran
into Hodgins

on my way in,
and he said that Angela

had won
some big-time award.


The MacArthur genius grant.
We're all very proud.

Well, you know it's normal
to... be a little jealous.

Perhaps, but I don't have time
for such petty emotions,

between my work and
planning my surprise party.

Speaking of which,
will there be dancing

at this, uh,
top secret shindig of yours?

My lips are sealed.
Oh, come on.

I'm your dad, Tempe.

C-Can't you give me a hint?

Nepotism will get you nowhere.

Since when do you care
about dancing?

Well, since I started taking
salsa lessons two weeks ago.

You're learning to salsa?

(chuckles) You have to
live life to the fullest.

None of us live forever,
you know?


I could show you some moves.

I'm working, Dad.

Okay, well, then I'll just, uh,
practice for myself over here.

Just don't distract me.


Any luck finding out
who deleted AMI's memory?

Well, I located the function
used to delete the files.

Now I just have to look
at the code signatures

of everyone who works there
to figure out who wrote it.

I didn't realize that
coders signed their work.

Well, they don't.
Each coder writes

using a different style.
You see those

hashtag marks in white?
They're not part of the program.

They're comments from the coder
about how each section works.

See, when
Alan comments,

he starts at the
beginning of the line,

whereas Kate comments at
the end and in all caps.

So quirks like these are what
you're calling a signature.


Now all I have to do is compare
all the coders' signatures

to the code used to delete

AMI's data and see
which one's a match.


none of them
are lining up.

Huh. Okay, there's
one more that I can try.

Oh, my God.

Ian was the one who
deleted AMI's memory.

Dr. Brennan,

something's puzzling me
about this injury

on the proximal
end of the tibia.

It appears to
be a postmortem

tubercle fracture.
Let me take a look.

You are correct. But tubercle
fractures are not caused

by objects striking the bone.

They are created
by forceful impact upon landing.

Maybe the body was thrown
into the trunk of a car

when it was being transported.

Well, if that were the case,
we would have found

corresponding injuries.

You're right.

That was
stupid of me.

No wonder the NFL
hasn't called.

Don't be so hard
on yourself, Daisy.

So far, your work here
has been perfectly adequate.


Yes. Had I been grading you,

I would have given you
a solid "B."

But I'm capable of A-plus work.

You've seen it.

But if you want to assume
the position

of lead forensic anthropologist,

you need to do A-plus work
at every moment of the day.

A-plus work.

Think, Daisy, think.

How would a guy get
a jumping fracture

when he's already dead?

I've got it!

Maybe the body was
hoisted up into something.

That makes sense,
for the tubercle fracture

as well
as the shoulder dislocation.

A-plus work.

Thank you.
Now we just have to figure out

what kind of sicko would hang
someone after he's already dead.

Dr. Hodgins?


Wow. Or should I say Peter Pan?

Looks like you made
major progress on your map.

Yeah, I wish. Every time I think
I've figured out this pattern,

I end up going around
in circles. Literally.

Well, the killer certainly didn't
make it easy for us.

Yeah, really.

You mind grabbing that there
for me, Tinker Bell?


It's the swab results from
the shoulder tissue you gave me.

Huh. This should narrow down
where Ian's body was hoisted.

The tissue was covered
in gray catbird dander

and sycamore sap.

Oh. Wow, you made that
catbird nest really fast.


That's not
a nest.

Oh, man.

Give me that.

Okay, Ian's body

was dumped in an oak tree
grove right here.

So how did it end up
covered in sycamore sap

if the only sycamore trees
are nearly a mile away?

That's strange.

If I'm ever gonna
figure this out...

I need to go back
to those woods.

So I was finally able to
download AMI's neural network

and it looks like
this audio file

is the last thing
AMI recorded

before her memory
was wiped clean.

IAN: I look forward
to meeting you, too.

No, let's keep it
between us for now.

3300 Industrial Drive,

East Roanoke.
Well, that's...

definitely Ian's voice. She
must have recorded him talking

on the phone.
And that address

links to a company
called Patriot Industries.

And it's located
about a half mile

from where Ian's body
was found.

Look, Ian Goldberg
doesn't go off the grid

to a place like this
without reason.

AUBREY: Who knows what he might
have been doing here.

A company like
Patriot Industries

has its hand
in all sorts of shady stuff.

Yeah, well, I mean,
dealing weapons--

that's how they
make the big bucks.

Oh, so you think that
Matthew Coburn was right?

I mean, if Ian was selling his
A.I. to a weapons manufacturer,

it'd makes sense that
he'd go behind Kate's back.

Aubrey, hold up.

Take a look at this.

Wow, okay.

Not what I was expecting.

That's a good way
of saying it.

Or putting it,
not that I would put...

You know...
Hey, perverts.

Want to keep your greasy mitts
off my dolls?

Look, I didn't
do nothing wrong.

Manufacturing sex dolls
is not a crime.

Mr. Esposito, we don't have
any problems with your business.

Well, that's not entirely true,

but it's...
We're here because

you met with Ian Goldberg
last Friday.

What are you trying to say?
A guy like me

can't hang out
with a smart guy like that?

Ian was murdered. This
warehouse is the last

known place he went.

Ian's dead?

I took a look at your
old military records.

Well, it turns out that you were
dishonorably discharged for...

What'd they call it?
"Excessive use of force."

So, I had anger issues
back then. It's ancient history.

I think that Ian had the A.I.
you wanted for your sex dolls,

but he wouldn't
give it to you, so you decided

to convince him
using force,

you wound up
beating him to death.

Now, why the hell
would I do that?

Ian and I were going
into business together.

We were about to make millions.

What, selling, uh,
robotic sex dolls?

Sex bots are the future,
my friend.

Right now, I'm selling dolls
that look and feel

just like real women
for six grand a pop.

Now, can you imagine how much
Ian and I would've raked in

selling dolls that talk like
real women, too? I mean,

not real women,
but the way you wish

women would talk?
But the deal

never gets made
and Ian ends up dead.

He was alive
when he left our meeting.

Said he had to talk it over
with his business partner.

Any idea where he was
headed when he left?

Just that he was tied up
all weekend. Now, look,

if we're done here,
I got business to deal with.

Oh, but hey...

just to prove
there's no hard feelings,

I'll let you test drive a couple
of floor models in exchange for

spreading the word
about my dolls at the FBI.



I'm good.
We're good.

I still think Kate Dalton

had something to do with it.

The woman dedicated herself

to making robots
for autistic children.

She couldn't have been
too happy to learn

that Ian was gonna put
their A.I. in sex dolls.

Well, maybe so, but,
Daisy, I mean, come on,

her alibi was rock-solid.

Not to mention
the fact that Ian

owned a 55% stake
in their company,

so he didn't need Kate's
permission to sell.


What could Ian's killer
possibly have accomplished

by hauling his body
all the way out here?


Dr. Hodgins, I've been

thinking about
what you said about

accepting things in life
when they don't go your way.

And even if the NFL
doesn't hire me,

I love being at
the Jeffersonian.

And working with all of you.

Same here, Daisy.

Except for when you shot me.

God, will you ever

let that go?
It was an accident.

Oh, Daisy, look.

Sycamore tree.
That's a catbird nest.

There's a length
of frayed rope over here

with blood all over it.

This is definitely where
Ian's body was hoisted.

I got
something, too.

This is also
where he was murdered.

This portable speaker's made
from the same plastic resin

and magnesium alloy I found

in the blunt force trauma
to Ian's skull.

But if Ian was killed here,

why dump his body
nearly a mile away?

Come on, Bones, please tell me
you got some prints

off that portable speaker.

We did not.

However, I did just
discover kerf marks

that had been obscured
by predation.

They're on the C3 and C4

each approximately
.4 centimeters in size.

You're saying that our victim
was stabbed in the neck

with a really small knife?

Knife wounds to those vertebrae
typically suggest

an attempt at decapitation.
Yeah, but who

does that with a small blade
like that? Come on.

Wait a second.

We're dealing
with highly intelligent

computer scientists.
It's possible

they went to great lengths
to obscure the evidence.

What if it's the opposite, okay?
What if we're

not dealing with a genius,

but a knucklehead stoner

who already told us
he has a pocket knife?

So, we ran a drug screen
on Ian's blood.

Came up positive for LSD.

You two were tripping on acid
together the night that he died.

So, whatever, man.
Ian and I did that sometimes.

Said it helped him think
outside the box.

Doesn't mean I killed him.

Well, we found sodium nitrate

in the knife wounds
in Ian's neck.

Wh... What does that mean?

It's a preservative
used in sausages

and other smoked meats.

See, man, the package said
it was all natural.

Oh, crap.

Oh, look, man, I d... I didn't
mean to do that, you know?

I just got so mad
about that stupid gift.

What gift?

That portable
Bluetooth speaker, man.

Let me get this straight: you
killed Ian over a bad present?

Look, I thought
I was getting millions.

And at least I deserved to be.
Who do you think came up with

the idea to put A.I.
into sex dolls? That was me.


That was pure
creative genius.

So when Ian said he made a deal
and wanted to go to the woods

to celebrate, I assumed I was
getting a piece of that action.

All he gave me
was a lousy

portable Bluetooth speaker, so
I hit him in the head with it.

You must have been tripping
pretty hard to try to cut off

his head with a pocketknife and
then hide his body up a tree.

I... I took two tabs.

I wasn't thinking straight.
But you're gonna

have a lot of time to think now,
'cause you're

going to prison for a long time.


the sodium nitrate
in Ian's neck wounds

did not conclusively prove
that Randy's the killer.

Yeah, but I knew he'd buy it. I mean,
come on, see, Bones, you know,

that's the difference
between robots and people.

Robots-- they can't use their
gut to feel out a situation.

Well, with technology advancing
as quickly as it is, it's only

a matter of time before
artificially intelligent...

(babbles) Look, you want
to spend your whole birthday

arguing about robots
or, tell you what,

do you want to actually
open up your gift?


Booth, I specifically
told you no presents.

You're gonna love it.

We'll see.

It's a letter

approving a court date
for Zack's appeal?

I know it's a couple months away
but at least it's on the books.

The judge says that her reason
for approving the appeal

is to consider new
osteological evidence.

I have no evidence of the sort.

I know you don't.
But, you know, I have faith

you're gonna find it.

Booth, I can't embark
on my research

with the presumption
of Zack's innocence.

I have faith in you.

But your belief in me
does make me very happy.

Glad you liked your gift.

(indistinct conversations)

HODGINS: I want to know
what's in the box.

Am I the only one
who's nervous?

About what's in the box?

I think she means
about Dr. Brennan.

Yeah. She claims that she was
cool with me winning

the MacArthur Fellowship,
but she can be

a bit competitive.
Yeah, but come on, don't

most people freak out
when they turn 40?

Well, my daughter
isn't like most people.

Grandpa, they're here.

Are we, like, supposed
to hide or something?

Uh, I... don't look at me.

ALL: Hey!

Surprise. Thank you all
for coming to my party

and for your ardent curiosity,

which made keeping the surprise
all the more enjoyable.

Okay, Bones, hurry up,
let's open the box, huh, okay?

Oh, yeah. Uh,
Booth, Aubrey--

would you
do the honors?


Thank you.
There, huh... Oh, wow!

Hey, wow!
Look at that, huh? Oh...

Wait a minute, does that cake
mean that I got the job?

Congratulations, Dr. Wick.
Uh, though I did not ask

for your cake to be
decorated in this manner.

Most people aren't
thinking forensics

when they're
talking about the NFL, Bones.

Sorry, why is there a cake
for me? I thought

we were here to celebrate
your birthday.

That's the surprise.
This party

is not only for me,
it's a celebration

of all of my friends and family.

HODGINS: Hold on a second.
So, you knew

Daisy had the job
the entire time?

Of course.
I'm the one who recommended her.

And I also nominated Angela
for the MacArthur grant.

You did?


But you made
such a big deal about

me not being a genius.

Well, I did do a rather
remarkable acting job, didn't I?

Uh, yeah, well,
you certainly had me fooled.

I tell you, Bones,
keeping a secret is not

one of your strong suits.
That's a good job.

That's one of the many
benefits of growing older.

We grow wiser in the process.

I'm really gonna
miss you, Dr. Brennan.

Oh... (laughs)

I'm gonna miss all of you.

You are a highly-skilled
scientist, Daisy. You deserve

all the success
in the world.

BOOTH: Oh, Bones, time to blow
out the candles.

Grandpa, you dropped this.


oh, thank you.
It's nothing.

Okay, we're lit up
and ready to roll.

♪ Happy birthday to you ♪

♪ Happy birthday to you ♪

I love to sing.

♪ Happy birthday... ♪

♪ Doctor... ♪
♪ Dear... ♪

♪ Brennan ♪

♪ Happy birthday ♪

♪ To you. ♪

BOOTH: Okay, make a wish,
make a wish, make a wish.

There you go. Hey.
(all cheer)

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

What's that mean?