Bones (2005–2017): Season 3, Episode 3 - Death in the Saddle - full transcript

Boy scouts find the rotting corpse of Ed Milner in a Virginia wood, feet cut off 'surgically' and bound like a horse. It's a few miles from Lucky's sex club, The Ambassadora, where rich people discretely indulge their near-SM 'human pony' fetish. Mr. Ed's rider, Anne 'Annie Oakley' Marie Ostenback, MD, divulges widow Annie hides she found out the day of Ed's disappearance. She was tipped anonymously by British rider Calvin 'Thor' Johnson. Rider Tom Mularz, a National Guard deserter, was expelled, found out a butcher, that day. Hypnosis is Angela's only shot to find Berimbau.

Aaron, where's
Joey? Taking a leak.

Buddy system. Come on.

Which way did he go?

I don't know. Geez. Joey's gotta
whiz every 10 minutes, and I...

Trauma to the forehead.

Eyes full of maggots, and all you
see is the boo-boo on the forehead.

Hands bound in front of him.

Definitely not execution style.

What's the shiny
stuff on the nose?

Some kind of emollient.
It's around his lips too.

- You get anything out of the boy who found him?
- - Only vomit.

That would explain
the pervasive smell.

- Why am I here?
- Dead guy. Foul play. It's your main function.

With bones.

This is... very meaty.

No, there's a bit of
bone here and there.

- And look at all the maggots.
- Bones, I said. Not bugs.

- Lividity looks fixed.
- So it's not a body dump. He was killed here.

This is all flesh. Why'd
you call me in on this?

- Wasn't me!
- It was me.

Why? Because you're trying to think of
excuses to put Booth and me together on cases?

- I wouldn't do that.
- Because we worked things out,
and we're fine.

- Right?
- Yeah. Hundred percent.

That's... That's not
why I called you in.

Then why?

Feet are missing.

Because his feet are missing,
which suggests bone trauma,

which immediately suggested you.

Oh, look at that. Blood.

Do you think that's from
the wound on the forehead?

No. Too much.

All right, it looks like
the blood trail stops here.

Do you want the honor?

The honor is all yours.

Can I get a close-up?

I got a foot.

Me too.

Find a third one
and I'll be impressed.

I estimate time of death
at or around four days.

Hodgins took a look at
the maggots and agrees.

Trauma to the frontal
bone would've been fatal.

- Tissue damage indicates
some kind of blade.
- So does bone damage.

Dr. Brennan, you aren't being competitive
between flesh and bone, are you?

It's possible.

Absence of pronounced ecchymosis on the wrists
indicates the hands were bound postmortem.

Inconsistent with the feet.
No hemorrhagic tissue.

They were removed
postmortem. Was that competitive?

No, I'm hearing a tone,
but could be my imagination.

- Angela's going
to be hypnotized.
- Why?

She's going deep into her subconscious
to remember her husband's name...

so we can find him, divorce him, get married
ourselves and live happily for all eternity.

You won't live for eternity.

I thought you had a
name. Name for what?

- Angela's husband.
- Birimbau.

But our private investigator
says it's a nickname.

- You can't get much
off a nickname.
- Birimbau is "little flute."


- What?
- A little flute?

I'm suddenly filled with
a sense of well-being.

The jury is out on the efficacy
and validity of recovered memories.

That's great. Speaking of
names, I ran the vic's prints.

I got a hit. Ed Milner
from Maryland.

The shiny substance you found on the
victim's nose and mouth... it's sunscreen.

Per the manufacturer, it
protects and maintains...

the natural color of
coats, manes and tails.

Coats, manes and tails. Oh, my.

- Formulated for horses.
- Any human applications?

Manufacturer recommends
against use on human skin.

Guys? Contents of the victim's stomach
are corn, raw oats and dried molasses.

- Horse food?
- F.Y.I., there's such a thing
as too much fiber.

All right. I can draw inferences
from multiple equine implications.

- What?
- She's going along
with the horsey theme.

Incised wounds extending into
the periosteum of the maxilla...

between the molars
and premolars.

- Ahh.
- What?

His teeth and jaw
show evidence of a bit.

His name is Ed.

- Oh!
- Why is that funny?

- As in "A horse is a horse"...
- "Of course, of course."

The famous Mr. Ed?

Mr. Ed?

He was supposed to be on a
corporate retreat in Orlando, Florida.

He's in marketing.

Are you able to identify your
husband's body from that photograph?

Yes, that's Ed.

I don't understand.

Who could've done that?

We found your husband's body
just outside Harrisonburg, Virginia.


Did he mention any
recent disagreements?

Friends, coworkers,
family members?

No. Ed was one of those guys.

When we got married, we
owned an apartment building.

If a tenant couldn't afford the
rent, Ed would cut 'em a break.

That's how he was with everyone.

Do you have a ranch? Own
a race horse? A pony ride?

Anything like that? No, why?

Did Ed ever go to the
racetrack? Rodeos?

I'm not sure Ed even ever saw a
real horse up close and in person.

- Why?
- We don't have anything
concrete right now.

But when I do,
I'll let you know.

- Hey.
- "Hay" is for horses.

Hey, that's funny, Bones. I found
it on this Web site about horses.

Yeah? Where do
horses stay in a hotel?

"Bridle" suite.

That's correct. Mm-hmm. So
did you find out anything useful?

The hooves of champion

are buried separately
from the corpses.

The hooves represent power
and are given their own resting spot.

Our victim's feet were
separated from his body.

The victim's wife said he
was at a corporate retreat,

and his boss said he took
time off to spend with his family.

- He lied.
- Yeah. They could all be lying.

How did you know the
answer to the bridle suite joke?

I have a five-year-old son.

Hey. Have you seen
Brennan? You just missed her.

Booth tracked down the victim's last credit
card purchase to a country inn in Virginia.

Why? Do you need her?

No, I was sort of hoping that she
needed me. I admire your work ethic.

But she didn't say
anything to me.

What about you?
You need anything?

I am weighing human organs.

Not really your thing.

Right. Okay.

Are you passing the time
until you're hypnotized?

- Did Hodgins tell everybody?
- Oh, he's excited. We all are.

Delving into the subconscious...

to find the name of
the mystery husband?

Very romantic.

Well, it won't be so
romantic when I divorce him.

Romantic for you and Hodgins when
you can get married. You nervous?

No. No, I'm annoyed.

I know about this
hypnotism thing.

I was a magician's assistant at
a little Gypsy carnival in Brazil.

Now, that's an opening line.

Mysterio was really cute.
And I was younger then.

And the whole "being sawed in
half" thing was actually kinda hot.

We were talking about hypnotism.


This guy could rub an alligator's stomach
so I could stick my head inside its mouth.

But every time he hypnotized
people, it was always a scam.

Angela, therapeutic
hypnosis is a proven technique.

Electroencephalography shows an increase
in activity in the cerebral cortex,

which opens the subconscious.

Really? Yeah. It alters
the alpha and theta waves.

Read the Stanford University
study. It's not a party trick.

- You read that?
- And I've been
hypnotized myself.

Wow. Why?

Well, I was in Vegas.

I got called up onstage,

and apparently I clucked like a
chicken in front of 3,000 people.

But I have absolutely
no memory of it.

Was this little episode in the
Stanford study? No. It should've been.

For the next three days, every time
someone said "coffee," I'd cluck. Awkward.

Okay. Why am I not
feeling better about this?

Trust me. No crazier than you
drinking kava and marrying a giant in Fiji.

And Hodgins seems to
be pretty cool with that,

so if he wants you to try
hypnosis, I'd say get drowsy.

I guess you're right.

I've done crazier
stuff than this. Yeah.

What can happen,
right? There you go.


Kidding. It's been two years.

So you say you're
with the F.B.I.?

That is the third time
he's shown you his I.D.

Why would I know this man?

Because we have his credit
card history, and you're a part of it.

- Sir, why are you
being so difficult?
- Not difficult.


What do you do? Run a
service for cheating husbands?

- Call in the SWAT team. They're anything but discreet.
- Uh, okay. Okay.

That's Mr. Ed.

"A horse is a horse,
of course, of course"?

That's the general idea, yes.

Come with me, please.

The Ambassadora is a place...

where people come to indulge in
pony play fantasy 24 hours a day...

without fear of judgment.

Mr. Ed is a pony.

Is this some kind of a sex thing?
How'd you get there so quickly?

- The man said "fantasy." I just made the leap.
- Ed took off a couple days ago.

Which was odd, since he prepaid.

Prepaid for what?

Oh. We're in the middle of what
you might call our convention.

So unless this is really important,
I'd rather not disturb our guests.

Well, two miles from
here in the woods,

Mr. Ed was found dead.

Ho. Whoa!

Wow. What's going on here?

It's a fetish.

So the idea here is that one of them is
the horse and the other one is the rider?

Basically. This isn't
about the horses.

It's about a dominant versus
submissive balance of power.

A variation on sadomasochism.

Those people are
eating from troughs.

Do you think that's sexy?

Fetishism is a way of
indulging in sexual activity...

without engaging emotionally with the
other person as a fully-formed human being.

Okay, sex is all about engaging.

You don't want to engage, you
just stay home and, you know...

Well, they have masturbation fetishes
often involving women's shoes or other...

Uh, can we just talk to Mr. Ed's
mistress, dominatrix, whatever?

I'm gonna have to talk to a few
people and ask permission to out them.

- We have three lawyers,
half a dozen doctors...
- Excuse me.

- You can't...
- We need to speak with
Mr. Ed's groom.

- Whoever rode him last.
- That's a great way to cut
to the chase there, Bones.

All right, F.B.I.

And, sir, could you turn your
behind around so it's behind?

My name in the world is
Anne Marie Ostenbach.

Here, I'm Annie Oakley.


So, Mr. Ed is dead? How
well did you actually know him?

Well, obviously she
knew him very well.

Sexual fetishes are
all about role-playing.

She probably never
knew his real name.

We met online over a year ago.

We were a match. I mean,
compatible in every way.

You have no idea how hard
it is to find the perfect pony.

- Don't look at me.
- Mr. Ed was easy to handle, but
he wasn't mindlessly obedient.


And yes, we had sex, if
that's your next question.

When did you first meet in person so
that you could, you know, um, ride him?

Six months ago.

- I fell in love with him.
- Meaning what?

A little light whipping?

When I say "love," I
don't mean romantically.

I mean, the way a young
girl feels about her first pony.

Have you ever heard of anything
like one pony fighting another?

No. No, pony
play is not like that.

Mr. Ed's body was found
only a few miles from here.

Evidence on the body
suggested an equine fetish.

So you understand why we might think that
someone from your sex game community killed him.

- You should talk to his wife.
- His wife?

Yeah. She showed up here, and
the next morning Ed was gone.

Oh, well, he didn't just run off and join
a band of wild mustangs now, did he?

You know, I'm speaking to you
willingly, without a lawyer present.

- You could at least pretend
to show me some respect.
- Yeah, I'll try.

The night Ed took off, I
was in the stables with him.

I'd worked him hard that day
and was rubbing him down.

Which is when she caught us.

Did you know he was married?
I didn't want to marry the man.

I just wanted to
play with the pony.

- How did he react
when he saw his wife?
- He never broke character.

- What?
- He remained a pony.

I finished rubbing him down,
and I went to bed, alone.

Next morning, he was gone. I
assumed he went back to his wife.

Okay. I'd appreciate it if you kept the fact
that Ed Milner was murdered to yourself.

What's worse...

Finding out that your
spouse is having an affair,

or finding out that he has
a secret life as a pony?

Pony fetishism has been
around since the Greeks.

Had to have been
the wife, right?

Aristotle extolled the joys
of being ridden like a horse.

Aristotle also thought that the purpose of
the human heart was to solve math problems.

I'm surprised you know that.

Well, it turns out I'm
smarter than a fifth grader.

In Victorian England, scantily clad women
put on erotic shows dressed as ponies.

I'm just saying, wife sees
some woman in a harness...

rubbing her husband down while
he's nibbling on oats... that's harsh.

In 16th-century Turkey, the king kept stables
of pony girls and pony boys for his pleasure.

Okay, the king of Turkey was a freak.
Why are you being so judgmental?

When you turn someone into an
object of sexual pleasure, it's wrong.

- How do you know?
- It says in the Bible.

- It does not.
- Then it got left out
by mistake.

We are all
hardwired differently.

If someone needs to shout "giddyap" to
heighten arousal, what's wrong with that?

Maybe if Ed lived like a man, he wouldn't
have died like a horse. That's all.

You knew your
husband wasn't in Florida.

- Yes. I lied.
- Why?

I was married to Ed for
nine years. We have kids.

My first concern was to make sure that they
didn't find out their father was a pervert.

- So his fetish
was a surprise to you?
- Try a complete shock.

Why would Ed do that?
We had a good sex life.

More likely, there was
a part of your husband...

that could never have
been satisfied by love alone.

Bones, that's one
of those... We...

- How did you track him down?
- What?

Well, I mean, you didn't just,
you know, wander into his, uh...

His stable or
paddock or whatever.

No. I really did think he was
in Orlando on a business trip.

I got a call. From whom?

A man.

He said that Ed was with another
woman and told me where I could find them.

He didn't mention
the pony stuff.

- Did you recognize his voice?
- No.

Anything distinctive at all?

An accent. Um,
Australian maybe. English.

So you walked in
on Ed and his, um...

- Rider.
- Rider.

Is that what they call it?

- What happened next?
- I got the hell out of there. I drove home.

- Did you hear from him again?
- No.

I engaged a divorce
attorney right away...

who said all communications
should go through her.

- Did anyone see you
come home that night?
- Why is that important?

I think you know why
that's important, Mrs. Milner.

Agent Booth, if I had
killed my husband,

then I wouldn't need a
divorce lawyer, would I?

No. But you would need an alibi.

So you don't think
she did it, hmm? No.

You want to put that down? Why?
Because of the whole "lawyer alibi" thing?

No. Because of the "feet
cut off" thing. It was ritualistic.

The killer knew about horses.

Or maybe she started cutting him into little
bits to scatter across the countryside...

and it was too
much work for her.

Or maybe it made her sick.
Or he wouldn't fit in the trunk.

Booth, we are immersed
in a culture here.

Pony play is a culture?
Anthropologically speaking.

And not just
because of the feet.

Ed's hands were tied together.

Historically, ranchers bound the front two
legs of horses to prevent them from straying.

Not to mention all the other equine
attributes associated with this case.

Yes, this is a culture, and we
need to investigate accordingly.

Do you still think she
did it? No, not now.

We need to find
the mystery caller.

If he had a reason to contact Ed's
wife, he had a motive to murder him.

Right. So, what? Back
to the Ambassadora?

Giddyap. Yeah, um...

Don't... Don't say that.

There were radiating fractures
along the edges of the wound...

which suggest the tip
of the blade was blunt.

I'm trying to determine
the type of weapon.

Fill the negative
space with Mikrosil,

thus determining the approximate
shape of the blade's tip.

Yes. Hmm.

You know this guy got his rocks
off pretending to be a horse?

Yes. I've never tried that.

I pretended to be a
horse a lot as a child.

But there was no sexual
component. What melon is in season?


Once I've I.D.'d a
possible murder weapon,

we'll want to compare an
exemplar to the entry wound.



What is this? The sicko rodeo?

Stylized movements. Posturing
as a kind of sexual signal.

- Who are these people?
- In real life,
they tend to be very orthodox.

You heard what Lucky said.
They're lawyers, judges, F.B.I. guys...

This is not
normal, okay? It's...

It's what, Booth?

You're not interested
in, uh... Pony play?

No. But I'm the first to admit that in sexual
situations, I have indulged in role-playing.

- It's getting warm out here. What do you say we go back...
- Hey there. Any, uh, leads?

We're wondering if any of the
riders or ponies has an accent.

Uh, Thor. That's it.
You're doing good.

He grew up in England.

With Annie Oakley? That's right.

I'm gonna need Thor's actual
normal human name. Calvin Johnson.

Calvin Johnson. That's
great. Come on. Thanks.

Come on! Higher!

We all indulge in role-playing
in sexual situations.

Oh, not me.
Completely normal here.

Booth, any time you look at a woman
and make the judgment that she's beautiful,

you're objectifying her.

Any time I put on lipstick and
nice clothes, I'm objectifying myself.

It's more subtle than what these people
are doing, but it's the same dynamic.

Yeah, you wearing lipstick,
Bones, it's not like this.

Uh, Calvin Johnson.

Calvin. Johnson.

He's wearing a bit gag.

- Could I help you
take that off?
- Not until I say so.

Well, we either talk to him
here, or we all go downtown...

and he misses a whole
day of horsing around.

How do you release him from his
pony persona? Is there a word, a motion?

Oh, just tap him
on the forehead.

So what's up then?

Hardly even knew Ed. Never even spoke
to the guy. Then why'd you call his wife?

Well, I'm fairly certain you can't prove
that was me. She recorded the call.

We can do voice analysis. And if you lie,
we'll charge you with obstruction of justice.

And public display of
sexual paraphernalia.

Okay, then yes. I
called her. So what?

Why'd you call her,
Calvin? To swap recipes.

He did it so he could have
Annie Oakley as his groom.

Come on. Ratting on a guy to
his wife is hardly a federal crime.

How'd you get his home number? It was under
"home" on his cell phone. Ed Milner's an idiot.

- Was an idiot.
- Now he's a murder victim.

So what happened there, Thor? Ed's wife showed
up, but to your chagrin she left without him?

So you did what you had to do
in order to get your groom back.

Annie's one hell of a jockey.

She's not worth killing
for. I did not kill Mr. Ed.

I may enjoy being dominated by the ladies
from time to time. That doesn't make me crazy.

Might want to take a look in
the mirror there, My Friend Flicka.

Whoa. Ho, no.

I went to Stanford Law.
Clerked for a federal judge.

Might want to rethink your
actions there, Agent Booth.

Thank you.

- Yeah, he's got motive.
- He knows about horses.

What's with all the lying?

We got voice tapes and public
display of sexual paraphernalia?

It was role-playing. I was
being all lard-ass and good cop.

Hard-ass and bad cop, Bones.

Hard-ass and bad cop.

What's going on?

You first.


Zack and I need 'em for an
experiment. Of course you do.

I talked to Dr. Jasper,
that hypnotist. Yeah?

She asked me to bring in photos,
but all I could find are these.

I'm not sure
those'll be any help.

Which is why I'm looking
for the wedding photo.

You were married on the beach
at dawn in the middle of nowhere.

When I got off the
phone with Dr. Jasper,

I remembered that somebody snapped
a Polaroid of me right after I said "I do."

And I stuck it in a book as a
bookmark, but I can't find it.

You know, I really hate going
through this story of marrying a guy.

I didn't even know his name.

People are looking
at me like I'm nuts.

You are. Thanks a lot.

Come on, Angie.
Embrace the irony.

It's what makes you you.

You married him. Then you're gonna
marry me. None of it makes any sense.

I'm supposed to take advice from a guy
who's walking around with honeydew melons?

They're cantaloupes.
It's a common mistake.

And, hey, you need to relax.

You want me there
when you go under?

I can hold your
hand or something.

I'm not going under.
I'm being hypnotized.


This is me walking away with
my melons so you can relax.

I love you, psycho.


The weapon was blunt,
an inch wide and curved.

That's unusual.
Not if you're a horse.

I'm not a horse.
But the victim was.

At least he pretended to be one.

What is that? A hoof knife.

They're curved to conform with
the natural shape of a horse's foot.

Could I have one of those
honeydews? It's a cantaloupe.

My research shows that horses are
slaughtered by a single blow to the forehead.

All right, now, I'm thinking that we
should place the melons at exactly 5'11",

which was the victim's height.

We should pull the cantaloupe away, because
he most likely saw the knife coming...

Okay, fine.

You know, we used to
think things through together.

I-I apologize.

It's possible that my time in Iraq
transformed me into a man of action.

I'll watch out for that.

Looks like we found
the right weapon.

Mr. Ed wasn't just playing like a
horse and having sex like a horse.

He was slaughtered like one too.

The victim's hands were tied
together like this with baler's twine.

"Bales of hay"
baler's twine? Yep.

It's embedded with UV-protective filament that
prolongs the life of the twine in sunlight.

The technology is patented, and
they sell directly to the consumer.

They had only
228 sales last year.

Booth can get a warrant to identify all
the pony players and cross-reference.

I'm on it.

Hodgins? Hodgins!

Is somebody there?


Why don't you just open
your eyes? Ah, sweetie.

It'll break the spell.

What spell? Are
you still hypnotized?


It never took. Why?

Because that doctor said
that I wasn't relaxed enough.

Can you believe that?

I mean, how would she
know if I'm relaxed or not?

You're twisting your bracelet, your
voice is half an octave higher than usual,

and you smell like
nervous sweats.

Oh, don't say that. Really?

I'm going back there at 6:00.

She says that if my pulse rate is still above
60, she's gonna push me off till next week.

Rapid pulse rate,
high blood pressure...

They're indicators
of emotional distress.

What? You think I don't
want to be hypnotized?

I simply made a
factual observation.

Ah. You think I'm afraid
of disturbing old memories.

You think that somehow
I... I like this idea...

of Birimbau as some sort of
untouchable fantasy figure, hmm?

That somehow finding his real
name will just bring him down to earth...

and make this whole meshugaas
banal and uninteresting.

I don't know what
"meshugaas" means.

I'm not sure I know
what any of that meant.

Why do I feel like I need
to apologize for something?

I'll be ready next time. Okay?

You'll see.

Could you excuse me, sweetie?

Hey, shut that door behind you.

You recognize that?

Yeah. That'd be twine.

Uh-huh. Fairly
specialized stuff, hmm?

Doesn't deteriorate in the sun.

Only the best for
your pony clients.

Get it off one of my hay bales?

Got it off the
corpse of Ed Milner.

- Do I need a lawyer?
- That's your call.

- I didn't kill Ed.
- We traced the owner of that
twine to the Ambassadora.

Any of my guests could've
taken this twine off my hay bales.

Your company used to be co-owned by your
ex-wife? I paid her off in the divorce.

Your ex-wife being
Anne Marie Ostenbach?

Rider named Annie Oakley?

Ed Milner's sex partner.

You can see how things are starting
to line up against you here, Lucky.

We aren't married anymore.

You're gonna tell me that it doesn't
bother you to see your ex-wife...

playing sex games
with other men?

What's that? It's a warrant.

I already told you I've got
that twine all over the ranch.

We'll be looking for a hoof
knife. I've got a hoof knife.

Great. It was stolen four
days ago from my truck.

Did you report the theft? Like the
cops are gonna care about a $10 knife?

I think I know who did
it though. I'm listening.

I have a rider client
named Tom Mularz.

A couple days ago, he
starts passing out flyers...

advocating the
consumption of horse meat.

- He's a butcher.
- Why did he
break into your truck?

I took the flyers from him, tossed
them in the truck, and I kicked him out.

So he took back the flyers
and the hoof knife? I don't know.

All I know is, next morning the
flyers were gone. So was the knife.

That is the same morning
that Ed Milner was missing.

Wow. You just figured that out.

Oh, I found something
very interesting.

The victim's feet were severed
from the body with remarkable skill.

Excellent insight, Zack.

But the polite response is, "Really,
Hodgins? What did you find?"

There's a sharp-force disarticulation
from the distal tibia and fibula...

passing cleanly above the talus.

No. I wasn't asking you. I was
telling you you should ask me.

Really, Hodgins?
What did you find?

The feet were severed
with a hoof knife.

I know. Because I told you.

No. Because I examined the cuts under
the confocal laser-scanning microscope.

How did you find out?

Traces of steel left on the skull
match traces of steel left on the feet.

Same weapon. Same weapon.

You suck all the fun out of
every moment of personal triumph!


I hate the smell
of a butcher shop.

Oh, maggots and rotting faces
and burst guts don't bother you,

but the smell of a
butcher shop does?

It's a very small step between selling
dead meat and making meat dead.

I'm considering
becoming a vegetarian.

Not me. That's why
I said "I," not "we."

Zack said that the killer was
adept at cutting through bone.

Like a butcher.

Yeah. Horse meat.

"Sweet, rich, lean and soft."

Can I help you?

Yeah. We're looking to
score some horse meat.

Right now there's only two slaughterhouses in
the U.S., and they don't export to Virginia.

Aw, that's a shame.
You Tom Mularz?

- Why?
- I'm Special Agent
Seeley Booth.

This... Oh!

Go around. Cut him off.

Stop, or I'll kick
you in the testicles!

Oh! You are strong! You
know, I try and stay in shape.

"Stop, or I'll kick you in
the testicles?" It worked.

I tell you what. You and me,
we're gonna work on the cop talk.

You know what? I've been thinking
about the psychology of all this.

I know that you hate that,
but just go with me here, okay?

Tom is a butcher. He advocates
the consumption of horse meat.

Ed Milner was horse meat.

I can see that, symbolically.

- Who's Ed Milner?
- Mr. Ed? Ring a bell?

- He's dead?
- Yeah.

Oh, man.

He was a good pony.


Did you ride Mr. Ed? No. No.

No. I-I'm a rider, but I...
I prefer female horses.

I just... I just admired
his... His style.

- Why'd you throw me into a wall?
- Why'd you run?

- Well, you're F.B.I.
- I need a little more than that.

I'm a deserter.

They send the F.B.I. after
deserters. A deserter from what?

The National Guard.

I signed up to save people from
floods and earthquakes and stuff,

but not to kill 'em.

We found your
fingerprints on Lucky's truck.

Well, I broke into it to get
my flyers back. They're mine.

Your horse meat flyers.

Why can't they see that if
we revere horses sexually,

then eating their flesh is
an act of Holy Communion?

You know what? There's
crazy pony players,

- and there's really whacked-out
crazy pony players.
- Yeah.

What'd you do after
you got your flyers back?

- I drove straight
to my folks in Jersey.
- When did you get there?

Before midnight.
They can vouch for me.

Plus, I got credit
card receipts from gas.

- You deserted
the National Guard.
- I'm not a killer.

- You're a butcher.
- Well, not a people butcher.

I'm innocent.

How am I doing?

Because the pressure I'm having to have
a low pulse could be driving my pulse up,

and I in no way want
to be penalized for that.

58 beats per minute.
Very nice, Angela.

I did some deep breathing.

You're not gonna make me
cluck like a chicken, are you?

Sorry. Bombs away.

Let's begin.

Angela, close your eyes.

Take a deep,
cleansing breath in...

and out.

Very good.

Take in another breath.

And out.

Focus on your arms.
They're very heavy.

Imagine them
sinking into your chair.

Got your page. What's up?

When you washed the
maggots from the eye sockets,

were there any remaining
ocular tissue at all?

No. Little buggers ate the
eyes clean through to the bone.

I have an alternate explanation.
For the eyes missing?

Check out the nicks around the supra-orbital
process, the lachrymal bone, sphenoid.

You think the killer
gouged out the eyeballs?

I think gouged is a good description,
using some kind of curved instrument.

Probably the hoof knife.

The murderer cutting off
the feet, gouging out the eyes.

This was a bloody,
violent killing.

Killers are often
driven by fury.

No, Dr. Brennan. The feet weren't
lopped off. They were removed carefully.

The eyes were gouged out.

This was done by someone who
was not squeamish about flesh.

The butcher's alibi checked out.

Booth said some of those pony
people were lawyers, judges and doctors.

You think a doctor did this?

Someone who's good with a knife and not
afraid of blood? Sounds like a doctor to me.

Annie Oakley is a doctor,
and she was the victim's groom.

But she wasn't the only
doctor at the convention.

I found evidence of sperm in Ed Milner's
urogenital tract. Why is that relevant?

Annie Oakley claims that she rubbed
down her pony and then went to sleep.

You think she had one
last romp with the decedent?

Well, if she lied about that,
what else is she lying about?

Very good.

We're ready now
to begin the journey.

If you can hear me,
Angela, nod your head.

Very good.

You're on the island
of "Vatulolo" in Fiji,

in the village of "Nakavala."

I'm pretty sure I'm on the
Rialto Bridge in Venice.

No. You're on the beach in Fiji.

In front of you is a red door.

No. There's not.

I need for you not
to fight me, Angela.

- Do you see the door?
- I see the door.

When you pull the door open,

your husband will be
standing in front of you.

When you see him, you will
greet him by his proper name.

I'm going to pull it open.

Pull the knob.

Angela, I'm gonna
count to three.

And when I reach three, you're
going to open up your eyes,

you're going to feel
relaxed and refreshed.

You're gonna remember everything,
but you're not going to be scared.

One, two, three.

Did it work?

Angela, you need to tell
me your husband's name.

I opened the door...
and I saw a wasp.

A white Anglo-Saxon Protestant?

No. A-A-A big,
flying, stinging insect.

Buzzing around
your husband's head?

No, it... No, it was the size
of a... of a human being.

It was a very large human being.

I see.

What does that mean to you?


- It must.
- I'm sorry.

I have no idea.

Well, you're not what I would
call a compliant personality.

This is my fault?

Well, perhaps another
session, we'll explore this wasp.


A-And next time I'll open the
door to what? A giant snake?

I don't think so, Doc.

You're an eye
surgeon, Dr. Ostenbach.

Ed Milner's eyes were
cut out of his head.

Whoa. Don't you have
to wait till I call my lawyer?

We have the right to execute the warrant.
You have the right to call your lawyer.

Lucky, Sparkles is
a litigation lawyer.

Oh, a lawyer named Sparkles.

Now I'm... I'm shivering.

Look, you're making a
mistake. I did not kill Ed Milner.

She actually killed
her pony, Mr. Ed.

- Look, I loved Mr. Ed.
- But he didn't love you back.

- I mean, not enough
to leave his wife.
- What happened, Annie?

Did he talk to you before you slapped him in
the forehead and turned him into a human being?

You don't know anything.

Well, I'm pretty sure he told you
he was going back to his wife...

and you convinced him to engage
in one last session of pony play.

You took Lucky's truck out to
the pasture, you had sex with him...

and you finished him off.

Hiding in plain sight.

Thanks for making
this part easy.

That's a hoof knife. So what?

Your D.N.A. will
be on the handle...

and Ed Milner's
blood on the blade.

- Mr. Ed's blood.
- Your pony misbehaved,

so you stabbed
him in the forehead.

You cut off his feet,
you bound his wrists,

but his human eyes were staring
back at you, so you gouged them out.

I left my husband for him.

I left Thor for him.

And he was gonna leave me?

What was I supposed to do?

Hey. Hey.

So I, uh... I looked up
"wasp" in dream theory.

I love dream theory.
I know you do.

And guess what I found?

A wasp signifies anger and envy.

Bees are good. Any
chance it was a bee?

No, Jack.

A book about nuclear
radiation creating a giant wasp.

I was reading it in Fiji.

I mean, between all
the snorkeling and the...

Sightseeing. Let's go with that.

What's it mean? Look inside.

- That's Birimbau.
- Mm-hmm.

His face is turned, so
there's still not much to go on.

God, that guy is a giant.

Flip the picture.

"Angie and Grayson."
His name was Grayson.

Grayson Barasa.

Once I say the first name,
the rest of it just flows out.

Grayson Barasa.

You did it, Angie. You
really do want to find him.

I really, really do.

To divorce him?

I want a divorce.

And then I want a wedding.

How's that salad?

There are many health
benefits to being vegetarian.

It's a rational
choice in a world...

where food supplies are
affected by global warming issues.

What about global taste issues?

Is that meat sweet,
rich, super lean and soft?

What? Does it taste
like horse meat?

Maybe you should consider
going vegetarian too.

I didn't lose my appetite because
you mentioned horse meat.

I lost my appetite because you made me think
about all those people parading around...

pretending to be
something they aren't...

just so they could
have crappy sex.

How do you know it's
crappy? Gotta be, Bones.

Come on. It's gotta be. Why?


I'll tell you why.

Here we are, all of
us, basically alone,

separate creatures
just circling each other,

all searching for that slightest
hint of a real connection.

Some look in the wrong places.

Some, they just give up hope
because, in their mind, they're thinking,

"Oh, there's nobody
out there for me."

But all of us, we keep
trying over and over again.


Because every once in a
while, every once in a while,

two people meet
and there's that spark.

And yes, Bones, he's
handsome and she's beautiful,

and maybe that's
all they see at first.

But making love?

Making love.

That's when two
people become one.

It is scientifically

for two objects to
occupy the same space.

Yeah, but what's
important is we try.

And when we do it
right, we get close.

To what? Breaking
the laws of physics?

Yeah, Bones. A miracle.

Those people role-playing, and their
fetishes, and their little sex games...

It's crappy sex.

Well, at least compared
to the real thing.

You're right. Yeah, but I...

Wait a second. I just
won that argument?


What's that mean?