Bones (2005–2017): Season 3, Episode 7 - Boy in the Time Capsule - full transcript

A 20-year-old body is found when a time capsule is opened, and focus turns towards the victim's fellow high school students.

[Chattering, Cheering]

Our time capsule
was buried in 1987,

the year the Dow closed
above 2,000 for the first time.

Reagan told Gorbachev
to tear down the Berlin Wall.

- Uh, you had a huge crush
on La Toya Jackson.
- [Laughter]

- I did.
- You can't complain, Stinson.

- You married
the head cheerleader.
- Lucky I did.

And now we have a wonderful kid
who's a senior right here at Foothill.

Alex, take a bow. [Applause]

Anyhow, we're here today
to open the time capsule...

that we buried 20 years ago,



so we can see who we were and how
the heck we all got to where we are today.

- Found it.
- [Applause, Whistles]

Twenty years. Hmm.

Do you remember
what you put in there?

A bad perm and pink leg
warmers probably. [Laughs]

Here we go.

- [Grunts]
- [Crowd Gasping, Groaning]

- Oh!
- [Man] Oh, God, that is foul.

Oh, what the hell, Bill? I thought
you said this thing was watertight.

It should have been. And
it's Gil, not Bill. [Groans]

Let's see what we got here.

Ugh. [Crowd Groaning]

Wow. Now, this is a sweet field.

This is what I'm
talking about, right?



I mean, it's nothin'
like ours, but, hey,

that didn't stop me from
being M.V.P. in my senior year.

Got the trophy. Touchdown!

In certain tribes in the
African subcontinent,

piercings serve as a
reminder, like your trophy,

- of the power and agility
which has since faded away.
- What do you mean, faded away?

Whoa. Time out. Can we
just concentrate on the case?

What do we got here? We
were all gathered for the opening.

We had, uh, no idea that
that thing was in there.

[Whistles] Whoa. That is rank.

I was just expecting to see
my 10,000 Maniacs album.

That was not there.
[Booth] Who are you?

I'm Gil Bates. I-I
sealed it myself.

I used a propylene seal
and industrial bolt lags.

Adolescent Caucasian male.

Late teens, early 20s.

What do you say we just pack it all
up and ship it back to the Jeffersonian?

Oh, I'm sorry. That's
not a good idea.

The water has compromised
the structural integrity of the case.

- So...
- Would you look at this, Bones?

- Another nerd
for your squint squad.
- [Brennan] Drill.

Drill? Whoa, wait a second. You
mean you're gonna drill it right here?

- What about taking it all
back to the Jeffersonian?
- Tub.

[Police Radio Chatter]

[Whirring]

[Booth Groans]

[Chattering, Cheering]

Our 1987 Foothill High
School yearbook, of course.

[Cheers, Applause]

[Boy] How about the
ghetto blaster? [Girl] Yeah!

Rubik's Cube.

How about this? CD.
No needle required.

In 20 years, they'll be able to fit
hundreds of those on a microchip.

Victim had several antemortem
fractures to his sternum,

as well as several antemortem fractures
to the lateral sections of his ribs.

All healed? All healed
at different times.

[Device Beeps] I had a
Michael Jackson glove.

I've never mentioned that
before. I loved Chevy Chase.

We all have our crosses to bear.

The fracture on the
right clavicle is fresh...

Well, was 20 years
ago. [Chuckles]

- Mullet alert.
- [Saroyan] Ooh. That's a nasty one.

Booth got a list of all the students who
didn't make it to the capsule opening,

and he's pulling the names of anyone connected
to the school in 1987 who had a record.

Oh, my God. I'm getting flashbacks
to braces and stirrup pants...

and a really, really bad side
ponytail. You certainly grew out of it.

I wore Doc Martens that
weighed more than I did.

Apparently, Booth was fine. He
was a football player. [Angela] Right.

He was one of those guys.

Well, this guy certainly wasn't
hanging out with the cheerleaders,

but I bet he had some love notes
stashed away in his Spaceballs binder.

- I think I saw him
in the video.
- [Saroyan] Roger Dillon.

- Class of 1987.
- [Zack] Here he is.

The comet will be around in 76
years. We'll still be around. Don't worry.

How did Roger Dillon...

get from there...

to here?

I ran a sample of the
sludge. Organic matter.

[Saroyan] Or you could
call him Roger. Oh, come on.

When you can ladle someone, he's a
little less than a person, don't you think?

Fine. I took a sample of "Roger,"
ran it through the mass spectrometer.

You'll never guess what I found. Traces
of an unidentified organophosphate.

Nerve gas? Very good. I'll break
down the rest of the chemicals.

The victim also had a
perimortem fracture in his wrist.

There are indications of a Grade 2
acromioclavicular joint separation,

but it was certainly not
lethal. I've seen it before.

Someone twisted the victim's
arm behind his back... forcefully.

So what, did he get beat
up for his lunch money?

Violent students are the
hallmark of a school yard.

I speak from experience.

However, these fractures on
his ribs might predate high school.

So he might have had
some trouble at home.

I don't understand, Mr. Dillon, why
you've never reported your son missing.

His mother told me
that Roger ran away.

You weren't concerned that your
son never contacted you again?

- He didn't live with me. He didn't want to.
- Because of the physical abuse?

Yeah. I was a
drinker in those days,

and I understood why he
wanted to just write me off.

But I cared about
him. I was sick.

When was the last
time you saw Roger?

It was the night of his
high school graduation.

He came over here afterwards
asking me for money... a lot.

You threw him out of the house
with his arm twisted behind his back.

I swear, he... he got
up, and he walked away.

Now, this was 20 years
ago. What's this all about?

Roger is dead, Mr. Dillon.

His remains were
found yesterday.

Oh, God. God. [Booth]
Found him at the high school.

He'd been in a time
capsule for 20 years.

Any idea why he
needed the money?

He wouldn't say. Guess it
was so he could run away.

You should talk to Gil.
He was Roger's best friend.

Gil Bates? Yeah.

- That's the Tech Town guy.
- Yeah. They did everything
together.

We'll be in touch.

I'm different now.

I'm sober.

I never... I never
wanted to hurt him.

I loved Roger.

Right.

Kid basically
melted into all of this.

Should be able to pull
more chemical traces...

off the artifacts to I.D. the
organophosphate on him.

- Beta. St. Elmo's Fire.
- It's on the list.

One yearbook. Foothill
High School, 1987. Check.

- Dehydrate and scan.
- "Have a great summer. Don't ever change."

- Remember those days?
- I remember getting grounded
every weekend.

So many rules to break, so little
time. You were the nerd fantasy.

I was all about Barbie. [Hodgins]
She was my first anatomy lesson.

- I was confused for years.
- What about Ken? I felt so sorry for him.

Floppy disk the
size of a dinner plate.

Bingo, baby. The
disk is not on the list.

Wow. What are you?
Term paper? Launch codes?

We need to pull the data.

Do you think you're
up to it? I can try.

A hockey skate.

And it looks like it's signed.

Check on the skate. Belonged to
some jock named John Adamson.

- A can of New Coke.
- Definitely an '80s plot
to destabilize the country.

[Saroyan] Another
check. And a pocket watch.

The watch is not on the list.

It's a Wallingham. It's nice.

Computer disk
and a pocket watch.

What was our little geek into?

It's dry. This is a good watch.

- Some kind of residue.
- Could it help I.D. the poison?

Let me at it.

Roger's father had no
trouble getting physical,

so why would he resort to
poisoning his son with a nerve agent?

What sort of teenager
were you, Bones?

He did have a
series of odd jobs.

Perhaps he procured the poison
from one of them. Come on.

You have to have at least one good
story before you pasted on the lab coat.

I was busy studying.

And in all those hours of studying,
you never came across one hormone?

Fine. There was one boy.

Andy Fluger.

He was the varsity
lacrosse captain.

Did you kiss...

the varsity lacrosse captain?

I was weighing
the pros and cons,

when he became my secret Santa.

I thought you hated
secret Santa. Yes...

Because he taped
the gift to my locker.

Everyone saw it.

Teenagers can be cruel.

What was it? Doesn't matter.

Come on, Bones. You
promise not to laugh?

I promise. I'm your partner.

[Exhales] It was a
Brainy Smurf. [Snorts]

You said you wouldn't
laugh. I'm not laughing.

Brainy Smurf, huh?
Well, it was deliberate.

He knew I wanted
Smurfette. [Snorting]

Okay, it's clear you find this
amusing. [Laughing] I'm not laughing.

I'm not.

What? You know,
Angela was right.

You were one of those guys.
What? One of what guys?

That was Roger
in the time capsule?

I saw his skull. Oh,
my God. I saw his skull.

He's been there since 1987.

You know, Roger
took off. He left a note.

A note? Graduation night,
he left his mom a note...

saying that he hated it here
and he was running away.

He went to his father's house to
ask for money. Do you know why?

All I knew is what his
mom said was in the note.

Gil, his mother is dead, and
his father never saw it, so...

So you're the only
connection we have to the note.

It said, uh,

you know, that...

he couldn't be around
his dad anymore...

or the kids at school.

They picked on him.

They used to pick on me too.

I guess he just
couldn't take it.

Why wouldn't he
just ask for help?

He was my best friend.

I always thought
that I'd see him again.

I can't believe I'll
never see him again.

All right, I found several
denim cotton fibers...

on both the gold
watch and the floppy,

matching what's left of the
victim's classic acid-wash '80s jeans.

That places the
watch and the disk...

inside the victim's pocket
at the time of his murder.

I tested the residue
inside the watch casing.

Pure crystalline
tropane alkaloid.

Roger Dillon had a pocket
watch full of cocaine?

It's so Miami Vice, I
could roll up my sleeves.

The F.B.I. sent us the files of everyone
connected to the school who had a record.

Mostly petty thefts,
D.U.I.s, that sort of thing.

Darwin Banks, teacher
at Foothill High...

arrested in a school-wide
drug bust, June 12, 1987.

- That's two days after
Roger disappeared.
- And Roger needed money.

Looks like our young geek might
have been killed over a drug deal.

[Booth] Do you
remember Roger Dillon?

Foothill High, right?

I was his science teacher.

Smart kid. Could
have taught the class.

Yeah, well, he's dead.

We found him stuffed into
the Foothill's time capsule.

Been there since 1987.

God. It says here
in the yearbook...

that you were the faculty adviser
to the time capsule committee.

You gotta be kidding.

I usually don't joke around when a
17-year-old boy's been murdered.

Found evidence of
cocaine on him. Roger?

No. That kid was clean.

The only way he got high was sitting
in front of his computer, writing code.

All right, so help me out here,

because in '87 you were arrested
at the high school for dealing.

I wasn't dealing. I
was just out of college.

I had two joints on me. And
four ounces in your apartment.

I was 23. We all do crazy
stuff when we're kids.

Exactly.

I have my own business
now. A wife and two kids.

I'm in the Rotary
Club, for God sakes.

Well, we know that
Roger needed money.

Maybe he started
dealing for you,

and he wanted a bigger payout.

Threatened to turn you in if
he didn't get it, so you killed him.

I didn't kill him, and
Roger didn't rat me out.

It was Adamson...
John Adamson...

An entitled ass even at 17.

I caught him cheating,
and the next thing I know,

the cops are knocking
on my classroom door.

He just wanted to discredit
me so he could retake the test.

Right. So you're the victim,
with the four ounces of weed.

Can you confirm your
whereabouts on June 14, 1987?

If I'm such a big,
drug-dealing liar,

why would I tell you the truth?

Because you don't want to
go to jail for killing Roger Dillon.

Come on, Sweets. Just come on.

You've done a lot of psychological
profiling, and the case is 20 years old.

- We just need some help.
- That's not why we're here
today, Agent Booth.

This hour is for you
and Dr. Brennan.

She's not gonna mind. It's only
gonna take five minutes, okay?

1987, suburban kid is killed
and stuffed into a time capsule.

Fascinating, right? What
kind of person would do that?

So, have any conflicts or issues
arisen since our last session?

- Well...
- Bones and I
are doing just great.

You look angry, Dr. Brennan.

I told Agent Booth a private
story about my childhood,

and he laughed.

What? No. I...

I was appreciating it.
Don't get him involved.

Snorting does not
suggest appreciation.

It was about a cartoon
character from the 1980s.

I didn't think you'd
be so sensitive.

Childhood icons have great
significance to us, Agent Booth.

All right? I myself was
very attached to Voltron.

Cartoon.

Voltron.

You're hurt, Dr. Brennan,
because you feel...

you opened yourself up to Agent
Booth, and he betrayed that trust.

- We're talkin' about a Smurf.
- Smurfette.

Perhaps a way to bring this
relationship back into symmetry...

is if you reveal a childhood
story about yourself...

Show your vulnerability
to Dr. Brennan.

No. You know what? This
is crazy. It's... It's not right.

- Tell him that it's not right.
- Is it?

Oh, you're on his side. Why
don't you go play Voltron with him?

You were that guy,
weren't you, Agent Booth?

You were the golden boy who could get away
with anything just by turning on the charm.

That's ridiculous. You
don't even know who I am.

Could it be that you're still
holding on to that persona?

- That you're afraid
to reveal yourself?
- I'm an F.B.I. agent.

I get shot at every day, all
right? I'm not afraid of anything.

Okay, this is obviously
very difficult for you,

but you shouldn't be
ashamed to ask for help.

You shouldn't.

Okay.

[Exhales]

Okay.

I apologize. I do. I need help.

With this case.

So, while you review this,

I will reveal myself to Bones.

I know that sounded weird,
but you know what I mean.

So you will share...

an emotionally
humiliating episode...

from your youth with
me? Yeah. I-I have 'em.

- Here.
- All right. Excellent.

Now, for the remainder
of our time, let's role-play.

Now I know why I'm not
allowed to bring my gun in here.

[Chuckles]

I tested the goop. I
found traces of cocaine...

consistent with the leakage
from the gold watch. [Beeps]

But when I check the
results against samples...

of his hair and bones,
they came out negative.

Roger didn't do drugs. So his
old teacher was telling the truth?

Huh. I also discovered...

what he was dosed with,
and how much. What?

Malaoxon. Malaoxon?

Yeah. It's neurotoxic
in high doses.

Yeah, but there was barely
enough to make a mouse cough.

So our theory about
poisoning is incorrect.

Dr. Saroyan, I found an
anomaly on the victim's skull.

When I was cleaning the
skull, I found a tiny irregularity...

in the undersurface of
the victim's mandible.

Magnified, it proved to be a
tiny but sharply defined fracture.

Judging by its location, it
appears that a weapon...

was thrust into the neck, cutting
through the sternocleidomastoid...

and severing both the
carotid artery and jugular vein.

Which means Roger must have bled
out. Have you determined a weapon?

Judging by the microscopic
crushing of the bone,

the weapon was neither
too sharp nor too blunt.

It certainly wasn't an edged
weapon. So it wasn't a knife?

Correct. However, it left an
odd textural stain in the crevice.

I've taken a sample and will
hand it over to Hodgins for testing.

This little darling...

is a Commodore Amiga,
with a Motorola 6800 chipset,

using a homemade
operating system.

I got it from the computer
exhibit on the third floor.

I used to have this
exact computer.

My geek princess.

I knew the mall couldn't
suck out your soul.

♪♪ [Tinny Game Theme]

Hey, look at that.

Oh, this is incredible.

This is like a primitive Doom.

You don't see anything
wrong with that?

Doom came out in 1993.

All of this stuff... the 3-D
rendering, the first-person shooting...

Were barely a glint in
a geek's eye in 1987.

So Roger was way
ahead of his time.

If this game had
come out in 1987,

Roger Dillon would have been
a billionaire several times over.

Well, money is always a
good motive for murder.

Pretty sure that
Sweets would say...

a lost baseball game is
not personal or revealing.

Football, Bones.
Okay? It's football.

Oh, okay. I got one. All right,
personally, between two people.

Or revealing, like,
uh, aha... naked.

Well, that's very literal.
There was this girl,

Karen Isley, and we were
under the bleachers one night.

Personally. With me?

Got it. You were having sex
in the dirt under the bleachers.

Excuse me. I'm a gentleman.
I brought my sleeping bag.

Did you fail to perform
sexually? What?

'Cause that might actually
count as a humiliation.

Will you just wait?

Will you just allow
me to tell my story?

Fine. Thank you.

All right, so this girl... She had this
game where she would ask me a question.

What kind of a question?
It doesn't matter, okay?

So if I got the question wrong, I'd
have to take off a piece of my clothing.

Of course, I knew
all the answers,

but I pretended that I didn't. So
you could take off your clothes.

Exactly. Now, the point
is, I'm standing there,

you know, in my socks and
my St. Christopher medal.

She runs off.

She runs off with the sleeping
bag and all of my clothes,

and I'm standing there, stark-o.

Well, why did she do that?
Well, I suppose she heard...

I was under the bleachers
with another girl the week before.

Okay, this is a story about sexual
prowess, Booth. You're bragging.

I had to run across
the campus buck naked.

Y-You're laughing about it now.
You enjoyed displaying your penis.

It showed "alpha male" mastery.

Only one other person
knew about Brainy Smurf.

It was my mother.

It was cold. Okay? It was cold.

Do you know what happens
to a guy when it is cold outside?

Hi. Hi. Can we make this quick?

My boss doesn't understand
why I keep leaving,

and he's kind of a jerk, so...

What do you know
about, uh, Warstrike?

Wow. I haven't heard
that name in a long time.

We found it on a disk
in the time capsule.

- It was on Roger
when he was killed.
- Oh, my God.

- So you knew about it?
- Yeah, but only as a drawing
in his notebook.

I didn't know he'd
written the code.

Yeah, well, according to
an expert at the Jeffersonian,

someone could make a lot
of money off it. We planned to.

We were gonna start a gaming
business after graduation.

Roger was the brains,
and I was the business guy.

Wait a minute. You saw
the game? It worked?

- If you were partners,
why wouldn't he tell you that?
- He was a perfectionist.

He would never show me anything
until he thought it was perfect.

Maybe he was trying to make
a deal with someone else.

No. No way.

We were partners, okay?
Best friends our whole lives.

Roger would never
sell me out like that.

We were saving up to buy new
computers to create a 3-D rendering farm.

Computers were
expensive back then.

Where were you going to get
the money? We both worked.

I paved driveways, and Roger
worked a shift at a roller rink.

Hey, I scraped grills at a
Burger Shack for 3.55 an hour.

- That's humiliating.
- Nice try.

Roger... He made extra money
tutoring that cheerleader Janelle in math.

And he got paid to take the S.A.T.s
for some cokehead hockey player.

The kid got into Harvard
off of Roger's scores.

Cokehead? What's his name?

John Adamson. He's a
real nasty piece of work.

[Booth] Great. Thanks.

[Beeps] John Adamson was
the star hockey player at Foothill.

He barely graduated from
Harvard. Took five years.

He got in by cheating. He
didn't deserve to be there.

Maybe Roger was blackmailing
Adamson about the S.A.T. scam.

So Adamson killed him? Could a
hockey skate have killed the kid?

I mean, Adamson's
was in the time capsule.

A metal skate blade could
easily cut right through the jugular.

And the edge could create
a sharply defined fracture.

Well, there you go. You
got a motive and a weapon.

♪♪ [Background: Piano,
Lounge] He's at that table, waiting.

[Murmurs]

[Whispering, Indistinct]

Well, what am I supposed
to do? Grease a palm.

John Adamson? F.B.I.
Agent Seeley Booth.

I'd like to ask you
a few questions.

Have a seat, Bones.

The senator expects me to concentrate
on running his campaign, Agent Booth.

- I hope this isn't going
to be a waste of my time.
- Take a look at that.

Do you remember Gilbert Bates
and Roger Dillon from high school?

No, I'm sorry.

Neither the name Gilbert Bates nor
Roger Dillon means anything to me.

This boy was found inside
the time capsule, dead.

You might have heard
about that. Like I said,

I've been busy with
the senator's campaign.

Oh, 'cause this kid
said that this guy...

took the S.A.T. for you,
got you into Harvard.

[Chuckling]

S.A.T.s didn't get me
into Harvard, Agent Booth.

My slap shot did that.

So you don't deny that Roger
Dillon took the test for you?

Total cooperation.

We keep my sordid
academic past in the past?

- Sure.
- I paid Roger 200 bucks
to take the test for me.

It was a done deal.

Two weeks later, he comes
knocking at my door, saying...

if I don't cough up another
500, he'll rat me out.

Roger tell you why he
needed the money? No.

Just that a guy like
me wouldn't understand.

I gave him all the cash I had...

Maybe 90 bucks... and my watch.

The watch with the hidden
compartment for cocaine?

I don't know what
you're talking about.

[Clears Throat] What?

Well, you're a very
slow reader, Dr. Sweets.

I'm afraid Agent Booth's report on Mr. Adamson
is more revealing of Agent Booth...

than it is of Adamson.
Really? Why?

That's for Agent Booth to share.

But I've seen John Adamson
on TV enough to know...

that while he's harmful
to the political process,

he's not homicidal.

- He's too sensitive.
- A horny, cocaine-snorting,
jock party boy is sensitive?

Yes, definitely. And
emotionally immature.

Totally dependent
upon external validation.

Cheap and greedy too. They're
always cheap and greedy.

You got all this off TV?
The point is, at the age of 17,

John Adamson gave Roger
Dillon money and a watch.

If he had killed Roger, he
would have taken his watch back.

Very convincing...
The watch part anyway.

All that insight into the intangible
enigma of human behavior,

and you zone in on
the banal and tangible.

I bring more banal
and tangible evidence.

Wow. With you people,
it's really go, go, go, isn't it?

We're catching murderers.

And that is so dope, all right?

I'm running up a profile right
now to help. I love being in the field.

Uh, you're in a secure lab.

Dude, for eight hours a day,
I'm surrounded by neurotics.

Okay? To me, this is fieldwork.

Uh, no offense, Dr. Brennan.
I'll finish the profile.

Anyhoo, we've determined that
the Malaoxon in the Roger stew...

was originally the common organophosphate
pesticide malathion before it broke down.

- How common?
- There was this 1980s
mosquito panic,

and malathion was
sprayed everywhere.

Virginia Department of Agriculture
and Consumer Services...

says there was a quadrant
bordering Foothill High School...

that was sprayed at 7:45 p.m.
on Thursday, June 14, 1987.

Whoa. Why did they keep
such detailed records?

Spraying aerial neurotoxins in an attempt to
kill creatures that outlive atomic bombs...

- tends to make bureaucrats
consider possible lawsuits.
- [Beeping]

I guess.

- It's a housing development.
- Yes, but in 1987,
it was mostly a swamp.

The development was under construction.
There were only a few finished homes.

Could the wind have blown
the insecticide onto Roger?

In this concentration, Roger had to have
been wading right through the middle of it.

- Why would he do that?
- There's only one reason.

- A girl.
- What are you basing that on?

I was a boy.

And I searched the
1987 real estate records.

Guess who lived in one
of the only finished houses.

Janelle Brown, head cheerleader.

- He was tutoring her
in math.
- Exactly.

Why would he wade through
a swamp to get to the house?

There had to be roads. It was
quicker. She was a cheerleader.

She was hot. He couldn't wait.

It's the boy thing again.

Or maybe he was peeping
through her window.

Could have been a peeper.

Uh, Dr. Hodgins?

Do boys change
after high school?

Only on the outside.

Whoever thought hair
like that looked good?

Hey, check this out.

This is weird, right?
It's a yearbook.

It's supposed to be
weird... And humiliating.

Yeah, but this is the
Hall of Fame section.

It's usually "Best Smile"
and "Most Likely to Succeed."

This is "Most Likely to Get
Head Stuck Up Own Ass."

And "Best Rack."

And "Most Likely
to Die of V.D." Wait.

Somebody put a prank version
of the yearbook in the capsule...

to embarrass everyone
20 years later? Yep.

Look at this. "Brought
to you by Gruff & Grim."

So we're looking for two kids who put a
yearbook and a body into the time capsule.

Okay, Bones, so
there was this girl.

Okay? Sherai
Bellapini. Sherai, Sherai.

She was the coolest,
hottest girl in high school.

I wanted to ask her
to my junior prom.

So I bribed the suck-up who did the
morning announcements... Suck-up?

You know, the kids who did
anything to please the teachers.

So I get on the loudspeaker,
and I ask her to prom.

Uh-huh.

On the loudspeaker. This
is your embarrassing story?

On the loudspeaker. Yeah.

I got laughed at for weeks.
Did she go with you to the prom?

Sure. Okay. This is
merely another story...

of victory and sexual
conquest. [Doorbell Rings]

Look, Bones, they laughed at me.

Okay? Laughing has
got to count for something.

There's no public
humiliation in that story, Booth.

You don't even know what
public humiliation is. Hi.

Ah, Ms. Stinson. Special
Agent Booth. Was your name...

Janelle Brown in
high school? Yes.

- Mind if we come in
and ask you a few questions?
- Of course. Yeah. Come in.

Look at her. I wish I
was Janelle Brown again.

At least, parts of me do.
You know what I mean.

- You lived at
224 Green Gates Crescent?
- Yeah.

Just a few blocks from here.

It backed on to a swamp. Yeah. I
was scared of that swamp as a little girl.

How well did you
know Roger Dillon?

Oh, I don't know. He
was my math tutor.

And, well, math wasn't really
my thing, so I needed a lot of help,

and, well, he kind of
developed a crush on me.

He was actually kind of
cute, in a nonjock way.

You know, sweet.
Oh. He loved The Cure.

For what? What did he
have? It's a band, Bones.

That's-That's... That's a band.

Uh, did he tutor
you at your place?

Uh-huh. My place or the
library. Usually my place.

I think he liked it there. You know,
his own place wasn't very nice.

Do you remember seeing
him on, uh, June 14, 1987?

[Boy] Mom? Uh,
I'm in here, honey.

It would have been
the last day of school.

I'm going to Pete's. Okay.

- What's goin' on?
- These people are
with the F.B.I.

They're investigating
the time capsule murder.

Nothing to worry about. Your
parents were just friends of the victim.

- Well, that sucks.
- Yeah. Honey, why don't you
go to Pete's?

[Janelle] If you're gonna
be late, just give me a call.

'Cause you have your
cell phone, right? I have it.

- [Janelle] Okay.
- What are you doing?

See you later, Mom. Okay.

You know, I think I actually did
see Roger on the last day of school.

- Why?
- Like I said, he was my tutor.

Why would he come to your
house on the last day of school?

Honestly? He brought
me my graded final,

but he'd have used any excuse.

I didn't encourage
him, but... [Chuckles]

High school was so long ago.
None of us is the same person.

I'm sorry Roger
ended up that way,

but after he dropped off my
final, I never saw him again, so...

- Well, uh...
- Thank you, Ms. Stinson.

Oh, yes. Uh-huh. Of course.

Could you please call up Terry
Stinson from the Foothill yearbook?

Mm-hmm.

[Angela] Track team,

vice president of the student
council, runner-up for Mr. Popularity.

Where does it say that?
It's the type, sweetie.

He's Mr. Second Best.

It's kind of like when
you want Brad Pitt,

and you get Matthew
McConnaughey.

Pull up the photo
of his son Alex.

Alex Stinson shows three classic
examples of Mendelion inheritance.

A cheek dimple on the left side,

cleft chin and
detached earlobes.

Distinct facial
features, wide-set eyes,

asymmetrical nostrils.

Just like his dad.

He's nothing like his dad.

Oh, boy.

Could you please replace
Terry Stinson with Roger Dillon?

[Angela] Oh, boy.

Twenty years ago,
Terry Stinson finds out...

that Roger Dillon has
sex with his girlfriend.

And he kills him.

[Terry] Of course
we'll take a D.N.A. test.

You realize, in a murder
investigation, we can't rule anything out.

Did you know that it was possible
that Alex was not your biological son?

What?

- Is it possible?
- Is it?

[Exhales]

Can I answer that
after the D.N.A. test?

- I guess I just did.
- So you didn't know?

Terry didn't know.

Alex was born on
January 7, 1988.

I don't believe this.

That means you were
pregnant in the spring already.

You just wanted me to
believe that the baby was mine?

No. No.

I wanted the baby
inside me to be yours.

I don't get this.
Roger... What...

But he was...

Why did you sleep with Roger?

He was sweet. I knew
he was nuts about me.

I liked feeling special.

- Let's face it, Terry. Back then you were that guy.
- What guy?

[Janelle] The guy who
did anything he wanted.

You didn't need me.

Roger... he came over that
day. He came through the swamp.

He was filthy. His father
had just beaten him up.

Ms. Stinson, did you tell Roger
that he had gotten you pregnant?

Yes.

He wanted to marry me.

He said he could get the
money for us to go away together,

but I told him I didn't want to.

I was back with you by then.

Only you.

Why didn't you tell me?

When I told you I was
pregnant, you were so happy.

It's when I knew that you loved
me. That you weren't that guy.

That we could have
a great life together.

And we did. [Brennan] I'm sorry.

I had to borrow one of
your pictures. You stole that.

- What do you think
happened to Roger?
- I don't know.

He had the money. He
was never happy here.

I figured that he just
took off by himself.

I am so sorry.

I always wanted to tell
you the truth, but I just...

I just couldn't figure out how to
tell you that Alex wasn't yours.

Alex is my son.

We are a family.

Well, the murder happened at
night, on a high school playing field.

Not a likely place
to find adults.

Plus, teenagers are dominated by their
ids, which make them act irrationally.

Physiologically, their
judgment's impaired...

by an incomplete frontal
lobe. You're... What?

Twenty-two, right?
How's your frontal lobe?

Almost there?

[Snickers] Again,
a hectoring tone. I...

I'm sorry. Just keep going. All right,
there was no sexual assault, no theft.

The watch and other
effects were still on him,

further indications that this
was just a rash and youthful act.

- Right, right. That's good, for a kid.
- This is guesswork, Booth.

It's a logical interpretation
of subjective analysis...

by a highly intelligent
expert in his field actually.

The killer knew the exact
date the time capsule...

would be opened when
he put the victim in there.

He's been waiting 20 years
for that body to be found...

so he could reconcile himself with
his past and finally pay for his crime.

Like Terry Stinson.

No. [Exhales]

I think you're looking for someone
who's been punishing himself for years...

Someone self-destructive,
working far below his potential.

- Why didn't he just confess?
- Most likely he has,
in some way, Agent Booth.

The question is,
were you listening?

Agent Booth is an
incredibly good listener.

I really am. It's my strength.

[Huffs] Then perhaps, uh,

the time capsule was just a
convenient place to stash a body.

You know, profiling's
not an exact science.

But I hope I'm right.

I really want to tell my girlfriend
I helped catch a murderer.

Be a good night for me. [Laughs]

The textural stain on the
undersurface of Roger's mandible...

was liquid petroleum.
An oil product?

I know, I know. Dead common,
right? But I did some further analysis.

I found that there were
microscopic particles...

of granite embedded
in the petroleum.

Also all over the broken
seals of the time capsule.

Definitely not John
Adamson's ice skate.

Yeah, not unless
he skated on asphalt.

Twenty years ago, what I'm
seeing as petroleum was asphalt.

It was driven into Roger's bone
with a flat, metal... An asphalt shovel.

Yeah. Gil Bates worked
paving driveways.

Roger was my best friend.

Gruff & Grim, right?
Like, who was who?

I was Gruff. Roger was Grim.

So you went out to
the field that night...

to plant the yearbook in
the time capsule. Right.

Surprise everyone
20 years down the line.

You dug up the capsule, and you
broke the seal with the asphalt shovel.

Your amigo, Grim... He
wanted his money back?

The money that you'd
earmarked for your business...

All those computers that were going to
make you rich? You couldn't do that, Gruff.

You couldn't give
Grim back the money.

Stop using those names. Did he
tell you that it was for Janelle Brown?

I bet he did. I bet old
Grim said, "I'm sorry, Gruff,

but there's this girl, and
our plans... they're dumped."

I asked you to just
stop using the names.

But then Grim said, "You know
what? My dream has changed.

You and me, Grim & Gruff"...
[Slaps Desk] "We're finished."

Stop it! You don't know
what you're talking about.

We don't know what?

Did he tell you it was
because she was pregnant?

He should have told you.
You would have understood.

Understood what?

Janelle was pregnant
with Roger's son.

Oh, my God.

He didn't say. He just
said that he loved her.

I told him... I told him
how stupid that was.

I said that she'd never
look at someone like him,

and he got all pissed,
and then he hit me.

And I just... I went and I
picked up the shovel, and I just...

I just jabbed.

It was an accident.
It was just a jab.

He held his neck, and he
went... He went all white.

The wound severed both
his jugular and his carotid.

He would have died quickly.

He did.

I held him and I
told him I was sorry.

He knew that I didn't mean it.

I loved the guy.

He has a kid?

Yes.

I hope I get the chance
to tell him about his father.

All right, there was
this kid... junior year.

Okay, is this gonna be
another story where...

you think you were humiliated,
but you were actually... were not?

Just listen to me. This kid.
Junior year. Harlan Kinny.

He was one of those...

real weird, you
know, looking kids.

He had this big Adam's
apple stickin' out.

And he wore his
dad's clothes to school.

You know, with the whole
stretchy belt around his waist.

What's wrong with that? It's
practical. You're not listening.

He was one of those
real superior types.

Always talking
out of a thesaurus.

And one day he came up to
me and a bunch of my buddies,

and he called us a
bunch of philistines.

You know what that
means, right? Yeah.

A philistine is a smug,
ignorant person...

who is antagonistic toward
higher thought and intelligence.

I didn't know what that
meant until I looked it up.

I told Kinny, "Look, I'm
not 'Philistine.' I'm Catholic."

[Laughs]

That's pretty close to humiliation.
No, that's embarrassing.

That's not the
humiliating part. Oh.

My buddy picked Kinny up and...

dangled him over the stairway.

You know, he begged and
cried, and everyone laughed.

How is this about
you? I laughed.

I don't understand. I
could have stopped it.

I could have stepped in
and helped the kid out.

Instead, I... I didn't.

I chose my side, and
it was the wrong side.

So you were humiliated
because you didn't act like a hero?

Fine. Fine. You know what?

I'm perfect. My
life was perfect.

It's a good story,
okay? It's a bad one.

Um, it's both, I guess.

I mean, I get it. Yeah?

What is that?

Nothing.

You evolved,

and evolution is
very impressive.

And that is
definitely not nothing.

This? Did you bring that for me?

No. Good, because
it's the wrong Smurf.

I liked Smurfette.
That's Brainy Smurf.

Smurfette was stupid, shallow
Smurf, who only had her looks.

Look, you're better
than Smurfette.

You have your looks
and a whole lot more.

[Man] ♪ Come
with me to a place ♪

You did bring that for me,
♪♪ [Continues, Indistinct]

to charm me in case...

I didn't find your
humiliation story impressive,

but I did, so... Aha.

So I did impress you.

That's what "impressive"
means, dummy.

You're such a
philistine. [Chuckles]

I tell you what. You
can hold on to this,

and it will remind
you how far I've come.

I forgive you for
snorting, Booth.

Evolution is a long, long
process. It takes hundreds of years.

Thousands.

Why do you have to
always correct me?

To help you evolve.

[Exhales]

♪ You can take my life ♪

♪ But I'll never die ♪

♪ You can tell that's the way ♪

♪ I'll survive ♪♪

What's that mean?