Bones (2005–2017): Season 4, Episode 21 - The Double Death of the Dearly Departed - full transcript

While attending the wake of a coworker who reportedly died of natural causes, Bones notices something that causes her to believe he was actually murdered. But a judge will not allow her to confirm her suspicions. Now they must covertly investigate his death.


We don't have enough
crucified corpses of our own?

Now the Vikings are sending them?

The annual murder rate
in Norway is 0.7.

Less than one murder a year?

In that case, they should solve the ones
they have, or they'll never get any practice.

The victim is American.

Still, if a Norwegian was murdered here,
we'd conduct the investigation.

The Norwegians say the victim died here
and then got shipped to Norway.

- What's their evidence?
- Nothing forensic. It's just police work.

The remains were found in the possession
of a Norwegian black-metal band.

- What's black metal?
- I don't know. It's Norwegian. Whole different kind of black.

Apparently, it's a genre
of heavy metal...

featuring macabre imagery
of death and horrific violence.

"Skalle. " It's the name of the band.

- Oh, it means "skull. "
- You speak Norwegian?

I'm a forensic anthropologist. I know how
to say "skull" in just about every language.

- Well, Skalle-
- Skalle.

- Skalle.
- Skalle.

They stole the body from an American metal
band while on tour in D.C. six months ago.

The remains are male, late teens.

Significant staining on the-

- Skalle.
- It leached into the bone.

Well, desiccated flesh on the face and scalp.
Perhaps enough for D.N.A.

If the scraps of clothing and the boots
were actually on the victim when he died...

then maybe Hodgins
can give us something.

What's, uh-
What's the story on this?

The posterior ribs
were either broken or severed.

Detached at the spine and then fanned out.

- It's the Blood Eagle.
- Beg pardon?

It was an ancient torture in which
the victim was held facedown...

while his back was sliced open.

The ribs were then broken
at the spine...

and then spread
to look like an eagle.

Thus the name.

Absence of blood on the periosteal
surface of the fracture...

suggests the ribs
were broken postmortem.

I'll remove the bones
from the cross and clean 'em.

- See if we can find the cause of death.
- This is definitely murder.

There are other possibilities.

I have to admit
none spring to mind.

One possibility:

drunken, death-obsessed,
Satan-worshipping, drug-abusing teens...

rob a grave and reenact
an ancient torture.

Ah, just another Saturday night.

Right, okay. So for the Norwegian
crucifixion case, I'm gonna need to know...

all there is about the heavy-metal
music scene in D.C., okay?

And tell you what, get me
all the recordings that you can.

I think you're gonna have
to be more specific than that, Agent Booth.

Ah, Gordon-Gordon, huh?

There's black metal,
speed metal, grindcore, thrash...

doom, drone,
glam, sludge, metalcore...

stoner metal, death metal
and deathcore.

Must you shake my hand
with quite such a viselike grip?

Right. Yeah.
Did you get all that? Go, go, go.

Thought you were a psychiatrist.
How'd you become such a musical expert?

Oh, I've got quite a-
quite a musical background, you know.

Oh, yeah, right. St., um, Weatherby's
Glee Club in Doo-Dah and Henley.

So, I thought we loaned
you out to Interpol?

Yes. Part of the
serial-killer task force-

traveling the globe,
bathed in perversion and gore.

Have a seat.

And on a happier note, I'm to meet
your bright, young thing- Dr. Sweets?

Sweets? Why Sweets?

Well, he wants to interview me for the book
he's writing on you and the lovely Dr. Brennan.

Anyway, I can see you're-
you're busy.

Listen, perhaps while I'm here,
I can barbecue for you one evening.

Oh, no, no. I am the barbecue master,
remember? You can do the boiling.

I have it on good authority that my culinary skills
have advanced somewhat since last we ate.

- Anyway, it's good to see you.
- Yeah, you too.

Hey. I have a computer rendering
of what our victim might have looked like.

Look at him. He's a puppy.

- A 278-pound puppy.
- Sometimes puppies are big.

Well, prelim tox results came back negative
for embalming fluid.

So he was never buried
in a sanctioned grave.

So probably murdered.

Murdered and his remains crucified for
the entertainment of people who hate life.

Gordon. Gordon Wyatt.
It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Sweets.

Dr. Wyatt, I am a huge admirer of your book...

on the role of sexual sadism
in female serial killers.

Do I detect a certain caveat
in your tone?

Uh, well, the sample is small.

Well, comparatively speaking,
there are few female serial killers.

- I was wondering if you had a chance
to take a look at- - Your manuscript.

Yes, indeed.
And may I say, Dr. Sweets...

that I think this is probably
the best work I have ever read...

on the dynamics
of opposite personality types...

working towards a common... cause.

Okay. Now I'm hearing a caveat.

It's a small one.
It's just that Brennan and Booth...

aren't in any way opposites.

Wow! Small?

What-What is that,
British understatement?

Well, yes, he's a man. She's a woman.

He's instinctual. She's empirical.

- Opposites.
- Superficial ephemera, Dr. Sweets.

Wow! Okay. What about the
sexual component in their relationship?

- Ah.
- Would you agree that they have both...

uh, sublimated their attraction
to each other out of fear...

of endangering their working relationship
because their working relationship...

- is paramount to both of them?
- Alas, I'm afraid I wouldn't agree with that.

- No.
- Wow. Which part?

Well, everything you just said.

Yes, one of them is acutely aware
of that attraction.

Struggles with it daily
as a matter of fact.


I'm sorry I keep saying that.
But which one?

It's your book, Dr. Sweets.

I would never tell you
what to write.

I was actually gonna ask you
to write the introduction.

That's very flattering.
But I'm retiring.

I'm relinquishing the field
to young Turks like you.

Do you think she actually enjoys this?

This whole sexual abstinence thing...

totally twisting her out of shape.

Here. The staining on the skull
was propylene glycol dicocoate...

alkyl benzoate and
sorbitan sesquioleate.

What is that?
Some kind of systemic poison?

That's common theatrical makeup.

It leached into the skull during decomp.

Oh, sorry, sorry.

I put the music on to get me in the right space.

Well, extrapolating
from the stains on the skull...

it turns out that at the time of his death,
the victim looked like this.

Looks like your puppy moonlighted
as a zombie werewolf.

Yeah. I ran this through
my facial recognition program...

with an image search
of metal Web pages.

Check this out.

- There's our boy.
- Spew.

- It's very evocative.
- So our victim, Mayhem...

was the bassist.

The drummer is Wrath.
And the guitarist, Pinworm.

But they do have a new bassist now.
His name is Grinder.

- What about real names?
- Well, I imagine they play that pretty close to the vest.

Yeah. Kind of ruins the magic...

when you find out that
Satan's name is Todd or Larry.

I'll tell Booth to search
for a death-metal band named Spew.

Wait a second.

What do you mean Gordon-Gordon
is gonna quit psychiatry?

Well, I asked him to write
the intro to my book about you two...

and he told me he couldn't
because he was retiring.

- Is it possible he just hated your book?
- Thank you.

- Perhaps now he'll find a pursuit
worthy of his intellect.

- Neurochemistry, for example.
- Yeah, Booth. Hold on. Slow down.

Okay, why would a man
with Wyatt's insights...

into the human psyche want to be
a mere scientist? No offense.

Perhaps because psychology is a field
which is ill-defined in conception...

- and ineffective in execution.
- Thank you.

Okay, sounds great. So Cam says we gotta
track down a death-metal band named Spew.

Totally underground-no concerts listed,
no contact information.

- A death-metal band?
- Yeah.

But our victim's skeleton was found in the
possession of a Norwegian black-metal band.

Death metal, black metal-
what's the difference?

In essence, death metal is about
brutal technical proficiency...

while black metal
is about emotion.

Now both of them exploit adolescent
feelings of alienation, depression-

Right. 'Cause it all just sounds
like a truck full of cymbals...

crashing into a saw factory for me.

- Well-
- But historically, picayune...

internecine squabbles account
for a huge number of deaths.

Bones, just figure out cause of death for me,
all right? "Interocerine" or whatever.

- How do you know so much about this?
- I was really into death metal.

As a teenager. Not anymore.

- Obviously.
- Really?

- Oh, come on.
- Come on what?

I don't like that anymore.

According to Booth, there's
no way to track down this band, Spew.

No bars, clubs or high schools.

The cross is carved
of 120-year-old black oak.

And was stolen from St. Benedict
Episcopal Church six months ago.

That is some determined
desecration going on.

Yeah, well, the bones themselves were
covered in a patina of smoke, tobacco...

marijuana, meth, animal blood,
semen and saliva.

- Who are these people?
- Sweets sent over a briefing.

Concerts are set up at secret locations.
And then only insiders are invited.

- Then how do we find them?
- Aha! Well...

the dried mud from the treads of the boots
that were duct taped to the victim...

contained bovine fragments
and infectious prion proteins.

- A slaughterhouse.
- A slaughterhouse closed down due to mad cow disease.

Death-metal enthusiasts prefer morbid,
horrorcentric venues for performance.

In addition, they tend
to perform for their fans...

in the same place they practice
and sometimes squat.

Like maybe this horrorcentric
condemned slaughterhouse.

Wait. How do we know that those
are his boots? He was in Norway for months.

You are gonna be so proud.

The victim's foot size is 11,
same as his boots.

- We need something more than a matching shoe size.
- He's not finished.

Wear on his calcaneus and cuboid suggests
our victim walked on the outside of his feet.

- Supinator.
- One percent of the population are supinators. That's a lot.

One percent of size-11 teenagers
isn't good enough?

This missing toe,
did it fall off after decomposition...

or was it a preexisting condition?

That's exactly what I was thinking.

You see here? His toes left an impression
inside the boot.

But there is no impression
corresponding with the big toe.

Are you satisfied that this was the boot worn
by the victim while he was still alive?

It's a reasonable conclusion.

- You want to say "king of the lab"?
- No.

So why do I have the feeling
that I'm being taken somewhere terrible...

for a gangland whacking?

We are going somewhere terrible.
We are.

Look, we-we need your expertise.

I'm sure the estimable Dr. Sweets
is more than qualified.

- Booth is lying about needing you.
- What?

He wants to talk you out
of quitting psychiatry.

Bones, I was easing
into that. Okay?

Matter of fact, I might be
able to help you.

When I was a young man, I dabbled quite
extensively in the rock-music scene.

Whoa, wait a second. What were you,
on lead dulcimer in a flute band?

As a matter of fact, I was the founder
member of a proto-glam rock outfit.

- I don't know what that means.
- It means...

that for three glorious years,
I wore spandex, silver lam?...

pancake makeup and played a guitar
shaped like a spaceship.

- I was quite pretty in my way.
- Wait. You-You were Noddy Comet.

- What's that?
- Noddy Comet! I always wondered what happened to you!

- You were Noddy!
- I changed jobs. That's all.

Noddy Comet!

I gotta get some of those original tapes.

Actually, you know, that fellow
playing the bass is really rather good.

- What?
- Okay, let's shut it down, guys.

Come on. F.B. I!
Let's go! Hey!

I said F.B.I.
Shut it down!


Yes. Now if you recall,
it was shooting inanimate objects...

that had you brought to me
for therapy in the first place.

- I thought it was a justifiable shooting.
- I agree.

She agrees. See?

- You gonna put your gun down?
- Don't rush me, okay?

I'm thinking.

- Are you coming?
- No. I discharged my weapon.

And I pulled desk duty
until the paperwork clears.

- You're 50 feet away.
- At my desk, okay?

So just put in the earplug
and let's do this.

Don't tell Sweets
about the earbud.

Booth wants us
to interrogate them.

He's not supposed to be watching
on his laptop and talking in your ear.

- You just tell him that's not happening.
- These are their real names.

Monty Bigelow,
Matt Stickney and Darryl Moss.

All right, Bones.
So just ease into this.

What was Mayhem's real name?

- Or you can just go at 'em like a freight train.
- Dabbler.

His stage name was Mayhem,
not Dabbler.

Mayhem's a dabbler,
a poser, a douche.

Do you want to spend time
in jail, pinhead?

- You can't actually arrest people, Bones.
- We live in a slaughterhouse.

You got something worse than that?

All right, let's start over. Tell us the name
that Mayhem's mother and father gave him...

and we'll charge you
with assaulting a federal agent.

Oh, no.
You have that backwards.

No, Bones. He's right, okay?
They want to be arrested.

Oh. Reverse psychology.

That term is almost
always misused.

Look, just tell tapeworm that felony assault
is the best you can do.

Felony assault is the best
we can do, tapeworm.

Take it or leave it.

Justin. Justin Dancy.

When did you last seeJustin?

When I killed him, ate his heart
and took his job.

- I killed him too.
- I never even noticed he was gone.

I ate his face off before I killed him.

I am so much better at interrogation
than I thought.

Those aren't legitimate confessions.

All right, guys. Come on.
Give us a real answer.

About a year ago,
when he quit the band.

How about those charges?

Oh, where's he going?

- Booth.
- Yeah? What?

The one called Grinder
is different from the others.

His body language displays an emotional
connection to the murder victim.

Okay. So what do you think
we should do?

We should arrange to have him cleaned up-
revealed so to speak-

so that Dr. Wyatt and I can talk to him
and exploit that connection.

Okay, great.

- You do that. I'll stay here on desk duty.
- Yeah, okay.

Posterior ilium, right side.

Damage to the cortical bone layer,
extending into the trabecular.

This skeleton was carted
from D.C. to Norway.

Then used as a prop at ultraviolent concerts.
There's bound to be damage.

I enlarged the X-ray.

See the multiple clefts and wastage?

Suggesting the damage done to the pelvic
bone happened very near time of death?

Now, because Dr. Brennan isn't here, I'll guess
that these gouge marks came from a knife.

- Someone went digging into the victim's gluteus?
- Yes.

Bone damage consistent
with a bullet wound.

So, the victim was shot in the ass, then killed
in some way yet to be determined.

Then the killer dug the bullet
out of the victim's-

- Gluteus. Yes.
- Okay.

Let's have Hodgins swab
for trace evidence.

God knows what he'll find.
Maybe a little piece of Norway.

Ah, Darryl Moss.

Do come in. Sit down.

My name's Grinder.

Grinder? Have you looked
in the mirror?

Where are the other guys?
Did you delouse them too?

No, nobody else. Just you, Darryl.

You're the new guy in the band, right?
You replaced Mayhem on bass?

I told you.
I killed him for the job.

Mm-hmm. Dr. Wyatt tells me
that you are a skilled...

classically trained bassist influenced by-
who is it-

Jaco Pastorius. But you do everything
you can to hide that, don't you?

- I've never heard of him.
- No. No. 'Cause that would ruin your street cred.

Justin Dancy's remains show evidence
of being used as a stage prop...

for approximately the last six months-
four of those in Norway.

- His name was Mayhem.
- He wasn't always Mayhem.

Just as you weren't always Grinder.

Look, there he is. That's Justin.

And that's you, Darryl.

Justin and Darryl.

You see, what we want to do...

is find whoever it was
that killed your boyhood friend.

What makes you think
I even know?

Everyone knows everything
in the metal world.

It's a small world
breeding whispers...

conjecture, secrets.

You may have even heard rumors
of who murdered him.

But you're not gonna tell us, are you?
'Cause we're outsiders.

That would be breaking the code.

So we're just gonna ask,
who had him before the Norwegians?

Who crucified your boyhood friend?

We would have got him back,
you know?

- Got him back from who?
- Zorch.

- Excuse me?
- That lame deathcore outfit?

They consider themselves deathcore.
I consider them crapcore.

What they did toJustin, though,
was totally awesome.

It was brilliant.

And what would you have done
with Justin if you had stolen him back?

We would have hung him up behind us, man.
It would have been epic.


I'm disturbed that despite my extensive
training as an anthropologist...

all of these bands sound alike...

and appear to share
identical belief systems and mores.

Yeah, right. Except for
the trained anthropologist part...

that's how my dad felt about Black Flag
and the Dead Kennedys.

I have no idea
what you're saying.

Listen, Bones.
I don't want you there alone, okay?

Just get a good look at this guy
and you get out. You understand?

You ready?

- Sweets?
- Sweets is there?

- Well, I think it's him.
- Yeah, I had to meld to get information.

Zorch's lead singer is Murderbreath.

Look at that. Who does he think he is,
the guy with the tongue from Kiss?

You know what?
Just tell Sweets to leave Gene alone.

Just get a photo
and get out of there.

Zorch and Spew are sworn enemies.

It started out with the fans throwing feces
at each other. Then some attacks.

Culminating in medieval torture?

Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!

- He's got a knife.
- Who's got a knife?

Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!

No, don't worry.
It's totally fake.

That's not fake.

Whoa, whoa, what's happening?

Murderbreath slit
his own throat. Excuse me.

Is he still alive?

We need a compress.

You could have asked.

Hold this against the wound.

- Booth, can you call it in?
- Listen. I'm not hanging up, Bones-

- Help is coming.
- Bones? Bones!

Stand back, please!
F.B. I! Stand back!

Why'd you arrest me?
I'm the one with the cut throat.

Ooh, maybe you shouldn't
talk too much.

- Uh, no. His larynx wasn't affected.
- This is my actual voice.

- Sounds exactly like when you sing.
- Sounds like gravel in a hubcap.

So, that was a very good night for you.

Word gets around that you slit
your own throat for real.

You got it.
Tonight I'm a legend.

Do you have any idea
who switched your prop knife?

One of the guys in the band,
a fan, someone from another band.

- Maybe I did it myself. Who cares?
- I bet it was Spew.

How about Spew?

Evidence indicates that
you killed and crucified their bassist.

This just gets better and better.
I'm getting credit for that?

No. See, the thing is that same credit
could send you to prison.

Okay, listen, Bones. Just tell him
you don't care ifhe did it or not.

You'll just throw his ass in jail.

Look, it's all right to lie during
an interrogation, Bones. It's a technique.

The evidence is inconclusive
regarding your guilt.

But I will damn well make sure
it's conclusive!

- Whoa! What?
- Atta girl. Give it to him.

I will perjure myself
if I have to because you make...

me sick, punk!

- Dr. Brennan?
- I'll put your ass on death row and laugh at your execution.

I will testify that your knife
was used to make these gouges.

I will also prove that whatever implements
we find- any props, knives...

cleavers, all of your stage ware-

I will show that it was used
to mutilate his remains.

- Which they probably were.
- Good to know.

There's no rock concerts in prison.

- There are no rock concerts in prison.
- Rock concerts!

I want immunity from
desecration of human remains.

No promises, dirtbag.

Just tell him that we will talk
to the prosecutor on your behalf.

But we'll see what we can do.

Maybe six months ago,
there's a rumor...

Mayhem's dead and buried under Bridge 6,
westbound lanes, State Road 66.

666- the sign of the devil.

- Who told you?
- I don't know. Nobody.

It was in the air, man.

Dug up the bones. Somebody heard
about this old Viking torture thing.

It sounded like a great gag.
And it was until Skalle stole it.


- It doesn't matter.
- Just trying-

I dug him up, stole the cross,
fastened the bones to it.

But you didn't kill him?

I believe him.

Mmm. Now my last official task
as an F.B.I. shrink...

is to declare you fit for duty.

The gun under the table.

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

- So Booth is back?
- He's back.

So, what's next for you, Doc?
I mean, when you stop shrinking heads.

I've been accepted
by the Institute of Culinary Arts.

- You're gonna be a chef?
- That's correct. Yes.

I'm gonna put good things
into people instead...

of taking out things that are bad,
which I know sounds rather Freudian.

But Sigmund's been largely discredited,
so to hell with him.

I don't see why you can't do both.

Well, we still don't know
who murdered Justin Dancy.

Baby steps. You will prevail.

This subculture, it takes every notion
of community and turns it upside down.

Well, no matter what they say,
the fact remains that they are artists.

They create.
No true nihilist ever creates.

These dark, tortured people
may rail against the night...

but they make music.

On an oscilloscope,
what we call music...

is demonstrably distinct
from what we call noise.

Your Dr. Sweets liked it
as an adolescent.

He's turned out rather well,
for the most part.

"For the most part"?

Well, I read his book.
And as is the case with most writing...

it reveals more about the writer than about
the subject matter, which, in this case, is you.

- Can you provide an example?
- For one thing...

he finds it extremely frustrating...

your lack of willingness to discuss
your childhood experiences with him.

- What does that tell you?
- Don't- Do not ask him that.

He's gonna think we both
have traumatic childhoods.

We did! Your father was a violent drunk,
and mine abandoned me.

Great. Thank you. Just tell everybody here at
the diner, why don't you, Bones? Go ahead.

Sweets has scars on his back.
Old ones.

- Really?
- What kind of scars?

- Well, like he'd been whipped.
- Whipped?

- I saw them.
- That explains his near obsession...

with your childhood trauma,
doesn't it?

Okay. I did an Internet search
of Spew's concerts.

Now this stuff is all uploaded
from cell phones. So the quality is crap.

All right. Check this out. This girl runs up.

Here's the gun. She fires.

Then Mayhem literally spews
the blood all over the crowd.

And there's the blood.

Okay. Obviously fake.

Yeah. It's a set piece. I've seen this
same setup maybe 60 times in two years.

Is it the same girl every time?

- I'm pretty sure it is.
- The image quality stinks.

Except I combined
all the different cell phone versions.


We can get an I.D. from that. Can you arrange
these shows in chronological order?

Well, they all contain embedded
cell phone codes. So, yeah.

Did he ever bleed from his ass? Because
that's where we found the bullet fragments.

Clark determined that the gunshot wound
to the victim's ilium...

occurred 10 months prior
to his death.


He fell down that time
behind the audience.

Have you got another angle on this?

Oh, there.
The bullet splinters his instrument.

Right into his ass.
That's our money shot right there.

Not so tough when the blood
is real, are you, metal boy?

So this is you, isn't it, Lexie?

My manager said not to talk
to you until he gets here.

Death-metal chicks have managers?

Ah, look at that.
Metal to what?

Power punk?

It's a much larger market.
But I still retain my artistic integrity.

Right. Do you still shoot bass players
in your new gig?

Is that what this is about? It's not my fault
someone replaced the blank with a real bullet.

No. I think you knew
that the bullet was there.

Otherwise, you would have shot the guy
in the neck like every other time.

I'm waiting until
my manager gets here.

Okay, we can do that. In the meantime,
I'll show you this picture here.

Okay? You see...

your boyfriend is flinching before
you even pulled the trigger.

I say the two of you
were working on this together.

It was Justin's idea, okay?

He was always trying to prove to the other
guys he was more hard core than them.

- Was he?
- Well, uh, he wanted me to shoot him.

- So, yeah, I gave him his props.
- Hmm.

So, what? Now that
I'm making some money...

he's coming after me for shooting him
in the ass two years ago?

Justin's dead.
He was murdered.

What? God, those stupid bastards.

Those stupid-
You have to get them.

- Get who?
- I don't know. Probably a fan found out.

You know, maybe someone in Spew.
This is totally my fault!

Okay, found out what?
Why is it your fault?

Ayear ago, he gave me a call saying he wanted
to get back together and join my band.

Some hard-core metal fanatic
found out and killed him.

The striae and kerfwidth
on each side of the bisected ribs...

match the saw that the F.B.I. found
at the Zorch concert.

Fingerprints are all Murderbreath's.

He already confessed to digging
up the corpse and mutilating it.

So you're looking at
the greenstick fractures?

- Yes.
- Hmm.

Would you mind getting on all fours?

Uh, is that strictly necessary?

Yes, please.

So, the fractures are adjacent...

to the articulation with the spine.

Now with evidence of inward bowing-

Incomplete fractures,
evidence of inward bowing-

If I place my knee in your back-

Hello. Tunnel vision, Dr. Brennan.

Oh, sorry, sorry.

That scenario explains
all the bone damage and fractures.

So stabbed and then garroted?

What if the wounds to the C5
aren't from a stab, but instead...

the result of the victim
being garroted?

The puncture occurred on the back
of the neck. But what would do that?

Barbed wire.


Yes. His ex-girlfriend is right.

Following her into the mainstream
would be seen as the ultimate betrayal.

Mmm. Like leaving a cult.

We think that the victim was garroted,
most likely with barbed wire.

Now the murderer will lay claim.
He'll keep a souvenir.

Yes. In the same way
that a serial killer will.

Right. But it isn't
for his own satisfaction.

It's a way of boasting
of what he's done to the community.

Yeah, it's a totem,
a signifier of some kind...

that can only be discerned
by the cognoscenti.

Okay. How are we gonna figure this out?
None of us speak Italian.

He does that, doesn't he?

He wants to be underestimated.

But you're one
of the cognoscenti, Dr. Sweets.

Oh, no. I've outgrown that.

Mostly. Maybe sometimes I'll listen to
a few bootleg tapes when I've had a bad day-

That's good, because this music sucks,
and the people who listen to it are defective.

Thank you so much.

I have no doubt that your parents said
the same thing to you...

when you listened to my music,
Agent Booth.

Mm-hmm. And according to one
of your squint reports...

a bullet was gouged
out of the victim's ass?

- You read Clark's report?
- Well, only because I was on desk duty.

Now, that bullet could be a good totem pole.

A totem, Booth.
A totem pole is much larger.

Yes, but nonetheless, it would be
a good totem- pole or otherwise.

So someone murdered the kid
for leaving the fold.

Then uses a knife
to gouge out the bullet.

- Buries the body under the bridge.
- Knowing that the cognoscenti...

will see the bullet
and assume he is the murderer.

But Murderbreath finds the body,
puts it on display.

Mm-hmm. Stealing credit.

- So we're looking for a bullet then.
- Mm-hmm.

And lookit here.
Our good, happy friend, Pinworm...

wears a smashed bullet
round his neck inside of a cross.

Is it too much to hope that the fellow's
scratching out his confession in block letters?

Right here.
Right inside the cross-.22 caliber.

Completely consistent with the mark
it left in the victim's ilium.

Okay, Bones and I
are gonna go in there.

What we do not need to hear is a lot of
psychological mumbo jumbo stuff in our ears.

Okay, so are you bored
with psychiatry? Is that it?

People don't have the capacity
to surprise you anymore?

- Oh, people surprise me. You surprise me.
- Me?

Few people looking at you would know
what you'd been through.

I beg your pardon?

Well, you were adopted. And the people
who adopted you were an older couple...

probably too old
for standard adoption of an infant.

Meaning you weren't an infant.
You were what? Four?

- Six.
- Six. Yeah.

Special needs. A child who had been
through some sort of hell, a damaged child.

But these were loving,
wonderful people.

- Yes.
- They saved you.

But now they're gone.
You're an orphan.

My parents died within weeks
of each other.

Recently, I'd say.
The wound is still fresh.

Just before I came to work here.

Yeah. So now you're
mostly alone in the world.

But they had time to save you.

They gave you a good life.
And that's why you believe...

that people can be saved
by other people with good hearts.

That's the gift
your parents left you.

That, and the gift
of a truly good heart.

That gives you a deeper calling...

I do not share.

I don't remember
where I got this bullet.

Well, you dug it out of
Justin Dancy's pelvic bone with a knife.

Hard core, man.

I dug it out of his ass
and then hung it around my neck.

Legendary. Well, if people
think that means...

I killed him, there's nothing
I can do about it.

You know, you're one of us.

Up to your elbows
in corpses and murder. It's hot.

- Thank you.
- So what was, uh, Lexie-

like your Yoko Ono?

What is that-
a Bible reference?

So let's just sayJustin
decided to go with Lexie.

What would that do to your band?

No way any member of Spew does that.
Never happen.

- Why not?
- Because we are the real thing.

The genuine item.

Our music isn't made
to be enjoyed.

It's made to be feared.

It comes straight from hell.

Right. But you don't know
anything about hell.

- And you do?
- Well, see, I was a soldier and a cop and-

I've identified hundreds
of victims of genocide.

I accept hell as a metaphor
for what I've seen.

You haven't seen hell until you've been
inside my head, dreamed my nightmares.

Your delusional, cozy reality
doesn't even come close.

He's, uh-
He's enjoying this attention.

It's what he feels on stage, isn't it?
The-The power.

But his sense of power
is totally dependent on an audience.

Um, ruminate on Milton, Agent Booth.

Think Paradise Lost.

What does that mean?

Oh, uh, Satan's greatest sin
was pride, vanity.

Great, okay. Well, you know what?
You're free to go.

- Wh-What? - My associate here tells
me that Murderbreath confessed...

to the murder and crucifixion
ofJustin Dancy, so you're free to go.

- Whoa. What? Murderbreath?
- Yeah. You're free to go. Come on.

No. Murderbreath
did not kill anybody.

He weighs what, 40 pounds?
Have you not seen Mayhem?

Murderbreath didn't strangle
somebody with barbed wire.

It takes heft to choke
a big guy to death.

Barbed wire.

Wow. Well, you know, nobody said
anything about barbed wire.

I think the correct term is "gotcha. "

Noddy Comet! Huh?
Look at that. Unbelievable.

This is you singing?

Well, yeah. My alter ego,
I suppose you might say.

A bisexual spaceman with a taste
for six-inch platform shoes, spandex, glitter...

and an exhibitionist's disdain
for underclothing.

Well, here's to Gordon-Gordon.

Without him, we would not have
been able to solve the murder.

- I hate to admit it, but it's true.
To Gordon-Gordon-

Stop. Stop, please.
Look, this is exactly what Sweets wanted.

"I'm too good a psychiatrist
ever to leave," et cetera.

Well, no. Just put your glasses down,
will you, please?

Might I offer you a word
of advice regarding young Dr. Sweets?

- Might we try to stop you?
- Why do we need advice about Sweets?

We don't. Sweets is just fine.

He most definitely is not fine.
I've read his book.

What? Does he say something
mean about us?

On the contrary.
You might as well know that...

he lost both his adoptive parents
just before he came to work...

for your de facto crime-fighting unit.

Geez, what are we,
the Land of Misfit Toys?

He's a good lad, Sweets,
but this book he's writing...

he's using it as the vehicle
to get what he actually wants...

which is... a family.

So, he imprinted on us,
like a baby duck?

- So, what do we do?
- Nothing. Okay? Sweets is not a baby duck.

He wants what we all want.
He wants to find out his place in the world.

We can find a permanent place
for him, right?

Gordon-Gordon is gonna want us to divulge...

or share or bond or something awful.

Look. Perhaps you might
just show the lad...

that he's not the only one
with scars on his back.

But he is.

Too literal?

By the way, what I'm making here,
this is the masterpiece...

that got me accepted
into the Culinary Institute, all right?

But it doesn't keep.
So, uh, be back in an hour, yeah?

- Let's go.
- But where are we going?

- Duck hunting. Come on.
- Not literally.

- Right?
- Come on. Quack-quack.

# You don't have to tell me now #

# If something's on your mind #

# It really doesn't matter what #

Oh! I miss you, rock and roll.
I really do.


- Hi.
- What are you doing here?

Well, uh, Gordon-Gordon is making dinner
for us at my place, uh, family style.

And, um, you're invited.

Thank you. But I've actually
got a lot of work here, and-

My foster parents locked me in the trunk
of a car for two days when I broke a dish.

I was a very clumsy child.
They warned me it would happen.

But the water was so hot
and the soap was so slippery.

I still don't think it was fair,
even though they gave me fair warning.

The water was so hot-

No. It wasn't fair at all.
It wasn't your fault.

Bones, what are you doing?

You said that "scars on the back"
was a metaphor.

Isn't that why we're here,
to metaphorically compare scars?

I came to bring Sweets back
to my place for dinner. That's all.

"Scars on the back"?

I saw them, Sweets.

So... what?

You decided tojust share
something from your past?

That is so unlike you.

I still hate psychology. Okay.

Your turn. Go.

I came here to bring Sweets back
to my place for dinner. That's all.

Okay. If it wasn't for my grandfather, I probably
would've killed myself when I was a kid.

Okay, that's all I'm gonna say
on the subject matter. Understand?

- Are you okay, Bones?
- Yeah, I'm fine. Here.

- Why are you nodding?
- Nothing.

Just... Wyatt made
an observation about you two.

And I think
I just saw what he saw.

- You coming?
- Booth means that we'd like it if you joined us.

- Thank you.
- Great. Here we go. Let's go.

- Gordon-Gordon is making cassoulet.
- It's stew. It's bean stew.

Cassoulet is better than regular stew.

Just because it's French
doesn't mean it's better.

- It sounds better than stew.
- See?

- It sounds better.
- It's stew.

What's that mean?