"The Man in the Mud"

Episode 3x11

Written By: Janet Tamaro

Directed by: Scott

Transcribed by: TheElusiveN

Disclaimer: The characters, plotlines, quotes, etc. included here are owned by Hart Hanson, all rights reserved. This transcript is not authorized or endorsed by Hart Hanson or Fox.

(Teaser)

(An all-terrain vehicle pulls to a stop in the woods. CHANDLER [Alicia Ziegler] and her boyfriend, TIM [Andrew Lawrence] alight from the vehicle.)

TIM: The GPS says it's right up here.

CHANDLER: You don't even know how to use that thing!

TIM: The hell I don't! (The GPS device in his hand beeps.) We're here.

CHANDLER: We just drove an hour through the woods to find more woods that look just like the woods we drove through.

(They come upon a bubbling puddle of thick ooze.)

TIM: Eureka!

CHANDLER: Ew! That's mud.

TIM: No, this is like, um...(close up of the bubbling mud) yeah, it's pretty much mud.

CHANDLER: And it smells like rotten egg.

TIM: Mmm, sulfur. Very therapeutic. (TIM starts to strip.)

CHANDLER: And you expect me to believe you've never been here before.

TIM: A friend of mine told me about this place and swore me to secrecy. But this is my first time. In mud.

CHANDLER: (laughs nervously as the Soft Misdirectional Piano of Romance starts to play in the background.)

TIM: (from off-screen) Come on in; it's nice.

CHANDLER: All right. (CHANDLER strips down and slips into the hot spring. The two begin kissing.) Mmmm--what, are you poking me?

TIM: This mud is reputed to have amazing romantic properties.(They both giggle and resume making out)

CHANDLER: Mmm...I think I got it.

TIM: No, I think I'd notice if you got it.

CHANDLER: (gasps as she pulls a muddy, skeletal arm from the hot spring, to the accompaniment of an Abrupt Musical Sting. The camera focuses on the hand for a long moment before CHANDLER and TIM freak out and jump out of the hot spring.)

(The camera focuses in on the hot spring, and pulls back to reveal BOOTH's hand reaching toward the mud.)

BOOTH: Whoa, sheesh! (BOOTH jumps backwards from the mud. A camera pan reveals that he is with BRENNAN and a PARK RANGER [Christopher May].)

PARK RANGER: This hot spring averages a temperature of 105 degrees, but it can spike to near boiling, which is why we discourage bathers. (addressing a chagrined TIM and CHANDLER, who are sharing a muddy blanket and not much else, with a scolding tone of voice) Especially those who illegally drive four-by-four vehicles into a national park.

BOOTH: So someone was boiled to death?

PARK RANGER: Or had a heart att*ck or passed out, et cetera et cetera.

BRENNAN: The remaining flesh will have to be macerated.

PARK RANGER: What's that?

BOOTH: Ugh...don't ask.

BRENNAN: The flesh either has to be boiled off, or eaten by Dermestid beetles.

BOOTH: Bones, why can't you just say "cleaned"?

BRENNAN: (indicating several long bones.) The sulfur encrusted the bones--do you see the staining?

BOOTH: So it's been there a long time?

BRENNAN: Not necessarily.

BOOTH: So why'd you have to even bring it up then?

BRENNAN: (lifting the skull, which is severely pitted) Signs of blunt force trauma.

PARK RANGER: What's that mean?

BOOTH: That means he didn't pass out and boil to death on his own.

BRENNAN: I'm going to need all of the mud.

PARK RANGER: Excuse me?

BRENNAN: Get a t*nk truck out here and suck it up so we can filter it back at the Jeffersonian. (Long sh*t of the PARK RANGER exchanging a flabbergasted glance with BOOTH, who shrugs.)

BRENNAN: (squatting, lifts up the arm) Humerus is thirty-six point five centimeters. Medium build, late twenties early thirties--he's broken this bone before.

PARK RANGER: Is she serious about the mud?

BRENNAN: Serious as a gas att*ck.

BOOTH: Heart att*ck, Bones. Serious as a heart att*ck.

(Medico-Legal Lab. CAM is just swiping her card to enter the Platform in a tracking sh*t that brings us over to the remains.)

CAM: The description's too general to get anything from a missing person's report.

ZACK: A triangular depression in the calvarium, interior longitudinal 1 fracture, grazed cortical bone and C1; there's a patterned impression in the bone. (As he's speaking, ZACK indicates each particular instance of trauma on a magnification camera screen.)

CAM: How many times was he h*t, and by what?

ZACK: More than once, by a (questioningly) square pipe? Does that exist?

CAM: In my experience, people h*t people with anything that they can pick up and swing. (pauses) He was att*cked from behind?

ZACK: Mmmm....

CAM: (annoyed) What?

ZACK: There's a vertical impaction fracture to his glabella and frontonasal suture.

CAM: Same w*apon?

ZACK: It doesn't seem so. . . . I have seen this before.

CAM: Great. Where?

ZACK: From sharpened stone w*apon, in Neanderthal skeletons.

CAM: I'm thinking not so relevant in this case.

ZACK: The blow to the front of the head would cause a severe laceration.

CAM: There were no bloodstains around the mud bath.

ZACK: Indicating that the body was dumped there postmortem.

CAM: Zack, regarding the Neanderthals-

ZACK: (correcting) Neanderthals.

CAM: ...What was the context of those killings? (the Heavy Musical Tones of Plot Import arise in the background, and will continue onward to carry us into the credits.)

ZACK: Accepted scenarios indicate a single individual att*cked by two or more assailants.

CAM: Then we're looking for two or more m*rder.

(End Teaser.)

(Credits.)

(Act One)

(Fade up on the outside of SWEETS's office building.)

BRENNAN: (v.o.) We're not sure about time of death yet.

BOOTH: (v.o.)It was definitely a m*rder.

(Now in SWEETS's office; the Plinky Piano of Zany Hijinks arises in the background. SWEETS, for the record, could not look more bored, and is constantly shifting positions so as not to fall asleep.)

BRENNAN: Definitely. Probably by two assailants.

BOOTH: What a shock for that couple, huh? (gesturing) You know, they slide naked, into the hot mud bath...and a skeleton hand pokes her in the BRENNAN: (finishing) Anus.

BOOTH: (shocked) Bones!

BRENNAN: What? It's a clinical term for that part of the body, Booth. (SWEETS is now either sporting a hilarious, wide-eyed shock face, or trying so hard to keep his eyes open that they've bugged out of his face.)

SWEETS: Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth...would it be fair to say that you use work to avoid confronting personal issues?

BOOTH: Oh, what, because I don't want to talk about...

BRENNAN: The anus.

BOOTH: You really like that word, don't you?

SWEETS: Do you two ever discuss anything that's not attached to work?

BOOTH: Well, it's better than talking about, y'know...

SWEETS: The anus?

BOOTH: What is it with you two?

BRENNAN: Well, Sweets could be right; I mean, we talk a lot about work.

BOOTH: I talk about my kid.

SWEETS: Because he was almost kidnapped during a case.

BRENNAN: (raising a single finger) Ah, my father. We talk a lot about him.

SWEETS: Because Agent Booth arrested him for m*rder.

BOOTH: Mm...okay, what are you trying to get at here?

SWEETS: Your inability to share your personal lives. I thought that was obvious.

BOOTH: Okay, that was snotty. (snottily) I don't respond well to snotty.

BRENNAN: (laying a hand on BOOTH's arm) After a case, sometimes, we have a drink, or coffee, Booth has pie. I don't...like pie.

BOOTH: Aw...you really should just give it a chance.

BRENNAN: I find it too sweet.

BOOTH: Okay, there. We talked about pie. Nothin' to do with work.

BRENNAN: It...is better when we discuss m*rder.

SWEETS: I'd like to see you guys in a social situation. A situation where work is a taboo subject.

BOOTH: What, are you gonna send us to a restaurant and watch us through a one-way mirror?

BRENNAN: I'm still not having pie.

SWEETS: No, an evening out with my girlfriend and me.

BOOTH: (laughs, then, to BRENNAN) They need someone to buy them beer.

BRENNAN: You want us to go on a double date?

BOOTH: Why don't you go on the internet like all the rest of the kids?

SWEETS: Okay, if it goes well, I'll withdraw my concern. I'll release you back into your environment.

BOOTH: What are we, brook trout?

BRENNAN: (pouts briefly, then) Fine.

BOOTH: (Sighs heavily and plays with the stress-sumo-wrestler.)

SWEETS: Agent Booth? (BOOTH looks away.) Unless, you think that's too much to prove.

BOOTH: (pulls a face, then) Fine. I'll show 'em I have nothing to prove. Bring it on, Sweets.

(He flings the stress sumo wrestler at SWEETS, who catches it one-handed and gives it a squeeze.)

(Medico-Legal Lab; Jeffersonian. HODGINS is running the mud from the hot-spring through some sort of strainer; ZACK is examining something small.)

HODGINS: Ugh...(Pulls a greenish aluminum can from the strainer) So far I have three old beer cans, an Indian Arrowhead, (he lifts a coin out of the strainer and casually tosses it on the table; in the background you can hear CAM swiping her card to enter the platform) seventy-three cents in change, and a partially-melted Sharpie.

CAM: The victim was braised like osso bucco. The flesh was falling off the bone. I put time of death between ten days and two weeks.

ZACK: (crosses to a bank of x-rays) I found stress fractures and degenerative changes in the fascid joints.

CAM: Fits with the hypertrophy of the cervical muscles. I found microscopic tearing but he had to sustain this (she extends her neck forward) position to cause that kind of wear and tear.

HODGINS: Death by yoga?

ANGELA: (enters) Is that skull ready for me yet?

ZACK: It should be ready, you can take it out of the boiler any time.

ANGELA: Or, you could do that for me, because I will never, ever do that.

ZACK: (indicating the injuries on a bank of x-rays.) There are fractures of the pelvis, compression fractures of thoracic and lumbar vertebrae, multiple metacarpal and metatarsal fractures...

ANGELA: What was he, crash test dummy?

ZACK: The injuries to the vertebrae, tibia, femur are consistent with landing on the feet after falling from ten to twenty feet.

HODGINS: What, like jumping out of a tree?

ZACK: The damage to the scapula and the acromion resulted from a low fall but forward movement from between sixteen to twenty miles per hour.

ANGELA: Falling off a bicycle.

ZACK: These injuries are more recent. Fractured and scored patella, and torn retinaculum.

HODGINS: Okay, even I didn't get that one.

CAM: Why would anyone want to k*ll him? It seems like he was doing a good enough job on his own.

(CUT to the exterior of the FBI building.)

BRENNAN: (v.o.) Yes. Okay, Dr. Sweets, yeah, I'll ask him.(Now in the elevator, we see BRENNAN covers her phone) How's Wednesday night, are you free?

BOOTH: oh, what, to have our big double date with our psychiatrist?

BRENNAN: Just one more evening, and maybe we won't have to see him anymore.

BOOTH: Fine. Wednesday's FINE, I can't wait, does he want me to get you a corsage?

BRENNAN: (into the phone) Wednesday's fine. We'll meet you there. Yeah, I'm looking forward to meeting her.

BOOTH: (scowls as he pushes open the doors of his office)

BRENNAN: Okay. Bye. (hangs up with a beep.) This might be fun. His girlfriend works with tropical fish.

BOOTH: (skeptically) Tropical. Fish.

BRENNAN: Yeah.

BOOTH: This is just weird. Where are we meeting?

BRENNAN: At their ceramics class.

BOOTH: What? No, you're kidding.

BRENNAN: Why would I be kidding? He said it would be a good idea to have a common activity.

BOOTH: Ceramics? I thought the whole point of therapy was to give us peace of mind, not drive us crazy. (BOOTH's computer starts beeping; we inset to a video chat invitation on BOOTH's monitor, which reads "JEFFERSONIAN/ANGELA") Hey, it's Angela. (BOOTH clicks his mouse, and answers her video chat invitation.) Hey, Angela.

ANGELA: Hey! I did a rendering of our victim's face. We're checking him against any reports of missing persons.

BOOTH: Wait a second, that's Tripp Goddard.

ANGELA: Tripp Goddard?

BOOTH: He's a motorcycle racer.

BRENNAN: (looks nonplussed)

BOOTH: Oh, I forget sometimes that I'm talking to girls.

BRENNAN: That would explain the wrist and neck injuries on Zack's report. Have him confirm with dentals.

ANGELA: Yeah, (CUT to ANGELA in the holographics suite at the Jeffersonian) I don't appreciate the "girls" comment.

(CUT BACK to BOOTH and BRENNAN in BOOTH's office.)

BOOTH: Uh...Tripp won a huge motorcycle race about two weeks ago.

BRENNAN: That fits time of death.

(CUT to ANGELA in the Holographics Suite at the Jeffersonian)

ANGELA: That would've been the Super Grand Prix, out in Virginia. Tripp won in the final two laps after some kind of accident took out the frontrunner. (cheekily) Girls, huh?

(ANGELA terminates the connection, and we see an inset screen with the Jeffersonian logo and the text "Video Conference Connection Terminated.")

(Slam Bolt Racing, Exterior sh*t of motorcycles in bright blues and yellows rounding a curve to the sound of vehicle exhaust. Racing journalist GARTH JODREY [Chris William Martin] begins a voiceover as the racers cross a finish line and the checkered flags are waved.)

GARTH: It's not about the machine, it's about the man. (We cut to an interior sh*t at Slam Bolt Racing as he continues speaking.) I mean, sure you need a great bike, but a great rider on a crap bike? Still going to win. (We see that GARTH, who uses a wheelchair, has been conversing with an attractive brunette in a leather jacket, PHILIPPA FITZ [Abigail Spencer].)

PHILIPPA: Riders say it's about the rider, mechanics say it's the machine, you know what I say? It's about whoever signs the paychecks.

GARTH: (as BRENNAN and BOOTH come around a mechanic's station into the background of the sh*t) Ah, yes, and that would be you.

PHILIPPA: (teasingly) Yes, it would; don't forget it.

BOOTH: Excuse me. (flashes his badge) FBI Special Agent Booth, this here is Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian. We're looking for someone who might be able to tell us a little bit about Tripp Goddard.

PHILIPPA: Well, I'm Philippa Fitz, and Tripp rides for our family team, Slam Bolt.

GARTH: What did Tripp do?

BOOTH: Who are you?

GARTH: Garth Jodrey, I'm a journalist. (Opens his leather jacket to show a logo on his t-shirt) Motokneescrapers.com.

BRENNAN: What does that mean?

BOOTH: Racers, when they--they lean real low on the corners, their-their knees, they scrape the asphalt.

BRENNAN: That would explain his knee injuries.

PHILIPPA: No one has seen Tripp since after the Super Grand Prix.

BRENNAN: Well, where did he go?

PHILIPPA: After a big win, he usually takes off in his truck and climbs mountains, swims oceans, no one really knows for sure. Can I help you?

BOOTH: Mr. Goddard's d*ad.

GARTH: What? What happened?

BRENNAN: We believe he was m*rder.

(CUT to a conversation with LENNY FITZ [Wings Hauser], PHILIPPA's father.)

LENNY: Who would k*ll Tripp? I don't know.

GARTH: (as he crosses the room.) Well, the fans loved him. Everybody else hated him.

LENNY: Get lost, Garth.

PHILIPPA: Daddy, please.

LENNY: No. I want him out of here, Philippa.

(GARTH looks up at PHILIPPA for a tense moment. She finally jerks her head, indicating that he should leave. He departs.)

BOOTH: Garth doesn't seem to think that Tripp was the good old boy that you do.

LENNY: His got his reasons.

PHILIPPA: The wheelchair, for one.

BOOTH: Tripp put him in that wheelchair?

LENNY: It was an accident. During a race, a couple years ago.

PHILIPPA: You can't honestly believe that Garth had anything to do with this. I mean, how? He's in a wheelchair.

BRENNAN: With help, obviously.

BOOTH: When was the last time you saw Tripp?

PHILIPPA: The victory party, after the race.

LENNY: I saw him get him his truck and leave, about midnight.

BOOTH: Great, I'm going to need to know the make, model, the year, license plate of the truck.

LENNY: Anything you need, we're here. Just find the bastard who did this to him.

(End Act One.)

(Begin Act Two. "Skinny Penny" by the Stereotypes plays as footage of the Super Grand Prix rolls. #66, DANNY FITZ [Channon Roe] is in the lead, with #1, TRIPP GODDARD [John Edward Lee] hot on his trail. The footage cuts to a crowd sh*t, and back to footage of DANNY followed closely by TRIPP. More crowd sh*ts, then it is revealed that BOOTH, BRENNAN, and GARTH are watching this footage on an LCD screen in the FBI Conference room. When we cut back to the LCD screen, the leader-board on the footage shows that TRIPP is in the lead, followed by D.J. COPPS. TRIPP crosses the finish line, and we cut to TRIPP holding the trophy, surrounded by pit crew, laughing triumphantly. DANNY tries to approach TRIPP, but is held back by pit crew.)

GARTH: (v.o.) Okay, that's Danny Fitz. (On the screen, DANNY breaks free of his pit crew and grabs TRIPP by the front of his racing jacket. The footage pauses, but judging by their facial expressions, there is clearly an ugly altercation in the making.) I tell ya, I would've loved to have decked Tripp like that after our race, only I was in a coma for a few days.

BRENNAN: Another Fitz?

GARTH: Lenny's son, Philippa's twin brother... Alright, watch this. (GARTH uses a remote to manipulate the footage.) Danny's got the race in the bag. Final lap, Tripp does that. (On the tape in extreme close-up, we see TRIPP's front wheel bump DANNY's back wheel; we pull back to find that DANNY has wiped out.) Classic inside-out block pass.

BRENNAN: Is he allowed to do that?

BOOTH: Only if it's an accident.

GARTH: Slam Bolt would've taken first and second against Flame Spark if Tripp hadn't of clipped Danny.

BRENNAN: (laughs) There's someone named Flame Spark?

BOOTH: Yeah; Flame Spark Spark Plugs. It's Slam Bolt's rival team.

TRIPP: (on the tape) I saw a little daylight. Looked like Danny was gonna go wide, so I went for it. I mean, it is a bummer when somebody loses the front of their bike like that, but, um...(TRIPP shrugs) Whaddaya gonna do?

GARTH: Danny had that race in the bag.

BOOTH: Tripp did the same thing to you, didn't he?

GARTH: (a b*at) Yeah. Well, I guess Tripp didn't learn anything from the time he did it to me.

BOOTH: Danny Fitz, was he at the victory party?

GARTH: Yeah, absolutely. Put on a face for the press.

BRENNAN: Did Danny leave before, or after Tripp?

GARTH: About the same time.

BOOTH: How about you?

GARTH: I took off right after.(On the videotape, TRIPP and DANNY are engaged in a shoving match.)

BOOTH: You're good friends with Danny, aren't you?

GARTH: You mean, are we good enough friends to k*ll Tripp together? You know, I'm pretty sure I don't have to say anything without a lawyer. (BRENNAN and BOOTH exchange a look.)

(MEDICO-LEGAL LAB; the JEFFERSONIAN. A metal bar falls on the floor between two feet, which we see are ZACK's, as ZACK is carrying in an armload of potential m*rder w*apon. ZACK bends down to pick up the bar. HODGINS looks over at him before going back to examining the now extremely clean skull. As ZACK finally corrals the first bar he dropped, he loses control of another bar.)

HODGINS: (testily.) It's not going to work...

ZACK: What?

HODGINS: Dropping loud pieces of metal to hurry me up.

ZACK: I need the skull so I can compare tool marks to potential m*rder w*apon.

HODGINS: Just going to have to wait.

ZACK: (frowns and walks further into the room.)

HODGINS: (zooms in to an extreme close-up of the skull's surface on a monitor. A computer program isolates particulates on the screen.) Titanium, magnesium, and heat-treated boron particulates are embedded in the skull fractures.

ZACK: Mmmmm....

HODGINS: What?

ZACK: That's a unique and exotic combination of metals not found in any of these...(A bunch of the aforementioned "these" go sliding out of ZACK's arms, and he bends down to collect them.)

HODGINS: It is possible that these particulates aren't from the tool, I mean, not from the tool alone.

ZACK: I don't understand.

HODGINS: Hand-made racing motorcycles are made from these metals.

ZACK: So the particles could've gone from the bicycles to the tools to the victim.

HODGINS: It's-it's not a bicycle. It's a motorcycle.

ZACK: (irritably) Bi-cycle. Two wheels. The term applies. (He drops another group of the metal bars, and bends down to collect them.)

HODGINS: Drop those. (off his look.) Drop them. I mean it Zack, b*mb away. (ZACK drops all the w*apon to the floor.)

ZACK: I don't know what that proves.

HODGINS: It means I don't handle irritation as well as I'd like.

ZACK: Can I pick these up now?

HODGINS: (forcefully) No. (ZACK looks at him quizzically, and HODGINS crosses the room towards him.) You can pick one up. Most likely culprit.

ZACK: A narrow instrument, no more than an inch, caused the injuries.

HODGINS: Okay...(HODGINS bends down and proceeds to pick up more than one bar.)

ZACK: Strain, the crushing, tearing, shearing, equals a change in dimension divided by the original dimension.

HODGINS: I do bugs and slime; I don't do arithmetic.

ZACK: An elongated rod, with (he selects a shiny, square-shaped pipe from the group HODGINS has selected) this cross-section, is the most likely culprit.

HODGINS: Good. Good job, Zack.

ZACK: (confused) Am I...King of the Lab?

HODGINS: We both are. (HODGINS drops the remaining crowbars.) Let's go tell Cam.

(FBI Conference room. BOOTH is replaying the footage of DANNY FITZ wiping out over and over again and giggling. A slow pan reveals an unamused DANNY.)

BOOTH: Ooohhhh....ouch....Okay, now that, that's gotta hurt. Wait, here it comes again, I mean, look at that. Whoa...watch it, watch out, watch out, whoa! (BOOTH jumps backwards to reveal the unamused face of DANNY's lawyer, BRAXTON SMALLS [M.C. Gainey])

SMALLS: Let the record show that Agent Booth is taunting my client by repeatedly showing footage of his traumatic accident.

DANNY: Don't say accident, man; Tripp did that to me on purpose.

BRENNAN: How fast were you going at the time of your incident?

DANNY: I don't know, exactly. I was accelerating through 160.

BOOTH: Tripp was accelerating faster; see there? (BOOTH punches a button on the remote. The footage replays on the screen.) Whoosh.

SMALLS: Again with taunting.

BRENNAN: Why was Tripp so much better than you?

SMALLS: Taunting?

BRENNAN: No, I'm not taunting, Mr. Smalls, I'm restating an objective fact.

DANNY: Tripp had a better bike! He had maybe twenty horses on me.

BOOTH: So you get Tripp's bike now, right, Mr. Fitz?

DANNY: I didn't k*ll Tripp for his motorcycle.

BOOTH: Why did you k*ll him?

SMALLS: Whoa, full stop there, cowboy.

BOOTH: Alright, don't sweat it there, princess. Alright, any other reason why you'd want to get rid of Tripp?

DANNY: No.

SMALLS: Danny, certain things you hide make you look guilty.

DANNY: Couple years back, Tripp was going out with my sister. Cheated on her with a groupie.

SMALLS: Came to blows.

BRENNAN: Who won?

DANNY: I did, for once. Knocked him on his ass!

BOOTH: And you defended her honor.

SMALLS: Danny and Philippa are twins, Agent Booth. They're very close.

BOOTH: He cheated on your sister, forced you to crash...How'd you exactly describe your relationship with Tripp?

DANNY: (snidely) We were the best of friends.

SMALLS: As your lawyer, I must caution you that sarcasm doesn't show up on the transcript. Best to avoid it.

DANNY: Look, I'm sorry Tripp's d*ad, but I'm not exactly grievin', you feel me?

BOOTH: Bones, he's not afraid of me at all.

BRENNAN: It's hard to scare someone who rides around a track at 200 miles an hour.

DANNY: Now her, I like. (to BRENNAN) D'you wanna go out sometime? (BRENNAN looks surprised.)

SMALLS: Restrain yourself.

BOOTH: Nah, she doesn't wanna go out with you.

BRENNAN: Let me speak for myself!

BOOTH: m*rder suspect, here, Bones. (Cut to a hilariously lecherous facial expression of DANNY's. BRENNAN looks skeptical.)

(Medico-Legal Lab; Jeffersonian. The Original Recipe Squint Squad + Cam are in the side room at the lab.)

CAM: The wound at the front of the head or at the back?

ZACK: Back.

ANGELA: Could it be both?

ZACK: No.

CAM: The blow to the front of the head was from a sharp tool.

ZACK: Sharper than round, but blunter than sharp.

ANGELA: What?

CAM: That actually made sense to me.

ANGELA: You two have been spending way too much time together.

HODGINS: Can you estimate the amount of force?

ZACK: In the back of the head, length undetermined. A width of 3.8 centimeters; approximately a thousand pounds of force.

ANGELA: So a lot.

HODGINS: (like it's no big deal) Half a ton.

ANGELA: Which is a lot.

ZACK: That actually isn't very much.

ANGELA: All right; now I'm back in a physics class I want to ditch.

HODGINS: A boxer's fist can land with double that force.

CAM: A big meaty fist in a glove.

HODGINS: Yeah, with the force spread out over a hell of a lot more than 3.8 centimeters.

ZACK: Correct. It wouldn't take all that much force to crush a skull with this.

CAM: So. We haven't eliminated anyone from our list of suspects. Plus, we don't know what that's a cross-section of, and we don't know what caused the damage to the front of the face. (taking in ZACK and HODGINS' nonplussed faces as the Piano Music of Zany Hijinks rears its head on the soundtrack.) What, exactly, made you two come in here crowing "King of the Lab"?

HODGINS: (opens his mouth to speak, then closes it and points at ZACK, who stares back at him.) I'm gonna go back and look at very small things under my very large microscope. (HODGINS leaves. CAM glances at ZACK.)

ZACK: I can probably identify the type of tool off this cross section.

CAM: Do it and call Booth. See if it's of any use to him. (ZACK turns to leave.)

ANGELA: (conspiratorially, to CAM.) Boys.

CAM: Wow.

(Medico-Legal Lab; HODGINS and ZACK's workstations.)

HODGINS: (on the phone to BOOTH) I don't have the w*apon, but, I microwaved the fabric samples and used gas sensors to analyze

(Slam Bolt Racing; BOOTH and BRENNAN are standing by a yellow and white motorcycle.)

BOOTH: (cutting HODGINS off mid-sentence.) Alright, alright; just--let's just cut to the chase, there, okay, Mr. Wizard?

(Medico-Legal Lab)

HODGINS: (shrugs) I have identified what was on the victim's clothing.

(Slam Bolt Racing)

BOOTH: Fine. I'll take anything at this moment.

BRENNAN: What is it?

HODGINS: (through BOOTH's Blackberry) It's toluene. It's a clear liquid used to clean up oil.

BOOTH: (agitatedly.) How is that supposed to help us? Every mechanic in the world uses that stuff. (BRENNAN, with a pensive expression on her face, examines a rack against a wall.) I need a w*apon; do you hear me? A w*apon.

(Medico-Legal Lab; Jeffersonian.)

HODGINS: You know, I'm feeling really underappreciated today.

BOOTH: Alright, well, you know what?--

(Slam Bolt Racing)

BOOTH: (continued) You can suck it up, buttercup.

BRENNAN: Booth?

BOOTH: Yah?

BRENNAN: (opens the door on a yellow rack of conveniently-labeled chemicals; the foremost container is labeled "Toluene" in larger lettering than any of the other bottles. BRENNAN points at it.) Toluene.

HODGINS: (over BOOTH's Blackberry.) It's also excellent for cleaning up blood.

BRENNAN: So, if you k*lled someone here, and they bled a lot...

BOOTH: (looks over at a drain in the middle of the floor.) The drain...(to an FBI Forensics Technician [Burnadean Jones])Hey, check this drain for blood.

(Medico-Legal Lab)

HODGINS: Blood suspended in toluene might be testable for DNA.

BRENNAN: (sotto voce) Tell Hodgins he did a good job.

BOOTH: Tell Hodgins he did a good job, if...(He trails off when he sees blood spatter leading towards the drain by the blue glow of the FBI technician's ALS.)

HODGINS: (over BOOTH's Blackberry) I'm waiting.

(End Act Two.)

(Begin Act Three. BOOTH and BRENNAN are in Dr. SWEETS's office. The bass xylophone and heavy brass sounds of Work-related hijinks are on the soundtrack. BOOTH looks less than happy to be visiting Dr. SWEETS. BRENNAN starts to say something, then doesn't. The awkward silence continues. Finally BOOTH breaks it.)

BOOTH: I hate when you do this.

SWEETS: Do what?

BOOTH: You don't talk.

SWEETS: Sometimes you hate when I talk, so it's a double-edged sword.

BOOTH: Bones doesn't mind sitting in silence, do ya?

BRENNAN: (answering in the negative) Mm-mmm.

BOOTH: I hate it.

SWEETS: Why do you think that is?

BRENNAN: He gets bored.

BOOTH: You're right, I do, I get bored.

BRENNAN: You should see him on stakeouts; he talks and talks and ---(BOOTH stares at her) Well, it's very interesting!

SWEETS: Is it always about work?

BRENNAN: Mmm...no.

SWEETS: (cocks his head.) You're lying!

BOOTH: Aw, c'mon. How do you know that?

SWEETS: I have special training in how to tell when people are lying.

BRENNAN: Is that true?

SWEETS: See, if you were me, you'd know.

BOOTH: (stares.)

SWEETS: You're lying to protect your partner. I understand that. But let's agree amongst ourselves, that this is a truth zone. (BOOTH groans and pinches the bridge of his nose.) Is something bothering you?

BOOTH: It's this whole...going on a date thing.

BRENNAN and SWEETS in stereo: No, it's not a date!

SWEETS: (continuing) It's a social outing for the purpose of professional evaluation.

BOOTH: Come on; ceramics? I'm not that kind of a guy, alright? Whaddaya say we go, y'know, bowling, or to a f*ring range, or climbing a wall?

SWEETS: Oh, right. Something you're good at.

BOOTH: A movie! Or dinner. Dinner and a movie. Somewhere that I don't have to make something.

BRENNAN: (exhales) Oooohhh...

BOOTH: What? What oooh?

BRENNAN: Well, what Sweets would do in this situation is he'd jump on word usage. He's going to ask you why you're resistant to making.

SWEETS: (indignantly) I JUMP on the semantics? (shakes his head) That's a really aggressive turn of phrase.

BOOTH: Ha. Thanks for pulling focus, there, Bones. (SWEETS starts to shake his head.) Pulling. Is that an aggressive word too?

SWEETS: Okay, what, did you two plan this?

BOOTH: It's paranoia! That is paranoia.

BRENNAN: Since this is a truth zone, I will tell you the truth. We didn't plan anything. (SWEETS examines her shrewdly and she meets his eyes.)

SWEETS: You're telling the truth.

BOOTH: He's guessing, Bones.

SWEETS: (giddy, like a little kid.) We're going to a ceramics class, and we're all going to MAKE something. Time's up.

(Melville Practice Track at Slam Bolt Racing. Motorcycle #38 is rounding a corner as "Get it Right" by Mink plays on the soundtrack. #38, #42, and #1 are all on the track.)

BOOTH: (v.o.) Look, Sweets can't really tell if someone's lying. (Cut to BRENNAN and BOOTH walking along a side track.) I'm telling you, he's playing with our minds.

BRENNAN: There's an area of study called neurolinguistics which proposes that subconscious eye movements and body language tell a well-trained observer if the subject is lying.

BOOTH: Well, I don't believe it. (As they round the corner of a trailer, one can see GARTH JODREY in blurred focus in the foreground.) Ha. I don't believe it. (DANNY is standing by GARTH and LENNY next to the #1 bike.)

BRENNAN: Is that Tripp's bike?

BOOTH: Hyeah; looks like Danny's gonna finally get what he wants, huh?

LENNY: Do me a favor, son. Take it easy, a couple times around, before you blast off, okay?

DANNY: I know, Dad. Ease into it.

GARTH: Hey, can I get a picture?

BOOTH: Yeah, let's get a picture. Look at that. # 1 of the Slam Bolt racing team. You gotta feel good about that.

DANNY: I'm not talkin' to you without my lawyer present. (DANNY dons his motorcycle helmet.)

LENNY: That goes for all of us. (to DANNY) Look, you, I can replace. Do NOT wreck my bike. (DANNY revs the engine and pops a low wheelie before taking off around the track with a screech.)

GARTH: Y'know, Lenny, I'm thinkin' your boy isn't gonna relax into this.

LENNY: Well, Danny gets a chance to grab the brass ring, he's gonna take it.(DANNY revs the engine into the curve.)

BOOTH: Okay, watch this, Bones, he's gonna decelerate right before the turn and just slingshot right through it.

BRENNAN: I don't see the deceleration part. (Something is clearly wrong with DANNY; the bike begins to shake and then to bank heavily right, then heavily left.)

LENNY: No, no, no! (DANNY's last bank turns into a wipeout in a shower of sparks as he scrapes across the track. He's thrown free of the bike; however, it explodes in a ball of flame that engulfs him. GARTH, ever the photojournalist, continues snapping pictures as BRENNAN and BOOTH run towards DANNY. LENNY merely stares catatonically.)

SAFETY CREWMEMBER: He's down! Come on, let's get in there.

PHILIPPA: (was watching from her car; she sprints to where DANNY is on the track) No! NOOO!!! No! No! (LENNY sinks to his knees as PHILIPPA grabs him by the arm. DANNY and the BIKE have now become separate fireballs as the Plinky Piano of Loss plays on the soundtrack and two f*re-extinguisher bearing members of the Slam Bolt safety crew come running up.)

PHILIPPA:Not Danny. (In the corner of the sh*t, GARTH appears to be classily photographing PHILIPPA and LENNY's reaction.)

BRENNAN: (on her cellphone) Yes, we're at the Melville practice track on Highway 64. Send an air ambulance now; there's been a motorcycle accident.

(End Act Three.)

(Begin Act Four; interior sh*t at the Slam Bolt Garage. An FBI forensics team is photographing the charred remains of the bike; to the left of the sh*t, FBI Motor Tech OPAL WARNEKE [Darlena Tejeiro] is feeding data into a computer.The Sad Piano of Loss is still playing on the soundtrack. PHILIPPA walks through the garage.)

BRENNAN: (to PHILIPPA) Where's your father?

PHILIPPA: He's at the house. He's already had two heart att*cks; he doesn't need to be here for this.

OPAL: Seems like a crime to mess up such a sweet bike, huh?

BOOTH: Yeah, a crime, like m*rder.

OPAL: (backtracking) Right. I..I just meant the bike itself, it's...

BOOTH: No, I get it. You like bikes.

OPAL: (pointing to a part she has in her hand.) These rotors are laser cut and honed. Very exact. Bend one just a little, and when this baby gets to speed the rotor hits a brake pad. Separates a little farther, and the next thing you know...

BRENNAN: Yes. We saw.

BOOTH: So it couldn't have been an accident...

OPAL: You mean oops, I accidentally stuck a piece of metal through this little tiny hole and pushed it with all my might?

BRENNAN: So anyone could have done this?

OPAL: Anyone who's familiar with motorcycles. And was a k*ller.

PHILIPPA: Why would anyone want to k*ll Danny?

BRENNAN: (takes PHILIPPA by the shoulder and walks her away.) You can't be near the evidence. I'm sorry.

BOOTH: (to OPAL) See what else you can find, will ya?

OPAL: (nods.)

(Medico-Legal Lab; Jeffersonian. HODGINS is adding a few drops of the reagent Eugenol to the tip of a cotton swab.)

HODGINS: Recovering ink traces on plastic and polymers is problematic, so, I am using a new technique. A little of the reagent Eugenol, and (He holds the plastic piece [the melted Sharpie from the sifting-the-mud scene] under a blue light, revealing the letters "EE S APERS DO CO") Voila. E-eh say-pers doh coh.

ZACK: Does that mean anything to you?

HODGINS: Korean restaurant?

ZACK: Unlikely. There are obviously missing letters. We need to place the consonants most likely to appear with this configuration of vowels. And vowels to consonants.

HODGINS: That is an enormous amount of variables, Zack.

ZACK: Shh...Lee Snappers Doll Company.

HODGINS: Don't think so.

ZACK: Free Newspapers Dot Com. Keen Snappers Don't Come.

HODGINS: Definitely not.

ZACK: Knee Scrapers Dot Com.

HODGINS: Oh my God. That's it. Motokneescrapers.com . How'd you do that?

ZACK: Process of elimination? You realize I have no idea what it means.

HODGINS: It's the website run by the journalist that Tripp put in a wheelchair.

ZACK: So this man's pen was found on the m*rder victim.

HODGINS: Or, it fell in the mud when the body was dumped.

(Exterior sh*t of the Capitol, for no apparent reason. When we fade up, BRENNAN is in Ceramics Class with BOOTH, SWEETS, and his girlfriend, APRIL PRESA [Senta Moses], smiling as the pot she is throwing begins to take shape.)

BRENNAN: I'm enjoying this. The last time I threw pots I was in Colombia with the Auroco Indians.

BOOTH: (griping) Last time I did something like this, I was in nursery school.

APRIL: (laughs) Well, we love it. Don't we, Lance?

SWEETS: (smiles, forcedly) Yes.

BOOTH: Well, I love my work, but I'm not going to talk about that right now, even though we think a paraplegic k*lled Tripp Goddard.

APRIL: That sounds fascinating.

SWEETS: April?

APRIL: Oopsie! (forced giggle.)

BRENNAN: (changing the subject) Dr. Sweets says that you work with tropical fish.

APRIL: Yes, I love fish. They're just like people.

BRENNAN: No, no they're not, actually. People can't breathe underwater.

APRIL: (starts laughing.) She's funny.

BOOTH: (snickers along.)

BRENNAN: I am? What? Why is that funny?

BOOTH: I don't think she meant that literally, Bones.

BRENNAN: Oh.

APRIL: It's their eyes. You can tell so much from eyes.

BRENNAN: The retinal scan is as specific as a fingerprint.

APRIL: No, no. Their souls. You can see their little souls.

BRENNAN: I don't understand. You believe that fish have souls?

APRIL: Yes. You can see it in their coloring; it's a reflection of who they are.

BRENNAN: (still confused.) Their coloring has developed over millennia as a way to deal with predators.

SWEETS: (To BRENNAN and BOOTH) April just means they're beautiful.

APRIL: Don't tell me what I mean, Lance. I mean they have souls.

SWEETS: Ah, okay.

BOOTH: Hey, look what I'm makin'! (BOOTH proudly spreads his hands to reveal that, where APRIL, SWEETS, and BRENNAN have been using pottery wheels to throw similar thin-walled pots, he has constructed the beginnings of what looks to be a well-detailed carousel horse.)

BRENNAN: You've done this before.

BOOTH: (modestly) Nah...

BRENNAN: You have.

BOOTH: You really think that's good?

BRENNAN: Yes, very.

SWEETS: Yours is good too, April.

APRIL: I'm not talking to you.

SWEETS: (snickers nervously)

APRIL: You think that's funny.

BRENNAN: (stage whispers to BOOTH) Are they fighting?

BOOTH: Just focus on your pot there.

SWEETS: I'm with patients, April.

BOOTH: Nope, no patients tonight. Just us people makin' pots.

APRIL: You can't apologize for me, Lance.

SWEETS: Can we please just move on?

APRIL: No. It just-- I meant that, I believe that all creatures, people, fish, dogs, we're all connected. We all share the same stuff that makes life so beautiful and precious.

BRENNAN: On a quantum level, that's true, although the word stuff is not accurate.

APRIL: (smiles gratefully at BRENNAN, then, snidely, to SWEETS) See? (she slams a towel down on the table.)

SWEETS: What? I have great respect for your fish. Admittedly, I might relate to other things more.

APRIL: He kills about a thousand people a night.

SWEETS: Yeah, in a video game, April. They're not real.

BOOTH: Hey, Sweets, your thing there's droopy. (SWEETS's tall pot is starting to collapse like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.)

SWEETS: (looks upset, then sighs.)

BOOTH: Look at my horse!

APRIL: Wow.

SWEETS: That's amazing, Agent Booth.

BOOTH: (makes horse-like noises as he moves the horse up and down as though it's galloping.)

BRENNAN: Very impressive.

BOOTH: Yes, it is. (BOOTH picks a stray piece of clay off the back of the horse and goes to flick it away; it strikes BRENNAN in a fairly personal region and she gasps.) Bones, I'm sorry. (BRENNAN slings back a lump of clay.) Ooh! Jeez! (BOOTH throws back a lump, and it destroys the top part of BRENNAN's pot. BRENNAN pouts.) Hey, Sweets, I apologize. (BOOTH begins breaking off more pieces of clay to sling at BRENNAN) This whole ceramics thing is GREAT! (SWEETS gets a big smile on his face.)

SWEETS: (As BOOTH and BRENNAN continue to laugh, SWEETS breaks off a piece of clay and lightly tosses it at APRIL. She, in turn, grabs a handful of slip [clay with a liquid consistency] and slings it in SWEETS's face, even getting some on his teeth. It's very ugly. SWEETS tries to play it off with a nonchalant laugh.) Yeah, this is fun. (When BRENNAN has figured out what just happened and you're still trying to play it off, you're in trouble, dude.)

(Random exterior nighttime sh*t of the Washington Monument with Dupont Circle behind it, and a sh*t of sunrise behind the Capitol building.)

(BOOTH's car; daytime.)

BOOTH: I tell you one thing, Sweets didn't get any last night.

BRENNAN: They're too young to be in a serious relationship. In agrarian societies, young couplings made sense; the partnership was for survival, but today...

BOOTH: You know, you can play the field and not plow it.

BRENNAN: That was distasteful.

BOOTH: What?

BRENNAN: I like April, though.

BOOTH: She talks to fish, okay? I'm with Sweets on this one.

BRENNAN: (gives BOOTH a look. BRENNAN's phone rings as BOOTH comes to the not-at-all inaccurate conclusion that his comment might've pushed the boundaries of decency. She answers the phone.)

(Medico-Legal Lab; Jeffersonian. Room with all the drawers.)

ZACK: Hey, it's Zack.

(BOOTH's CAR)

BRENNAN: Hi, Zack. (BRENNAN punches a button on the phone and puts it on speaker.)

(Medico-Legal Lab)

ZACK: The prybar from the garage is not the m*rder w*apon. It's a prybar like this one, but not this one. The deep parallel grooves on the interior border are not a match.

BOOTH: What about the blood?

HODGINS: Apparently, the toluene---

(BOOTH's CAR)

HODGINS: (over speakerphone, continued) caused a false positive.

BRENNAN: What about the vertical fracture on the frontal suture?

BOOTH: (pleased with himself and seeking approval) That's the forehead.

BRENNAN: (looks at him strangely)

HODGINS: Yeah, I did another scraping of the fracture and I found a sliver of glass with--

(Medico-Legal Lab)

HODGINS: (continued) --a mastic film on it. The mass spec shows it as a nitrate of silver, so I think we're looking for some kind of mirror.

BRENNAN: Good! Thank you.

(BOOTH's SUV pulls up to a wooded area.)

OPAL: (v.o.) Found it--

(We now see TRIPP's TRUCK, as OPAL lifts the crime scene tape surrounding it.)

OPAL: --early this morning. No way of knowing how long it's been here. My guess is it was stolen, driven around some, then stripped for parts.

BRENNAN: VIN number matches?

OPAL: Oh, it's the victim's truck, all right. (Conspiratorially, to BRENNAN) Hey, I gotta tell you, I love working this one. I'm usually looking over some battered old heap for evidence, but the vehicles on this case (she exhales appreciatively) they are sweet.

BOOTH: You got anything else for me?

OPAL: Ah, they're testing mud on the bottom of the vehicle on the chance it might match where the victim was dumped.

BRENNAN: Pry bar.

BOOTH: Huh?

BRENNAN: Pry bar.

OPAL: Yup. Covered in blood. I blame the Stooges.

BRENNAN: Excuse me?

OPAL: The Three Stooges. They're always bashing each other in the heads with hammers and bricks and stuff, and never got hurt. People think they can do it too.

BOOTH: Yeah. Thanks for that.

OPAL: All I'm saying is that killings like this are Stooge-related.

BRENNAN: Booth...

BOOTH: Yeah?

BRENNAN: Side mirror. (They both approach the truck.) Long jagged edge. He was standing by his truck, someone came up behind him and h*t him with a prybar.

BOOTH: Falls forward into the mirror.

BRENNAN: Fracturing his frontonasal suture.

OPAL: Huh?

BRENNAN AND BOOTH: Forehead.

BRENNAN: Booth, this suggests only one assailant.

BOOTH: Can we get some lumino; check the mirror for blood?

OPAL: Well, we're not hurting for blood around here. (She walks to the truck's in-bed storage container, which she pops open to reveal that it's streaked with blood.)

BOOTH: Oh, jeez. Whoa! Whoa.

OPAL: Don't need any luminol for this.

BOOTH: So he was k*lled, loaded in the box, driven to the mud, and dumped.

BRENNAN: That's physically impossible for a paraplegic to do.

BOOTH: It's only one m*rder; it wasn't Garth. Do we have any prints?

OPAL: Just the victim's, but we did find some hair in the box where the body was placed. (An FBI Forensic Tech hands her a bag with the hair in it.) It's dyed. We're checking for the exact brand and color.

BRENNAN: The roots are gray...it's short.

BOOTH: Lenny Fitz...dyes his hair.

BRENNAN: Why would Lenny k*ll his most valuable rider?

(End Act Four.)

(Begin Act Five. FBI Interrogation room. LENNY is massaging his forehead, accompanied by his attorney, SMALLS.)

SMALLS: I'd like the record to reflect that my client has been drinking.

LENNY: That's an understatement.

SMALLS: And that he's rejecting my advice not to speak to you at this time.

BOOTH: Did you drink a lot there, Lenny? Maybe out of guilt?

LENNY: I lost a son, Agent Booth. A son. So excuse me for feelin' bad about that, all right?

BRENNAN: Do you mean your biological son, or Tripp Goddard?

LENNY: Lady, I loved Tripp Goddard like a son, but Danny--Danny was my son. There's a difference.

SMALLS: I'm confused. Is my client a person of interest in this, or an actual suspect, and in which death?

BRENNAN: Well, that depends upon whether or not the same person k*lled both Danny Fitz and Tripp Goddard.

LENNY: You can't honestly think that I k*lled either one of them!

BOOTH: Well, we found Tripp's truck.

LENNY: Where?

BOOTH: Clearing in Jackson State Park.

BRENNAN: Forensic evidence shows that Tripp was m*rder in the mechanic's bay and his body was transported in his own truck.

SMALLS: What's that got to do with my client?

BRENNAN: There's forensic evidence tying him (indicating LENNY) to the body.

SMALLS: (disdainfully) What you got, a nail clipping, a piece of dried snot, a hair?

BOOTH: No, we've got forensic evidence.

SMALLS: Lenny, when was the last time you saw Tripp?

LENNY: I told you, at the victory party.

SMALLS: You shook hands with him, sat next to him at the bar, didja make out a little?

LENNY: I hugged him.

SMALLS: Any other questions about how trace evidence from my client may have wound up on Tripp's remains?

BOOTH: Just hold him on suspicion; that's all. (BOOTH and BRENNAN rise to leave.)

LENNY: Look, I didn't k*ll Tripp!

SMALLS: I can get a court order to release him in less than an hour.

LENNY: Look, why would I k*ll someone I just signed a business deal with?

BOOTH: Wait, you---you what?

SMALLS: Mr. Fitz signed ten percent of his company over to Tripp.

BOOTH: You mean the motorcycle team.

SMALLS: No, Mr. Fitz means the beverage company.

BRENNAN: Slam Bolt Energy Drinks? (SMALLS nods.) Why offer so much?

LENNY: Because he was the best. SO I offered him a piece of the business, as an incentive to race exclusively for Slam Bolt.

SMALLS: And everybody's happy.

BOOTH: Who isn't happy?

LENNY: Every other motorcycle team.

BRENNAN: Did Tripp Goddard sign?

LENNY: I only got him the contract that night.

SMALLS: And then hugged him.

BOOTH: So you signed it, but he didn't.

SMALLS: We don't know. (pauses, during which the Heavy Piano of Plot Import kicks up again.) You haven't found the contract, have you? (BRENNAN looks up at BOOTH, who is standing.)

BOOTH: We'll be in touch. (BRENNAN stands and they both leave. LENNY buries his face in his hands.)

(Exterior sh*t. BOOTH's SUV drives by a government building with Corinthian columns.)

BOOTH: (starts out in v.o.) Sexual jealousy as a motive didn't pan out, professional jealousy was looking pretty good....

BRENNAN: Until Danny was k*lled.

BOOTH: But money, that's always good.

BRENNAN: (exhales) How much money?

BOOTH: Well, company like Slam Bolt? Millions is my guess.

BRENNAN: Tripp Goddard could've been att*cked by more than one person; the skull shows that as a possibility.

BOOTH: No changies, Bones. Prybar to the back of the skull, mirror to the face, no takebacks, one k*ller.

BRENNAN: I'm just saying that maybe Philippa and Danny didn't like it when their father signed over a chunk of their family company to Tripp Goddard.

BOOTH: Well, it's a good business decision. (off BRENNAN's look) Look, Garth wants Tripp d*ad for puttin' him in a wheelchair. Philippa wants Tripp d*ad for grabbing up a hunk of her father's company.

BRENNAN: Two K*llers again? You said no changies and no takebacks.

BOOTH: It doesn't scan. You know, ah...why would either Garth or Philippa want Danny d*ad?

BRENNAN: You're the motive guy.

BOOTH: Look, we found Garth's "knee scrapers" pen in the mud...

BRENNAN: No, that doesn't prove anything. He gave them out to everybody.

BOOTH: (scowls) It's...it's right here, Bones, it's right in front of us...but I just--can't get it.

BRENNAN: That whole business with changies and takebacks --that's not real, right?

BOOTH: No. (BRENNAN glances in a variety of directions. BOOTH looks over at her.) But I have another question.

BRENNAN: Is there anything more we can learn from the m*rder w*apon?

BOOTH: No, that's a you question. My question is, how did the m*rder know about the secret mud hole.

(BOOTH's OFFICE. TIM is sitting in front of Booth's desk, on which a Philadelphia Flyers candy jar and a Pittsburgh Steelers coffee mug are sitting.)

TIM: Look. I know I was breakin' the rules when I drove my truck on national park land. But, I mean, this girl...Didn't you see her?

BOOTH: (is lining up a putt on his mini-golf set.) I really don't care about that.

TIM: Come on, man, have a heart!

BOOTH: Look, I got it about the girl the minute I saw her, okay? We all do things..(he putts) for the girl.

TIM: So what do you need to talk to me for?

BOOTH: I need to know how you found out about that mudhole.

TIM: Oh.

BOOTH: Oh, what?

TIM: I don't wanna be a rat, you know?

BOOTH: Look, sport, I don't care about the girl, or the mud, or the four-by-four, okay? Hardly anyone knows about that place and someone dumped a body there.

TIM: (reluctantly) My friend told me about it.

BOOTH: I need a name.

TIM: He didn't do it; he's in a wheelchair.

BOOTH: Your friend's name Garth Jodrey?

TIM: How'd you know that?

BOOTH: (points to his nameplate on his desk) Special Agent Seeley Booth. (with emphasis) Special.(He claps TIM on the shoulder.)

(Jeffersonian, exterior sh*t. Day.)

ZACK: (v.o.) This is the shaft--

(Interior, Medico-Legal Lab. Platform. We are focused on the prybar.)

ZACK: (continued)--of the prybar. It's made of tempered steel with a shiny chrome covering.

BRENNAN: The m*rder w*apon we found on Tripp's truck.

ZACK: Yes. As you can see, the chrome is compromised. (perplexed) Putting chrome on a prybar is not a good example of functionality.

ANGELA: (shrugs) Maybe it was decorative.

HODGINS: (looking at the magnification on a video monitor.) Those're blood flecks.

BRENNAN: From the victim?

HODGINS: We have no way of knowing until DNA tests is done.

ZACK: The blood flecks begin approximately 25% of the way up the handle.

BRENNAN: What does that indicate?

ZACK: I have absolutely no idea.

ANGELA: Oh, come on! Choke? (off the dumbfounded looks from HODGINS, ZACK, and BRENNAN.) Didn't anybody play softball or baseball? (ZACK shakes his head no.) Okay. (She picks up a similar prybar, and demonstrates the grip by holding the bar first by its handle, then by moving her grip upwards.) It's a choke-up.

HODGINS: (catching on) For somebody not strong enough to swing the entire length of the bat, of course! It's a choke-up.

(BRENNAN continues to look lost.)

ZACK: (using the English-to-Brennan dictionary) To forshorten the fulcrum.

BRENNAN: Yes, I see, because the m*rder was weaker than the full-grown male human for whom the prybar was designed.

ANGELA: Right, like a girl. Now, when I batted, I always had to choke up.And of course, I kicked ass. (She grins.)

HODGINS: Sweet.

BRENNAN: I'll have Cam check the DNA. (BRENNAN turns and leaves, to the accompaniment of a kicky musical sting.)

(BRENNAN's office. We pan in from behind BRENNAN's tropical fish t*nk, to see BRENNAN sitting at a table. APRIL walks in.)

APRIL: Excuse me. Temperance?

BRENNAN: April, hi.

APRIL: I, uh...wanted to talk to you, woman to woman, if that's possible.

BRENNAN: It is possible, because we are both women.

APRIL: (smiles slowly, then sits down at the table. She then stands back up.) Seeing you the other night, it made me realize that you have a very objective eye.

BRENNAN: Thank you.

APRIL: And you got to see Lance and me together, and I wonder if--if you might tell me what you think.

BRENNAN: Could you be more specific in the question?

APRIL: Oh. (sits down, breaths in heavily, then exhales.) Fish. Fish choose their mates based primarily on color gradations. Two gouramis, for example, one male and one female? They'll mate if they're both vibrant blue. Now, if the male becomes paler, which can happen over the course of time, the female becomes nonreceptive to the male, even aggressive--do you see where I'm going with this?

BRENNAN: Sweets is too pale.

APRIL: Yes. But let's say young, instead of pale, and go with that.

BRENNAN: Is there an age difference?

APRIL: (scoffs) Yeah. I'm almost 27, and Lance just turned 23. (pauses) What's the age difference between you and Booth?

BRENNAN: Ah, five years, but no, we are not blue fish.

APRIL: (gets it, and nods.) But still. He's very firm once you get him out of that suit, but ...

BRENNAN: A pale blue.

APRIL: Robin's-egg, really. (on the verge of tears)...And I'm a vibrant, vibrant cobalt.(pulling it together) Not literally, I mean, we're both mostly pink, in reality.

BRENNAN: No, I understand.

APRIL: (back to verging on tears, querulously) Did we seem good together to you?

BRENNAN: April, it was--only one evening.

APRIL: (nods)

CAM: (leans in the door of BRENNAN's OFFICE) We got the DNA results from the m*rder w*apon.

BRENNAN: (to CAM) Sex?

APRIL: (tearily) Oh, it was much more than adequate, it was wonderful, really. (APRIL sniffs. Closeup on CAM's hilarious "WTF?" face, and CAM walks into the room.) I mean, he's a nighttime person and I'm most...enthusiastic in the morning, but that's not the problem. (CAM is right next to APRIL before she notices.APRIL looks up, and CAM gives her a cheshire-cat smile.) Oh.Sorry! You're--you're talking about work. (She makes a "locked-up-my-mouth-and-threw-away-the-key" gesture.)

CAM: DNA says the m*rder's female. (Stunned, BRENNAN opens the file folder.)

(FBI Interrogation Room. BOOTH and BRENNAN are questioning SMALLS and PHILIPPA.)

SMALLS:(v.o.) Excuse me, we're here about a mud bath?

BOOTH: No, we got a sworn statement here from Garth Jodrey that Philippa Fitz took him to the mud hole three years ago.

BRENNAN: To have sex.

BOOTH: The same mudhole that Tripp was dumped in.

PHILIPPA: I could give you a sworn statement that Garth took me to that mud hole.

BOOTH: Oho, I slid that one right by her.

PHILIPPA: What?

SMALLS: You just admitted that you had prior knowledge to the location of a mud hole.

BRENNAN: No changies.

BOOTH: No takebacks.

SMALLS: Answer nothing without prior confirmation from me.

BOOTH: You k*lled Tripp because your father was about to sign the company over to him.

PHILIPPA: What?

SMALLS: Don't respond in any way.

BOOTH: We have DNA evidence that shows that you swung the prybar into Tripp's head.

SMALLS: According to the forensic report, the sample was very small, and was totally used up during the course of the test.

BRENNAN: It's an accurate test.

SMALLS: But it can't be repeated. And my client has a twin brother. Juries hate DNA evidence and twins. What's that sound? I believe that's reasonable doubt startin' its engines.

BRENNAN: We have evidence that the same prybar was used to sabotage Tripp's motorcycle.

SMALLS: A common tool left in a semi-public area? In a situation that could have arisen from incompetence rather than sabotage.

BOOTH: (to PHILIPPA) You sabotaged the bike to k*ll Tripp, but he signed the contract before he could ride the bike and die the way he was supposed to.

BRENNAN: So, you k*lled him with a prybar, loaded him onto his own truck, and dumped him in the mud puddle.

BOOTH: Everything was great until your brother rode the bike that you sabotaged.

PHILIPPA: You don't ride someone else's bike; Danny knew that!

SMALLS: Philippa...

BRENNAN: You k*lled him. Accidentally, but you did k*ll him.

PHILIPPA: I loved my brother...

SMALLS: Don't speak, please. (to BRENNAN and BOOTH) Are we free to go, or would you like to waste some more of the taxpayers' money?

BRENNAN: She did it!

SMALLS: You may get a prosecutor to lay a m*rder charge, but a jury will never bring home this baby the way you want it to.

BOOTH: You're right. But, I'm still gonna make the arrest.

SMALLS: To what end? You can't win!

BOOTH: We let everybody know what Philippa did, including her father.

PHILIPPA: (sobs.)

BRENNAN: (brings BOOTH a cup of coffee in the conference area of the lab.) I'm okay with what you did there.

BOOTH: Mmm...yeah, thanks a million, Bones.

BRENNAN: Don't get mad; I'm just saying that, I just like it better when we catch 'em, and they go to jail.

BOOTH: Yeah, well, sometimes it can get messy, Bones, but the point is, it gets done.

BRENNAN: This one started out in a bit of mud and ended in a bit of mud.

BOOTH: (laughs) That's very damned poetic of you.

(A moody guitar begins to play as SWEETS enters the conference area, looking all forlorn.)

SWEETS: Oh, hey guys. I didn't know you'd be here.

BOOTH: Whaddya think, Bones?

BRENNAN: He's lying. (to SWEETS) Do you wanna sit down?

SWEETS: (shakes his head no.) Not really.

BOOTH: Lying again.

BRENNAN: (gestures with her head that he should join them.) C'mon. Sit down.

SWEETS: Okay.

BOOTH: April dump you?

BRENNAN: How did you know that?

BOOTH: He's got that "dump-ee" look on his face.

SWEETS: (sighs) I'm a trained psychologist. I mean, I saw this coming; it's not like the signs eluded me. So I prepared myself ment*lly for it, and BOOTH: Hey, Sweets...Bones and I, we're going bowling tonight.

BRENNAN: (playing along) Yes, yes, bowling. You know what, you wanna come? To go bowling with us at the bowling rink?

BOOTH: Alley.

BRENNAN: Bowling alley. The bowling alley.

SWEETS: You know, fish aren't actually sentient. There's a reason people say "cold as a fish." (BOOTH and BRENNAN nod sympathetically.) Me? I'm a dog person. I think that has meaning. Don't you?

BRENNAN: Sure...

SWEETS: (in little-boy voice) Do you think April was pretty?

BRENNAN (looks to BOOTH for what she should say; he shakes his head no.) Not at all.

SWEETS: You're lying, Dr. Brennan. I appreciate the effort; thank you.

BOOTH: (grabs the back of SWEETS's rolling chair.) Come on, Sweets, whaddya say we go bowling? (to BRENNAN as he drags SWEETS's chair out of there.) I got him, c'mon!

SWEETS: (over BOOTH) Nah, that's alright...

BOOTH: C’mon!

END
{"type": "series", "show": "Bones", "episode": "03x10 - The Man in the Mud"}