All language subtitles for Bones S05E06 The Tough Man In The Tender Chicken

I had a feeling
that my Melolontha melolontha

might hatch this morning,
so I came in at the crack of dawn

and there they were, lined up at the door.

- What, your Melolontha melolontha?
- No.

The Woodchucks.

They appear to be little girls.

Yeah. Woodchucks are like Girl Scouts,

only scientific
and administered by the Jeffersonian.

They brought in the dead body.

A bunch of little girls
brought a dead body here?

Woodchucks are
very industrious marmots.

Okay, now,
this is Dr. Temperance Brennan.

Why are they applauding?

Apparently, you're their role model.

What I want to know is
why they aren't all freaked out

and getting trauma counseling.

Because they're the type of children
who idolize Dr. Brennan.

So, they were eco-camping
on the banks of the Savage River.

These remains are completely saturated.

The girls fished the body
out of the river and brought it to us.

How?

- In our Woodchuck bus.
- Very impressive.

I disagree. Those Woodchucks
disturbed a federal crime scene.

The area should have been secured,
samples taken...

Yeah. They did all that.

Water samples from the river
where the body was found.

Digital photographs of the entire area.

Plants, insects, soil samples
tagged with GPS coordinates.

Now, I know my soil samples,
and let me tell you something,

these ladies, they are pros.

Perhaps you should throw them a bone.

Not literally, metaphorically.
After all, they were very professional.

Attention, Woodchucks.

You were thorough and assiduous in your
treatment of the body and the crime scene.

But, next time, please leave the evidence
where you found it

and let the experienced professionals
do their job.

But we helped!

You're mean!

Their moods are capricious.

You couldn't have just let them
have that one, let it go by?

Then they'd never learn.

Ugh! What causes a corpse
to smell like a fart?

Uh, a number of things.

A compromised intestinal tract,

methane, some mining processes,

oil and gas refining. Volcanoes?

Volcanoes? Awesome.
Which of those was it this time?

Probably sulfur.

Tissue samples indicate
a high concentration of hydrogen sulfide.

X-rays indicate this is a middle-aged male

between 170 and 190 centimeters tall.

Skeleton is pretty banged up.

Well, bouncing around the Savage River
for two months will do that.

All the distal phalanges are missing
from the interphalangeal joints.

He's missing his fingers.
What does that tell you?

Tells me it was the mob
snipping off fingerprints.

That very well may be,
but what it tells me

is you're going out to look for fingertips,
in case the Woodchucks missed them.

The body was found by woodchucks?

Take Hodgins. He'll explain.

- Hydrogen sulfide?
- Yeah, guy's full of it.

So he smells basically like a fart?

Had to be pretty strong to cover up
the rotting corpse smell, right?

Hey, maybe somebody
drenched him in sulfur

to deal with the dead body stench.

Or somebody tried to put him
in suspended animation.

- That involves sulfides.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Are you referring to
ultra secret military experiments

to prolong life by inducing hibernation?

Uh, it's not ultra secret.

The Army is doing field trials.

I got a cousin in Iraq,
it maybe saved his life.

It's not ultra secret?

Look, man, the trouble with getting
your info from conspiracy nuts

- is they never know when to turn it off.
- Hey, you wait and see.

We're gonna find that our victim
was tortured a little too enthusiastically,

and then the government tried
to bring him back to life.

Proving my point there, Hodgins.
Totally proving my point.

Hey, should we call the military possibility
in to Booth?

Yeah. Ooh, just leave out
my torture theory.

- Oh, so, you got a face on the victim?
- Why are you here?

I would have called.

I thought Hodgins might
have something on this whole

"suspended animation" thing.

Hey, you listened to Hodgins?

- I listened to Wendell.
- Well, what is DARPA?

It's a Department of Defense agency.

The Defense Advanced Research
Projects Agency.

Hodgins says they're into
some pretty weird stuff.

Like creating super soldiers

who don't need sleep
and can kill with their laser-beam eyes.

Right, well, I don't know
about the laser-beam-eye thing,

but they did have a master sergeant
go missing about a couple of months ago.

Was the sergeant involved
with the hydrogen sulfide trials?

Well, they wouldn't confirm.
But, I'll tell you what,

they sounded nervous.

- There's no photograph in here.
- DARPA doesn't give out any photos.

You give me the reconstruction, though,
I can show them that,

and they can tell us if we got their guy.

So, what do you have?

Okay. Before you freak out,

you should know that I double
and triple-checked

the measurements and indicators.

Okay, look, I don't freak out.
Do I freak out?

Sometimes.

Can we just see the image, please?

Yeah. What's that supposed to be?

- Half man, half chicken?
- Come on.

I believe this to be fairly accurate.

Okay, so you want me
to go ask the Defense Department

if their experimental super soldier
is half man, half chicken?

DARPA created
a chicken soldier?

I do not see the United States
Military making a chicken soldier.

An eagle, maybe.

Maybe that's why we couldn't
find his so-called fingers.

'Cause they were transformed into talons.

I mean, talons would be
much better weapons.

Human remains in water tend to lose
all their fingers and toes due to predation.

But if I were going
to combine human and animal DNA

with an eye toward creating
a super soldier,

I'd go with a flatworm.

- Why?
- Self-regeneration, obviously.

People!

Let's break this down
as though we aren't in a comic book.

No water in the sinuses or lungs,
no pulmonary edema.

He didn't drown.

The sinus cavity is abnormally large.

His whole sinus cavity is scarred.
The septum's almost gone.

Evidence of multiple constrictions of
the arterioles at Kiesselbach's plexus.

Well, that is a lot of scar tissue.

What are we talking here, plastic surgery?

Well, the scarring could explain
why he has a beak-like nose.

Polyps and tumors
in the maxillary and sphenoid

could have enlarged the cavity.

The closest thing
I've ever seen to that

is a cocaine addict who ran out of drugs,

and started snorting things like
sugar and powdered detergent.

Anyone have any explanation
for these red stripes

extending from the soft palate
down the esophagus?

- Lacerations?
- Mmm.

May I?

I don't think these are lacerations.

Is that an organism?

Syngamus trachea. It's a gapeworm.

Where'd it come from?

I don't think you're gonna like my answer.

It's a parasite found in chickens.

Do not tell me we're back to
super chicken soldier again.

Why a chicken?

Wendell thinks maybe he was
supposed to be an eagle.

You should be getting it now.

You know, you make a super soldier,

you would think it would be
like a robot or something invisible.

Now you're just delving
into pure science fiction.

Like a flatworm, that's not science fiction.

Or a half chicken,
that's not considered science fiction.

Yeah. Okay, so we agree that
it does look like a chicken.

No, it is not a joke. Just tell me
if we have your missing DARPA guy.

Does your missing sergeant look
anything like an animal?

Any kind of an animal?

A bulldog.

So the Defense Department
won't be claiming the body?

Nope.

Oh...

Getting a hit off
of Angela's chicken man picture.

Probably from the animal shelter.

- Whoa. Oh, God.
- What?

Wow. Is Angela good, or is she good?

Those are the same question.

Yeah.

"Nick Rabin."

He's head of personnel at Clucksten Farms.

A chicken farm?

This is getting
weirder and weirder.

Save a chicken! Fry a worker!

Cluck you! Cluck you!
Close down Clucksten!

Cluck you! Cluck you!
Close down Clucksten!

Cluck you! Cluck you!
Close down Clucksten!

Wonder what they're protesting.

My first guess,

the stench.

At least they're not throwing eggs at us.

- Chicken killer!
- Close down Clucksten!

Cluck you! Cluck you!
Close down Clucksten!

Hey, rest the voice, Josh.

You the FBI folks?

- Yeah.
- Come on in.

We'll find a quieter place to talk.

You're working in a death camp!

Cluck you! Cluck you!
Close down Clucksten!

So, what's with the protesters?

Well, maybe half are animal rights nuts.

They might have a point.

The other half must just hate the smell.

Clucksten Farms has
been here since the 1940s.

We didn't ask anyone
to build a development downwind.

What's that smell?

Yeah.

- Hey, John.
- Mrs. Rabin,

this is Agent Booth and
his associate, Dr. Brennan.

They're from the FBI.

This is Gaynor Rabin.
She's the accountant here at Clucksten.

She's also Nick's wife.

Is this about my husband?

- He's dead, isn't he?
- I'm afraid so.

We're very sorry for your loss.

What happened to him?

We're still in the process
of figuring that out.

You don't seem too surprised.

Nick was never the type to just disappear.

I knew right away
it was something terrible.

- Where'd you find him?
- In the Savage River,

approximately 16 kilometers from here.

Nick drowned?

I don't understand.
He never swam in that river.

Your husband's nose
and sinuses were deformed.

He didn't take the proper
precautions at work, did he?

No, I told him, but he didn't care.

Sorry. Precautions to keep
from turning into a chicken?

It's the hydrogen sulfide we smell.

Without a breathing apparatus,
high concentrations

over a period of time
would deform the sinuses.

Nick worked here since he was a teenager.

He said he was a chicken farmer
and he'd take the consequences.

How did my husband end up in the river?

Well, we were hoping that maybe
you'd be able to help us with that.

When I filed the missing persons report,
I told the police everything.

He just disappeared.

We have reason to believe
this wasn't an accidental drowning.

You think my husband was murdered?

Yes.

Mr. Clucksten said that

Nick was next in line to
take over the business.

The first people that you wanna check out

are those anti-chicken fanatics at the gate.

They always threaten to make
an example out of someone.

Five months and 14 days

I have been celibate.

Angela, that is very impressive.

Thank you.

Sweets was right.
Taking sex out of that equation

made me relate to people
in a totally different way.

Yeah, once you got past
the mega-horny stage.

The point is,
is that my six months is almost up.

So...

- No.
- No, what?

I am not gonna be the one
that breaks your fast.

I wasn't asking.

In fact, you should know that
I was considering going for a year.

That's definitely a chicken parasite
we found in the victim's esophagus.

I wasn't asking, Jack.

I was just

- keeping you in the loop.
- Okay.

Okay.

Cluck you! Cluck you!

Save a chicken! Fry a worker!

Cluck you! Cluck you!
Cluck you! Cluck you!

There's the employees!

Hey, lady, you gonna go
kill some chickens today?

Cluck you! Cluck you! Cluck you!

Get out of my face! Go get a job!

- Murderer!
- Murderer, now?

- What do you want me to do?
- Did you see that? She's psycho!

Psycho chicken killer!

- What do you want me to do?
- Okay, Gina.

- Gina! Gina!
- I got kids to feed!

Look, you're just giving them
what they want.

I'm doing an honest day's work.
Damn it! That's all!

Just go, just go.

- You don't wanna be late for your shift.
- All right.

These people don't seem to like
the way you treat the chickens.

So how do you treat the chickens?

Like delicious birds that people love to eat.

Look, does anyone in particular here
have a beef with Nick Rabin?

Josh Parsons.

He snuck in,
he took some unauthorized video,

cut it together in a very damning manner
and he put it on the Internet.

Nick popped him one, too.

Veggies, not birds!

FBI Special Agent Booth.
This here is Dr. Temperance Brennan.

What, you're here to protect them
while they mistreat and torture

the chickens on this farm and the people
who live downwind of its foul emanations?

You practice that speech much, pal?

We found Nick Rabin's body.

As of now you are
our number-one suspect.

Please, I didn't kill anyone.
I'm an extreme pacifist.

That's an oxymoron.

You're either extreme or pacifist.
You can't be both.

You are working as a tool
of the poultry lobbyists.

Code Yellow! Code Yellow!

All right, get them!

They're with
the chicken lobbyists!

Yolk's on you!

Why don't you
fly back to Washington?

Okay, you do know that
you're all under arrest, right?

- What are you talking about?
- What? What'd he say?

The stench of ammonia
and feces overwhelm you,

as 30,000 silent chickens

sit miserably in total darkness,
waiting to die.

That's your voice narrating,
isn't it, Mr. Parsons?

Yes, I'm proud of my work.

Well, the FBI believes that
you snuck onto the premises

to record a second video.

You were caught by Nick Rabin
and you killed him.

That's exactly what happened.

I don't think it played out that way.

Dr. Sweets here says
you're the type of guy who couldn't kill,

except in self-defense.

- I never attacked anyone.
- Really?

'Cause you tarred and feathered me.

It was corn syrup and paper feathers.

And I didn't sneak in
and take that video footage.

I got back to my bicycle one night
and there was an envelope in the spokes.

You know what? I'm gonna need the
name of your chicken spy on the inside.

- No.
- And the original footage,

not the stuff you cut together here.

I will absolutely not turn over to you

any information
which was entrusted to me

by the courageous individual who risked
his or her job to aid innocent creatures

who are unable to defend themselves.

You know what?
You don't hand over the original footage,

I will charge you
with assaulting a federal agent.

That's, what, $200,000 fine
and one year in a federal prison?

You know, if you're locked up,
who's gonna speak for the chickens, pal?

Okay, okay. Just hold on.

That's the raw video footage.

- Exactly the way that I got it.
- See?

It all worked out great.

Cause of death, Mr. Bray?

Most of the fractures are postmortem.

And the bone bruising,
probably from going over the dam

and getting stuck in the whirlpool
at the bottom.

Like going through
a giant washing machine.

Yeah, but this damage to
the cervical vertebrae is not postmortem.

This is an undamaged cervical section.

Here is our victim.

The C2 vertebra rotated laterally

while the ligaments and facets
of the transverse processes

were subluxed and locked.

A broken neck.

The fracture pattern
suggests a wrenching motion.

You mean wrung?

Yeah.

The chicken man was killed
by having his neck wrung?

Yeah. Ironic, right?

We are gonna have to catalog these
injuries chronologically. Talk to Angela.

See if she has some kind of
imaging technique that can help.

Nearly 10 billion chickens
are hatched in the US annually.

- Most in places like this.
- It's like a warehouse.

Yeah, each chicken is given less
than a half a square foot of space.

And look at this part, the little
baby chicks get their beaks cut off.

- Why?
- Supposedly to keep them from fighting.

How do they fight
when they're penned up?

Well, it's the stress
of being jammed together.

I guess they go crazy.

Are you upset?

Yeah, I am.

Aren't you?

I'm not certain how sentient
chickens actually are, Angela.

Yeah, but they can feel.

I mean, you can see that they can.

And you know what else?
If it turns out that there was

some kind of chicken revolution
and they offed this guy, I am with them.

But it's our job to figure out
who killed the human being.

Yeah, I guess.

Because it probably
wasn't a chicken revolution.

It was probably another human being.

Fine.

I was able to extract the metadata that
was embedded in the original video file.

Time and date that the video was taken

and aperture, make and model
of the camera, including the serial number.

Could you trace the serial number?

Yeah, the owner sent in
the manufacturer's warranty,

which included the serial number.

Gaynor Rabin.

The victim's wife.

Thank you, Angela.

And I'm sorry the chickens
make you feel bad.

Hey.

What about pigs?

Pigs are sentient.

- That's a non-sequitur.
- Pigs make bacon.

And not only are they sentient,
they're smarter than dogs.

Well, I don't eat bacon. I'm a vegetarian.

Yeah, for health reasons. Listen, Brennan.

I want to save this little piglet.

- That particular, specific piglet?
- Yes.

It's gonna be $1,500. Are you in?

No.

Yeah, but look at his face.
How can you resist this face?

Saving one pig or chicken
is symbolic at best, Angela.

This is not a symbol.

This is a face.

It worries me that you can look
into these eyes and be so cold.

I'm sure he's a fine piglet, but...

How are we friends?

How is it possible?
I mean, we have nothing in common.

What, you don't wanna be friends
anymore because the pig is cute?

What if the victim
used his wife's camera

to strike back at the company
that disfigured him?

Maybe he was having an affair.

Or maybe she was just sick
of kissing a guy with a beak.

Hey! "Today's special, Chicken."

- Ironic.
- Right, yeah.

Everything okay there, Bones?

I know when something is wrong with you.

Something's wrong, all right?
What can I do to help?

Angela and I had a fight.

Nothing I can do to help.

- You want to hear about it?
- No.

- Why not?
- Why? Because

her and Angela are best friends.

And Bones is going to
want me to take her side

and agree that Angela was wrong.

And then, you know,
the two of them are gonna make up

and then they're gonna be mad at me.
So, no, thank you.

- That's very interesting.
- Mmm-hmm.

You know, the way you say
"very interesting" is very irritating.

Listen, Bones, I would do anything for you.

I'd die for you, I would kill for you,

but I am not getting
in between two best friends.

Okay. What were you saying, Sweets?

Mmm? Oh, I've been considering

the symbolism of this murder.

Being tossed over a dam
isn't very chicken-y, you know?

You'd think that the victim would show up

in a rotisserie
or a deep fryer or something.

I remember a month ago,
a chicken restaurant chain

reported human phalanges
in some deep fried treats.

- Kid bit into a thumb.
- Right, the mom hit a toe.

It was Bock Box Chicken Hut.

- Maybe the toe is our victim's.
- Totally poetic justice.

If you can get the body parts from
those chicken treats to the Jeffersonian,

- we'll see if they match our victims.
- Okay.

All right.

I'm going back to the lab.

Send the fingers over when you get them.

Whoa, whoa, listen, Bones,
everything is gonna be okay

between you and Angela, all right?

You two are like sisters.

I'm just not used to
not getting along with people.

Seriously? 'Cause it seems like...

Thanks, Booth.

Just bring in the human parts tomorrow,
and I'll...

- I'll take a look.
- Okay.

If you combine your
"don't get between women" rule

and your "like sisters" observation,
you know what I come up with?

You dated sisters.

They were identical twins.

Yeah, it was all wrong.

Oh! No, it's all right. It's all right.

We should stop. Order your wings.

These have been frozen,
flash-fried, microwaved,

bitten, spat out,
then preserved as evidence.

Bone density would indicate that
all four digits came from the same person.

They all came from the same local
chain of chicken restaurants.

- Bock Box.
- I beg your pardon?

Bock Box Chicken Huts.
Is Clucksten a supplier?

They're one of them.

No way of telling where these
particular human nuggets came from.

There's a lack of bruising
on the bone at the incision point.

Removed postmortem,
so not torture, obviously.

There are symmetrical slice marks.

Also, pinching in the center
of the bone and tissue.

Removed with shears?

You should do a DNA test, of course,
but I'm confident

that all four body parts
came from Nick Rabin.

Hey.

Are you here because of your
argument with Dr. Brennan?

No, I'm here for a donation.
She told you about our fight?

Booth figured it out.
I was just sitting there.

A donation for what?

It's going to cost $1,500
to save this piglet.

How much are you in for?

Are those tears in your eyes?

I'm just...
I can't stop thinking about this little piglet.

Okay, I'm going to suggest
that perhaps it's time

for you to abandon celibacy a little early.

What does that have to do with anything?

Well, you're forming
inappropriately strong attachments

to photographs of baby animals.

Your libido is being rerouted.

- You need to come back to the world.
- Wait a minute.

Inappropriate, my ass.

Can I ask you,
what is wrong with everyone here?

Uh, well, you had a falling out
with your best friend over a pig.

Your perspective is skewed.

It's time to reconnect with humanity,
gain a little perspective.

Okay. All right,

so if I have sex,
will you donate to save my pig?

That's not really the point I was trying to...

We'll revisit the pig question.

You can keep this. I have multiples.

You think I killed my husband,
cut off his thumbs,

and then dumped him over
the Savage River Dam?

Thumbs and toes, yes.

Do you recognize this?

It's the video those PECT
people put on the Internet.

Right, it was taken with your camera.

You're making that up.
You can't possibly know that.

No, we can prove that.
Let's start this all over again.

Okay, did you take this footage?

- Yes, I took it.
- Did you give it to Josh Parsons?

Yes, I wanted Clucksten shut down.

Why? I mean, your husband is next in line
to take over the whole business.

Because I was tired of getting
threatening phone calls.

I was tired of being hated in my own town.

But most of all, Agent Booth,

I wanted my husband
to get his real face back,

so I gave the footage to the activists.

How is it possible that your
husband's thumbs ended up on the menu?

Easy. Toss them in with the nuggets

just before they're breaded,
fried, and frozen for shipment.

Are you suggesting that the killer
was working in Clucksten Farms?

You realize Clucksten's
is doomed after this?

- Yeah.
- So you got exactly what you wanted.

No, Agent Booth, I did not.

What I wanted was my husband back.

I understand.

Is there anyone else who benefits
from Clucksten Farms going under?

Probably the anti-smell people,
the people who live downwind.

I need a name, that's all.

The main clean air nut is Roy Meyers.

He's a baker with a shop about
two miles downwind of Clucksten's.

Hey, I got some more data
on the bone bruising.

Hey, so I need $1,500.

I need about $40,000
to repay student loans.

What do you need your money for?

I need to save this pig.

What, from being made into bacon?

Yeah.

I love bacon.

I love ribs.

I love steak. I love meat. I'm a meat-eater.

I'm not apologetic about it.

Look at his face.

Look, Angela, I'm sorry.

Here's $20...

$25...

$45. Take it all.

We'll save your pig.

- Roy Meyers?
- Yes?

FBI, Agent Booth.
This here is Dr. Temperance Brennan.

We understand that
you're trying to get the state

to shut down Clucksten Farms?

Sure, because nobody will come in
and make them regulate the stench.

- They were here first.
- Well, yeah,

back when it was a free-range
chicken ranch.

It's a different beast now. Factory farm.

Heartless, reasonable people call it.

You'll excuse me. I took this up
as a way of getting some fresh air,

as ironic as that sounds.

Considering your malodorous habit,

would you say that
your dispute with Clucksten Farms

is more financially motivated
than health-related?

Sure. You know how a baker
sells his wares?

Yeah, people smell the bread
from the outside,

they go in, and they spend the dough.

Thanks to Clucksten Farms,

to smell my cinnamon buns,

people got to jam their noses
right in the damn thing.

Clucksten Farms is trying
to put you out of business.

Can I take a look at that?

Yeah, me and anybody who relies on
a sense of smell, sense of taste.

Will your thumb fit in this hole?

Wait, don't be sticking that on my thumb.
It's like a mini-guillotine.

Yeah, look,
you want to be careful with that.

It's sharp as razors.
That'll nip your thumb off in a jiffy.

What, some kind of federal crime
to own a cigar clipper?

The human eye
can only perceive color

between wavelengths
of 400 and 750 nanometers.

This full-spectrum light source simulates
both the visible and UV spectrum.

Angela is brilliant.

So we run the image
through the spectroscope

and now we can detect color differences
that are not visible to the human eye.

I was able to confirm
these as postmortem bruises

likely caused by rocks and debris
from the victim traveling downriver.

Right, then we assigned
all postmortem bruising

with one distinct color
and perimortem with another.

Now, injuries sustained
before death will appear red

and after death, black.

Saves me hours and hours of work.

This is what happens when two people
from different disciplines find each other

and work together closely.

Can you highlight
the perimortem bruising?

Evenly spaced circular impact bruises
to the right temporal and sphenoid region,

continuing here along
the frontal and parietal bones.

All of them

have identical directionality.

What the hell would leave marks like that?

Some kind of machine.

And why do they stop there?

Something stopped the weapon from
striking down to the skull in this area.

The microscopic metal deposits
on the clipped thumb bone

don't match the baker's cigar cutter,

but fortunately,

I'm extremely thorough and tenacious.

There's evidence of streaming nuclei
in the bone cells.

- That was my job to find.
- It's okay, kid.

Around here we step in
for each other as needed.

What?

Hmm?

Oh, you mean work.

Yeah, what did you mean?

Work. No, I'm agreeing, it's work.

- Can we move on?
- So we have electricity?

- Who does?
- The streaming nuclei suggests voltage.

Oh, I know.

- A self-cauterizing blade.
- Yeah, there's gotta be something like that

in a place that kills thousands of chickens
every day.

Here we go.
Ah, this might narrow things down.

He had beak and feather disease virus.

He had beak and feather disease
in his thumb?

I'm going to go out on a limb here

and guess that maybe
what we're looking for is

a self-cauterizing instrument
that cuts beaks and feathers.

Wait a minute. The video.

Pluckers beat the feathers
off dead chickens

and beak clippers clip the beaks
off of baby chicks.

- That's you, right, Ms. McNamara?
- Yeah.

Your occupation is beak-clipper?

Baby chicks are jammed
so close together,

they get stressed, attack each other.
It's my job to cut the tips off their beaks.

- Really isn't a good job to have.
- No.

I got demoted from plucker.

Bet you didn't know there was
something worse than plucker.

When you were demoted,

was that before or after you charged
Nick Rabin with sexual harassment?

After.

Go figure. Nick was a groper.
Never heard the guy coming.

It got old real fast.

How much training does it take
to run the beak-clipping machine?

None. Just got to be the kind of person

willing to cut the beaks
off of newborn chicks. Why?

Because your machine was used
to remove Nick's thumbs and big toes.

Hey, if I was gonna cut something off
of Nick Rabin, it would not be his thumb.

Okay, what people usually do right now
is they insist that they didn't kill anyone.

Well, maybe I fantasized
about it so many times,

it's like I actually did it.

Do you know anything
about Nick Rabin's death

- or the mutilation of his body?
- No.

But still, if you could arrange it,

I wouldn't mind
getting away from Clucksten's

and spending a few days in jail.

Yes.

I'll kick in for the pig.

- Thank you.
- But for you.

Not for Mr. Piglet.

What is that supposed to mean?

Government funds secret programs,
you know. Hundreds of them.

They can't get the money from taxes,

because with taxes comes
congressional oversight.

You think they get it by tricking
fuzzy-minded bleeding hearts

into saving baby pigs?

Never said anything about fuzzy heads or
bleeding hearts,

but you're going for it, aren't you?

You know who's fuzzy? You.

- But I'll take your money.
- Great.

It's probably not even a real pig.

It's probably computer-generated.

I don't need a professional
consultation, Sweets.

Well, this is not that.

It's just a friendly conversation.

- Angela will come around.
- I'm certain that she will.

Yeah, eventually Angela will see
the rational nature of my argument.

- She will come around.
- I already said that.

Hey, crazy thought,

what if, this time,
you were the one who came around?

Saving one pig is an irrational act.

Are you suggesting that I point
that out to Angela more clearly?

Because that would
make this conversation

very much like a professional consultation.

No, I'm suggesting, in a very friendly,
conversational way,

that you help her save that one pig.

But we agreed that
that's a meaningless act.

Meaningless by your definition,
not by Angela's.

My definition is correct.

Yes, and if life were simply a debate,

you would win, hands down.

But we know that it isn't a debate.

It's something much tougher.

You know, our very work shows us

that those people that call the world
an abattoir, a slaughterhouse,

they have a point.

Now, you handle that knowledge
by imposing this

gossamer web of rationality

over the ugliness.

Angela has a very different way
of handling it.

Sometimes you don't save the world,
Dr. Brennan.

Sometimes you just make
your friend happy.

But even when it's irrational?

He is very, very cute.

I mean, it's almost like he's smiling.

Wendell and I have been testing
chicken factory implements

in order to find something
that would leave

the symmetrical marks on the victim.

- Searching for the murder weapon.
- Did you find it yet?

Uh, no, but we have the parameters.

Mr. Bray, please assume the position.

The skull was struck repeatedly.

We need someone to actually
spin Wendell on the stool.

Yeah, I don't twirl the interns.

Perhaps Angela would do it.

I'll do it.

Okay, now, it appears
as if the victim was turning,

and/ or rolling.

- Wait, someone rolled him?
- That's how it appears.

The directionality indicates that.

Um, can I stop turning
while you guys discuss this?

Not yet, dude.
Now, what we haven't determined

is what he was rolled on
that would've done this.

What if...
What if the victim wasn't spinning?

What if the weapon was spinning?

Oh, thank you, God.

Okay, the bruises
had common directionality.

It's likely the victim
was face-down at an angle.

If the implement striking
the victim's head was spinning...

I know which piece of equipment
caused these bone bruises

and wrung the victim's neck
at the same time.

Here we go.

Not bad, huh?

Hey, Bones, look at this, huh?

We served a warrant
for your chicken-plucker.

Oh, we've got blood.

Is that from the chickens?

No, the chickens are drained
by the time they get here.

There'd barely be any blood left.

Whoa. Okay, what's that?

Well, if my theory is correct,

it'll turn out to be a fragment
of the victim's necktie.

I'm going to need your tie
to test the theory.

You mean the one that
I'm wearing right now?

- This tie?
- Uh-huh. Yeah.

I'm not certain the tie will be ruined.

The Jeffersonian will reimburse you if it is.

- Just a tie.
- The murderer and the victim struggled.

The victim's tie enters
the chicken-plucker.

That amount of force would definitely
have wrung the victim's neck.

- Uh-oh.
- What? My reasoning is flawless.

Yeah. Shut that off, will you?

Your theory suggests
that it was an accident.

- No, I disagree.
- They fight.

The tie gets caught inadvertently.

No, this pattern has a missing component.
Here.

It suggests that something
blocked the strike.

Obviously, the murderer's hand.

Like this. See?

We should see if an employee

of Clucksten Farms was treated
for a broken hand.

These fractures to your second
and third metacarpals in your left hand,

- they were caused by being struck.
- That had to smart.

How do you have my x-rays?

See, a judge decided that we had
reasonable cause to pull a warrant.

So why is it that the head of security
reaches into a moving chicken-plucker?

Eight years, I worked at that hellhole.
You know why?

Your wife?

We were going to have kids.

And she got sick
because she worked at Clucksten's.

Did you have evidence of that?

That's exactly what Nick asked.
But we moved to the next county

and she got better.

That's evidence enough, if you ask me.

All I wanted from Nick
was a gas allowance.

And he said no?

We shoved each other a bit, I guess.

His tie got stuck in the chicken-plucker.

And I reached in. I tried to save him,

and that's how my hand got broke.

You didn't intend to kill him.

No. God, no.

Right, right. No, no, I understand.

Booth,

I know you trust your gut,
but it's wrong this time.

The directionality of these fractures shows

that your hand was on Nick Rabin's face
as it went into the machine.

You pushed him. You killed him.

I drive 68 miles to work every day.

And all I wanted was a gas allowance.

I worked there eight years.
Just a gas allowance

so my wife can stay healthy.

Up with the evening sun

The river rolls on by

The neighbors they tell secrets

The neighbors they tell lies

And somewhere the plane went down

Would I like one of those fruity drinks?

No.

You know, he fooled me. He fooled me.

I mean, I actually believed
he was trying to save the victim.

He's a very good liar.

But, Bones,
I can tell when people are lying.

I mean, I could tell before my whole
recto-cerebral infracture.

- What?
- That's not a real medical condition.

Are you sure?
Because that's what I'm feeling right now.

If it were real, it'd be pretty disgusting.

- Recto-cerebral...
- No, I'm losing it.

Look, I just... I'm not up to speed here.

I woke up this morning
and I realized that I didn't even know

if I like brown sugar on my oatmeal.

Well, next time, call me.
You like brown sugar on everything.

I'm the one who is supposed to know
when people are lying.

Who do I call up for that?

- Sweets.
- Sweets.

You said he's like
a human lie-detector test.

I don't like things at half-speed, okay?
I'm a full-speed kind of a guy.

Well, even at half-speed,
you're twice as fast as anyone else.

You want to see the fastest draw
in the west?

- Sure.
- You want to see it again?

Sweets thinks that I should humor Angela.

Sweets is a bright kid.

But I want to know what you think.

As a full-grown man of experience.

I need to know what you think.

I think you should let her have this one.

What are you doing?

No, wait. Now?
No, I didn't mean this second.

Excuse me. Okay.

Hi. I want to help you.
Just give you this check for...

Thank you.

It's everything.

Hey, you got it. That's great.

Angela's very happy.

I can see that.

You said that in a funny way.

You noticed something.

See?

You still got it.

You're not going to ask me what I saw?

- Do I want to know?
- No.

Do you want to know, anyway?

Nope. It can wait.

I trust you.

ENGLISH - US - SDH