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All of the show's dialogue!

Originally from http://bonestv.pbworks.com

"Pilot" Episode 1x01
Written By: Hart Hanson
Directed by: Greg Yaitanes
Proofread by Suzanne
Transcript from http://bonestv.pbworks.com

Angela: I’m late… This board is broken. The arrivals board is not working. Uh, did anybody meet the flight from Guatemala? Aviateca airlines? What gate? Yeah, right. I’m late. Excuse me, uh, you have a computer glitch at the arrivals board.  Hello! Sir, excuse me, yoo-hoo… Great.  Yeah. Hi. The flight from Guatemala?

Temperance: Tell me you tried ‘excuse me’ first.

Angela: Sweeeeetie. Yes, I did. Welcome home. Are you exhausted? Was Guatemala awful? Was it horribly backward?

Temperance: And yet I was never reduced to flashing my boobs for information.

Angela: Flash them for any fun reasons?

Temperance: I was literally neck deep in a mass grave-not romantic.

Angela: You know, diving in a pit of cadavers is no way to handle a messy break up.

Temperance: Angela, nothing Pete and I ever did was messy.

Angela: Then you were not doing the right things.

Temperance: Sir, why are you following us?

Angela: Attack! Security! Hello!?! Who runs this airport? Kick his ass, sweetie!

Police Officer: Police! Ma'am, step back now!

Temperance: He attacked me!?!

Guy: I’m Homeland Security!

Angela: Oh, little misunderstanding here.

Temperance: You can put away your guns.

Guy: What, is she in charge now? No. I’ll tell you when you can lower your weapons. Hand over the bag.

Temperance: Is that what this is about?

Temperance: Boo. I am Doctor Temperance Brennan. I’ve been in Guatemala for two months identifying victims of genocide, including him.

Agent: Most people in this situation-- what they do is, they sweat it.

Temperance: Guatemala, genocide? How are you scary after that?

Agent: You know who doesn’t sweat it?

Agent 2: Sociopaths.

Temperance: I am not a sociopath! I’m an anthropologist at the Jeffersonian.

Agent: Who works for the FBI. Which I’d maybe believe if you had an ID that did more than allowed you access to the cafeteria. You were illegally transporting human remains, ma'am, and you assaulted a Homeland Security agent.

Temperance: Look, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your friends but, next time you should identify yourself before attacking me. What are you doing here?

Booth: FBI. Special Agent Seeley Booth, Major Crime Investigation, D.C. Bones identifies bodies for us.

Temperance: Don’t call me "Bones". And I do more than identify.

Booth: She also writes books.

Agent: Fine. She’s all yours.

Booth: Great. Let’s grab your skull and let’s vamoose.

Temperance: What! That’s it? "She’s all yours?" Why did you stop me?

Booth: Why does it matter? You’re free to go. Let’s just grab your bags, click, click, clang, clang…

Temperance: You set me up. You got a hold-for-questioning request from the FBI didn’t you?

Agent: I love this book.


Temperance: Come on. That’s the best you can do?

Booth: What?

Temperance: Getting Homeland Security to snatch me so that you can stage a fake rescue?

Booth: Well, at least I picked you up at the airport, huh? Hey, come on. I went through the appropriate channels, but your assistant there, he stonewalled me!

Temperance: Yeah, well... after the last case, I told Zach to never, ever put you through. He’s a good assistant. You can let me out anywhere along here.

Booth: Alright, listen. A decomposed corpse was found this morning at Arlington National Cemetery down…

Temperance: Arlington National Cemetery is full of decomposed corpses. It’s… a cemetery.

Booth: Yeah, but this one is your type of corpse; it wasn’t in a casket.

Temperance: If you drive one more block, I’m screaming "kidnap" out the window.

Booth: Do you know what" I’m trying to mend bridges here.

Temperance: Pull over. I’m going home.

Booth: Great! Could we… Look, could we just skip this part?

Temperance: I find you very condescending.

Booth: Me! I’m condescending? I’m not the one who’s got to mention that she’s got a Doctorate every five minutes.

Temperance: I am the one with the Doctorate.

Booth: Yeah, well, you know what? I’m the one with the badge and the gun, huh!  You know, you’re not the only forensic anthropologist in town.

Temperance: Yes, I am. The next nearest is in Montreal. Parlez-vous francais?

Booth: What’s it going to take?

Temperance: Full participation in the case.

Booth: Fine.

Temperance: Not just lab work-- everything.

Booth: What? Do you want me to spit in my hand? We’re Scully and Mulder.

Temperance: I don’t know what that means.

Booth: It’s an olive branch-- just get back in the car.


Temperance: What’s the context of the find?

Booth: Routine landscaping, dropped a load in the local pond, one of the workmen thought he saw something.

Temperance: Hi Zach.

Zach: This eco-warrior look works for you.

Temperance: Thanks.

Zach: Very action oriented.

Temperance: Agent Booth, you remember my assistant Zach Addy?

Booth: Oh yeah…

Zach: How was Guatemala? Dig up lots of massacred victims? Learn a thing or two about machete strikes?

Temperance: Zach, I need water samples and temperature readings from the pond.

Zach: Right away, Dr. Brennan.

Booth: He’s got no sense of discretion, that kid. Typical Squint…

Temperance: I don’t know what that means.

Booth: When cops get stuck, we bring in people like you. You know? Squints. You know, you squint at things.

Temperance: Oh, you mean people with very high IQ’s and basic reasoning skills.

Booth: Yeah.


Temperance: What exactly am I supposed to be squinting at?

Booth: Oh you know, it’s like pornography--you’ll know it when you see it.

[Temperance: Yeah, okay. This is a crime scene.


Temperance: Remains are wrapped in four-milled, flat poly-construction sheeting.

Zach: PVC-coated chicken wire.

Temperance: Weighted. That’s why the body didn’t surface during decomposition. The skeleton is complete, but the skull is in fragments.

Booth: What can you tell me?

Temperance: Not much. She was a young woman, probably between 18 and 22, approximately 5’3”, race unknown, delicate features.

Booth: That’s all?

Temperance: Tennis player.

Booth: How do you get a pretty tennis player out of that yuck?

Zach: Epiphyses fusion gives age, pelvic bone shape gives sex…

Temperance: Bursitis in the shoulder...somebody this young, must be an athletic injury.

Booth: When did she die?

Temperance: Ehhhh…..

Booth: Ehhhh… What does that even mean?

Zach: Means "wait until our bug and slime guy takes a look".

Temperance: No clothing.

Booth: You know, in my line of work, no clothes usually means a sex crime.

Temperance: In my line of work, it could also mean the victim favored natural fibers.

Zach: Your suit, for example, will outlast your bones by decades.

Temperance: Collect silt, 3 meters radius, to a depth of 10 cm. Your FBI forensics team can take the plastic and the chicken wire. We’ll take the rest.


Temperance: Dr. Goodman, I wish you wouldn’t just give me to the FBI.

Dr. Goodman: As a federally funded institution, the Jeffersonian must seize every opportunity to prove our worth to our friends in Congress. Which means, I loan you out as I see fit-- especially to federal agencies.

Temperance: :Loan out" implies property, Dr. Goodman, and the FBI will never respect me as property.

Dr. Goodman: I do not view you as property Dr. Brennan.  You are one of the Jeffersonian’s most valuable assets.

Zach: An asset is, by definition, property.

Dr. Goodman: What’s the rule, Mr. Addy?

Zach: [Sighing] You only converse with PhD’s. You realize I am half way through two Doctorates? Two halves make a whole, so mathematically speaking…

Dr. Goodman: Go polish a bone Mr. Addy!

Temperance: Dr. Goodman. FBI agents will never respect any of us as long as you simply dole out scientists like office temps.

Dr. Goodman: Dr. Brennan, are you playing me ?

Temperance: You know I’m no good at that.

Dr. Goodman: Mmmm. Thus far, but you have a disturbingly steep learning curve.


Hodgins: The pond is not only warm and teeming with microbes, which accelerated decomposition, but it houses black carp and koi, which fed on the body.

Angela: Can I, as the only normal person in this room, say, "Ew"?

Hodgins: I got three larval stages of trichoptera, chironimidae…

Temperance: As we cut to the chase….

Hodgins: The body was in the pond one winter and two summers.

Temperance: Spring before last.

Hodgins: You really think I’m Lesty?

Angela: The book.

Temperance: No, No, No. You’re not in the book.

Zach: Sure he is! We all are…

Temperance: No, none of you are in the book. Those are fictitious characters based on….

Hodgins: I found some small bone fragments in the silt.

Angela: We’re out of the book now.  We’re back in real life…

Hodgins: I guess rana temporaria.

Temperance: Frog bones…

Hodgins: Also, some tiny gold links-- those from a fine chain…

Zach:  Point of clarification, I’m not a virgin. Nowhere near, in fact.

Angela: Who you captured perfectly, is Booth. Buttoned-down, but buckets of sexual confidence which, uhhh, I for one, would love to tap.

Zack: It’s not right to discuss tapping asses in front of a soaker.

Temperance: I can’t bounce back and forth between my book and real life. Since we’re stuck with real life, let’s just forget the book.

Hodgins: I haven’t analyzed whatever it was the victim was holding in her hand, but it looks like cellulose.

Angela: Paper?

Hodgins: Possibly.

Temperance: I found microscopic grit embedded in the skull fragments. I need you to identify those, too. Remove the remaining tissue. I’ll debride the skull fragments myself--reassemble it so Angela can put a face on our victim.

Angela: Good. I prefer holographs, they don’t stink.

Temperance: Zach, I don’t like those terms for human remains: soaker, crispy critter…

Zach: Sorry, Dr. Brennan.


Cullen: So, you guaranteed a squint a field role in an active murder investigation.

Booth: Yes, sir.

Cullen: The one that wrote the book.

Booth: Yes sir.

Cullen: Thought you said that she wouldn’t work with you anymore?

Booth: Well, the last case we worked, she provided a description of the murder weapon and the murderer, but I didn’t give her much credence.

Cullen: Why not?

Booth: Because she did it by looking at the victim’s autopsy X-rays.

Cullen: Well, I wouldn’t give it much credence, either.

Booth: Turns out she was right on both.  Plus, the pond victim-- Brennan gives me the victim’s age, sex and favorite sport.

Cullen: [Chuckling] Which is?

Booth: Tennis.

Cullen: She’s good.

Booth: Oh, she’s amazing. If the only way I can get her back to my side is to bring her out in the field, I’m willing.

Cullen: Well, squints like to stay safe, back at the lab. What’s with Brennan?

Booth: Remember a case back in the early 90’s...a couple goes missing on the interstate, car was found at a rest stop?

Cullen: Yeah. Upstate New York, upstanding citizens, nobody found anything…

Booth: Those are Brennan’s parents.

Cullen: Fine. She’s on you. Take a squint out in the field; she’s your responsibility.

Booth: Thank you, sir.


Temperance: Peter? It’s not rational for you to choose the first day I‘m back to reclaim your television.

Peter: While you were away, I thought a lot about why we broke up.

Temperance: We fought all the time and don’t like each other anymore.

Peter: We fought because you are emotionally distant and cold, but sexually speaking, I think you’ll agree…

Temperance: You didn’t come for your TV. You timed this for a booty call! OK, you’re leaving.

Peter: Your intimacy issues are probably due to being orphaned so young.

Temperance: Ughh… I hate psychology, and you‘re just horny.

Peter: Brennan, do you really want to spend the rest of your life alone?

Temperance: Ok, I don’t know about the rest of my life, but I sure as hell wish I was alone right now!

Peter: So what, we split the cost of the TV?

Temperance: Goodbye.

[Phone rings]

Temperance: What?


Booth: This is interesting, Angela.

Temperance: Good morning. Does Booth know how this works?

Angela: This computer program, which I designed, patent pending, accepts a full array of digital input, processes it, and then projects it as a three-dimensional holographic image.

Booth: OK.

Temperance:  You get that?

Booth: Yeah, that and the patent pending part.

Angela: Brennan reassembled the skull and applied tissue markers.

Temperance: Her skull was badly damaged, but racial indicators, cheekbone dimensions, nasal arch, occipital measurements suggest African-American.

Angela: And…. we have our victim. 

Booth: [Whispering] Whoa… Have to admit, that’s pretty cool.

Temperance: Ang, rerun the program, substituting Caucasian values.

Temperance: Does she look familiar to anyone?

Booth: [Shaking his head in disbelief] No…

Temperance: Split the difference, mixed race.

Angela: Lenny Kravitz or Vanessa Williams?

Temperance: I don’t know what that means. Angela, reduce tissue depth over the cheekbones to the jaw line.  Does anyone recognize her?

Zach: Not me.

Angela: Wait, is that who I think it is?

Zach: The girl who had the affair with the senator?

Booth: Her name is Cleo Louise Eller--only daughter to Ted and Sharon Eller. Last seen approximately 9pm, April 6, 2003, leaving the Cardio Deluxe Gym on K Street.  She didn’t even make it to her car.

Temperance: Pretty good memory.

Booth: Yeah, well, it’s my job to find her.

Hodgins: Well, in that case, congratulations on your success.

Booth: This isn’t exactly the way I wanted it to end.


Booth: Cleo Eller is not just some missing girl.

Hodgins: Yeah, she’s a senate intern who was boinking Senator Allen Bethlehem.

Booth: I was secondary in the investigation to the disappearance of that girl, and we couldn’t confirm that. How did you recognize her before she even had her own face?

Temperance: I recognized the underlying architecture of her features. The rest is just window dressing.

Zach: I’m not an expert, but shouldn’t he be happier?

Booth: Oh, no, believe me-- I’m happy.

Hodgins: He’s not happy because Senator Bethlehem chairs the senate committee overseeing the FBI.

Angela: You seem happy to me.

Booth: I need this kept quiet.

Hodgins: Ha! Cover up!

Booth: Paranoid conspiracy theory.

Hodgins: Is it paranoia that Monica Lewinsky was a KGB-trained sex-agent mole?


Temperance: So what do you do first, confront the senator?

Booth: Listen, Bones, I know…

Temperance: Don’t call me Bones!

Booth: I know we talked about you coming out in the field and all…

Temperance: Ughh.. You Rat Bastard!

Booth: A case this big, and the director is going to create a special investigation. And if I line all my ducks up in a row, I could maybe, maybe I can head it up.

Temperance: I don’t know what that means, but I think I could be a duck.

Booth: You’re not a duck, okay? On this one, we stick to the book. Cops on the street; squints in the lab.

Temperance: Well, in that case, the Jeffersonian will be issuing a press release identifying the girl in the pond.

Booth: You do that, I’m a dead duck. What are you trying to do?

Temperance: Blackmail you.

Booth: Blackmail a Federal Agent?

Temperance: Yes.

Booth: I don’t like it.

Temperance: I’m fairly certain you’re not supposed to.

Booth: Fine. You’re in.


Cullen: You’re certain it’s Cleo Eller?

Temperance: The profile’s dead on. Age, race, height…

Booth: Plus the timeline fits. I mean, Cleo Eller did play tennis in college.

Cullen: Talk to me about the senator.

Booth: Cleo Eller, the victim, worked for Senator Bethlehem…

Temperance: It was reported that they were involved sexually.

Booth: We couldn’t confirm that.

Cullen: Oh, Bethlehem’s a hound. Everybody knows that.

Booth: Ken Thompson, Cleo’s boyfriend.

Cullen: Thompson’s still Bethlehem’s aid. Thompson keeps Bethlehem‘s calendar-- no way the senator has an affair that Thompson doesn‘t know about. No sexual relationship, no motive. What about the, ahh, nutcase?

Booth: Oliver Laurier.

Cullen: You like him for this?

Booth: Well, he’s a stalker.

Cullen: What’s your first move?

Booth: I’d like to inform the Ellers that we found their daughter.

Cullen: It’s better to keep this quiet.  It’s been what, two years? What’s another few days?

Booth: With all due respect, sir... I’ve come to know the family pretty well, especially the Major, and two years is a hell of a long time, in my book.

Temperance: I’ll have details of cause of death by this afternoon.

Booth: Then that’s where we’ll get started.


Brennan: Hodgins identified the particulates embedded in Cleo Eller’s skull as rolled steel, most likely from a sledge-typed hammer.  Also,  there’s concrete and diatomaceous earth.

Booth: What’s that?

Brennan: Looks like that. It’s made up of prehistoric sea creatures.  It’s used as an insecticide, filtering agent, cleaning abrasive, ceramics… It’s very common.

Booth: Diatomaceous earth. Common or not, it’s a clue.


Mr. Eller: You’re positive it’s our Cleo?

Brennan: We established 22 matching points of comparison…

Booth: Yes. We’re certain.

Mr. Eller: Did he do it? The senator. One military man to another.

Booth: Major Eller, we can’t discuss the investigation in any way.

Mrs. Eller: Can you at least tell us if our daughter suffered?

Brennan: Given the state of her skull…

Booth: Cleo never saw it coming.

Mr. Eller: Thank you.

Brennan: Mrs. Eller, can you tell us what Cleo wore around her neck?

Mrs. Eller: Her father’s Bronze Star. Ted won it in the first Gulf War;  then he gave it to her for luck.


Brennan: Those people deserved the truth.

Booth: Their daughter was murdered.  They deserve the kindness of a lie.

Brennan: There‘ll be an inquest report.

Booth: Which they won’t read because they don’t want to, especially because toward the end, Cleo and her parents weren’t even speaking.

Brennan: They told you that?

Booth: You know, getting information out of live people is a lot different than getting information out of a pile of bones.  You have to offer up something of yourself first.

Bones: What exactly did you do in the military?

Booth: See? See what you did right there, Bones? You asked a personal question without offering anything personal in return, and since I’m not a skeleton, you get zilch. Sorry.


Brennan: There are stab marks here, and odd markings on the distal phalanges. Nothing I’ve seen before.

Hodgins: In a nutshell; anxious, depressed and nauseous.

Brennan: Take a sick day.

Hodgins: Not me. Cleo Eller. Pupal casings show that she was on Lorazepam, Chloradiazepoxide, and Meclizine Hydrochloride.

Brennan: Nausea. Show me those bone fragments.


Brennan: These aren’t frog bones. Cleo Eller was pregnant.

Zach: Fetal remains….

Brennan: Malleus, incus, stapes-- these are fetal ear bones.

Hodgins: The girl was pregnant.

Brennan: Not very far along.

Zach: Do you want to try to get a DNA reading, see if we can prove paternity?

Brennan: You can try. Let's hope there’s enough genetic material to test.

Hodgins: This senator! Ahhh, he is smart. He gets an intern pregnant, and then murders her when it threatens his career, and he has the connections to get away with it.

Brennan: I hate it when you make paranoia plausible.  It’s like sliding off a cliff.

Hodgins: Special Unit? No way your FBI pal heads it up, unless the dark powers in charge are convinced he knows where his political bread is buttered. Either way, this is where this investigation ends.


Angela: Want to get a drink? Non-topical application. Glug, glug, Woo hoo! Come on Sweetie…

Brennan: What if Booth’s right? What if I’m only good with bones, and lousy with people?

Angela: People like you.

Brennan: I don’t care if men like me.

Angela: [Chuckling] Okay, interesting leap from people to men, but I’m sure it means nothing.

Brennan: I hate psychology. [Chuckling] My most meaningful relationships are with dead people!

Angela: Who said that?

Brennan: It’s true! I understand Cleo, and her bones are all I’ve ever seen. When she was seven, she broke her wrist, probably falling off a bike, and two weeks later, before the cast was even removed, she got right back on that bike and broke it all over again. And when she was being murdered, she fought back hard, even though she was so depressed, she could hardly get up in the morning. She didn‘t welcome death. Cleo wanted to live.

Angela: Honey, you ever think you come off kind of distant because you connect too much?

Brennan: I hate psychology; it’s a soft science.

Angela: I know, but people are mostly soft.

Brennan: Except for their bones.

Angela: Yeah… You want some advice?

Brennan: Glug, glug, woo hoo…

Angela: Offer up a little bit of yourself every once and awhile. Just… tell somebody something you’re not completely certain you want them to know.

Brennan: [Laughing] God! That’s the second time I’ve received that advice.

Angela: Well, you know, I give great advice.

Brennan: I’m gonna have to push this to the next level.


Thompson: I’m a little confused as to why the director of the FBI would send you to speak to the senator instead of coming himself.

Brennan: Probably because I’m the one who found out that Cleo Eller was pregnant.

Bethlehem: You can tell the girl was pregnant from her skeleton?

Brennan: We found fetal bones. The only question now, Senator, is which one of you is the father. Are you willing to submit to a DNA test?

Thompson:  You know what? Given the sensitivity, don’t say anything on the subject without your attorney present. That’s my advice.

Bethlehem: Advice I intend to take. Ken, we have a vote to get to. Ummm, heh heh, what are you doing?

Brennan: Saliva, say from chewing gum, is an excellent source of DNA. I intend to compare it to the DNA in the fetal bones.

Bethlehem: You need a warrant for that. Ken, she needs a warrant.

Brennan: If we have any further questions, we’ll be in touch.

Bethlehem: Ken, you okay?


Cullen: When you work for the FBI, Dr. Brennan, you’re a Federal Agent. Government property, I own you.

Brennan: I’m not certain that’s accurate, sir.

Cullen: Well, how’s this for accurate? I could place you under arrest on a Federal charge right now for uttering threats against a United States Senator.

Brennan: What…?

Booth: Bones…

Cullen: I own her, but she was your responsibility.

Booth: Yes, sir.

Cullen: Send in Special Agent First. I warned you about taking squints out to the field, but you vouched for her, said she wouldn’t screw up.

Booth: Yes, sir.

Cullen: She accosted a Senator, assaulted his aid... that counts as screwing things up.

Brennan: No! No! Booth didn’t know I was going to see the Senator.  I wanted to get a sample of his DNA.

Cullen: Exactly.

Booth: Not helping….

Cullen: Tomorrow morning I’m announcing the formation of a special unit to investigate the murder of Cleo Eller.  At which time, your investigation will be officially terminated. You will not head the new unit.

Booth: Congratulations, Patrick.

Agent First: No hard feelings.

Booth: Right.

Agent First: I need the complete case files in the morning.

Booth: Of course.  They’ll be ready.

Cullen: Thank you, Agent First.

Booth: At least Dr. Brennan found out that Senator Bethlehem was having sex with Cleo.

Brennan: I did?

Cullen: Report said there wasn’t enough DNA in the fetal bones to determine paternity.

Booth: Senator Bethlehem didn’t want Dr. Brennan to take that gum. He’s hiding something.

Brennan: He didn’t know there wasn’t enough DNA.

Cullen: I suggest you, ummm... go back to your lab, Dr. Brennan, and get used to being there.


Booth: Come on, Bones… You okay?

Brennan: Don’t be nice to me after I got you in trouble.

Booth: Your heart was in the right place.

Brennan: No, I’m not a heart person.  You’re a heart person.  I‘m a brain person. You vouched for me.

Booth: Forget it…

Brennan: No, I won’t. You think it was the senator?

Booth: Look, the senator has had sex with a dozen of these interns, and he hasn’t killed any of them.  Our best bet is still the stalker.

Brennan: You want to check him out, we can, I don’t, know, what do you call it, roost him?

Booth: Rouse.

Brennan: Rouse. Well, the murderer snatched a Bronze Star from Cleo’s neck, so…

Booth: I’ve got twelve hours before this case is over, and I’m off it, so...let’s go rouse.


Brennan: Mr. Laurier, we have a warrant to search your apartment….

Booth: Don’t run, Oliver.


Brennan: Agent Booth is under the impression that you may have something that is pertinent to a case he is working on.

Oliver: You’re looking for a Bronze Star? Like the one that Cleo wore?

Brennan: Exactly like that one, Mr. Laurier.

Oliver: I don’t have it.

Brennan: Sometimes stalkers retain keepsakes.

Booth: What the hell are these things, huh?

Oliver: Miniature lives of the Saints. I hand them out….

Booth: Heads up, Bones.

Oliver:  I hand them out for donations.  I’m not a panhandler. Help yourself. I never stalked Cleo.

Brennan: Then why did she get a restraining order?

Oliver: Okay, okay, no. First of all, no. Ken Thompson, her supposed boyfriend, got the restraining order with his boss, the senator, but Ken is only concerned with his job and his tropical fish. They colluded to ruin my reputation with this specious stalker label, when in actuality, I was Cleo’s close friend.

Brennan: Then why’d you run from the warrant?

Oliver: My fight or flight response is heavily weighted toward flight. If there is anything I can do to help you catch Cleo’s killer, just tell me.

Booth: Oh! Full confession-- that would be great.

Oliver: I love Cleo. Why would I hurt her?

Brennan: If you don’t mind, I’m gonna keep one of these little books.

Oliver: Whatever you need, Dr. Brennan.


Angela: This is a rough composite, but you get the idea.

Brennan: Skull trauma was not the cause of death. Cleo was stabbed first. She was stabbed 5 to 8 times with a military-issued Ka-Bar knife.

Angela: And I just completed this rendering. The defensive wounds to the bones of her hands suggest that it wasn’t until the third or the fourth penetration that--

Brennan: That’s likely the fatal stab, right there.

Angela: --that Cleo stopped fighting back.

Brennan: I believe that the distinctive damage to her distal phalanges, the tips of her finger bones, was caused by the murderer using a knife to remove her finger pads. Cranial fragmentation suggests a 20 lb. hammer striking four to five times while the victim's head rested on a cement floor containing traces of diatomaceous earth.  That’s the best explanation for the particulates found in her skull. This was not a crime of passion.

Angela: Cleo never saw the first stab coming.  It didn’t arise out of an argument. Why smash Cleo’s face? Why whittle away her finger tips, remove her clothing, and her jewelry?

Zach: Sink her body.

Brennan: The murderer put more effort into hiding the victim’s identity than he did into the murder itself.

Hodgins: In case Cleo was identified, the murderer planted evidence. The little book that Brennan got from the stalker matches the cellulose I found in Cleo’s hand.

Angela: Military cemetery, military knife implicate her own father. More misdirection.

Hodgins: Sound like any conniving, son-of-bitch senators you know?

Booth: You expect me to declare war on a United States Senator based on your little holographic crystal ball?

Brennan: It’s not magic. It’s a logical recreation of events based on evidence.

Booth: No more valid than my gut.

Zach: A good hypothesis withstands testing-- that’s what makes it a good hypothesis.

Booth: It’s not a hypothesis.  You have a dead girl and a United States senator. This is exactly why squints belong in the lab.  You guys don’t know anything about the real world.

Brennan: Come on, we’re done here.

Booth: Wow. Touchy…

Angela: You must know about her family. Both parents vanish when she’s fifteen? Probably counts as the real world.

Booth: Yeah. I know the story. Read the file. Cops never found out anything.

Angela: Yeah. Brennan figures that if maybe somebody like her had been there…

Booth: For someone who hates psychology, she sure has a lot of it.


Booth: Thought I’d find you here. You know, you being a good shot and doing martial arts-- it’s all your way of dealing. Who knows better than you how fragile life can be?

Brennan: Maybe an Army Ranger sniper who became an FBI homicide investigator?

Booth: Ah, you looked me up, huh? Do you mind?

Brennan: Be my guest.

Booth: Thank You.

Brennan: [Chuckling] Were you any good at being a sniper?

Booth: A sniper gets to know a little something about killers. Senator Bethlehem--he’s no killer.

Brennan: Oh, and Oliver Laurier is?

Booth:  The way I read Laurier, he’s unhinged. That makes him dangerous.

Brennan: That’d be your gut telling you that, correct?

Booth: You know... homicides-- they’re not solved by scientists. They’re solved by guys like me. asking a thousand questions a thousand times, catching people telling lies every time. You’re great at what you do, Bones, but you don’t solve murders. Cops do.

Brennan: Cleo Eller was killed on a cement floor sprinkled with diatomaceous earth. Traces of her blood will still be in that cement. One of us is wrong; maybe both of us. But if Bethlehem wasn’t a senator, you’d be right there in his basement looking for that killing floor. You’re afraid of him. Your hypothesis is that squints don’t solve murders and cops do? Prove it. Be a cop.


Booth: They look pretty happy, don’t they? Otherwise they wouldn’t turn on the camera, I guess.

Brennan: Zach said you wanted to see me?

Booth: That something you don’t like to talk about? Families? Temperance, partners... they... share things. Builds trust.

Brennan: Since when are we partners?

Booth: I apologize for the assumption.

Brennan: You got a warrant to search Bethlehem’s place?

Booth: You were right. If Bethlehem wasn’t a Senator, I’d be in that basement, looking for that killing floor. But you’re wrong-- I was never afraid of that guy, and I’m not doing this because you’re a genius. I’m doing this for Cleo.


Thompson: The warrant says they’re searching for blood traces, a sledgehammer and diatomaceous earth.

Bethlehem: What the hell is that?

Thompson: You’re making a big mistake.

Brennan: What are you doing here?

Oliver: Look at him-- for all his politics, he’s got nothing. He should have loved Cleo properly, like I would have. Will you sign my book?

Brennan: Stalk me, Oliver, and I will Kick. Your. Ass.


Bethlehem: I don’t recognize that. That is not mine. That is not mine!

Brennan: At least we got the hammer.

Booth: Yeah, but that’s all we got.

Brennan: The cement floor in the basement?

Booth: Yeah, no blood, diatomaceous earth. We needed a trifecta, Bones. Physical evidence, murder weapon, crime scene…


Zach: They won’t even arrest him?

Hodgins: Don’t worry, if that’s the hammer used on Cleo Eller, he’ll get arrested. A toast to getting this bastard.

Brennan: The hammer’s not enough. He’s gonna get away with it. And maybe Booth is right, maybe outside the lab I’m useless.

Hodgins: [Holding up Oliver’s book] Let’s take guidance from the lives of the Saints.

Angels: Albertus Magnus, Patron Saint of Scientists.

Zach: I thought Magnus was the Patron Saint of fish mongers?

Hodgins: Two separate entities. Albertus Magnus was a 13th century philosopher, the fish monger saint was a …

Brennan: Fish! [Everyone stares at Brennan] You said that diatomaceous earth could be used as a filtering agent.

Hodgins: Yeah, for swimming pools, water filters…

Brennan: Or tropical fish. Oliver Laurier said that Ken Thompson kept fish.

Angela: What’s your hurry?

Brennan: Thompson read the warrant-- he knows we’re looking for diatomaceous earth. Get in touch with Booth. Tell him where I’m going, okay?.

Angela: She didn’t actually say where she was going, did she?


Brennan: Stop! You can’t destroy evidence.

Thompson: This is a private residence, I don’t suppose you have a warrant?

Brennan: I’m working with the FBI.  If I have reasonable suspicion of a crime being committed, I don’t need a warrant.

Thompson: What crime?

Brennan: Destruction of evidence pertinent to a Federal investigation.

Thompson: I’m just cleaning up. Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?

Brennan: This linoleum looks fairly new. What’s underneath, cement? The same cement that was embedded in Cleo’s skull when you bashed her head in.

Thompson: You might want to get out of here.

Brennan: I can’t let you destroy evidence.

Thompson: How are you going to stop me?

Brennan: I’ll stop you.

Thompson: [Laughing] Not before I burn this place down with you in it.


Brennan: I don’t get it.  It wasn’t jealousy;it wasn’t passion. Cleo wouldn’t get rid of your boss’s baby, and so you got rid of her. What kind of psychology is that? What kind of person are you?

Oliver: Temperance. Are you alright?

Brennan: Oliver, I understand you’re here out of a misguided concern for my safety, but I apparently don’t read people very well and you could be in some kind of psychotic collusion with Ken, so I’m going to ask you to go over there and apply pressure to his wound until the police get here.  You understand?

Oliver: Okay. Okay. Did he kill Cleo?

Brennan: Yeah…

Oliver: Okay. Well, I’m down with him bleeding to death.

Brennan: Did I mention that applying pressure to a gunshot wound is extremely painful?


Angela: Is the FBI going to lay charges against Brennan?

Hodgins: She only shot him in the leg. Once.

Booth: She didn’t give him a warning. She just shot him, with alcohol on her breath.

Goodman It was her first shooting.  You can’t expect it to be perfect right out of the gate.

Zach: How much warning did you give people before you sniped them?


Brennan: [Laughing] What?

Booth: Told you it wasn’t the Senator.

Brennan: And I told you who it was, so we’re even.

Booth: Except we work on the same cases, and you end up on the New York Times Best Sellers list.

Brennan: I didn’t know that!

Booth: Number Three, with a bullet.

Brennan: That’s good right!?! The New York Times with a bullet…

Booth: It means you’re rich. Call your accountant.

Brennan: [Laughing] I don’t have an accountant.

Booth: Well, get one.

Brennan: Okay, how does that work?

Booth: Ughh, you need to get out of the lab, you know? Watch TV, turn on the radio, anything! Pick up the phone and….


Booth: You know, if it weren’t for you, those people would never have known what happened to their daughter. That’s got to be worse than the truth.

Brennan: I know exactly how the Ellers felt about Cleo. My parents disappeared when I was fifteen, and nobody knows what happened to them.

Booth: You know, being a sniper... I took a lot of lives. What I’d like to do before I’m done is try and catch at least that many murderers.

Brennan: [Laughing] Please! You don’t think there’s some kind of cosmic balance sheet… I’d like to help you with that.

Booth: [Smirking] Ehhhh….


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