"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." "Uh, 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." "Boo!" "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?" "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" " I would have called." "Oh, 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?" "Uh, 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?" "Some..." "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... they 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." "Oh, 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." "Does anyone have any explanation for these red stripes extending from the soft palate down the esophagus?" "Lacerations?" "Hmm." "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." "Uh, 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!" "Clucky you!" "Close down Clucksten!" "Cluck you!" "Cluck you!" "Close down...!" "Wonder what they're protesting." "Well, my first guess- the stench." "At least they're not throwing eggs at us, huh?" "Chicken killer!" "Close down Clucksten!" "Cluck you!" "Cluck you!" "Close down Clucksten!" "Hey, rest the voice, Josh." "You the, uh, 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?" "Oh, maybe half are animal rights nuts." "Ah." "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." "Uh, Mrs. Rabin, this is Agent Booth and his associate Dr. Brennan." "They're from the FBI." "This is Gaynor Rabin." "She's, uh, the accountant here at Clucksten." "She's also uh, 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" " 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!" "MAN;" "There's the employees!" "Hey, lady, you gonna go kill some chickens today?" "!" "Cluck you!" "Cluck you!" "Cluck you!" "Get out of my face and go get a job!" "Murderer!" "Murderer now?" "What do you want me to do?" "Huh?" "!" "She's psycho!" "Psycho chicken killer!" "I got kids to feed!" "Okay, Gina!" "What do you want me to do?" "!" "Okay, Gina." "Gina!" "Gina!" "I got kids to feed!" "Look, you're just... 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." "Cluck you!" "Cluck you!" "Close down Cluckster's!" "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, uh, 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." "Close down Cluckster's!" "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!" "Oh!" "MAN:" "All right, get 'em!" "They're with the the chicken lobbyists!" "Joke's on you!" "Here's your feathers!" "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?" "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." "Oh, 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'm just gonna charge you with assaulting a federal agent." "Ooh, 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, huh, pal?" "Okay, okay." "Uh, 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 ten billion chickens are hatched in the U.S. 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?" "H..." "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, oh!" "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." "Mm-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?" "Hmm?" "Oh, I've, uh, I've been considering the, uh, symbolism of this murder." "Being tossed over a dam isn't very chickeny, 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, uh, 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." "Oh, 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" "*************" "Hey." "Are you here because of your argument with Dr. Brennan?" "No, I-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." "W..." "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." "Oh, 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 thisfootage?" "Yes, I took it." "Did you give it to Josh Parsons?" "Yes, I wanted Clucksten's 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, uh... 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." "Uh, 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 ************" "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, y- oh, you mean work." "Yeah, what did you mean?" "Work- no, I'm, I'm, I'm agreeing- it's work." "Uh, can we move on?" "So we have electricity?" "Who does?" "The streaming nuclei suggests voltage." "Oh, I know." "Uh, a self-cauterizing blade." "Yeah, there's got to 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." "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." "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, 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." "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-I'll do it." "Okay, now, it appears as if the victim was turning, and/or rolling." "Someone rolled him?" "That's how it appears." "The directionality indicates that." "Um, can I- 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..." "I know which piece of equipment caused these bone bruises" "***************" "There I go." "Look at that, 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 struggle, 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." "Uh, 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 any 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?" "Oh, see, a judge decided that we had reasonable cause for 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." "Only, 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." "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." "But 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 work there eight years, just a gas allowance so my wife can stay healthy." "Would I like one of those fruity drinks?" "No." "You know, he fooled me, he- he fooled me." "I mean, I-I-I actually believed he was trying to save the victim." "He's a very good liar." "Now, Bones, I could tell when people are lying." "I mean, I-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..." "I know, 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..." "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." "Synch;" "HSMD"