Our time capsule was buried in 1987.
The year the DOW closed above 2000 for the first time.
Reagan told Gorbachev to tear down the Berlin Wall.
You had a huge crush on LaToya Jackson.
I did.
You can't complain, Stinson.
You married the head cheerleader.
Lucky I did.
And now we have a wonderful kid who's a senior, right here at Foothill.
Alex, take a bow.
Anyhow, we're here today
to open the time capsule that we buried
20 years ago, so we can see who we were
and how the heck we all got to where we are today.
Found it!
Twenty years... Do you even remember what you put in there?
No. A bad perm and pink leg warmers, probably.
Here we go!
God! That is vile!
Oh, what the hell, Bill?
I thought you said the thing was watertight?
It should've been, and it's Gil, not Bill.
Let's see what we've got here.
What is it?!
Wow! Now this is a sweet field.
This is what I'm talking about.
Right? I mean, it's nothing like ours, but, hey,
that didn't stop me from being MVP my senior year.
Got the trophy, touchdown!
In certain tribes, in the African subcontinent,
piercings serve as a reminder, like your trophy, of the power and agility,
which has since faded away.
What do you mean, fade away?
Time out. Can we just concentrate on the case?
- What do we got here? - We were all gathered for the opening.
We had no idea that that thing was in there.
That is rank.
I was just expecting to see my 10,000 Maniacs album.
That was not there.
- Who are you? - I'm Gil Bates.
I sealed it myself.
I used a propylene seal and industrial bolt lags.
Adolescent, Caucasian male,
late teens, early 20s.
What do you say we just pack it all up and ship it back to the Jeffersonian?
Oh, I'm sorry. That's not a good idea.
You see, the water has compromised the structural integrity of the case, so...
Will you look at this, Bones.
Another nerd for your squint squad.
- Drill. - Drill.
Drill? Wait a second. You're going to drill it right here?
What about taking it all back to Jeffersonian?
Tub.
A 1987 Foothill High School yearbook, of course.
How about th-the ghetto blaster?
Rubik's Cube?
How about this? CD, no needle required.
In 20 years, they'll be able to put hundreds of those on a microchip.
Victim had several ante-mortem fractures to his sternum,
as well as several antemortem fractures to the lateral sections of his ribs.
All healed?
All healed at different times.
I had a Michael Jackson glove.
- I've never mentioned that before. - I loved to Chevy Chase.
We all have our crosses to bear.
The fracture on the right clavicle is fresh.
Well, was, 20 years ago.
Mullet alert!
That's a nasty one.
Booth got a list of all the students who didn't make it to the capsule opening,
and he's pulling the names of anyone connected to the school in 1987
who had a record.
Oh, my God, I'm getting flashbacks to braces and
stirrup pants and a really, really bad side ponytail.
You certainly grew out of it.
I wore Doc Marten's that weighed more than I did.
Apparently Booth was fine.
He was a football player.
Right. He was one ofthoseguys.
Well, this guy certainly wasn't hanging out with the cheerleaders, but
I bet he had some love notes stashed away in his Spaceballs binder.
- I think I saw him in the video. - Roger Dillon.
Class of 1987.
Here he is.
The comet will be around in 76 years.
We'll still be around, don't worry.
How did Roger Dillon get from there...
to here?
Bones 3x7 The Boy In The Timecapsul
I ran a sample of the sludge.
Organic matter.
Or you could call him "Roger."
Oh, come on, when you can ladle someone,
he's a little less than a person, don't you think?
Fine. I took a sample of Roger, ran it through the mass spectrometer.
You'll never guess what I found.
Traces of an unidentified organophosphate.
- Nerve gas? - Very good.
I'll break down the rest of the chemicals now.
The victim also had a peri-mortem fracture in his wrist.
There are indications of a grade-two acromioclavicular joint separation.
- But it was certainly not lethal. - I've seen it before.
Someone twisted the victim's arm behind his back, forcefully.
So, what, he got beat up for his lunch money?
Violent students are the hallmark of a schoolyard.
I speak from experience.
However, these fractures on his ribs might predate high school.
So... he might've had some trouble at home.
I don't understand, Mr. Dillon, why you never reported your son missing.
His mother told me that Roger ran away.
You weren't concerned that your son never contacted you again?
He didn't live with me, he didn't want to.
Because of the physical abuse?
Yeah, I was a drinker in those days.
And I understood why he wanted to just write me off.
But I cared about him. I was sick.
When was the last time you saw Roger?
It was night of his high school graduation.
He came over here, afterwards, asking me for money, a lot.
You threw him out of the house with his arm twisted behind his back.
I swear, he... he got up and he walked away.
Now this was 20 years ago.
What's this all about?
Roger is dead, Mr. Dillon.
His remains were found yesterday.
Oh... God...
Found him at the high school.
He had been in a time capsule for 20 years.
Any idea why he needed the money?
Wouldn't say.
Guess it was so he could run away.
You should talk to Gil.
He was Roger's best friend.
Gil Bates?
Yeah.
That's the Tech Town guy?
They did everything together.
We'll be in touch.
I'm different now.
I'm sober.
I never...
I never wanted to hurt him. I loved Roger.
Right.
The kid basically melted into all of this.
I should be able to pull more chemical traces off the artifacts to I. D.
the organophosphate on him.
Beta... St. Elmo's Fire.
It's on the list.
One yearbook.
Foothill High School, 1987.
Check.
- Dehydrate and scan. - "Have a great summer."
"Don't ever change." Remember those days?
I remember getting grounded every weekend.
So many rules to break, so little time...
You were the nerd fantasy.
I was all about Barbie.
She was my first anatomy lesson. I was confused for years.
What about Ken? I felt so sorry for him.
Floppy disk the size of a dinner plate.
Bingo, baby.
The disk is not on the list.
Wow, what are you?
A term paper? Launch codes?
We need to pull the data. Do you think you're up to it?
I can try.
A hockey skate.
And it looks like it's signed.
Check on the skate.
It belonged to some jock named John Adamson.
A can of New Coke.
Definitely an'80's plot to destabilize the country.
Another check.
And a pocket watch.
The watch is not on the list.
It's a Wallingham, It's nice.
A computer disk and a pocket watch?
What was our little geek into?
It's dry.
This is a good watch.
Some kind of residue.
Could it help I. D. the poison?
Let me at it.
Roger's father had no trouble getting physical.
So why would he resort to poisoning his son with a nerve agent?
What sort of teenager were you, Bones?
He did have a series of odd jobs.
Perhaps he procured the poison from one of them.
Come on, you have to have at least one good story
before you pasted on a lab coat.
I was busy, studying.
And in all those hours of studying, you never came across one hormone?
Fine, there was one boy.
Andy Pfleuger.
He was the varsity lacrosse captain.
Did you...
kiss the varsity lacrosse captain?
I was weighing the pros and cons...
when he became my Secret Santa.
I thought you hated Secret Santa.
Yes, because he taped the gift to my locker.
Everyone saw it.
Teenagers can be cruel.
What was it?
It doesn't matter.
Come on, Bones.
- You promise not to laugh? - Listen, I'm your partner.
It was a Brainy Smurf.
You said you wouldn't laugh.
I'm not laughing.
Brainy Smurf, huh?
Well, it was deliberate. He knew I wanted Smurfette.
- It's clear you find this amusing. - I'm not laughing.
I'm not.
What?
You know, Angel was right... You were one of those guys.
What?
One of what guys?
That was Roger in the time capsule?
I saw his skull.
Oh, my God, I saw his skull.
He's been there since 1987.
No, Roger took off. He left a note.
A note?
Graduation night, he left his mom a note,
saying that he hated it here and he was running away.
And he went to his father's house to ask for money.
Do you know why?
All I knew was what his mom said was in the note he left, so...
His mother was dead, and his father never saw it, so...
So, you're the only connection we have to the note.
It said, uh,
you know that
he couldn't be around his dad anymore.
Or the kids at school.
They picked on him.
They used to pick on me, too.
I guess, he just couldn't take it.
Why wouldn't he have just asked for help?
He was my best friend.
I always thought that I'd see him again.
I can't believe I'll never see him again.
All right, I found several denim cotton fibers
on both the gold watch and the floppy,
matching what's left of the victim's classic acid wash'80s jeans.
That places the watch and the disk
inside the victim's pocket at the time of his murder.
I tested the residue inside the watch casing.
Pure crystalline tropane alkaloid.
Roger Dillon had a pocket watch full of cocaine?
It's so Miami Vice, I could roll up my sleeves.
The FBI sent us the files of everyone connected
to the school who had a record.
Mostly petty theft, D. U. I. s, that sort of thing.
Darwin Banks.
Teacher at Foothill High.
Arrested in a schoolwide drug bust, June 12, 1987.
That's two days after Roger disappeared.
And Roger need money.
Looks like our young geek might've been killed over a drug deal.
Do you rember Roger Dillon?
Foothill High, right?
I was his science teacher.
Smart kid.
- He could've taught the class. - Now he's dead.
We found him stuffed into Foothill's time capsule.
Been there since 1987.
God...
And it says here in the yearbook that you were the faculty advisor
to the time capsule committee.
You gotta be kidding.
I usually don't joke around when a 17 year-old boy's been murdered.
Found evidence of cocaine on him.
Roger?
No. That kid was clean.
The only way he got high was sitting in front of his computer writing code.
Right, so help me out here, because
in'87 you were arrested at the high school for dealing.
I wasn't dealing. I was just out of college.
I had two joints on me.
And four ounces in your apartment.
I was 23.
We all do crazy stuff when we're kids.
Exactly.
I have my own business now, a wife and two kids.
I'm in the Rotary Club for God's sake.
Well, we know that Roger needed money.
Maybe he started dealing for you, and he wanted a bigger payout,
threatened to turn you in if he didn't get it, so you killed him?
I didn't kill him and Roger didn't rat me out.
It was Adamson, John Adamson,
an entitled ass even at 17.
I caught him cheating and the next thing I know,
the cops are knocking on my classroom door.
He just wanted to discredit me, so he could retake the test.
Right, so you're the victim with four ounces of weed?
Can you confirm your whereabouts on June 14, 1987?
If I'm such a big drug-dealing liar,
why would I tell you the truth?
Because you don't want to go to jail for killing Roger Dillon.
Come on, Sweets, just come on, you've done a lot of psychological profiling.
The case is 20 years old, we just need some help.
That's not why we're here today, Agent Booth.
This hour is for you and Dr. Brennan.
Oh, she's not gonna mind, it's only gonna take five minutes, okay? 1987.
Suburban kid is killed and stuffed into a time capsule.
Fascinating, right?
What kind of person would do that?
So have any conflicts or issues arisen since our last session?
Well...
Bones and I are doing just great.
You look angry, Dr. Brennan.
I told Agent Booth
a private story about my childhood and he laughed.
What?
No, I...
I was appreciating it. Don't get him involved.
Snorting does not suggest appreciation.
It was about a cartoon character from the 1980s.
I didn't think you'd be so sensitive.
Well, childhood icons have great significance to us, Agent Booth?
I myself was very attached to Voltron.
Cartoon.
Voltron.
You're hurt, Dr. Brennan, because you feel you opened yourself up
to Agent Booth and he betrayed that trust.
- We're talking about a Smurf. - Smurfette.
Perhaps a way to bring this relationship back into symmetry is
if you reveal a childhood story about yourself.
Show your vulnerability to Dr. Brennan.
No, you know what? This is crazy. It's... it's not right.
Tell him that it's not right.
Is it?
Oh, you're on his side. Why don't you go play Voltron with him.
You were that guy, weren't you, Agent Booth?
You were the golden boy
who could get away with anything just by turning on the charm.
That's ridiculous. You don't even know who I am.
Could it be that you're still holding on to that persona,
that you're afraid to reveal yourself?
I'm an FBI agent. I get shot at everyday, all right?
I'm not afraid of anything.
Okay, this is obviously very difficult for you.
But you shouldn't be ashamed to ask for help.
You shouldn't.
Okay.
I apologize. I do need help.
With this case.
So, while you review this,
I will reveal myself to Bones.
I know that sounded weird, but you know what I mean.
So you will share an emotionally
humiliating episode from your youth with me?
Yeah. I-I have them. Here.
All right. Excellent.
Now, for the remainder of our time, let's role play.
Now I know why I'm not allowed to bring my gun in here.
I tested the goop,
found traces of cocaine consistent with the leakage from the gold watch.
But when I checked the results against samples of his hair and bones,
it came out negative, Roger didn't do drugs.
So his old teacher was telling the truth?
I also discovered what he was dosed with and how much.
- What? - Malaoxon.
Malaoxon?
Is neurotoxic in high doses.
Yeah, but there was barely enough to make a mouse cough.
So our theory about poisoning is incorrect as well.
Dr. Saroyan, I found an anomaly on the victim's skull.
When I was cleaning the skull, I found a tiny irregularity
on the undersurface of the victim's mandible.
Magnified, it proved to be a tiny, but sharply defined fracture.
Judging by its location, it appears that a weapon was thrust into the neck,
cutting through the sterno cleidomastoid,
and severing both the carotid artery and jugular vein.
Which means Roger must have bled out.
Have you determined a weapon?
Judging by the microscopic crushing of the bone,
the weapon was neither too sharp nor too blunt.
It certainly wasn't an edged weapon.
So it wasn't a knife?
Correct. However, it left an odd textural stain in the crevice.
I've taken a sample and will hand it over to Hodgins for testing.
This little darling is a Commodore Amiga,
with a Motorola 6800 chipset
using a homemade operating system.
I got it from the computer exhibit on the third floor.
I used to have this exact computer.
My geek princess.
I knew the mall couldn't suck out your soul.
Hey, look at that.
Oh, this is incredible!
This is like a primitive Doom.
You don't see anything wrong with that?
Doom came out in 1993.
All of this stuff... the 3-D rendering, the first person shooting...
was barely a glint in a geek's eye in 1987!
So Roger was way ahead of his time.
If this game had come out in 1987,
Roger Dillon would have been a billionaire several times over.
Money is always a good motive for murder.
I'm pretty sure that Sweets would say a lost baseball game
is not personal or revealing.
Football, Bones, okay.
It's football. Oh, okay, I got one.
All right, personally between two people or revealing, like, uh...
Naked?
That's very literal.
There was this girl, Karen Isley, and we were under the bleachers one night.
Personally.
You with me?
Got it. You were having sex in the dirt under the bleachers.
Excuse me, I'm a gentleman. I brought my sleeping bag.
- Did you fail to perform sexually? - What?
'Cause that might actually count as a humiliation.
Will you just wait? Will you just allow me to tell my story?
- Fine. - Thank you.
So this girl, she had this game where she would ask me a question...
What kind of a question?
It doesn't matter, okay? So, if I got the question wrong, I'd have to...
take off a piece of my clothing.
Of course I knew all the answers, but I pretended that I didn't.
- So you could take off your clothes? - Exactly.
No, the point is, I'm standing there, you know,
in my socks, and my St. Christopher medal...
she runs off.
She runs off with the sleeping bag and all of my clothes.
And I'm standing there stark-o.
Why'd she do that?
I suppose she heard I was under the bleachers
with another girl the week before.
Okay, this is a story about sexual prowess, Booth.
You're bragging.
I had to run across the campus buck naked.
You're laughing about it now.
You enjoyed displaying your penis. It showed alpha male mastery.
Only one other person knew about Brainy Smurf, was my mother.
Cold, okay, it was cold.
Do you know what happens to a guy when it is cold...
outside?
- Hi. - Hi.
Can we make this quick? My boss doesn't understand why I keep leaving.
And he's kind of a jerk, so.
What do you know about, uh...
"WarStrike"?
I, I haven't heard that name in a long time.
We found it on a disk in the time capsule.
It was on Roger when he was killed.
Oh, my God.
So you knew about it?
Yeah, but only as a drawing in his notebook.
I- I didn't know he'd written the code.
According to an expert at the Jeffersonian,
someone could make a lot of money off of it.
We planned to. We were gonna start a gaming business after graduation.
Roger was the brain, and I was the business guy.
Wait... you saw the game? It worked?
If you were partners, why wouldn't he tell you that?
He was perfectionist.
He would never show me anything unless he thought it was perfect.
Maybe he was trying to make a deal with someone else.
No. No way.
We were partners, okay. Best friends our whole lives.
Roger would never sell me out like that.
We were saving up to buy new computers to create a 3-D rendering farm.
Computers were expensive back then.
- Where were you gonna get the money? - We both worked.
I paved driveways and...
Roger worked a shift at a roller rink.
Yeah, I scraped grills at a burger shack for $3.55 an hour.
That's humiliating.
Nice try.
Roger, he made extra money tutoring that cheerleader, Janelle, in math.
And he got paid to take the SATs for some cokehead hockey player.
The kid got into Harvard off Roger's scores.
Cokehead?
- What's his name? - John Adamson.
He's a real nasty piece of work.
Great, thanks.
John Adamson was the star hockey player at Foothill.
He barely graduated from Harvard.
- Took five years. - He got in by cheating.
He didn't deserve to be there.
Maybe Roger was blackmailing Adamson about the SAT scam.
So Adamson killed him?
Could a hockey skate have killed the kid?
I mean, Adamson's was in the time capsule.
A metal skate blade could easily cut right through the jugular.
And the edge could create a sharply defined fracture.
Well, there you go.
He had a motive and a weapon.
The back table, waiting...
John Adamson?
FBI Agent Seely Booth.
I'd like to ask you a few questions.
Have a seat, Bones.
Senator expects me to concentrate on running his campaign, Agent Booth.
I hope this isn't going to be a waste of my time.
Take a look at that.
Do you rember Gilbert Bates or Roger Dillon from high school?
No, I'm sorry.
Neither the name Gilbert Bates nor Roger Dillon means anything to me.
This boy was found inside the time capsule dead.
You might've heard about that.
Like I said, I've been busy with the senator's campaign.
Oh, because this kid said that this guy
took the SAT for you.
Got you into Harvard.
SATs didn't get me into Harvard, Agent Booth.
My slap shot did that.
So you don't deny that Roger Dillon took the test for you?
Total cooperation.
We keep my sordid academic past in the past?
I paid Roger 200 bucks to take the test for me.
It was a done deal.
Two weeks later, he comes knocking at my door,
saying if I don't cough up another $500, he'll rat me out.
Roger tell you why he needed the money?
Just that a guy like me wouldn't understand.
I gave him all the cash I had.
Maybe 90 bucks and my watch.
The watch with the hidden compartment for cocaine?
I don't know what you're talking about.
Uh, you're a very slow reader, Dr. Sweets.
I'm afraid Agent Booth's report on Mr. Adamson
is more revealing of Agent Booth than it is of Adamson.
Really? Why?
That's for Agent Booth to share.
But I've seen John Adamson on TV enough to know
that while he's harmful to the political process, he's not homicidal.
He's too sensitive.
A horny, cocaine-snorting, jock, party boy is sensitive?
Yes, definitely.
And emotionally immature, totally dependent upon external validation.
Cheap and greedy, too. They're always cheap and greedy.
You got all this off TV?
The point is, at the age of 17,
John Adamson gave Roger Dillon money and a watch.
If he had killed Roger, he would have taken his watch back.
Very convincing. The watch part anyway.
All that insight into the intangible enigma of human behavior,
and you zone in on the banal and tangible.
I bring more banal and tangible evidence.
Wow. With you people, it's really go, go, go, isn't it?
We're catching murderers.
And that is so dope, all right?
I'm running up a profile right now to help.
I love being in the field.
Uh, you're in a secure lab.
Dude, for eight hours a day, I'm surrounded by neurotics.
Okay, to me, this is field work.
Uh, no offense, Dr. Brennan.
I'll finish the profile.
Anyhoo, we've determined that the Malaoxon in the Roger stew
was originally the common organophosphate pesticide,
malathion, before it broke down.
How common?
There was this 1980s mosquito panic, and malathion was sprayed everywhere.
Virginia Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services says
there was a quadrant bordering Foothill High School
that was sprayed at 7:45 p. m. on Thursday, June 14, 1987.
Why'd they keep such detailed records?
Spraying aerial neurotoxins in an attempt to kill creatures
that outlive atomic bombs
tends to make bureaucrats consider possible lawsuits, I guess.
It's a housing development.
Yes, but in 1987, it was mostly a swamp.
The development was under construction. There were only a few finished homes.
Could the wind have blown the insecticide onto Roger?
In this concentration,
Roger had to have been wading right through the middle of it.
- Why would he do that? - There's only one reason.
A girl.
- What are you basing that on? - I was a boy.
And I searched the 1987 real estate records.
Guess who lived in one of the only finished houses.
Janelle Brown, head cheerleader.
He was tutoring her in math.
Exactly.
Why would he wade through a swamp to get to the house?
There had to be roads.
It was quicker. She was a cheerleader.
She was hot.
He couldn't wait.
The boy thing again.
Or maybe he was peeping through her window.
Could have been a peeper.
Do boys change after high school?
Only on the outside.
Whoever thought hair like that looked good?
Hey, check this out.
This is weird, right?
It's a yearbook. It's supposed to be weird and humiliating.
Yeah, but this is the "Hall of Fame" section.
It's usually, "Best Smile"
and "Most Likely to Succeed."
This is "Most Likely to Get Head Stuck Up Own Ass"
and "Best Rack"
and "Most Likely to die of VD."
Wait. Somebody put a prank version of the yearbook
in the capsule to embarrass everyone 20 years later?
Yup. Look at this.
"Brought to you by Gruff & Grim."
So, we're looking for two kids who put
a yearbook and a body into the time capsule?
Okay, Bones, so there was this girl, okay?
Sherai Bellapenni.
Sherai, Sherai.
She was the coolest, hottest girl in high school.
I wanted to ask her to my junior prom, so what I did was, I bribed the suck-up
- who did the morning announcements. - Suck-up?
The kids who did anything to please the teachers.
So I get on the loudspeaker, and I ask her to prom.
On the loudspeaker.
This is your embarrassing story?
On the loudspeaker.
I got laughed at for weeks.
- Did she go with you to the prom? - Sure.
Okay, this is merely another story of victory and sexual conquest.
Look, Bones, they laughed at me.
Okay, laughing has got to count for something.
There's no public humiliation in that story, Booth.
You don't even know what public humiliation is.
Ms. Stinson, Special Agent Booth,
Was your name Janelle Brown in high school?
Yes.
Mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?
Of course, yeah. Come in.
Look at her.
I wish I was Janelle Brown again.
Or at least parts of me do.
- You know what I mean? - You lived at 224 Green Gates Crescent?
Yeah, just a few blocks from here.
It backed onto a swamp.
Yeah. I was scared of that swamp as a little girl.
How well did you know Roger Dillon?
Oh, I don't know. He was my math tutor.
And, well, math wasn't really my thing, so I needed a lot of help, and, well...
he kind of developed a crush on me.
He was actually kind of cute in a non-jock way, you know?
Sweet.
Oh, he loved The Cure.
For what? What did he have?
It's a band, Bones. It's... It's... It's a band.
Um, did he tutor you at your place?
My place or the library.
Usually my place. I think he liked it there.
You know, his own place wasn't very nice.
Do you rember seeing him on, June 14, 1987?
Mom?
Uh, I'm in here, honey.
It would have been the last day of school.
I'm going to Pete's. Okay.
What's going on?
Um, these people are with the FBI.
They're investigating the time capsule murder.
Nothing to worry about. Your parents were just friends of the victim.
Well, that sucks.
Yeah. Honey, why don't you go to Pete's?
If you're going to be late,
just give me a call, 'cause you have your cell phone?
I have it.
Okay.
What are you doing?
- See you later, Mom. - Okay.
You know, I-I think I actually did see Roger on the last day of school.
- Why? - Like I said, he was my tutor.
Why would he come to your house on the last day of school?
Honestly?
He brought me my graded final, but he'd have used any excuse.
I didn't encourage him, but...
High school was so long ago, and none of us is the same person.
I'm sorry Roger ended up that way,
but after he dropped off my final, I never saw him again, so...
- Thank you, Ms. Stinson. - Oh, yes.
Uh-huh, of course.
Could you please call up Terry Stinson from the Foothill yearbook?
Track team, Vice President of the Student Council,
runner up for Mr. Popularity.
Where does it say that?
It's the type, sweetie.
He's Mr. Second Best.
It's kind of like when you want Brad Pitt and
you get Matthew McConnaghey.
And pull up the photo of his son, Alex.
Alex Stinson shows three classic examples of Mendelian inheritance.
A cheek dimple on the left side, cleft chin and detached earlobes.
Distinct facial features.
Wide set eyes, asymmetrical nostrils.
Just like his dad.
It's nothing like his dad.
Oh, boy.
Could you please replace Terry Stinson with Roger Dillon?
Oh, boy.
20 years ago, Terry Stinson finds out that
that Roger Dillon has sex with his girlfriend.
And he kills him.
Of course we'll take a DNA test.
You realize in a murder investigation, we can't rule anything out.
Did you know that it was possible that Alex was not your biological son?
What?
Is it possible?
Is it?
Can I answer that after the DNA test?
I guess I just did.
So you didn't know?
Terry didn't know.
Alex was born on January 7, 1988.
I don't believe this.
That means you were pregnant in the spring already.
You just wanted me to believe that the baby was mine?
No, no.
I wanted... the baby inside me to be yours.
I don't get this.
Roger... what... but he was...
Why did you sleep with Roger?
He was sweet. He was...
I knew he was nuts about me.
I liked feeling special.
Let's face it, Terry, back then, you were that guy.
What guy?
The guy who did anything he wanted.
You didn't need me.
Roger, he came over that day. He came through the swamp.
He was filthy.
His father had just beaten him up...
Ms. Stinson, did you tell Roger that he had gotten you pregnant?
Yes.
He wanted to marry me.
He said he could get the money for us
to go away together, but I told him I didn't want to.
I was back with you by then.
Only you.
Why didn't you tell me?
When I told you I was pregnant, you were so happy.
That's when I knew that you loved me. That you weren't "that guy."
We could have a great life together and we did.
I'm sorry.
I had to borrow one of your pictures.
You stole that.
- What did you think happened to Roger? - I don't know.
He had the money. He was never happy here.
I figured that he just took off by himself.
I am so sorry.
I always wanted to tell you the truth, but I just...
I just couldn't figure out how to tell you that Alex wasn't yours.
Alex is my son.
We are a family.
Well, the murder happened at night on a high school playing field,
not a likely place to find adults.
Plus, teenagers are dominated by their ids, which make them act irrationally.
Physiologically, their judgment's impaired by an incomplete frontal lobe.
You're what, 22, right?
How's your frontal lobe?
Almost there?
Again, a hectoring tone.
All right, look, I'm sorry, just keep going.
All right, there was no sexual assault, no theft.
The watch and other effects were still on him.
Further indications that this was just a rash and youthful act.
Right, right. That's good for a kid. This is guess work, Booth.
It's a logical interpretation of subjective analysis by a
highly intelligent expert in his field, actually.
The killer knew the exact date
the time capsule would be opened when he put the victim in there.
He's been waiting 20 years
for that body to be found so he could reconcile himself with his past,
and finally pay for his crime.
- Like Terry Stinson? - No.
I think you're looking for someone who's been punishing himself for years.
Someone self-destructive, working far below his potential.
Then why doesn't he just confess?
Most likely he has in some way, Agent Booth.
The question is, were you listening?
Agent Booth is an incredibly good listener.
Yeah, I really am. It's my strength.
Then perhaps the time capsule was just a convenient place to stash a body.
You know, profiling's not an exact science.
But I hope I'm right.
I really want to tell my girlfriend I helped catch a murderer.
It'd be a good night for me.
The textural stain on the undersurface of Roger's mandible
was liquid petroleum.
- An oil product? - I know. I know.
Dead common, right?
But I did some further analysis.
I found that there were microscopic particles of granite
embedded in the petroleum.
Also, all over the broken seal to the time capsule.
Definitely not John Adamson's ice skate.
Yeah, not unless he skated on asphalt.
20 years ago what I'm seeing as petroleum was asphalt.
It was driven into Roger's bone with a flat, metal...
An asphalt shovel?
Yeah.
Gil Bates worked paving driveways.
Roger was my best friend.
Gruff and Grim, right?
Who was who?
I was Gruff. Roger was Grim.
So you went out to the field that night
to plant the yearbook in the time capsule.
Right, surprise everyone 20 years down the line.
You dug up the capsule and you broke the seal with the asphalt shovel.
Your amigo, Grim, wanted his money back?
The money that you earmarked for your business.
All those computers that were going to make you rich.
And you couldn't do that, Gruff. You just couldn't give Grim back the money.
Could you stop using those names?
Did he tell you that it was for Janelle Brown?
I bet he did.
I bet old Grim said, "I'm sorry, Gruff, but there's this girl.
- Our plans, they're dust." - I asked you to stop using the names.
You know, but then Grim said, "My dream has changed.
"You and me, Gruff and Grim, we're finished."
Stop it!
You don't know what you're talking about!
We don't know what?
Did he tell you it was because she was pregnant?
He should've told you.
You would have understood.
Understood what?
Janelle was pregnant with Roger's son.
Oh, my God.
He didn't say.
He just said that he loved her.
I told him... I told him how stupid that was.
I said that she'd never look at someone like him and...
he got all pissed and then he hit me.
And I just, I went and I picked up the shovel and I just...
I just jabbed.
It was an accident.
It was just a jab.
He held his neck.
And he went all white.
The wound severed both his jugular and his carotid.
He would have died quickly.
He did.
I... I held him and I told him I was sorry.
He knew that I didn't mean it.
I loved the guy.
He has a kid?
Yes.
I hope I get the chance to tell him about his father.
All right, there was this kid, uh, junior year.
Okay, is this going to be another story where you
think you were humiliated, but you actually were not?
Just listen to me.
This kid, junior year, Harlan Kinney.
He was one of those real weird, you know, looking kids.
He had this big Adam's apple sticking out.
And he wore his dad's clothes to school.
You know, with the whole stretchy belt around his waist.
What's wrong with that? It's practical.
You're not listening.
He was one of those real superior type,
always talking out of a thesaurus.
And one day he came up to me and a bunch of my buddies
he called us a bunch of Philistines.
You know what that means?
Yeah. A Philistine is a smug, ignorant person
who is antagonistic toward higher thought and intelligence.
Well, I didn't know what that meant till I looked it up.
I told Kinney, "Look, I'm not Philistine, I'm Catholic."
That's pretty close to humiliation.
- No, that's embarrassing. - That's not the humiliating part.
My buddy, picked Kinney up and
dangled him over the stairway.
You know, he begged and cried, and everyone laughed.
How is this about you?
I laughed.
I don't understand.
I could've stopped it.
I could've stepped in and helped the kid out.
Instead I... I didn't.
I chose my side, and it was the wrong side.
So you were humiliated because you didn't act like a hero?
Fine, fine, you know what?
I'm perfect. My life was perfect.
It's a good story, okay?
But it's a bad one.
I mean, it's both, I guess.
I mean, I get it.
Yeah?
What is that?
Nothing.
Well, you evolved.
And evolution is very impressive.
And that is definitely not nothing.
This?
Did you bring that for me?
No. Good, because it's the wrong Smurf.
I liked Smurfette, that's Brainy Smurf.
Smurfette was stupid, shallow Smurf who only had her looks.
Look, you're better than Smurfette.
You have your looks and a whole lot more.
You did bring that for me to charm me in case
I didn't find your humiliation story impressive, but I did, so...
So I did impressed you.
That's what "impressive" means, dummy.
You're such a Philistine.
I'll tell you what.
You can hold on to this, and it will remind you how far I've come.
I forgive you for snorting, Booth.
Evolution is a long, long process.
It takes hundreds of years.
Thousands.
Why do you have to always correct me?
To help you evolve.