Aaron, where's Joey?
Taking a leak.
Buddy system.
Come on.
Which way did he go?
I don't know. Geez.
Joey's gotta whiz, like, every ten minutes and I...
Trauma to the forehead.
Eyes full of maggots and all you see
is the boo-boo on the forehead.
Hands bound in front of him.
Definitely not execution style.
What's the... shiny stuff on the nose?
Some kind of emollient. It's around his lips, too.
You get anything out of the boy who found him?
Only thing came out of the kid was vomit.
That would explain the pervasive smell.
Why am I here? Dead guy.
Foul play. It's your main function.
With... bones.
This is... very meaty,
there's a bit of bone here. And... there.
And look at all the maggots.
Bones, I said, not "bugs".
Lividity looks fixed.
So, it's not a body dump... he was killed here.
This is all flesh.
Why'd you call me in on this?
Wasn't me.
- It was me. - Why?
Is it because you're trying to think of excuses
to put Booth and me together on cases?
I wouldn't do that, Dr. Brennan.
'Cause we worked things out and we're fine. Right?
Yeah. Hundred percent.
That's... That's not why I called you in.
Then why?
- Feet are missing. - Because his feet are missing,
which... suggests bone trauma,
which immediately suggested you.
Oh, look at that.
Blood.
Do you think that's from...
the wound on the forehead?
No. Too much.
All right, looks like the blood
trail stops here.
You want the honor?
The honor is all yours.
I got a foot...
Me, too.
Find a third one, and I'll be impressed.
I estimate time of death at or around four days.
Hodgins took a look at the maggots and agrees.
Trauma to the frontal bone would have been fatal.
Yeah, and tissue damage indicates some kind of blade.
So does bone damage.
Dr. Brennan, you aren't being competitive
between flesh and bone, are you?
It's possible.
Absence of pronounced ecchymosis
on the wrists
indicates the hands were bound post-mortem.
Consistent with the feet.
No hemorrhagic tissue. They were removed post-mortem.
- Was that competive? - No, I'm hearing a tone, but...
it could be my imagination.
Angela's going to be hypnotized.
Why?
She's going deep into her subconscious to remember her husband's name.
So we can find him, divorce him, get married ourselves,
and live happily for all eternity.
You won't live for eternity.
I thought you had a name.
A name for what?
Angela's husband.
Birimbau.
But our private investigator says it's a nickname.
You can't get much off a nickname.
Birimbau is... "little flute".
Brazilian.
What?
A "little flute"?
I'm suddenly filled with a sense of...
well-being.
The jury is out on the efficacy
and validity of recovered memories.
That's great. Speaking of names,
I... ran the vic's prints. I got a hit.
Ed Milner, from Maryland.
The shiny substance you found on the victim's nose and mouth...
it's sunscreen.
Per the manufacturer, "it protects and maintains
the natural color of coats, manes and tails."
Coats, manes and tails. Oh, my...
Formulated for horses.
Any human applications?
The manufacturer recommendsagainst use on human skin.
Guys, contents of the victim's stomach are corn,
raw oats and dried molasses.
- Horse food? - FYI.
There's such a thing as too much fiber.
All right, I can draw inferences from multiple equine implications.
What?
She's going along with the horsey theme.
Incised wounds extending into the periosteum of the maxilla,
between the molars and premolars.
What?
His teeth and jaw show evidence of a bit.
His name is "Ed."
Why is that funny?
As in, "A horse is a horse..."
Of course, of course.
The famous Mr. Ed?
Mr. Ed?!
Bones S03E03 "Death in the Saddle"
He was supposed to be in a corporate retreat in Orlando, Florida.
He's in marketing.
Are you able to identify your husband's body from that photograph?
Yes, that's Ed.
I don't understand...
who could've done that.
We found your husband's body just outside Harrisonburg, Virginia.
Virginia?
Did he... mention any recent disagreements?
- Friends, co-workers, family members? - No.
Ed was one of "those guys."
When we got married, we owned an apartment building.
If a tenant couldn't afford the rent, Ed would cut him a break.
That's how he was with everyone.
Do you have a ranch? Own a racehorse,
- a pony ride, anything like that? - No. Why?
Did Ed ever go to the racetrack? Rodeos?
I'm not sure Ed even ever saw a real horse up close and in person.
Why?
I don't have anything concrete,
right now, but when I do I'll let you know.
Hey!
Hay is for horses.
Hey, that's funny, Bones.
I found it on this Web site about horses.
- Yeah? - Where do horses stay in a hotel?
Bridle suite.
- That's correct. - So, did you find out anything useful?
The hooves of champion thoroughbreds
are buried separately from their corpses.
The hooves represent "power" and are given their own resting spot.
Our victim's feet were separated from his body.
The victim's wife said he was at a corporate retreat.
And his boss said he took time off to spend with the family.
- He lied. - Yeah, they could all be lying.
How did you know the answer to the bridle suite joke?
I have a five year old son.
Hey, have you seen Brennan?
You just missed her. Booth tracked down the victim's last credit card
purchase to a country inn in Virginia.
Why? Do you need her?
No, I was sort of hoping that she needed me.
Well, I admire your work ethic but she didn't say anything to me.
What about you? You need anything?
I am weighing human organs. Not really your thing.
Right. Okay.
Are you passing the time until you're hypnotized?
- Did Hodgins tell everybody? - Oh, he's excited, we all are.
Delving into the subconscious to find the name of the mystery husband?
Very romantic.
Yeah, well, it won't be so romantic when I divorce him.
Romantic for you and Hodgins when you can finally get married. You nervous?
No. No, I'm annoyed.
I know about this hypnotism thing.
I was a magician's assistant at a little gypsy carnival in Brazil.
Now, that's an opening line.
Mysteria was really cute and I was younger then and...
the whole being sawed in half thing was actually kind of hot.
We were talking about hypnotism.
Right. Well, this guy
could rub an alligator's stomach so I could stick my head inside its mouth,
but every time he hypnotized people,
it was always a scam.
Angela, therapeutic hypnosis is a proven technique.
Electroencephalography shows an increase
in activity in the the cerebral cortex which opens the subconscious.
Really?
Yeah, it alters the alpha and the theta waves.
Read the Stanford University study. It's not a party trick.
You read that?
And I've been hypnotized myself.
- Why? - I was in Vegas.
I got called up on stage,
and apparently, I clucked like a chicken in front of 3,000 people,
but I have absolutely no memory of it.
Was this little episode in the Stanford study?
No, it should have been.
For the next three days, every time someone said "coffee,"
I'd cluck. Awkward.
Okay, why am I not feeling better about this?
Trust me. No crazier than you drinking kava and marrying a giant in Fiji.
And Hodgins seems to be pretty cool with that, so...
if he wants you to try hypnosis I'd say get drowsy.
I guess you're right.
- I've done crazier stuff than this. - Yeah.
- What can happen, right? - There you go.
- Coffee? - Kidding.
It's been two years.
So you say you're with the FBI.
That is the third time he's shown you his I. D.
Why would I know this man?
Because we have his credit card history and you're part of it.
Sir, why are you being so difficult?
Not difficult.
Discreet.
What do you do? Run a service for cheating husbands?
Call in the SWAT team. They're anything but discreet.
O-Okay, okay, that's Mr. Ed.
A horse is a horse, of course, of course?
That's the general idea, yes.
Come with me, please.
The Ambassadora is a place where people come to indulge in pony-play fantasy,
24 hours a day, without fear of judgment.
Mr. Ed is a pony.
Is this some kind of sex thing?
How'd you get there so quickly?
The man said "fantasy." I just made the leap.
Ed took off a couple of days ago, which was odd, since he pre-paid.
Pre-paid for what?
Oh, we're... we're in the middle of what you might call our convention.
So, unless this is really important, I'd rather not disturb my guests.
Well, two miles from here, in the woods,
Mr. Ed was found dead.
What's going on here?
It's a fetish.
So the idea here is that
one of them is the horse and the other one is the rider?
- Basically. - Well, this isn't about the horses.
It's about a dominant versus submissive balance of power,
a variation on sadomasochism.
Those people are eating from troughs.
Do you think that's sexy?
Fetishism is a way of indulging in sexual activity
without actually engaging emotionally
with the other person as a fully formed human being.
Okay, sex is all about engaging.
You don't want to engage, you just stay home and... you know.
They have masturbation fetishes,
often involving women's shoes or undergarments.
Can we just talk to Mr. Ed's mistress, dominatrix, whatever.
I'm going to have to talk to a few people and ask permission to "out" them.
We have three lawyers, a half a dozen doctors...
Excuse me, we need to speak with Mr. Ed's groom?
Whoever... rode him last?
It's a great way to cut to the chase there, Bones, okay?
All right, FBI.
And, sir, could you turn your behind around so it's behind?
My name in the world is Anne Marie Ostenbach.
- Here, I'm Annie Oakley. - Naturally.
So Mr. Ed is dead?
How well did you actually know him?
Obviously, she knew him very well.
Sexual fetishes are all about role playing.
She probably never knew his real name.
We met online over a year ago.
We were a match-- I mean, compatible in every way.
You have no idea how hard it is to find the perfect pony.
Don't look at me.
Mr. Ed was easy to handle, but he wasn't mindlessly obedient.
Okay.
And yes, we had sex, if that's your next question.
When did you first meet in person so that you could, you know...
- ride him? - Six months ago.
I fell in love with him.
Meaning, what, a little light whipping?
When I say "love," I don't mean romantically.
I mean the way a young girl feels about her first pony.
Have you ever heard of anything like one pony fighting another?
No. No, pony play is not like that.
Mr. Ed's body was found only a few miles from here.
Evidence on the body suggested an equine fetish.
So you understand why we might think
that someone from your sex game community killed him?
You should talk to his wife.
- His wife? - His wife?
Yes, she showed up here and the next morning, Ed was gone.
Well, he didn't just run off and join a band of wild mustangs now, did he?
You know, I'm speaking to you willingly, without a lawyer present,
you could at least pretend to show me some respect.
Yeah, I'll try.
The night Ed took off, I was in the stables with him.
I'd worked him hard that day and was rubbing him down.
Which is when she caught us.
Did you know he was married?
I didn't want to marry the man, I just wanted to play with the pony.
How did he react when he saw his wife?
He never broke character.
- What? - He remained a pony.
I finished rubbing him down and I went to bed alone.
The next morning at breakfast, he was gone.
I assumed he went back to his wife.
Okay, I'd appreciate if you kept the fact
that Ed Milner was murdered to yourself.
What's worse?
Okay, finding out that your spouse is having an affair
or finding out that he has a secret life as a pony?
Pony fetishism has been around since the Greeks.
Had to have been the wife, right?
Aristotle extolled the joys of being ridden like a horse.
Aristotle also thought
that the purpose of the human heart was to solve math problems.
I'm surprised you know that.
Oh, it turns out I'm smarter than a fifth grader.
In Victorian England, scantily clad women
put on erotic shows dressed as ponies.
Just saying, wife sees some woman in a harness rubbing her husband down
while he's nibbling on oats? That's harsh.
In 16th century Turkey, the king kept stables of pony girls
and pony boys for his pleasure.
Okay, the king of Turkey was a freak.
Why are you being so judgmental?
When you turn someone into an objective sexual pleasure, it's wrong.
How do you know?
- It says in the Bible. - It does not.
Then it got left out by mistake.
We are all hard-wired differently.
If someone needs to shout "giddyup" to heighten arousal,
what's wrong with that?
Maybe if Ed lived like a man, he wouldn't have died like a horse.
That's all.
You knew your husband wasn't in Florida.
Yes, I lied.
Why?
I was married to Ed for nine years. We have kids.
My first concern was to make sure that
they didn't find out their father was a pervert.
So his fetish was a surprise to you?
Try a complete shock.
Why would Ed do that? We had a good sex life.
More likely, there was a part of your husband
that could never have been satisfied by love alone.
Bones, that's one of those-- we...
how did you track him down?
What?
Well, I mean, you didn't just, you know, wander into his,
his stable, or paddock, or whatever.
No, I really did think he was in Orlando on a business trip.
- I got a call. - From whom?
A man.
He said Ed was with another woman and told me where I could find them.
He didn't mention the pony stuff.
- Did you recognize his voice? - No.
Anything distinctive at all?
An accent.
Australian maybe, English.
So, you walked in on Ed and his...
- Rider. - Rider.
Is that what they call it?
What happened next?
I got the hell out of there. I drove home.
Did you hear from him again?
No, I engaged a divorce attorney right away,
who said all communications should go through her.
Did anyone see you come home that night?
Why is that important?
I think you know why that's important, Mrs. Milner.
Agent Booth, if I had killed my husband,
then I wouldn't need a divorce lawyer, would I?
No, but you would need an alibi.
So, you don't think she did it ?
- No. - You want to put that down?
Why, because of the whole lawyer/alibi thing?
No, because of the feet cut off thing.
It was ritualistic. The killer knew about horses.
Or maybe she started cutting him into little bits
to scatter across the countryside and it was too much work for her or maybe
it made her sick. Or he wouldn't fit in the trunk.
Booth, we are immersed in a culture here.
Pony play is a culture?
Anthropologically speaking. And not just because of the feet.
Ed's hands were tied together. Historically, ranchers bound
the front two legs of horses to prevent them from straying.
Not to mention all the other equine attributes associated with this case.
Yes, this is a culture and we need to investigate accordingly.
- Do you still think she did it? - No, not now.
We need to find the mystery caller.
If he had a reason to contact Ed's wife,
he had a motive to murder him.
Right, so, what, back to the Ambassadora?
- Giddyup. - Yeah...
Don't, don't say that.
There were radiating of the wound,
which suggest the tip of the blade was blunt.
I'm trying to determine the type of weapon.
Fill the negative space with microsil,
thus determining the approximate shape of the blade's tip.
Yes.
You know, this guy got his rocks off pretending to be a horse.
- Yes. - I've never tried that.
I pretended to be a horse a lot as a child,
but there was no sexual component.
What melon is in season?
Why?
Once I've I. D.'d a possible murder weapon,
we'll want to compare an exemplar to the entry wound.
Cantaloupe.
Okay, what is this, a sicko rodeo?
Stylized movements, posturing as a kind of sexual signal.
Who are these people?
In real life, they tend to be very orthodox.
You heard what Lucky said, they're lawyers, judges, FBI guys.
Oh, this is not normal.
- It's... - It's what, Booth?
You're not interested in...?
Pony play?
No, but I'm the first to admit that in sexual situations,
I have indulged in role playing.
Hey, you know what, it's getting a little warm out here.
Any leads?
We were wondering if any of the riders or ponies has an accent.
Thor.
That's good. You're doing good.
He grew up in England.
- With Annie Oakley? - Yeah, that's right.
You know, I'm going to need Thor's actual, normal, human name.
- Calvin Johnson. - Calvin Johnson.
That's great, come on. Thanks.
Come on! Higher!
We all indulge in role playing in sexual situations.
Oh, not me. Completely normal here.
Booth, anytime you look at a woman and make the judgment
that she's beautiful, you're objectifying her.
And anytime I put on lipstick and nice clothes, I'm objectifying myself.
It's more subtle than what these people are doing,
but otherwise, it's the same dynamic.
You wearing lipstick, Bones, it's not like this.
Calvin Johnson?
Calvin Johnson.
He's wearing a bit gag.
Could I help you take that off?
No, not until I say so.
Well, we either talk to him here or we all go downtown
and he misses a whole day of horsing around.
How do you release him from his pony personae? Is it a word? A motion?
Oh, just tap him on the forehead.
So what's up, then?
Hardly even knew Ed. Never even spoke to the guy.
Oh, then why'd you call his wife?
Well, I'm fairly certain you can't prove that was me.
She recorded the call. We can do voice analysis.
You know what, and if you lie, we'll charge you with obstruction of justice.
And public display of sexual paraphernalia.
Okay, then yes, I called her. So what?
Why'd you call her, Calvin?
Swap recipes.
He did it so that he could have Annie Oakley as his groom.
Oh, come on, ratting on a guy to his wife is hardly a federal crime, is it?
How'd you get his home phone number?
It was under "home" on his cell phone.
Ed Milner's an idiot.
Was an idiot.
Now he's a murder victim. So what happened there, Thor?
Ed's wife showed up, but to your chagrin, she left without him,
so you do what you had to do in order to get your groom back.
Annie's one hell of a jockey, but she's not worth killing for.
I did not kill Mr. Ed.
I may enjoy being dominated by the ladies
from time to time, that doesn't make me crazy.
Might want to look in a mirror there, my friend Flicka.
No.
I went to Stanford Law. Clerked for a federal judge.
Might want to rethink your actions there, Agent Booth?
Thank you.
- Yeah, he's got motive. - He knows about horses.
What was with all the lying?
We've got voice tapes and public display of sexual paraphernalia?
It was role playing. I was being all lard ass and good cop.
Hard ass and bad cop, Bones.
Hard ass and bad cop.
What's going on?
You first.
Cantaloupes.
Zack and I need them for an experiment.
Of course you do.
I talked to Dr. Jasper, that hypnotist.
- Yeah? - She asked me to bring in photos.
But all I could find are these.
I'm not sure those'll going to any help.
Which is why I'm looking for the wedding photo.
You were married on the beach at dawn in the middle of nowhere.
Well, when I got off the phone with Dr. Jasper, I remembered
that somebody snapped a Polaroid of me right after I said "I do."
And I stuck it in a book as a bookmark, but I, I can't find it.
You know, I really hate going through this story of marrying a guy.
I didn't even know his name.
People are looking at me like I'm nuts.
You are.
Thanks a lot.
Come on, Angie, embrace the irony.
It's what makes you you. You married him,
then you're going to marry me. None of it makes any sense.
I'm supposed to take advice
from a guy who's walking around with honeydew melons?
Cantaloupes, it's a common mistake, and hey...
you need to relax.
You want me there when you go under?
I can hold your hand or something.
I'm not "going under." I'm being hypnotized.
Okay, this is me walking away with my melons, so you can relax.
I love you. Psycho.
The weapon was blunt, an inch wide and curved.
That's unusual.
- Not if you're a horse. - I'm not a horse.
But the victim was. At least he pretended to be one.
What is that?
A hoof knife.
They're curved to conform with the natural shape of a horse's foot.
Could I have one of those honeydews?
It's a cantaloupe.
My research shows the horses was slaughtered
by a single blow to the forehead.
All right now, I'm thinking that we should place the melons at exactly
five-foot-11, which was the victim's height.
Now, we should devise a plan to pull the cantaloupe away
because he most likely saw the knife coming...
OK, fine.
You know, we used to think things through together.
Oh, I-I apologize.
It's possible that my time in Iraq transformed me into a man of action.
I'll watch out for that.
Looks like we found the right weapon.
Mr. Ed wasn't just playing like a horse, and having sex like a horse.
He was slaughtered like one, too.
The victim's hands were tied together like this with baler's twine.
Bales of hay baler's twine?
Yup. It's embedded with a UV protective filament
that prolongs the life of the twine in sunlight.
The technology is patented, and they sell directly to the consumer.
They had only 228 sales last year.
Booth can get a warrant to identify all the pony players and cross reference.
I'm on it.
Hodgins? Hodgins?!
Is somebody there?
Hodgins?
Why don't you just open your eyes?
Sweetie. It'll break the spell.
What spell? Are you still hypnotized?
No.
- It never took. - Why?
Because that doctor said that I wasn't relaxed enough.
Can you believe that?
I mean, how would she know if I'm relaxed or not?
Well, you're twisting your bracelet,
your voice is half an octave higher than usual,
- and you smell like nervous sweats. - Oh, don't say that.
Really? I'm going back there at 6:00.
She says that if my pulse rate is still above 60
that she's going to push me off till next week.
Rapid pulse rate, high blood pressure,
they're indicators of emotional distress.
What, you think I don't want to be hypnotized?
I simply made a factual observation.
You think I'm afraid of disturbing old memories?
You think that somehow I-I like this idea
of Birimbau as some sort of untouchable fantasy figure?
That somehow finding his real name will just
bring him down to earth and make this whole
mishegas banal and uninteresting?
I don't know what mishegas means.
I'm not sure I know what any of that meant.
Why do I feel like I need to apologize for something?
I'll be ready next time, okay?
You'll see.
Could you excuse me... sweetie?
Hey, shut that door behind you?
You recognize that?
Yeah.
That'd be twine.
Fairly specialized stuff?
Doesn't deteriorate in the sun.
Only the best for your pony clients.
You got it off one of my hay bales?
Got it off the corpse of Ed Milner.
Do I need a lawyer?
That's your call.
I didn't kill Ed.
We traced the owner of that twine to the Ambassadora Ranch.
Any of my guests could have taken this twine off my hay bales.
Your company used to be co-owned by your ex-wife till recently?
I paid her off in the divorce.
Your ex-wife being Anne Marie Ostenbach?
Rider named Annie Oakley?
Ed Milner's sex partner.
You can see how things are starting to line up against you here, Lucky?
We aren't married anymore.
You're going to tell me that it doesn't bother you
to see your ex-wife playing sex games with other men?
What's that?
It's a warrant.
I already told you, I've got that twine all over the ranch.
We'll be looking for a hoof knife.
I've got a hoof knife.
Great. And it was stolen.
Four days ago from my truck.
Did you report the theft?
Come on. Like the cops are going to care about a $10 knife.
Think I know who did it, though.
I'm listening.
I have a rider client named Tom Mularz.
Couple days ago, he starts passing out fliers advocating the consumption
of horse meat, but what do you expect He's a butcher.
Why did he break into your truck?
Well, I took the fliers from him,
I tossed them in the truck, and I kicked him out of the convention.
So, he took back the fliers and the hoof knife?
I don't know. All I know is, I came out the next morning,
the fliers were gone, so was the knife.
That is the same morning that Ed Milner was missing.
You just figured that out.
Oh, I found something very interesting.
The victim's feet were severed from the body with remarkable skill.
Excellent insight, Zack, but the polite response is,
"Really, Hodgins? What did you find?"
There's a sharp force disarticulation from the distal tibia
and fibula, passing cleanly above the talus.
No. I wasn't asking you. I was telling you you should ask me.
Really, Hodgins? What did you find?
The feet were severed with the hoof knife.
- I know. - Because I told you.
No, because I examined the cuts under the confocal laser-scanning microscope.
How did you find out?
Traces of steel left on the skull match traces of steel left on the feet.
- Same weapon. - Same weapon.
Do you suck all the fun at every moment of a personal triomph?
I hate the smell of a butcher shop.
Oh, maggots and rotting faces and burst guts don't bother you,
but the smell of a butcher shop does?
It's a very small step between selling dead meat and making meat dead.
I'm considering becoming a vegetarian.
Not me.
Yeah, that's why I said, "I," not, "we".
Zack said that the killer was adept at cutting through bone.
- Like a butcher. - Yeah.
"Horse Meat
Sweet, Rich, Lean and Soft."
Can I help you?
Yeah, we're looking to score some horse meat.
Unfortunately right now, there's only two slaughterhouses in the U.S.,
and they don't export to Virginia.
Oh, that's a shame. You Tom Mularz?
Why?
I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth. This here...
Go around, cut him off.
Stop, or I'll kick you in the testicles.
You are strong.
Well, you know, I try to stay in shape.
Stop, or I'll kick you in the testicles?
It worked.
I'll tell you what, you and me, we're going to work on the cop talk.
What did you hit me with?
A building.
You know what? I've been thinking about the psychology of all this.
All right, you know, I know that you hate that,
but just go with me here, okay?
Tom is a butcher.
He advocates the consumption of horse meat.
Ed Milner was horse meat.
I can see that. Symbolically.
- Who's Ed Milner? - Mr. Ed ring a bell?
- He's dead? - Yeah.
Oh, man.
He was a good pony.
Okay.
Did you ride Mr. Ed?
No. No. I'm a... I'm a rider,
but I prefer female horses. I just...
I just admired his... his style.
Why did you throw me into a wall?
Why did you run? Well, you're FBI.
Oh, I need a little bit more than that.
I'm a deserter.
They send the FBI after deserters.
A deserter from what?
The National Guard.
I signed up to save people from floods and earthquakes and stuff,
but not to kill them.
We found your fingerprints on Lucky's truck.
Well, I broke into it to get my fliers back.
- They're mine. - Your horse meat fliers?
Why can't they see that if we revere horses sexually,
then eating their flesh is an act of holy communion?
You know what? There's crazy pony players,
then there's really whacked out crazy pony players.
Yeah.
What did you do after you got your fliers back?
I drove straight to my folks in Jersey.
- When did you get there? - Before midnight.
They can vouch for me. And plus, I got credit card receipts from gas.
You deserted the National Guard.
I'm not a killer.
You're a butcher.
Well, not a people butcher.
I'm innocent.
How am I doing?
Because the pressure of having to have a low pulse
could be driving my pulse up, and I in no way want to be penalized for that.
58 beats per minute.
Very nice, Angela.
I did some deep breathing.
You're not going to make me cluck like a chicken, are you?
Sorry.
Bombs away.
Let's begin.
Angela, close your eyes.
Take a deep, cleansing breath in...
and out.
Very good.
Take in another breath.
And out.
Focus on your arms. They're very heavy.
Imagine them sinking into your chair.
Got your page. What's up?
Whan you washed the maggots from the eye sockets,
were there any remaining ocular tissue at all?
No. Little buggers ate the eyes clean through to the bone.
I have an alternate explanation.
For the eyes missing?
Check out the tiny nicks around the supraorbital process,
the lacrimal bone, the sphenoid.
You think the killer gouged out the eyeballs?
I think "gouged" is a good description,
using some kind of curved instrument.
Probably the hoof knife.
The murder, cutting off the feet, gouging out the eyes.
This was a bloody, violent killing.
Killers are often driven by fury.
No, Dr. Brennan. The feet weren't lopped off.
They were removed carefully. The eyes were gouged out.
This was done by someone who was not squeamish about flesh.
The butcher's alibi checked out.
Booth said some of those pony people were lawyers, judges and doctors.
- You think a doctor did this? - Someone who is good with a knife
and not afraid of blood. Sounds like a doctor to me.
Annie Oakley is a doctor, and she was the victim's groom,
but she wasn't the only doctor at the convention.
I found evidence of sperm in Ed Milner's urogenital track.
Why is that relevant?
Annie Oakley claims that she rubbed down her pony and then went to sleep.
You think she had one last romp with the decedent?
If she lied about that, what else is she lying about?
Very good.
We're ready now to begin the journey.
If you can hear me, Angela, nod your head.
Very good.
You're on the island of Vatulolo in Fiji,
in the village of Nakavala.
I'm pretty sure I'm on the Rialto Bridge in Venice.
No. You're on the beach in Fiji.
In front of you is a red door.
No. There's not.
I need for you not to fight me, Angela.
Do you see the door?
I see the door.
When you pull the door open,
your husband will be standing in front of you.
When you see him, you will greet him by his proper name.
I'm going to pull it open.
Pull the knob.
Angela, I'm going to count to three,
and when I reach three, you're going to open up your eyes.
You're going to feel relaxed and refreshed.
You're going to remember everything, but you're not going to be scared.
One, two, three.
Did it work?
Angela, you need to tell me your husband's name.
I opened the door...
and I saw a wasp.
A White Anglo-Saxon Protestant?
No, a big, flying, stinging insect.
Buzzing around your husband's head?
No, it... no, it was the size of a, of a human being.
It was a very large human being.
I see.
What does that mean to you?
Nothing.
- It must. - I'm sorry.
I have no idea.
Well, you're not what I would call a compliant personality.
This is my fault?
Well, perhaps another session, we'll explore this wasp.
Yeah, and next time I'll open the door to what, a giant snake?
I don't think so, Doc.
You're an eye surgeon, Dr. Ostenbach.
Ed Milner's eyes were cut out of his head.
Whoa. Don't you have to wait till I call my lawyer?
We have the right to execute the warrant.
You have the right to call your lawyer.
Lucky, Sparkles is a litigation lawyer.
Oh, a lawyer named Sparkles. Now I'm, I'm shivering.
Look... you're making a mistake.
I did not kill Ed Milner.
She actually killed her pony Mr. Ed.
Look, I loved Mr. Ed.
But he didn't love you back. I mean, not enough to leave his wife.
What happened, Annie, did he talk to you before you slapped him on the forehead
and you turned him into a human being?
You don't know anything.
Well, I'm pretty sure that he told you he was going back to his wife
and you convinced him to engage in one last session of pony play.
You took Lucky's truck out to the pasture, you had sex with him,
and you... finished him off.
Hiding in plain sight.
Thanks for making this part easy.
Th-That's a hoof knife. So what?
Your DNA will be on the handle and Ed Milner's blood on the blade.
Mr. Ed's blood.
Your pony misbehaved, so you stabbed him in the forehead.
You cut off his feet, you bound his wrists,
but his human eyes were staring back at you, so you gouged them out.
I left my husband for him.
I left Thor for him...
and he was going to leave me?
What was I supposed to do?
- Hey. - Hey.
So... I... I looked up "wasp" in dream theory.
- I love dream theory. - I know you do.
And guess what I found: A wasp signifies anger and envy.
Bees are good.
- Any chance it was a bee? - No, Jack.
A book about nuclear radiation creating a giant wasp.
I was reading it in Fiji.
I mean, between all the snorkeling and the...
- Sight... seeing. - Let's go with that.
- What's it mean? - Look inside.
That's Birimbau.
His face is turned so there's still not much to go on.
- The guy is a giant. - Flip the picture.
"Angie and Grayson."
His name was Grayson.
Grayson Barasa.
Once I say the first name, the rest of it just flows out.
- Grayson Barasa. - You did it, Angie.
You really do want to find him.
I really, really do.
To divorce him?
I want a divorce.
And then I want a wedding.
There are many health benefits to being vegetarian.
It's a rational choice in a world where food supplies...
are affected by global warming issues.
What about global taste issues?
Is that meat sweet, rich, super lean, and soft?
What? Does it taste like horse meat?
Maybe you should consider going vegetarian, too.
I didn't lose my appetite because you mentioned horse meat.
I lost my appetite because you made me think about all those people
parading around pretending to be something they aren't
just so they could have crappy sex.
How do you know it's crappy?
Gotta be, Bones. Come on, it's gotta be.
Why?
I'll tell you why.
Here we are, all of us,
basically alone, separate creatures, just circling each other,
all searching for that slightest hint of a real connection.
Some look in the wrong places, some-- they just give up hope
because, in their mind, they're thinking,
"Oh, there's nobody out there for me,"
but all of us, we keep trying over and over again.
Why? Because every once in a while...
every once in a while, two people meet
and there's that spark, and yes, Bones,
he's handsome and she's beautiful,
maybe that's all they see at first,
but making love...
making love...
that's when two people become one.
It is scientifically impossible for two objects to occupy the same space.
Yeah, but what's important is we try,
and when we do it right, we get close.
To what? Breaking the laws of physics?
Yeah, Bones... a miracle.
Those people
with their role-playing and their fetishes and their little sex games,
it's crappy sex,
well, you know, at least compared to the real thing.
You're right.
Yeah, but...
Wait a second, I just won that argument?
Yep.