All language subtitles for Bones S02E13 The Girl In The Gator

- Florida today?
- Is that work?

Yeah. Hot, fun Miami, Florida,
or sticky, you know, swampy Florida?

- You're welcome.
- What's going on?

What flight?

Hold on. I can't hear you.
Enough with the song already.

- I'm doing business here. Deal with it.
- Hold on for a second. My pen's out of ink.

- Here.
- Hold on. I can't hear anything!

- The kids love the music.
- I don't see any kids.

- The music attracts them.
- Did you say the Everglades?

I can't hear anything
because of this insane music.

You shot my clown!

- All right. Flight number?
- Hey, he shot my clown.

OK. Thanks.

- Hey, we're all set.
- That was not good.

- You said you'd be on the next flight.
- I haven't met the shrink yet.

- Shrink?
- The department psychiatrist

has to sign a paper saying that I'm not nuts
before I get my gun back, so

- I got an appointment tomorrow.
- Great. I have to break in this Agent Sullivan?

Sully's a great guy. For your information,
you never broke me in.

I think that's him.

OK, I'll talk to you later.

- Dr Brennan?
- Agent Sullivan?

Uh-huh. Name's Eugene.

- OK, Eugene.
- No, not me. I'm Sully, short for Sullivan.

- Then who's Eugene?
- Right there.

Eugene's been king of this swamp
as long as I can remember.

- Broke my heart to shoot him.
- Is there an actual human victim?

- Inside Eugene.
- He ate somebody?

Damn spring breakers think it's a kick to
come here and drink beer with the big fella.

I chased off a bunch of 'em.

There was Eugene in the middle of
the swamp, gulping down somebody's arm.

- One of the kids you chased off?
- No. Gators don't eat fresh kills.

They drown their prey, then stuff it under
water to tenderise for weeks before they eat it.

Drag the swamp for any additional remains.
I'll check Fort Lauderdale missing persons.

- You start cutting.
- No.

Isn't that what you do?

Any potential remains are far too sensitive
to be retrieved here.

- OK. Well, where do you suggest?
- My lab at the Jeffersonian.

The whole gator?

- I'll handle transport.
- You're gonna need a big crate.

And a lot of ice.

Okey-doke. If you're doing this, then
there's a boat for sale I'd like to check out.

- A boat? Booth helps.
- Because Booth can't relax.

There's something metal in here. Oh.

Uh-huh.

Don't you have a boat to buy?

I knew it was a gator.
Brennan told me it was, and yet... wow.

Definitely confirms one thing -
we have the coolest jobs ever.

- Look at all these teeth.
- Step away, please.

- There are 80 in total. Note the conical shape.
- Step away, please?

Just because you have a doctorate doesn't
mean I won't use you as a swizzle stick.

- Animal foot, possibly a rabbit.
- Not so lucky for either of them.

- Frog.
- Yummy.

Do I hear music?

Hey, I liked that song.

What do you think, Zack?

- Definitely a human foot.
- Lovely.

- Dr Wyatt.
- Ah, Agent Booth, is it?

- Yes. Gordon Wyatt.
- You the shrink?

Shrink? Yes. Meaning psychiatrist?

How's about you sign my paper here,
and I'll get back to work.

Certainly. No, I have a pen. Do you mind
if I ask what it was that you did?

- Yeah. I shot a truck.
- Ah, full of terrorists, no doubt,

- or plutonium or fleeing felons.
- It was an ice-cream truck.

- You have a good reason for firing on it?
- The music - it was bothering me.

- Ah.
- There was a speaker in the clown's mouth.

I just pulled out my gun,
and boom, boom, boom, it was gone.

The FBI sent you to me
because you shot a clown?

Not a real clown.

You cogitate on the underlying reasons
you shot that clown while I make us some tea.

Cogitate?

Tea?

The depth of these bite marks -
very impressive.

One torn pair of jeans.
One red linen blouse. Size 2.

And one platform wedge.
Made it all the way to the lower intestine.

Florida FBI beamed over names
of recent missing persons.

We'll need dental records.

- Sully.
- Cam. Look at you.

- In charge of Moon Base Alpha here.
- And you're still a G-man.

What about that restaurant
you were gonna open? Or was it a zoo?

I'm keeping myself open
for the perfect opportunity.

- I tried out a boat in Florida.
- He made it back to shore.

Victim is female in her late teens,
eliminating three of your missing persons.

- So, cause of death?
- For the gator?

We have these.45-calibre slugs.
As for the girl, so far, we got the gator.

Okey-doke.

Well, um, I am gonna grab a slice,
so gimme a call when you got an ID.

Her name's Judy Dowd.

Shouldn't you look at the x-rays first?

Says right here she had surgery
to repair a cleft palate at age two.

The bone graft is here.
She was a freshman at Virginia State.

Reported missing three weeks ago.

An alligator? Oh, my God.

When did you last
see your daughter, Mr Dowd?

The day she left with her friend
for spring break.

Her friend, uh, Abigail Sims?

Abby.

Good kid.

I never should have let her go.

- We found this among the remains.
- This was her mother's.

Lanie died when Judes was 11.

It's just been the two of us ever since.

Did you get any calls from her
while she was there?

Every day.

Any sign she was in trouble?

No.

She... she sounded happy.

So happy.

You are really English.

I don't know. I think I've assimilated well.

Typical American house,
down to the white picket fence.

A truck that's the - what is it -
the heartbeat of America.

But tea - tea is sacrosanct,
thank you very much.

I'm a coffee drinker. Listen, pal...

To understand your culture better, I've tried
to embrace this very American practice

- of preparing meat in the garden.
- Barbecue.

It's a delightful word, "barbecue".

I think it's from the Caribbean barabicu,
which means a sort of sacred fire pit.

Did you know the Latin for "hearth"
is "focus"? Isn't that revealing?

It's quite literally the focal point
of every household.

The hearth, the heart.
Hm? Interesting.

I told the ice-cream guy I was sorry.
I even bought him a new clown head.

Just sign the paper.

Must apologise, but I've got to get
some ingredients for my mortar.

- Why don't we reschedule?
- We can't reshedule, all right?

- I gotta get back to work.
- Oh.

In that case, why not finish off preparing
this area here? Could you do that?

All the specifications are on the plans.
You are fit for physical labour, aren't you?

The clown didn't return fire, did it?

- What if I said the plastic clown did fire back?
- Brilliant.

While I'm gone, I want you to consider
what you were really aiming at

when you drew a bead
on that unfortunate clown.

Buddy, when I aim at something, I hit it.

Precisely. I shan't be long.
It's all on the plans here.

I'll be back be before long, Agent.
See you. Help yourself to more tea.

Like I told the police, me and Judy
were doing the usual spring-break stuff.

The whole night was a blur until I woke up
the next morning at the hotel

- and Judy wasn't there.
- She hadn't come back with you?

- I can't remember.
- Why didn't you report it till later that night?

- I thought maybe she'd hooked up.
- Hooked up? Hooked up?

With anyone in particular?

We met so many guys. You know how it is.

I'm guessing that she doesn't.

- Do you have any pictures from that night?
- No. The police took most of them.

Most of them?

There's a couple on my personal web page.
I didn't want them showing poor Mr Dowd.

Judy wouldn't want him
seeing her like that.

Like... what?

Here's a spectrophotometric evaluation
on Judy. Any results on her tox screen?

No drugs. Her blood alcohol
was sky high, .11, and...

- Oh, dear.
- What?

SPM reveals hidden haematomas
in decomp tissue.

See this shaded area here?
It indicates bruising to her vaginal wall.

Meaning Judy was raped.

At least, subjected to some
extremely unpleasant college sex.

With one of these fine lads?

Without DNA,
it's a needle in a haystack.

Wait. Our victim was an HSB?

- Excuse me?
- Hottystudentbody. com

It's this website that gets drunk college girls
to take their clothes off.

I clicked on a pop-up,
got caught in a pornado.

What?

Oh, splendid. It was your father
who taught you to read plans, was it?

Wrong tree. Dad and I were tight.

Only it's just that earlier, you said
you weren't used to drinking tea with men,

which suggests to me you're usually pretty
rigid in your assignment of gender roles.

What? No. My partner's a woman, OK?
A woman who needs my help.

But are you currently involved with anyone?

Just broke up with someone, OK?
Me. And I ended it.

How long had you been involved
with her... or him?

Her. Let's get that straight, OK? Her.

- Couple months this time.
- This time?

We'd gone... we'd gone out before
a few years ago, and, uh, you know...

we... I broke it up when my ex
wanted to give it another go.

- Complicated.
- Ah!

That's it. I shot the clown because
I can't let go of the women in my life.

Ah, thanks, Doc.
Now I can go back to work,

and you can sign the paper.

Excellent theory, but quite wrong.

And we're out of time.

- Tomorrow all right for you?
- That's right.

- We found a stab wound.
- Let's see it.

It's more of a puncture, really, hidden here
among the bite marks below her scapula.

- Angela doesn't like me being her superior.
- Because you're acting superior.

- Which is what a superior is.
- Don't be a horse's ass.

She's your friend. That's what matters.

These ridge marks inside the wound
look like the threads of a screw.

- We're trying to ID the weapon.
- At the very least,

it proves that
Judy didn't stumble into the swamp.

- That was my conclusion as well.
- OK.

And the hits keep coming.
Seems Judy Dowd was raped and murdered.

No more rough college sex?

Now that we know it's a murder,
I'm feeling a lot less charitable.

- What is this?
- Have a look.

It was shot in Fort Lauderdale
the same night Judy disappeared.

- Who is that?
- His name's Monte Gold.

- Internet kingpin and aspiring Hugh Hefner.
- Monte has made millions off of this site.

He also paid out a million in fines last year
for filming underage girls.

I wonder if he knows
you can't pay a fine if you murder someone.

- Monte Gold.
- Uh-oh. Grown-ups with badges. Lloyd.

We've got shooting permits
and signed waivers.

- You know her?
- She's on your website.

And a thousand more like her. Ask
a Chinese guy to remember a grain of rice.

- She's not a grain of rice, sport.
- She's dead.

Eddie, off. Cameras off.
Go away, babies. Shoo. Let's go.

- What do you mean, "dead"?
- Name's Judy Dowd.

We found her in Florida, raped, murdered
and fed to an alligator.

She's posted on my website?
Lloyd, do you know about this?

- How would I know?
- Get her off now.

- Now. Go.
- All right.

An alligator?

We never would've posted her if we knew.
Monte is insanely careful.

- Not always, from what I hear.
- But he learns from his mistakes.

Now every ID triple-checked for 18
before any girl signs the waiver.

- You let her on my bus?
- I didn't wanna be rude.

Your boyfriend has no warrant.

Anthropologically speaking,
you follow a very ancient tradition.

OK. Entrepreneur...

- Pimp.
- Class is over. Off the bus.

Here you go. Follow his path, learn his word.
You two, follow his path, learn his word.

Uh-oh. There it is. Another misguided waif
tumbles from the devil's sinmobile.

- Excuse me?
- Uh, she's with me.

Why are you winking?
I'm not with... He's with me.

This is Isaac. Isaac's with the Church of
the High Calling way down in Elgin, Kansas.

Yeah. Let me tell you something.

There is no distance too great
to dissuade these lost young women

from the grips of Monte Gold's
carnal temptation.

Looks like
you planned on saving a lot of souls.

Women like this?

Oh. Uh-oh. Who is she?
What did Monte do to her?

- Give it a rest, Isaac.
- Monte. I'm Alan. I sent you my r�sum�.

- Not now, man.
- Hey, I'm a great webmaster.

Another sinner about to throw himself
into Satan's hellfire.

- Shut up, freak.
- Hey. You come back, I call the cops.

Get him out of here.
You'll never work for me, pal.

God even fed you today, Isaac?
OK, let's get you a sandwich.

- Make the preacher some food, will you?
- Yeah.

Wing nuts come with the territory. Quit
playing games. What is it you wanna know?

- Fort Lauderdale.
- Lauderdale's Lauderdale.

Partied that night, gave some girls
their 15 minutes of fame,

- headed to Daytona for the next day's gig.
- Any girls ride with you?

Much as I hate to disappoint you,
I'm not entertaining like I used to.

Ah. Getting too old
to exploit little drunk girls?

- Seen the videos? They exploit themselves.
- Ready to roll when you are, Monte.

They all wanna be a Hotty Body.
Walk into a place, the shirts fly off,

making what used to be a rush
kinda, I don't know, mundane.

Because you objectify them.
You never see what makes them human.

Man, you have to spend all day with her?

Yeah, an actual woman.
You ought to try it sometime.

Video's off the site.
There's a copy of the girl's waiver.

- You know, I think I remember this girl.
- You do?

You remember.
We were leaving the Lauderdale gig,

and you made a joke about the bouncer
swapping spit with that girl.

- That was this girl?
- Pretty sure.

She was hot.

Passed the two of them
playing tonsil hockey in the doorway.

- That bouncer was a big dude, too.
- And it's me you're harassing.

Let's go, Eddie.

This waiver is a joke. Look at Judy's
signature. She could barely hold a pen.

Florida bureau's gonna scoop up this bouncer
and call me back.

- We need to get back on that bus.
- We need cause for a warrant.

- You tell Mario that he is still an artist.
- Sure.

- What is that?
- The finest sausage and peppers on Earth.

Someday I'm gonna turn it into a franchise.
You want a bite?

- I thought you were buying a boat.
- I am.

Maybe I'll start a charter service. I can serve
these to the passengers... in Jamaica.

- Good.
- Great.

Or maybe I'll manage a band.

- They could play on the boat, too.
- You don't like being an FBI agent?

Sure I do. I don't want it to be
the only thing I ever was.

You telling me you're gonna be a bone lady
your whole life?

I spent years studying anthropology.

I got a degree,
but I'm not gonna let it ruin my life.

- I'm going back to the lab.
- Mm, here.

Take one with you back to that spaceship.
I'll call you when we get our bouncer.

Mm.

Mm, Jamaica. I can dig it, man.

- Oh.
- Hi.

- Do we have a schedule?
- I need to get back to work.

Why don't you give me a clown
restraining order and just sign my paper?

Have you had an insight
as to why you shot that clown?

Yeah, I do have some insight.
It's right here. That's my... Bones calling.

- My partner. Right. Yeah, Bones.
- When are you coming back again?

- Aren't you playing nice with Sully?
- I'm not sure how serious he is about work.

He's one of the best, all right?
He likes to keep his options open.

- I've noticed.
- Listen,

Sully lost his partner
about a year ago, all right?

Something like that happens, that clock
on the inside ticks just a little bit louder,

so you're in good hands.
Here he comes, so I gotta go.

All right, so maybe I am a little irritable.

Why do you think that might be?

Look, don't they give you papers and files
and reports and?

All right, um...

Me and my partner caught up to this
serial killer named Howard Epps, and he died.

Whose fault was that?
Yours or your partner's?

He jumped over that balcony because of her.
Sometimes I think he had the right idea.

- And where were you when Mr Epps fell?
- Holding his arm.

- No, that was before he fell, surely.
- What?

Mr Epps was dangling from your arm
before he fell,

at which point he was no longer dangling
but falling.

Attached to you, he was alive,
no longer attached... dead.

I don't feel guilty about that.
Epps is a serial killer.

Tried to kill my partner and threatened my
son. I was glad when he hit that pavement.

Do you think about suicide often?

Suicide? Me?

No. No, never.

Yet you sometimes feel Epps had
the right idea about jumping off that balcony?

It was a joke, OK? It was a joke.

Yes. You do that a lot, don't you?
Makes me feel such a bully for prying.

Well, we'll pick up on this next time.

Increase magnification, please.
If you're ready.

- I don't mean to appear dictatorial...
- I get it, Zack.

- Hey.
- What are we looking at?

Bits of gold foil embedded deep within bite
marks along the T-11 and T-12 vertebrae.

Jewellery?

More likely the gator's teeth
pierced Judy's stomach.

Embedding whatever she last ingested
into her bone.

How would someone eat gold?

Not eat... drink.

- Goldenrod.
- Goldenrod?

It's this 100-proof cinnamon schnapps
that we drank in college.

It's infused with real gold flakes,
purely for decadence sake.

- How did it taste?
- It's way worse coming up, I can tell you that.

She could've wandered into bars
we don't know about.

- If we find every place that carries that stuff...
- I don't think we need to.

We've got our bouncer. He denies all,
but his alibi just about buries him.

- Buries him how?
- He left work early that night

to get to his other job,
giving midnight swamp tours on his boat.

Sounds like a good job.

So he's admitted to knowing the Everglades.

- Wouldn't be smart if he were the killer.
- Most of the killers I know aren't that smart.

The gold flakes are definitely
from the liquor in her system.

- And I remembered something.
- Monte and his harem. So what?

Check out the caption.
"All the girls love Monte's Gold."

There are plenty of bars
that carry this stuff, but...

This could be the cause we need
to search Monte's bus.

I'll get the warrant.

Bouncer's alibi checked out.

- Monte's minions were trying to throw us off.
- Unbelievable, you people. What is it now?

Hey, cool your jets, Hef.
We wanna search your bus.

- This is you, isn't it?
- Don't point your finger at me.

Here comes another feminist
out to spoil some good all-American fun.

- Ow! Get off.
- It was self-defence. He assaulted me.

Yes, he did.

- Crazy bitch. I'm calling my lawyer.
- Here, you can read him this.

Now I hope we find something.

- There.
- It's not exactly a smoking gun.

- Can you prove she drank it here?
- I can try.

You can only admit evidence in plain view,
although, on this bus, that could be DNA

on virtually any surface.

That's an image. Keep your eyes open
for a metal screw-threaded thingy.

A what now?

Judy's stab wound was probably from
a bolt of some kind right through... here.

Just inside her scapula.

Yes, but... most laymen refer to it
as a shoulder blade.

I told you I went to college.
I minored in kinesiology,

although this is the first time
I've used it to impress a lady.

- What was your major?
- Art history.

I also got a master's certificate in sailing,
a pilot's licence and I'm a certified EMT.

There's more, but I won't brag.

Hold on.

- Hi, Hodgins.
- Judy Dowd wasn't killed at the swamp.

Cryptosporidium on her clothes
came from saw grass,

- which doesn't grow in that swamp.
- Where does it grow?

Everywhere else in the Everglades,
but - gator distance -

there's a saw-grass marsh
two miles south at Alligator Alley.

All that from cryptosporidium?

Did I not mention
the fresh asphalt in Judy's shoe?

That intersection was just repaved
about a month ago.

Very interesting.

- Thanks, Hodgins.
- Hm? What's interesting?

Miss Montenegro?

I'm Bill Dowd, Judy's father.

Oh. Hi.

Um, I'm sorry. How do you know me?

The FBI told me the Jeffersonian
was investigating Judy's murder.

I read your team's website,
saw your picture.

- You followed me here?
- Sorry. I know how that must look.

But I just... need answers.

I need to know who killed my daughter.

I'm sorry, Mr Dowd.
There's nothing I can tell you.

I already know about the website...

and this Monte Gold son of a bitch.

- The FBI told you about that?
- Buddy from my job found the video.

He thought I'd be embarrassed,
but all I care about is what happened next.

- Did this guy kill her?
- I really can't discuss the case.

The way he's pawing at my girl,
he's gotta be a suspect.

At this point, Mr Dowd,
there are a lot of suspects.

But not many like him. I mean, do you
trust him? Do you think he's a good man?

No. Of course not.

I find him repulsive.

Please. I just gotta know.

Was it him?

I'm very sorry about your daughter, Mr Dowd.

There's nothing I can say.

I understand.

I shouldn't have put you on the spot.

I'm sorry.

- You lied about the bouncer, Eddie.
- What?

The bouncer. You never saw him kissing
Judy Dowd the night she went missing.

Really? I was sure it was them.

- You drive the bus, too, don't you?
- Yeah, so?

So you drove out of Lauderdale,
straight up the 95 to Daytona?

Is that what Monte said?
Yeah, straight up 95.

- Sure about that?
- No.

No, that's right. There was construction.

- We got detoured across state on 75.
- Right, 75. Isn't that Alligator Alley?

Come on, Eddie. A girl is dead.

- We didn't kill her.
- But she was on your bus.

She had a few drinks. You have sex with her?

No. No way. I... I was driving.

Monte had sex with her?

- I guess.
- You guess. Was it consensual?

All I know is she was drunk,
all right, really drunk.

When Monte got done, she came by me
wanting to get off the bus.

- Don't say anything.
- And where were you?

Lloyd drives in front.
It was me and Monte on the bus.

Shut up. Monte's lawyer says
we don't talk to anybody until he gets here.

He has nothing to worry about.
No one's under arrest.

- Why'd you let her off the bus?
- I didn't want to.

- It was really dark. She could barely stand up.
- Then Monte wanted her off?

He was pissed off. She was crying.
He was gonna fire me if I didn't.

We owe Monte. The guy's been good to us.
We knew none of us killed her.

If you let her off the bus in that condition,
you may as well have.

When Eddie told me where she got off,
I went and looked for her.

I must've driven for an hour.
I figured she hitched a ride back.

You figured. He figured.

Maybe Monte made a bad call
letting the girl off, but she wanted off,

- so he was doing what she asked.
- Except for the sex part.

- You can't prove that.
- I wouldn't bet against her.

So, is Monte still in his office?

No. He had an appointment
at the Iguana Club up in Maryland.

OK.

You know what? I'm in America. We're men.
Let's drink coffee, not tea, eh?

- Oh, I say, doing a marvellous job.
- Thank you.

- That's not coffee.
- What is it?

I don't know, but it sure as hell isn't coffee.

You tend to do things well, don't you?
Make coffee, build barbecue machines.

It's not really a machine.

Solve crimes, raise a son,
love women, leave women.

Whatever you aim at, you hit.

- That bad?
- By no means, no, of course not, except...

Oh, OK, here we go.
Let me have it, Doc.

Except it is indicative of a need
to control your environment.

Again I ask, "Is that bad?"

No, of course not, no, except...

- Except?
- Except when you shoot a clown.

You make it sound like he was
walking around making balloon animals.

- For the most part, your rebellions are small.
- Rebellions?

The colourful socks, the funky belt buckle.
They're a mechanism.

Quiet rebellions.
A way of asserting personal control

over a homogenising organisation
like the FBI.

Shooting a clown is not quiet.

- Shooting a clown is quite literally deafening.
- Booth.

- Hey, it's me.
- Hold on.

Every time I answer the phone,
you walk away.

Why do you answer the phone
knowing it'll make me walk away?

- Bones, I gotta call you back.
- Is Sully for real?

- What?
- I can't decide whether to take him seriously.

- Is he acting unprofessional?
- No, he's very professional. It's just...

- Can he really do all he says he can?
- That whole master carpentry thing?

- He made me a dining room set last year.
- He's a carpenter as well?

- As well as what?
- Sully's calling right now.

We're, um...
we're doing, you know, what we did.

- I'll be back soon.
- OK. I'll talk to you later.

Maybe Monte can tell us why
he left the girl on the side of the road.

Hey, there's a store for rent.
Sausage and pepper shop?

- That's funny. Take my lead.
- I know what I'm doing. Didn't Booth say?

Yeah. Take my lead.
Wait, wait. That's his car.

Monte Gold?

We found him in a pool
of his own blood outside his club.

It's the last thing you said to Monte, Isaac:
"His judgment cometh and that right soon."

It's not even a Bible verse. The judgment
thing? It's a line from Shawshank.

- Who's that?
- "'Vengeance is mine', sayeth the Lord."

Look, if Monte's wicked deeds
cost him his life,

it was the work of a hand
mightier than my own.

Where have your hands been
the last five hours?

Working on my truck.
I got garage receipts to prove it.

- Angela, what's up?
- Hey. I think you might have the wrong man.

What do you mean?

I made a mistake, Brennan.

I only wanted to scare him.
I didn't go there to kill him.

But what he said...

Three words.

He only said three words in his defence.

"She wanted it."

She didn't, Mr Dowd.

That much we do know.

Is there anyone you wanna call, sir?

Nah, there isn't anybody.

There was Judy.

Just Judy.

This is the culprit, huh?
Result of your metal screw-headed thingy?

- Zack managed to identify this bone bruise.
- Cross posterior six through eight.

- Show-off.
- OK.

Got my weapons list and visual aides,
courtesy of Angela.

We know the wound was caused by a blunt
steel dowel with screw threads at the top.

Bruising around it is the rough size
and shape of a harmonica.

The head of the wound struck,
leaving the bruising, but then broke.

Allowing the steel dowel beneath
to be driven into Judy's back.

Possible weapons include shovel handle -
steel shaft.

- A golfer's putter with aluminium shaft.
- OK, a gear shifter?

An alloy gear shifter
with a grip-shaped handle.

- It couldn't cause the injury.
- Unless it didn't have a handle.

She'd probably
not have been killed standing up.

She'd have to have been thrown down
and then impaled.

Preacherman had one of these in his truck.

With a tennis ball where the handle
should've been, hiding the exposed threads.

He follows Monte everywhere.

Don't let us interrupt you, Isaac.

I was praying for his guidance
in bringing an end to this harassment.

- He can't answer 'em all, can he?
- Where were you headed?

- Home, if that's any of your business.
- Back to your church, huh?

I wish I'd called them sooner about you.

- You did this? You called them?
- Sure you weren't headed back to Florida?

Stop along Alligator Alley,
make sure you left nothing behind?

- I don't know what you're talking about.
- Your church kicked your ass out last year,

for hitting on young female parishioners.

Wh-who told you this?
Hey, you can't get in there.

- Tennis ball for a gear shifter.
- Huh.

- Turn around, Isaac.
- All right.

Forgive them, Lord,
for they know not what they do.

Yeah? What we do know is that Judy Dowd
was left drunk and stumbling on Route 75.

You, following Monte's bus,
stopped to give her a ride.

- Not a free one, apparently.
- No, that's a lie. I never saw her.

So this isn't her blood here?
It's someone's blood.

How many of Monte's cast-offs have you
been with? Huh? Girls too drunk to know.

Before Judy?

You went for it. She rejected you.
Next thing, she's impaled on the shifter.

I may have picked her up,

but if I laid a hand, it was to heal
and ask his redemption upon her.

Oh, man, you are shameless.

She was drunk. She went crazy.

Pushed me away and fell back.
It was an accident.

- It was the devil's work.
- No.

No, that was the part
where you fed her to an alligator.

There should be a sense of satisfaction
after solving a case, but,

most of the time,
I just... I feel drained.

Yeah. That's why you can
only do this job for so long.

Murders, death, corpses.
You do that your whole life and...

- There's gotta be more, you know?
- The sausage-and-pepper sandwich.

You got to admit, it was good.

What do you and Booth do now? Is there
a bar you go to? Restaurant? Pilates class?

- There's a diner.
- Ah.

- Booth says the pie is the best.
- Can I buy you a slice?

- Sure.
- We're not working together any more.

Yes.

Since we have no professional obligations
to each other, I can ask you out.

Theoretically.

Theoretically.

- Perhaps after a 24-hour waiting period.
- Why?

So the brain can adjust
to alternate perceptions of each other.

I don't actually need it.
My brain adjusts quite quickly.

- Oh, my good Lord.
- That's right.

- How many bricks did you use in the end?
- You know, 180.

- So you can go sign away.
- What are those?

Those are two beautiful prime rib-eye steaks.

Being the barbecue master I am,
I thought I'd show you how to barbecue.

I don't want to be shown.
I want to learn by trial and error.

No, no. Listen, it's better to learn off
than hamburgers or sausages.

- Those puppies cost 50 bucks a pop.
- Hm.

According to the FBI report,

there was no way you could save Epps' life.
Your partner's report says the same thing.

An FBI sniper saw everything
through his scope.

According to all witnesses,
you have nothing to feel guilty about.

- Yeah. So?
- So why, in a fit of pique,

did you endanger innocent people in a public
thoroughfare by discharging your firearm?

I'm a good shot.
I didn't put anybody in danger.

- How many people have you killed?
- Lost count.

You can remember 180 bricks,
but not how many lives you've taken?

- Epps makes 50.
- 50 what?

- 50 kills.
- Agent Booth, you didn't kill Epps.

You tried to save him, remember?
Perhaps I better put it as a question.

Did Howard Epps slip from your grasp,
or did you release him?

Come. It's a simple enough question.

Was he indeed your 50th kill, or did you
just happen to be there when he died?

I don't know.

A man like you, in control of every situation,
and you don't know?

I don't know.

I had him and then I lost him and...

something happened in between.

I don't know.

I believe you. Because for a man like you
to admit you don't know,

to relinquish control, that could indeed
argue a disruption in your self view

that was large enough
to motivate you to shoot a clown.

I think we made marvellous progress.
This is a place from which we can begin.

You know what? I've changed my mind.

I would love you to cook those steaks.

I can do that.

Medium rare, please, Mr G-man.

I can do that.

What's that mean?

ENGLISH SDH