Prisoner on the move!
Ready to transport!
NEWS ANCHOR: An angry crowd is gathering downtown
where prosecutor-turned-killer
Heather Taffet is expected to arrive
at the courthouse for a final appeal.
Pull out!
Also known as the "Gravedigger,"
Taffet was sentenced to death for a single kidnap-murder,
after escaping conviction for a string of similar crimes.
Are you nervous, Dr. Sweets?
You seem uncomfortable.
I'm fine. I'm merely here to comply
with your request for psychological counseling
during transport. Are you comfortable?
Right.
I do appreciate the company.
On death row, one spends so much time alone,
it... tests the sanity.
Oh, I assure you,
you are sane, technically speaking.
And you're not going to convince me of otherwise,
if that's your plan to win your appeal.
So young.
You remind me of a little boy
dressed up in his father's suit.
Are you saying I remind you of one of your victims?
You remind me of all of them, Lance.
Listen, take care of those people
right over there, in that area.
She's crazy! You said we could stay!
There she is.
These people are so unreasonable.
Most of them are here in protest.
There's a remote possibility
your conviction could be overturned.
Oh, they're deflecting, Dr. Sweets.
You should know that.
They know I'm not the only one responsible for my crimes.
Okay, 84. Change of plans.
They're bringing her around the front.
Into all of this?
We got no choice. That parking garage--
the gate's closed; it's not opening.
What? Let's go. Move it in.
What's wrong?
Change of plans.
Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go.
Hey, hey, hey, hey! Back it off!
Back it off, back it off, back it off!
I'm the lucky one, Lance.
If my appeal falls through, I die.
But you're forced to live every day
as a repressed, immature imbecile
spouting canned theories to people who don't really care.
Everyone knows who's the weakest link in the chain.
You testify at my appeal and I'm gonna walk.
Step out of the van.
You okay? Yeah.
All right. What'd she say?
Nothing worth repeating.
Nothing worth repeating, all right.
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Down, down, down, down!
Let me see. Let me see!
Hold on.
All right, just push everybody back.
Everybody back, behind the line.
Back 'em up! Booth! Booth.
I'm so glad you're okay.
Are there any other victims?
Just Heather Taffet.
Did you see the shooter?
No. I was looking out in the crowd.
The next thing I know, her head was gone.
Where's Sweets? He's right over there.
He was standing right next to her.
We're bringing in the trauma guy.
Don't just stand there!
We got a shrink who needs shrunk
and a headless child-killer in a puddle of brains.
Well, who's gonna take the witness statements?
Does it matter?
That shot came out of nowhere.
Straight from God.
Oh, excuse me. Don't touch those.
Cam talked to the medical examiner.
He agreed that the skull fragments
can go to the Jeffersonian. Okay, fine.
All right. You get the body. She gets the head.
Where are you going?
Over here.
Right there.
There it is.
Damn! That is a powerful rifle.
So if it, uh...
If the bullet impacted here
and penetrated her head
there... Where do you think
it came from?
Somewhere up there.
♪ Bones 6x11 ♪ The Bullet in the Brain Original Air Date on January 27, 2011
== sync, corrected by elderman == == for www.addic7ed.com ==
♪ Main Title Theme ♪ The Crystal Method
Are you sure that damage was caused by a single bullet?
When a faster-than-average bullet hits the brain,
the shockwaves can cause an explosion.
It's called hydrostatic shock.
So, cause of death: exploded head.
Behold-- the granddaddy of all bullets
was retrieved from the scene.
That is not a bullet, that's a blob.
Yeah. That's an understatement.
Look at that. Looks like a giant piece of...
gum.
Well, it's awfully big.
Beyond that, I can't estimate caliber.
Looks like pure copper, though.
Uh, yeah. Doesn't mean that it is.
I mean, I'll check it out.
Wait, the Gravedigger was wearing a suit?
Dr. Sweets got some spatter.
Is he okay?
He's a little shaken up, but he's fine.
Wasn't Booth there, too?
And Caroline Julian.
That's a fair number of trained eyeballs at the scene.
Booth should have this under control in no time.
You'd think when a highly trained,
world-class sniper witnesses an assassination,
we'd have it all sewn up.
I could say the same thing about the United States Attorney.
I'm too short to see a damn thing.
What bothers me is, I didn't hear the shot.
It was a loud crowd. It wasn't that loud.
A silencer?
Nah, must've been long-range.
What about the roof next door?
Well, I checked with SWAT.
There were two sharpshooters on the roof,
with standard-issue M24s.
You think it was one of the good guys?
We'll check the rifles, but we couldn't find any casings.
What about those microphones police put up
all over town to pick up the sound of gunfire?
Oh, right-- you mean the Shot Spotter system?
Yeah, I put a request in to Metro;
they're gonna send the recordings to the Jeffersonian.
I also called in a witness.
Who? James Kent.
The father of those poor boys the Gravedigger buried alive?
He was there watching.
There is a long list of people who wanted this woman dead.
You know who leaps to my mind? Dr. Brennan's father.
Max?
He took a shot at the woman before.
Maybe he got nervous when he heard "appeal."
Thought he had to come keep you people safe.
Like a lifeguard.
I'll tell you what. Supposedly, he's in Mexico,
but I'll put him on the list.
And while you're at it, put yourself on there, too.
Me? I was standing right next to you.
Don't worry, cherie.
I told you, I couldn't see a thing.
You got to be kidding me. Come on! Huh?
TAFFET ...repressed, immature imbecile
spouting canned theories to people who don't really care.
Everyone knows who's the weakest link in the chain.
You testify at my appeal, and I'm gonna walk.
...testify at my appeal, and I'm gonna walk.
Yeah?
Hey. Hey.
You okay?
I'm fine.
Um, I should be asking you if you're okay.
Yeah, I'm fine.
You're the one who had to take the shower.
You know, I can acknowledge that I witnessed a traumatic event,
but for some reason, be it textbook disassociation
or the onset of PTSD,
I feel relief.
Well, you survived.
Yeah, it's more than that, though.
I'm just... I'm happy
that Heather Taffet can't hurt anyone anymore.
I get that. Um...
a thought occurred to me.
You... you don't think that shot was meant for me, do you?
I mean, she asked for me to be there.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Sweets...
whoever did this was aiming at one thing:
Taffet's head.
He got off a clean shot. You got me?
Mm-hmm. All right. So, hey.
Take the day off, all right? Go get some rest.
You don't need my help with the investigation?
If I do, you'll be the first one I call.
All right. Thanks, Agent Booth.
Mm-hmm. Cool.
Oh, could you close the door?
Yeah. Thanks.
Everyone knows who's the weakest link in the chain.
You testify at my appeal and I'm gonna walk.
So, the bullet weighed 12 grams and was made of pure copper.
Hodgins found only trace amounts of lead.
This is the base of the bullet?
Yeah. What's left of it.
What are these grooves?
Cam says they aren't related to internal ballistics,
but that's all we know.
Well, is there anything you can do
to determine the original form of the bullet
before it was fired?
I think you mean, can I unsquash it?
Yes. It needs unsquashing.
Okay, well, I can render an educated guess
based on metallic properties and total weight.
Will that help?
Yes.
Okay.
Do you think my father killed the Gravedigger?
Whoa.
Where did that come from?
Booth put him on the suspect list.
It's not so far out of the realm of possibility.
Heather Taffet was headed to an appeal.
My father would never allow her to go free
out of concern for my safety.
Honey, Max didn't do this.
Besides, isn't he in Thailand?
Don't worry about this.
I'm sure there's plenty of people who want
to kill the Gravedigger right here at home.
27 convicted killers she put away as a prosecutor,
now on parole.
Then there's 22 family members of her victims,
86 attorneys she's faced in court.
One of them works right next to the courthouse.
Agent Booth, a James Kent is here to see you.
I hope I didn't keep you waiting.
Oh!
No. That's okay.
Have a seat.
Oh, I saw you today, at the crime scene.
Yeah, lot of the victims' families were there.
We all stood together.
Some of us were going to testify.
I guess that won't be necessary.
Nope. Nope.
How do you feel about that?
How do I feel about that?
This woman buried my children alive.
I couldn't even identify their bodies.
That's how I feel about that.
I sympathize with your loss, Mr. Kent,
but most witnesses that were there today--
they ran when they saw Taffet shot.
Yeah. So?
So you just stood there.
I just stood there because I didn't know
what the hell was going on.
Or because you knew it was over.
Are you nuts? How--
You had a video camera in your hand.
Yeah.
I thought that's why you brought me in here.
Like you said, I was standing right there,
I got it all on tape.
Here's my paper on how to reconstruct
gunshot injuries to the skull.
I prefer to create an accurate representation
of hydrostatic shock.
So the reconstruction can show us how the head exploded.
Yes.
For ease of examination,
the base should rotate. We're going to put
The Gravedigger's head on a lazy Susan?
Yes.
Brennan.
Hello, Tempie, it's me.
Dad, wh-where are you?
I'm in Maui.
On vacation, taking a, a little rest
for that weary soul of mine.
But I heard all about that nasty old hag.
Are you referring to the Gravedigger?
She's all over the news.
So you're not the killer?
What?! No.
Well, you're on the suspect list.
Well, you don't think I did it, do you?
Well, unless you can provide quantifiable evidence,
I can't rule it out.
I can provide evidence.
That you were in Maui at the time of the murder?
Uh, no, I was, uh... I'm in New Hampshire.
Well, I-I met this woman in Cape Cod,
but she had a husband.
I'm sure you can guess the rest.
How can I believe you?
You lied to me just now.
Hey, uh, when you get a second,
I have to show you something.
Dad, I'm sorry, I have to go.
Angela has something to show me.
Okay, okay.
Listen, I love you, all right?
And tell everybody I didn't do it.
Bye.
I definitely found the moment of impact right there.
Mm!
Yeah, the shot is
definitely coming from the south, southwest.
I don't hear anything.
Yeah, and the shooter was definitely far away.
Hi. Hey.
What are you doing here?
I thought you were putting a head together.
I have something important to show you.
That's the bullet?
.338 Lapua Magnum.
Yes, Angela did
a rendering based on the classic
Sears-Haack aerodynamic profile.
It shouldn't be pure copper, and it shouldn't look like that.
Well, what if it does look like that?
This is a custom job.
This was machine-made by hand.
A handmade bullet?
That doesn't sound like an angry father to me.
This was a professional hit.
I just keep thinking how awful
it would be to watch a baby become a child
and then lose that child to somebody like Heather Taffet.
When we find out who shot her, I'm sending a gift basket.
Hodgins...
What?
That's taking it a little far,
don't you think?
The gift basket?
No, honey, your attitude.
You're suggesting that you'd reward a killer for killing.
In this case, I would.
I'd drive him to Mexico.
Angie, Heather Taffet buried me alive.
What do you want me to say?
I get your point.
Thank you.
Your lack of sensitivity concerns me a bit, though.
Maybe you should talk to Sweets.
Ooh, I need to.
I got to check in on him, make sure he's doing okay.
No, that's not what I mean.
The father of my child cannot condone
a full-out assassination.
Can he?
The baby's on my side.
Oh, God.
The entry wound is fairly clean
and is located here at the left parietal,
two centimeters above the suture.
The exit wound, however, that's another matter.
It appears to be here, at the right parietal,
but it's hard to tell.
Mm, well, it should still help us determine
the trajectory, so let's take a look at the images.
Here we go.
So how tall is Heather Taffet?
Uh, five-foot-four. Okay.
Wouldn't wind be a factor?
No, not this time.
It hit the wall at over a thousand feet per second.
Yeah, but, I mean, it would have to be,
to clear the crowd and the van.
Yeah, well, that is not much of an angle.
That is one long shot.
I don't think Max could do this.
I think Booth should take him off that list.
Sing it, sister.
Uh, Max!
How are you, Angel?
Oh, i-it's Angela.
Angela, of course, but you're still an angel.
Uh, I think I know why you're here.
Well, it's not to clear my good name.
That, that ship sailed a long time ago.
I really don't care what anybody thinks, unless it's my daughter.
Dr. Brennan went to go see Agent Booth.
But she should be back any minute.
Well, you know what? I'll catch up with her in the parking lot.
But just so I know...
Booth and Tempie-- ar-are they...?
Actually, no.
Mm.
I don't believe this.
So... Booth has fallen in love with another woman?
Her name is Hannah Burley.
Well, that's a familiar name.
She's a news correspondent.
Oh, yeah-- oh, right, right, that girl.
Well, you're a lot prettier than that.
And smarter, too.
I know.
I'm sorry, honey.
Why are you apologizing? Well, I just always thought
that you and Booth would get over the nonsense
and, and settle down.
I don't want to talk about it.
Oh, wait, before I forget...
Your plane ticket?
Well, there's other receipts, too,
there's for a motel and, and, uh, restaurant receipts
and a ski pass.
You didn't kill the Gravedigger.
No, I didn't, and I'm not going to sleep at night
until you believe me.
I do believe you, but you need to talk to Booth.
Oh, I don't,
I-I don't want to get all mixed up with the FBI.
I mean, y-you believe me, so it's not my word.
It's yours.
Okay, just tell Max that "drunk in New Hampshire"
is not an official alibi.
But he has receipts.
Cash receipts.
We all know that Max has creative alibis.
My father is an average marksman.
Do you think he's physically capable of doing this?
All people have a different threshold
for the ability to kill.
No, I'm talking about the skill.
I don't know.
We never know the full truth about Max.
So he remains on the suspect list?
Hey, look, I know that this is hard
for you, but I have to consider every option.
Okay, Bones?
So, the Gravedigger was standing
right about... here, okay?
I'm her, you're Sweets.
Wh-Why am I Sweets?
Because, Bones, just be Sweets.
Okay, well, so, maybe like this? Back up.
Around there?
Wow, are you sure this is right?
It's very close.
According to the diagram, 1.2 meters.
Judging by the cone of trajectory,
the shot came from somewhere up there.
That makes sense. Statler & Harmon.
What's that? The law offices on the top two floors
of that building.
One of our suspects works there--
this guy-- Harvey Morster.
Served with the Seabees in Gulf One.
Tested as an expert marksman.
Is he a lawyer? He was.
Now he's a paralegal.
Taffet had him disbarred.
So what do you think?
Is he our sniper?
Harvey Morster didn't do it.
He has an alibi?
I didn't ask.
Then how do you know?
You just know.
This is amazing.
Each one of these dots represents a microphone?
Yeah,
fine-tuned to ignore any ambient noise
yet pick up any gunfire.
That's the shot?
The acoustic sensor has a mile radius.
So all we know is that a gun was fired
somewhere within that range.
Right.
Now, choose a second microphone.
Really?
That's so far from the crime scene.
Booth said it was a long shot.
Okay.
Wow, you're right.
Okay, now all we have to do is draw another circle
and triangulate.
And where the two intersect
is the source of the shot?
Yeah.
Nearly 1,500 yards from the site.
Is that even possible?
I don't know.
Must be why the cops called these results inconclusive.
Okay, well, I'll compare it to the trajectory
and see what we get.
It might take me a while, but I think I can get an address.
Look, he is all wrong.
We're looking for a trained sniper.
Will you tell her?
He tested as an expert marksman.
Okay, maybe he made a good shot once in a while,
all right, but he was all sweaty and nervous.
You can't exonerate a man for excessive perspiration.
Sweets...
help me out here.
Uh, I-- wha-what do I know?
What do you know?
You know the profile.
Tell her.
Okay, Agent Booth is right.
Most professionally trained snipers are methodical,
controlled, clean, patient, um, willing to kill
under morally acceptable circumstances.
No, no, no, a sniper does not
make the morality call, all right?
He's just the hand that pulls the trigger.
With the faith that the target is a threat
to innocent life. Right.
Is this a revenge killing? It's more than that.
A rookie sniper
would go through a transformative process
as he struggled to develop his professional identity.
I believe that you're looking
for a person whose process was destroyed.
Good work, Sweets.
Good but slow.
Oh, come on, you can't blame a guy who's not on his A-game.
You need some time to get your head together?
Really, I'm fine.
Okay? Even under the best circumstances,
my A-game deserves a C.
Come on, that's not true.
I'm good, really.
The lab compared the Shot Spotter recording
to the trajectory.
We got an address.
Ms. Leveque, FBI.
Ms. Leveque? Open up. FBI.
Oh, there's a doorbell.
Okay. Do you know the woman that lives here is an escort?
You mean a prostitute?
Doorbell.
I don't think she's here.
That's okay.
What, now you're picking locks?
Got a warrant.
Anybody home?
I don't...
I don't see the courthouse.
Yeah... that's because you don't have one of these.
Well...
if there's a clear shot to be had,
only the best sniper in the world would be able to pull it off.
Are you referring to yourself?
Because you do hold the official record
for the longest shot-- almost a kilometer.
I'm not referring to myself, and it was...
it was over a kilometer.
Yeah.
It's a clear shot.
Max couldn't have pulled this off.
Looks like this table was dragged over here.
Do you smell something?
Like what?
Like cleaning solution.
No. Yeah.
The marks.
Tell you what, the shooter...
dragged this table over here...
to get it in position.
Yeah.
You know, this shooter didn't pick this...
this apartment just for the view.
He definitely did it...
for the challenge.
He had something to prove.
He was a sniper, and so are you.
Elite members of a closed community always intersect.
You must know the man who did this.
I do.
Booth...
I think you need to see this.
Whoa...
TAFFET ...my appeal falls through, I die.
But you're forced to live every day
as a repressed, immature imbecile,
spouting canned theories to people who don't really care.
Everyone knows who's the weakest link in the chain.
You testify at my appeal, and I'm gonna walk.
All right.
No...
Hi. Hey.
What are you... What are you doing out of the lab?
I need to talk to you. By the way, good to see Okay.
you're okay, you know? We were worried about you.
No reason to be worried.
Cool. I just need your, uh, professional opinion on something.
All right.
I've been having some pretty strong feelings
about what happened yesterday.
I mean, am I wrong to be happy?
Happy that the Gravedigger's dead?
Yes.
I mean, I'm completely okay with it.
In fact,
it's the best thing that's happened to me all week.
But Angela, I don't know, she thinks I've, like, gone off the deep end.
Right.
Um, no, no.
What you're experiencing is not uncommon.
The victim of a crime often feels ambivalent in the aftermath.
They have feelings
of guilt or relief or...
even a sense of... let's not call it pleasure...
Let's call it pleasure.
...pleasure when the perpetrator meets justice.
Do you believe that Heather Taffet got what she deserved?
Do you?
I do.
Me, too.
I feel much better, Sweets.
But you felt good in the first place.
I felt good the Gravedigger was dead. Oh.
I feel double good my wife was wrong.
Thanks, buddy. You're a big help.
If you think so. I'll see you later.
All right.
I have not seen any evidence that proves
that the same person who shot the Gravedigger
also killed this victim.
Are you suggesting that the sniper was looking for a place to shoot
and just so happened upon a dead girl in a bathtub full of lye?
Your Socratic question constitutes a powerful argument.
Confirmed-- Tracy Leveque, escort, age 29.
Nobody knew she was gone.
And this is not lye.
What is it?
Do we know what killed Ms. Leveque?
Uh, the atlas is fractured.
Maybe... she broke her neck when he threw her in the tub.
No-- a thin object, like a knife,
was inserted between the cranium and the atlas,
severing her head from her spine.
Sounds pretty gruesome.
Actually, it would be quite effortless.
Stab, twist.
Should I create a mold to match the weapon?
Yes, please.
Has Hodgins determined time of death?
Hodgins... whoo!
What is going on?
Goggles, goggles.
Crystal Cloggo Super Strength Drain Clog Remover
is caustic stuff.
Wow. Good old-fashioned Cloggo, huh? Yep.
It's a combination of sodium hypochlorite,
sodium hydroxide, potassium hydroxide,
otherwise known as caustic potash.
It's a good thing the experiment is over,
because otherwise, I'd need some more ventilation in here.
Why are we doing a dangerous and irrelevant experiment?
Dr. Brennan asked me to help ascertain time of death
by determining how fast the Cloggo dissolved Ms. Leveque.
Now, used according to directions, right,
this stuff dissolves a two-ounce hot dog
every nine minutes.
There's a hot dog in there? Yeah, was.
Hey, how much did the victim weigh?
Uh... 1,900-ounce escort minus the bones
divided by a two-ounce hot dog every nine minutes
equals... 144...
Six days.
Six days? The hearing wasn't in the paper until the day before.
Then how did he know about it?
I keep coming back to an inside job. I haven't ruled that out.
Forget the suspect list. Let's call in every person
east of the Mississippi who could pull off the shot.
Regardless of alibi, I already did.
How many men are we talking?
Six. Know any of them personally?
Every single one of them.
Sorry, cherie.
I hate to startle you when you're traumatized.
No. Agent Booth asked me to look into
the psychological background of our six suspects.
But here you are with a look on your face
like a hamster is running around in your head.
I knew it.
I told that judge that bitch was going to mess with your mind.
...my appeal falls through, I die.
But you're forced to live every day
as a repressed, immature imbecile,
spouting canned theories to people who don't really care.
Everyone knows who's the weakest link in the chain.
You testify at my appeal and I'm going to walk.
You know what she was doing, don't you?
Her strategy was to shake me.
To the bone, cherie.
By the time she got done with you,
you couldn't get up on that stand if you tried.
You're right. I couldn't.
Makes sense.
I've never been so scared...
...as when her head... flew to pieces.
Don't tell anybody...
I messed myself.
You did?
We're all just people, cherie.
You're an expert with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Now, who's Heather Taffet?
Dead serial killer.
You're damn straight.
Dr. Brennan has her head all rigged up,
spinning like a Christmas tree.
It's over.
She can't get to any of us anymore.
We know Tracy Leveque was stabbed
at the top of the spine, severing the spinal column.
The killer used his left hand, twisting counterclockwise.
Left hand? You said he took the shot with his right.
I did, but it's very rare for a shooter to stab someone.
This would not be an intimate killing.
The maneuver was fast and clinical.
Very little blood. Oh, like Israeli close-quarter combat.
We believe the weapon may be a heavy-bladed hunting knife.
We're looking for an ambidextrous,
Israeli-trained, big game hunter,
is that what you're saying? Precisely.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. That narrows it down.
Okay-- William Preston-- Dallas, HRT.
Knew him in Afghanistan.
Bill.
Seeley.
Black, right?
- Sure. - Yeah.
You know, Bill, I really hate
to bring you in under these circumstances.
No, you don't. You want me here.
If you didn't, I'd be at a bank robbery in Austin right now.
Come on, Bill, this isn't personal.
Your training is well-established.
You know the machinery; you hunt.
Yeah, you know what's well-established is,
you don't like me. No, nobody likes you, Bill.
Yeah, well,
I have an alibi, Seeley.
I was on assignment.
Come on, you and I both know who did this.
All right, I don't blame you.
He was a friend.
He was my mentor for ten years.
I'm not going to be the one to point the finger.
Jake Broadsky is not a suspect.
Come on.
Who else could have made that shot?
It's him, or it's you.
He was your instructor-- close-quarter combat. Yeah.
And then we went together to Dallas HRT.
He was like a brother to me
up until the day he disappeared.
You still communicate with him?
No. Do you?
No. As far as I know, no one does.
Yeah. Well, we'd all like to think
that he's retired somewhere, happy.
But guys I know-- other snipers--
sometimes they'll get a bill in the mail.
Stuff we know he likes.
Copper.
Yeah. Like that.
Stealing an identity-- that would be nothing to him.
He'd get a kick out of it.
You know he can hunt.
You know he loves the kill.
You know I'm right.
Jacob Ripkin Broadsky--
he trained counter- snipers in the Gulf,
then he moved to a hostage rescue unit in Texas.
A year later, his superior accused him
of jumping the trigger in a hostage situation.
He killed someone? No.
It was a masked gunman, but he didn't have the green light.
We call that murder.
Broadsky maintained
he was acting within his job description.
He said he did what he did to, quote:
"save the life of the hostage."
A lot of guys agreed with him.
What about the officials?
He disappeared before any charges could come down.
His unit began calling him "the Hand of God."
Implying sole judgment
and the ability to act outside of human control.
That wasn't his job; he should have waited for a green light.
Well, he thought he was doing the right thing.
You're glad he did it, aren't you?
No, I don't condone it.
But you admire it.
You hold two beliefs at once.
It's called cognitive dissonance.
No, I understand him.
I'm busy. Talk fast.
What happened to you?
Caroline hollered at me.
We got a hit on a possible alias-- Gary Gray.
He's a famous British sniper.
Who died a hundred years ago,
but somehow created a bank account yesterday
to cash a check for two million dollars,
hours after the murder.
Who wrote him the check? Don't know.
But James Kent withdrew the same amount yesterday.
James Kent-- he's the father of two of the victims.
Two million dollars is the ransom she wanted for his boys.
I didn't kill anyone, Agent Booth.
Right, but you paid the man who did. Do you see that?
That's your signature on the front of the cashier's check.
Am I right? Two million dollars you paid him? Your hit man
killed an innocent woman.
The Gravedigger wasn't the only victim.
Tracy Leveque-- she never hurt anyone.
I didn't know anything about that.
She was killed for access to her apartment.
Then he did that on his own.
Who's he? I don't know.
You're under arrest for the conspiracy to commit murder.
If I were you, I would cooperate.
I don't know his name.
What does he look like?
I didn't see him!
I dropped a check off
in a restroom in a public park.
You never met him?
Not face-to-face.
How did you find him?
I didn't. He found me.
I... I got a phone call.
A man asks me if I'll pay him
two million dollars to kill the Gravedigger.
He chose the victim? Yeah.
And he set the price.
And I thought, hell, yeah.
I mean, he's-he's doing a service to society.
The Gravedigger killed my two sons.
I paid him.
I was happy to.
A witness saw Broadsky on the news.
He swears it's the same guy he saw in a gun shop off I-64.
It looks like the middle of nowhere.
This guy likes the middle of nowhere.
He likes to hide, he likes to hunt.
History suggests
that the notorious assassin seeks foreign asylum.
No, those guys are on the run.
This guy-- he's on the offense.
Is it possible to search the area?
Tree canopy blocks the view from the air.
Property ownership.
Right. Thanks.
So, I ran a check
on the 60 private plots of land in that area.
What if we recruit volunteers for a ground search?
Like a grid search for evidence?
Search for missing children, yeah,
but the search for a man who killed...
Public Enemy Number One, I doubt it.
What is it?
Broadsky purchased land-- ten acres off the highway.
Under the name of another sniper?
"Seeley Booth."
This is between me and him.
Seeley Booth!
Let me see the hands, Jake.
Where's your gun?
That's not why I'm here.
I just want to talk.
It's good to see you.
It's over, Jake. We both know it's over.
So, what do I have to do to bring you in?
You can't do anything.
Not without a warrant.
I'm watching you, too, Seeley.
Why did you kill the Gravedigger?
I didn't.
But whoever did, I applaud him.
What about Tracy Leveque?
She didn't do anything to anyone.
Collateral damage.
Maybe she was warned to stay away,
and maybe she didn't listen.
I should go.
I just wanted to say hello.
Wait, Jake... we can work something out here.
We're the same, Seeley.
We both want to do the right thing.
Stop... Jake. I'm warning you.
Go ahead.
Jump the fence.
Don't wait for the warrant.
I don't need a warrant.
This land belongs to Seeley Booth.
Go ahead.
Take the shot.
I've known you for a long time, Seeley.
You never could go for the kill,
not if there was any doubt.
He just took off. I wasn't ready for the terrain. I...
Chasing after him, I fell and hurt my leg
and dislocated my shoulder from the explosion.
You should have waited for me.
Well, I thought I could talk to him.
The Jake I know--
he would definitely have done the right thing.
Stop beating yourself up.
What? He destroyed all the evidence
when he booby-trapped his trailer.
We still have a case.
If we'd have sent in the cavalry, guns blazing,
there'd be a disaster on our hands.
I just didn't want to let anyone down.
We may not have him tonight,
but we will-- I promise, cherie.
Sounds exciting as hell. I wish I'd been there.
Probably best you weren't, Max.
I did think this could have been you.
Well, it's nice to know I'm still suspected.
I appreciate that; thank you. Thank you very much.
Look, there's my cab.
I'm on my way to the airport.
I'll walk you out.
Always a pleasure, Max.
The pleasure was all mine.
I've got paperwork.
See you. Right.
Uh, Tempie, I want to thank you.
For what?
Well, I came here because
I wanted you to believe me and, and you did.
You were exonerated by the facts.
But even if you weren't, I...
I did believe you.
You did?
Well, that's all I wanted to hear.
Oh, wait, I have something for you.
I almost forgot.
A conch shell from Maui?
I thought you were in New Hampshire.
Well, actually, it's, uh, ceramic.
I got it this afternoon on the mall
in front of the Natural History.
They, uh, painted your name.
What are these holes?
For toothbrushes.
Listen.
It works.
I know what you're gonna say.
That it is not the ocean.
It is the blood rushing through your head.
You always told me that it was the ocean.
Good-bye, honey.
Bye.
Here we go!
To the airport.
== sync, corrected by elderman == == for www.addic7ed.com ==