I have to remove your clothing now.
Well, there may be particulates.
Evidence for Hodgins and flesh for Cam.
You know, the bomber said something about answering the call. What do you think that means?
Many terrorists think they're acting upon divine instruction.
I don't think he was a terrorist. I just think he was a bank robber.
There's spatter on the back of your collar.
I can take my own shirt off.
No, don't! You'll compromise the evidence.
I'm having Christmas dinner at my place this year with my dad. Considering you've been shunted aside by your own family, I'd like to invite you.
That's a sweet invitation.
I don't know. I was thinking about going up to Quebec to see Parker. I don't really care what Rebecca thinks.
If you do that won't she retaliate by insisting upon coming to all your special times with Parker?
You have a perfect acromion. Stand up.
Whoa! Is there stuff on my pants?
Vascular tissue on your cocky belt buckle.
All right. Slides right off. And now we're done.
Nope. I have to remove your pants.
All right, you know, I'm just going to start reciting some saints. St. Joseph, St. Peter, St. Paul, St. John --
[Cam walks in]
[Sees what's going on] Anyone for mistletoe?
Just evidence! That's all!
Clear out, Sweets. We have to identify our Christmas in December bomber.
Bye, Lancelot! Colon, end bracket, colon, capital D!
Semi-colon, end parenthesis, less than sign, numeral 3!!
Oh, dear God. I'm going to yak.
So I decided to take you up on your offer.
You invited me to your house for Christmas dinner. You forgot you invited me.
No, it's just -- no! My dad brought by my second cousin and I really didn't like her.
Because she's family. Ninety percent of the time, family just gets under your skin. That's the difference between family and friends.
She's unapologetically dogmatic, she lives her entire life based on the quotations of Benjamin Franklin.
Maybe she feels the same way about you and your mania of logic.
Sometimes people are terrible.
Cam says that the victim's mother is burying him on Christmas morning.
It's just him and his mom, right?
He worked alone and never had any time for friends. What's wrong?
Max told me that being alone at Christmas means that nobody loves you. She's burying her son. Alone. On Christmas. I think that's heartbreaking.
You know, when I say heartbreaking you say the heart is a muscle, so it can't break. It can only get crushed.
You want to go to his funeral?
Yes, I would. Then she won't be alone.
You know what, Bones? Sometimes I think your heart muscle is bigger than people give you credit for.
OTOwen Thiel
A man died this week. By all accounts, he was a... good man. Loved his mother. Worked hard. Shouldered his responsibilities. Man that any one of us would be proud to call a friend. I killed him with this microphone. I killed him by going on these airwaves and sharing my rage with you, spreading my rage. Now, you can say it wasn't my fault. It was a coincidence. I thought about that. Thought about it a lot, but the fact is—the fact is that if it weren't for me, he might still be alive. I'm so sorry for that. And I remembered something that I forgot over the last few years. That God is not only a god of anger and vengeance. My religious beliefs tell me that Christ did not die in vain. That He died to redeem us all. And I intend to show that this good, simple man also did not die in vain. That he redeemed one angry, shouting man. So these are the last words I will ever broadcast. I hope that they're the words you remember best. Peace on Earth.
