I don't own Bones.

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Once he was ready to leave, Agent Shaw had returned Hodgins to the Jeffersonian, then returned to the Hoover and now was free to help Booth. Booth wanted to avoid Brennan for the rest of the day, so he took Agent Shaw with him when he went to interview Timothy O'Hare.

Driving over to Timothy O'Hare's house outside of Virgina Beach, Virginia, Booth brought Agent Shaw up to speed about the video from the hotel and Angela's identification. In return, Agent Shaw let Booth know about everything that had been found and done at the crime scene.

Pleased that Shaw was doing such a good job, Booth complimented her. "You've done a good job, Agent Shaw. We'll see what Timothy O'Hare has to say for himself. I don't think the guy has any wiggle room, but we'll we see what he has to say for himself before we bring him in."

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Once the arrived at Timothy O'Hare's house, Booth parked in the driveway behind the Silver Ford Fiesta parked in the driveway. If Timothy planned to make a run for it, he would have to do it without his car.

Cautiously, Booth and Shaw walked up to the front door. Once they were there, Booth had Agent Shaw stand to the side of the door. If Timothy planned to do anything stupid, then Booth wanted Agent Shaw to be able to react. He had stopped down the street and they had both put on bullet proof vests before continuing up to the house. Both Booth and Agent Shaw had put on jackets over the vests and then zippered them up. Booth wanted them both to be safe, but he didn't want to spook the suspect either.

Knocking on the door, Booth could hear that a television was on inside the house. Much to his surprise, Timothy opened the door right away. Upon seeing Booth and Agent Shaw, Timothy asked them, "Are you the police?"

Holding up his ID, Booth identified himself. "We're with the FBI. Are you Timothy O'Hare?"

Nodding his head, Timothy stepped back a pace. "Yes . . . I've been waiting for someone to show up since this morning. Would you like to come in?"

Puzzled with Timothy's attitude, Booth glanced at Shaw and then back their suspect. "Yes, we would."

Turning around, Timothy walked back into his living room and sat down on the chair facing the TV. Picking up his TV remote, Timothy turned off the TV, put the remote down on the side table and placed his hands on his lap, waiting for Booth to make the next move.

His gaze darting around the room, Booth entered the house and stopped a few feet inside the door. "Are you by yourself, Sir?"

Grimly, Timothy nodded his head. "Yes . . . but I give you permission to look around if you want to. It's okay."

Nodding his head at Agent Shaw, Booth watched her walk away as she began her search of each room to verify what Timothy was alone.

His gaze back upon their suspect, Booth walked over to where Timothy was sitting and stopped a few feet from his suspect was. "You were expecting us?"

"Oh yes," Timothy calmly answered the question. "You might want to read me the Miranda right now, just to cover yourself. I don't want you to get into trouble."

Sad for the younger man, Booth read off the Miranda to Timothy, making sure that he understood all of his rights. Once he was finished and Agent Shaw had returned, Booth started his interview. "You obviously know why we're here."

With a slight shrug of his shoulders, Timothy glanced at his hands and tried to explain his actions. "Yes . . . I know my father is dead. I want you to know that I'm confessing to the murder of my father. I was originally going to try to get away with it, but after I started cutting up his body, I realized that I've had enough . . . I've had enough and I want all of this to end. My life has been a nightmare since the day I was born. I wanted it to stop and the only way I could do it was to kill him. I'm sorry. "

Slowly shaking his head, Booth tried to understand what was going on. "Why did you do it, Mr. O'Hare? You're a grown man. Anything he did to you was past history. Why kill him now?"

Tears streaming down his face, Timothy looked at Booth and sniffed. "He beat my son. He beat him because the boy accidentally broke some stupid figurine my father had on an end table. Joey was just horsing around. That's what kids do . . . Joey was just visiting the old man. My old man lives about four blocks from here. He had never touched my kids before, but Joey broke that damn statue and he beat my boy . . . he . . . He broke Joey's arm and gave him a concussion. I was out of town yesterday when this happened. My old man called my wife and told her that Joey had an accident and fell down and hurt himself. When my wife got to the old man's house, she found Joey unconscious on the floor. She called an ambulance and she went with my boy to the hospital. When Joey woke up, he told my wife what the old man had done to him . . . She called me. She was hysterical and who could blame her? I knew the sorry bastard was going to a convention yesterday afternoon, so I got in my car and drove to D.C. and tracked him down. When I got to the hotel, I looked around and found out that the tenth floor was being remodeled. I asked my old man to come up to the tenth floor of the hotel and meet me there. He knew I was angry, but he thought he could just threaten me. He thought I would take it like I've always taken it. "

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Timothy grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and blew his nose. "I couldn't let him do that to my son . . . Not my son. It was bad enough that he use to beat me and my sister when we were kids, but there was no way I was going to let him do that to my son. I couldn't."

His heart aching for the man sitting in front of him, Booth wanted to end the interview, but knew he had to have answers. He had to do his job. "Why didn't just call the police? Why kill him?"

His tears now stopped, Timothy exhaled deeply. "Because I knew he'd just tell the cops that Joey had an accident and that he didn't have anything to do with Joey's injuries. Why not? He did that when I was a kid. One time, he broke my left arm, broke some of my ribs and knocked me unconscious. He took me to the hospital and told them I had a skate boarding accident. He told them we had an argument and I had been reckless while skate boarding . . . Well the doctors saw Uncle Billy Bob standing before them all upset that his little boy had been hurt . . . They actually patted the sorry bastard on his back and felt sorry for him. I told the doctor who treated me what had happened, but you know what that doctor said?"

Booth knew exactly what had happened. "He said he didn't believe you and you should be ashamed of yourself for trying to get your father into trouble over an accident just because you were mad at him."

His laugh bitter, Timothy stared at Booth with sympathy. "Well, now that sounds like experience talking . . . Let's just say I had a good reason for killing the bastard and I don't care what happens to me. My life is over anyway, but my kids are safe from the miserable bastard and that's all that's important to me . . . I'm ready to leave whenever you're ready. My wife is over at her sister's house with the kids. I didn't want them to be here when you came to arrest me . . . She was upset with me, but she'll forgve me some day. I know she will. She loves me."

Motioning for Timothy to get up, Booth cuffed his suspect and took him out to the truck. Once he had Timothy in the truck, Agent Shaw got in the truck with Timothy. After he made sure that Timothy was secured in the back seat, Booth walked away from the truck and called Brennan to let her know that he had the murderer of Uncle Billy Bob in custody and that he would probably be late getting home.

Brennan heard the sadness in Booth's voice and told him that she loved him. He cleared his throat and assured her that he loved her too.

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