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SHERRIFSHERIFF: Agents, l gather.
SHERRIFSHERIFF: I-it's the suits. What can l do for you boys?
SHERRIFSHERIFF: Shoot. You drove all the way down from D.C.?
SHERRIFSHERIFF: Well, then sorry to waste your time, agents, but we wrapped that one up. Guy that did it was a special forces officer: Rick Willis.
SHERRIFSHERIFF: (pulling out the murder file) His fingerprints were all over the storage room out on the base where he did it. He even left his dog tags by the body.
SHERRIFSHERIFF: No, bastard drank a boatload of gasoline, then lit himself on fire.
SHERRIFSHERIFF: No kidding. Left a wife and a baby. Third suicide we seen in six months. Military town. Would you like some cake?
SHERRIFSHERIFF: No, it's really good. My partner made it.
SHERRIFSHERIFF: No. Vic was killed with a Bowie.
no edit summary
Int. Fayetville police station. Dean and Sam enter through a door. A group of police officers are standing around talking and enjoying pieces of cake.
DEAN: Uh, was it the suits, or do we give off some sort of a Fed stench?
SAM: Well, uh, we are here investigating the death of private Jackie Prescott.
DEAN: Mm-hmm.
SAM: Yeah, we did.
DEAN: What makes you so sure it was him?
SAM: So, is he in custody?
DEAN: Well, that's a hell of a way to go.
DEAN: Mm. Yeah.
SAM: (cutting off Dean’s access to the cake) No, uh, y-you know what? Uh, we're okay.
SAM: It looks great, but we're . . . no, we're all right. Uh, we do have one more question. Were there any bite marks found on the body?
DEAN: Well, sheriff, thank you for your time.