E: You know, I really liked this episode. No, it wasn’t one of the all time greats, and yes, the character who must not be named insinuated himself into the story, but still. It features the marvelously original and truly menacing drug kingpin Lemond Bishop in a surprisingly sympathetic way; I’m not just sorry for his adorable son, I’ve actually come out with respect for his sense of honor.
In what might just be the most deliciously self-referential opening in all of television, the episode begins with a crisp, perfect ham sandwich. Lettuce, tomato, cheese and ham on wheat bread – I can’t even stand it! I don’t remember ever being so delighted with deli meat in all my life. With typically neat precision, Lemond Bishop cuts the sandwich in half diagonally, and searches his bright, immaculate kitchen for a baggie. The sandwich, it turns out, is for little Dylan, the preposterously adorable moppet with huge brown eyes who seems to be on his way to karate class. He’s also deeply concerned about getting a call from his friend Damian’s mom. Don’t worry, she’ll call, Lemond reassures his son – and yes, he got the bounce house. Ah, a birthday party coming up? “Now go break some boards with your forehead,” the drug kingpin smiles, kissing his offspring on the soon to be weaponized top of his head.
Somewhere in Bishop’s home, a cell phone rings – and it’s not the one on the kitchen island. Lemond glances around the open concept home, first to the table, with its armless chairs covered in an ekat-like fabric. No, it’s in the cheery yellow sitting room, on the red coffee table. This does not make him happy.
Back at the Cook County Democratic straw poll, the rockabilly band continues to play, and Peter takes photos with supporters. Peter’s t-shirts, as we saw last week, are bright blue; there are brick red ones for Oliver Staub, and green ones that say “Aim High With Acavello!” Jackie stares and stares at the black bug crawling up her wine glass; Alicia tries in vain to recover her attention. Thankfully – or maybe not for Jackie’s mental state – Maddie pops over, and Alicia introduces them. “And you are?” Jackie wonders (first name not being enough of a clue). “The money,” Maddie explains. “Then the pleasure is all mine,” Jackie grins. Ha. Gross, but funny. Maddie wants to introduce Alicia around. “Alicia’s the belle of the ball,” Jackie smiles, “be my guest.”
They snicker at the term, but unfortunately for Maddie’s planned introduction, another duty calls. “3434 Lakeview,” Diane tells Alicia, gathering an armload of materials up from her desk. “I’m sorry to do this to you, but he requested us,” Diane explains. No problem, I’ll be right there, Alicia replies, then shakes her head. So much for supportive political wife duty! Ah well. At least she and Maddie can get drinks later. For a moment, Alicia’s progress is arrested by the sight and sound of Eli, hissing into his phone at Jimmy V and threatening him if he posts something actionable.
Eli says again that he’s never heard of Pooranarchy.com. You will, Jimmy V promises, in an hour when I post that a national magazine is sitting on a story about Peter sleeping with a campaign worker. Oh, Eli. You said yourself it’s harder to influence the irresponsible journalists. Okay, give me your number, I’ll get you a quote, he caves – and in typically high handed style, he grabs a passing volunteer, write the number on the back of the shirt, and then demands the very shirt of the poor guy’s pasty white back. I hope he has his own shirt stashed somewhere; it can’t be very warm (or comfortable) running around in public like that. Still, it was a nice moment. I particularly like the way Eli pulled the cap off the pen with his teeth, and then spit it across the room.
“Oh, hi, I’m Alicia Florrick with Lockhart/Gardner,” Alicia extends her hand to the highly suspicious looking woman standing in Lemond Bishop’s doorway, wearing a navy blazer with a patterned scarf and pulling a wheeled briefcase. The wary woman is Lesli Rand, who turns out to be played by Jungle Fever‘s Annabella Scorria, who I didn’t recognize at all. Oh, and she’s from Cutler & Perradini. “Oh, you’re from Mr. Bishop’s other law firm,” Alicia notes. “His primary law firm, yeah,” Lesli replies. Alicia smiles at this display of territoriality; I didn’t realize he had a primary law firm, she replies. “Are we going to be enemies?” Lesli asks. “Depends,” Alicia replies, flashing her eyebrows up, still smiling.
“You’re the lawyers,” Lemond shrugs in pleasantly expressed exasperation – and looking like a model in his blue sweater. “Why am I telling you this?” We can’t overreact, Lesli cautions, and make assumptions that’ll get you in trouble. “If we under react, then I end up in prison,” he glares, arms crossed. “What do you think,” he asks Diane, who gets him to explain that he was called by his accounting firm. “I had an appointment that they canceled, saying that my accountant, Mr. Steiglitz, had been arrested at his home.” Uh oh. There was no search warrant served at his office, it turns out, which Alicia thinks is good news. Lesli will have her people scour bond and bail hearings. Well, that happens a day after an arrest, Diane snaps, so unfortunately that’s too late to help. “My accountant makes a deal,” Bishop realizes. Yes.
We have friends among the cops, Lesli replies, so we’ll know something in a few hours. Oh, lovely. I wonder what Peter would think of that? I guess it’s no different than Kalinda having contacts? “And since this is probably a drug related issue, do you want us to help Cutler & Perradini look through their legal work?” Hell no, Lesli sneers. “God,” Bishop snorts, “I’m surrounded by women.” Right. There’d be no bickering at all if Will was here. (Ha.) This is why I pay both firms a lot of money, he continues. Lesli keeps him and his folks out of jail, and Diane keeps watch over his “legitimate businesses.” “So show your value. Work together and find out why my accountant was arrested and whether I’ll be.” He stalks off.
Lesli throws her file on the kitchen island. “How’s bankruptcy, Diane?” She arches an eyebrow, head turned back at her competition. “I heard you had reco trouble, Lesli,” Diane shoots back as she grabs her phone, checking in with Will and encouraging him to reach out to Kalinda. It’s Saturday, so he’s looking totally adorable in casual clothes. (Oh! Have I mentioned Alicia’s gorgeous heathered gray jacket, with a skinny black belt and black piping and black inset pans on the side? Because, wow. ) The partners plot to take over the rest of Bishop’s legal business; the legit businesses are worth 5 mil, but the illegal side brings in 20. Alicia, who’s listening, cringes. “I thought we wanted to stay away from drugs?” Ideally, Diane whispers, but we’re in a tough time. Morals out the window, you know how it is. Plus, Will notes, Lesli’s going to try and muscle us out, so we need to do the same to her.
“Possible client?” Clarke Hayden asks, having snuck up behind Will. “Yes,” Wills says, sitting down at his desk, “a drug dealer. We’ve always resisted his business before now…” Why? Clarke asks, utterly surprised – which is not at all what Will was expecting from the prim trustee. “Drugs are tricky,” he explains. “You’re more in the public eye, on the cops’ radar… and your other clients might leave.” No, Clarke declares. “Money respects money. Even more so in a bad economy.”
Will’s phone rings again, and this time it’s Eli, looking for Diane. Why did he get Will, then? Is there a secret name partners hotline? Though Will’s the last person he wants to deal with, Eli needs help with Jimmy V and Diane’s gone for the duration. “I need you to call a blogger and intimidate him with a cease and desist order,” he admits. What do you want him to cease doing, Will wonders. Following a story we want to keep quiet, Eli tries, but Will won’t let him off the hook, so he tells. “It’s not true,” Eli wails, with a donkey in a fur top hat walking around behind him. Okay, give me his number, Will agrees, then motions to Kalinda (who seems to have just arrived in the outer office). Diane and Alicia need you, he says, covering the phone.
Heading off toward the elevator bank, she starts dialing, but she gets Alicia’s voicemail on the first try. Before she can call Diane, Cary (also adorable in casual clothes) calls out to her. Isn’t it odd that none of the women are wearing anything different? Alicia’s dressier clothes make sense because she was at the straw poll, but we’ve seen Diane’s all black casual look, and that’s not what she’s wearing now. Just mentioning. On the other hand, the men aren’t dealing with the clients. Anyway, guess what picky client wants Kalinda to go over the work she did for him? Yes, that’s right. Nick the Dick, who has no concept of weekend hours and won’t give up on seeing Kalinda at work. Sigh. Kalinda grabs Cary’s arm, and for a just a moment you can see her consider telling him, but Cary misses the cue and asks about the delay a little more harshly than is his wont, so she walks into the lion’s den instead. Damn. I hate these missed cues.
Cary introduces Nick and Gavin Wells, a flashy looking fellow in a red shirt and purple tie. “So you’re the one who vetted me,” Gavin oozes, making me dislike him immediately. And your name is Kalinda, Nick muses – may I call you Kalinda? It’s interesting that we haven’t heard him call her Leela, isn’t it? Or was that another fake name? Argh. Anyway, what does Kalinda think of Gavin’s proposition that Nick split the profits of the tow truck business with him? There’s no ‘deal’ until you win the contract, Gavin points out, and you need me to win the government bid. “Yeah,” Nick agrees, “but you’re not doin’ anything, are you? I’m putting up the trucks, the drivers – what’re you doing? Being black?” His gaze is deliberately challenging, daring Gavin to make something of it, so Kalinda steps in. “Well, he helps you with your criminal past, that’s what he contributes.” Ha. “She’s right,” Gavin coos, leaning back into his chair, “with your past felony convictions, I’m the only reason you’re in the game at all.”
Let me get this straight, Nick the Dick leans forward and gives Kalinda a significant look. “You think I should move to Chicago and incorporate my business with him?” That’s when Alicia calls – Kalinda puts her on hold. “Mister, ah…” she forces Nick to reintroduce himself. “Nick,” she says, “you came to us to vet your options.” Cary watches the proceedings with some consternation. “We suggested Mr. Wells, a highly regarded businessman who, due to his minority owned business status, offers you an advantage in the bidding process. Beyond that, you can do what you want.” Ah. I suppose she can’t tell him to shove off in front of Cary, can she? Ick glares at Kalinda, and Cary smiles, pleased, until she excuses herself to take Alicia’s call.
Gavin loves it. Welcome to Chicago, the upstanding businessman declares. “Now pay up!”
First order of detecting business; Kalinda will check with Steiglitz’s wife. “No, he’s just being a nuisance,” Kalinda declares of He Who Must Not Be Named. Oh, and by the way, she didn’t let Cary in on their actual relationship, so please keep that hush hush. “It’s just kind of complicated,” Kalinda smiles. Actually, Kalinda, it’s not complicated at all. “It’s okay,” she finishes, looking oddly sweet, “I’m just leaving now.”
“A nuisance, am I?” Ick Nick asks. Duh! “Yeah, you are,” Kalinda replies, sidling up to him. Ew! Why oh why can you not just cut this idiot loose, Kalinda? “Who was that on the phone? Your lesbian girlfriend? Another lesbian friend?” He clicks his tongue. “Did you know every time you come here, Cary gets 440 dollars an hour, and I get 175? Wouldn’t it be cheaper if you just give me a call?” Sure, but less invasive and dick-ish. And why talk about his own faults – which would require self-reflection – when he can harass you? “So, your lesbian girlfriend – she knows that you’re married? She’s okay with that?” I have to get to work, she shrugs, not wanting to play.
He grabs her arm and spins her around; Cary notices from his shared office with alarm. You know I’m open-minded about you working, baby, he says (grrrrr), “but, I don’t know, I do mind you sleeping with other women.” What’s, he’s a woman now? (Why am I bothering to parse his sentences? Ugh.) “I mean, call me old fashioned.” No, she’s going to call you an idiot, in an insufferably fond way. “That wasn’t even Lana on the phone. That was work.” That’s what makes him an idiot? Oh my God, Kalinda. “Your voice on that phone was not work, Kalinda,” he declares. Yes. It was friendship, equality, understanding. Not that you would know anything about such a thing, asshat.
And that’s when she shoves him
And that’s when Cary decides to stop pretending he’s reading something. “Everything all right?” he asks. Sure, says Nick. We were just arguing about how much you make an hour, 400 or 450. Which is it? “I don’t know,” Cary half laughs, “I don’t read the bills. Kalinda, you okay?” She is, she says. No, you’re not. You’re drowning, and it’s not any fun to watch. I’m off, she says, smacking her husband in the arm with her cell phone. “You know what?,” the Ick declares, “she’s convinced me. Let’s sign that contract with the black guy.” Oh, so lovely.
“Speak!” a guy in a red hoodie barks into his phone. “You’re kidding,” he huffs once the person on the line has spoken. No, says Will, you defame our client Peter Florrick and we’re ready to sue. Is he technically on retainer with them? I mean, it’s natural to a degree, but holy conflict of interest! Anyway. What do I need to do, Jimmy asks, a martial arts film playing in the background. Don’t post, or we’ll sue for 3 million. But it’s true, Jimmy says in a cannier tone, the article is written and the magazine is sitting on it. You haven’t fact checked anything, you only know what you’ve been told, Will replies (which I think is the wrong tactic) and so you’re open to the suit. Okay, send the order and I won’t post it, Jimmy says. Hmm. Print and you lose everything you own, Will cautions, which I guarantee does not add up to $3 million. So send it, Jimmy V says. Will hangs up, frowns fiercely and immediately dials his cell. “Eli, he’s playing you. He’s going to print it either way.”
Do people really call posting printing? Publishing I could see, too, but printing?
Kalinda’s talked to Mrs. Steiglitz, and found out that the feds have taken all her husbands files from their house. Lesli Rand’s going to interview Lemond’s crew; the feds don’t come after you without someone talking. But it’s not the drug business, Kalinda explains. “Oh. That’s interesting,” Lesli replies in shock. Indeed it is! They took files from all 20 legit businesses, so Kalinda doesn’t yet know where the problem is. Immediately, Lesli offers to help. As if! Stop it, Lemond tells her wearily. “My guess is, they’re looking for some small accounting error in one of my gas stations or health clubs to arrest me,” he suggests. How very Al Capone-like. He needs them to find out what. “And I want you,” he turns to Alicia. She’s startled. “Yes, you. I want you hear when the cops come. I don’t want my son scared. And I don’t want some accident to befall me during the arrest.” Diane attempts to poo poo the idea. “Excuse me,” he cuts her off with that voice of quietly ferocious authority, “That will happen.”
Are you okay staying, Diane asks Alicia as Lesli follows Lemond further into the house. Sure, Alicia replies, though if it takes a long time, I’ll have to make arrangements. If he’s arrested, it’ll be soon, Diane believes. “It’s because I’m Peter’s wife, isn’t it? That’s why he wants me?” Alicia asks for confirmation more for our benefit than her own. Of course it’s because she’s Peter’s wife! Although she’s also far more maternal than Lesli or Diane or Kalinda. “Yes,” agrees Diane, “there’s no better babysitter for a kingpin than…” “The State’s Attorney’s wife,” Alicia finishes. Yup. Well, she adds, here goes! And with that, Diane leaves her alone with the kingpin.
So she’s not just twiddling her thumbs, Alicia has Lemond give her the names of managers of his 20 legit businesses, and his assessment of their loyalty. He trusts the first guy not to mess up the business. But could that manager get into legal trouble of his own that the cops could use to come at Bishop? “I don’t know,” Lemond says, annoyed. “I’m a CEO. I try to delegate. I try to control everything, but six months ago I ended up in chapter 11.” He did? Wow. Everyone’s in bankruptcy these days. Does that mean that the drug trade is bad, or that his legit businesses really are separated completely? As I’m trying to wrap my head around this, Dylan arrives home from karate. Why do we not see who’s taking him to class? (Sorry – total mom question.)
Lemond introduces Mrs. Florrick as a work colleague. “Did you break any boards with your head?” No, but Damian was there, and he said he could come! Really, Lemond replies, surprised. Alicia’s phone rings, and she leaves the two Bishops to their discussion.
“Hey, it’s me!” Peter shouts; Alicia apologizes for skipping out on him. No, no, all good, he says. “Eli thinks we’ll beat the expectations, which is what it’s all about.” Ah. He brings Alicia up to speed about the blog as Eli repeatedly hits refresh on his laptop. “It’s a back door way for the reporter to get her story out – she leaks it to a blog, it embarrasses the magazine, the magazine ends up printing it…you know, the circle of life.” Ha. Well, it was bound to happen, Alica sighs, looking gloomy. You sounds okay, Peter observes. I am, Alicia sighs, though her face droops, “I’m just – resigned.” Dylan Bishop runs around the great room, elated. I’ll call the kids and brief them on the situation, Peter says, and Alicia’s shocked to realize she hadn’t thought of their part in it at all. We’ll get through this, Peter says; I’ve got to go, Alicia replies.
I have to say, I’d have thought Eli would be more circumspect about that laptop and that discussion. There are a ton of short posts on Pooranarchy.com (“Yep, Him Again,” “Stuff Still A-Happening,” “The Teasing Gets Teasier” and “Getting Ready to Pop”) promoting the revelation to come, but no revelation yet.
Alicia sits back at the dining room table, but Lemond doesn’t even notice her. Would he like to do this later? “His 8th birthday party, and no one’s coming. The parents of his friends don’t want him around me.” You know, I totally get that, and yet it’s also completely devastating. That poor adorable little boy. “And my son just thinks I’m his great dad.” “I’m sorry, that’s hard,” Alicia agrees. She would know, she really would. Maybe you’re not just there because you’re Peter’s wife, Alicia – or maybe Lemond’s more appreciative of the layers in that role than you might guess.
“Check Dex,” he switches gears, “Dexter Roja.” She scrambles to write the name down. “I moved him from one of the crews into management. It might have been premature.” As she gets on the phone to the office, Bishop tells her Dex manages six of the legit businesses.
All right, Cary says, dropping a piles of folders onto the conference room table between Will and Diane. I’ve checked them, and they’re an accounting nightmare – it’ll take us a week. At least the cops can’t work any faster, Diane sighs. Well, but they probably know what they’re looking for, right? “Check the footnotes,” interjects Clarke Hayden, sitting in his usual observers position at the table’s end, sounding unsure of his place for the first time. That’s where accountants hide their messes. “You sound like you speak from experience,” Will remarks. He had 22 years as a CPA, baby; Will’s eyebrows go up in respect. “Where does an accountant put his mistakes?” Hayden sighs. “I don’t know, where?” Diane asks. In the footnotes, Clarke repeats as if she’s being deliberately obtuse. “Oh, I thought that was a joke.” His face is utterly blank. “Why would I joke?” I love this conversation! Diane tries to explain that it sounded like the set up to a joke, but awkwardly abandons the attempt. “Okay, Cary, check the footnotes,” she says instead.
Smiling to himself, Cary takes a look over at Clarke, who’s tapping away at his notes as usual. He slides a folder Clarke’s way. “You mind helping?” Clarke looks shocked, but when Diane raises her eyebrows in challenge, he politely accepts.
A weaselly little fellow sidles up to Mr. Gold. “So what do you call a win, Eli,” he asks, so awkward. “Uh, the majority of the straw poll votes?” Ha. The scruffy small timer laughs, but Eli’s too busy stabbing his laptop to notice. Again, what’s with the lack of discretion? “Oh, come on, I hear you have this in the bag. I hear you need 95% of the vote to keep the other two Democrats from being contenders.” “Oh my God,” Eli howls, “only the mainstream media would take a 90% landslide and call it a loss.” Right. Is he a reporter, then? I assumed he was a competing campaign operative, but otherwise the mainstream media crack makes no sense. “Oh, that’s what we’re expecting? 90% landslide?” the reporter says in a gotcha voice. Wow, how lame are Staub and Avacello if they can’t even muster 10% between them? Eli’s too involved in reading the story, which is finally up – “Mainstream Press Decides Peter Affair Isn’t News.” I’ll be right back, Eli gasps, and stumbles across the hall snapping at children as he goes.
He finds Peter and shows it to him. “How long?” Peter wonders, looking at the large image of his own head. “Till mainstream media picks it up? My guess is the blogger sent out email alerts. Maybe half an hour. We gotta get our spin straight. Ouch!” he adds, squinting at the screen. “Now what?” Peter growls. “He mentions the cease and desist call from Will.” Eli looks up nervously at his candidate. “Who?” Peter bellows. “I couldn’t get a hold of Diane, and I needed to intimidate him right away,” Eli whimpers, trying to be circumspect and apologetic. And no, he didn’t send the letter because we could tell Jimmy was going to print it anyway. “Don’t do that, Eli, don’t have Will do anything for me,” Peter commands. “It was an emergency,” Eli pleads. “I understand,” Peter replies, calmer, “just don’t get him involved!”
Eli apologizes and switches gears. We can make it a process story, he says, it’s just a smear campaign. No, says Peter, we ignore it. “Don’t even dignify it with spin. These things die on their own.”
Yeah, cause that’s going to happen. (We all know how my pessimistic streak is going to vote on that decision.)
“Are you accusing me of skimmin'” a thin man – Dex? – turns on Cary in a busy bakery kitchen. No, Cary insists. “No, it’s just that there is a discrepancy in the books, and Mr. Bishop asked us to check in with you because you’re the manager of his bakery business.” Show me, the manager demands. “Show me the discrepancy in the books!” Show him, Cary tells Clarke, who’s on his first field trip out of the office. Nice! “Here, in this footnote – there’s a twelve percent bump in sales in the first quarter of this year,” Clarke shows him. We’ve been selling more to the coffee shops, the manager explains – but if you did, Clarke points out, you should have been buying more groceries to bake more, and you haven’t. We bought them last quarter – “to hedge against commodities prices” – the manager/Dex claims. No you didn’t, and Clarke has a spread sheet to prove that too. Who are you again? Forensic accounting superman, Clarke doesn’t say but could. He points out that the 12 increase isn’t reflected in their yearly profits, either. “I have to ask you, sir; if you had a 12% rise, then where did the surplus go?”
We reinvested the surplus in gym memberships for all employees, manager/Dex admits. Ah ha! The gyms that also happen to be owned by Lemond Bishop? Right. Clarke and Cary give each other significant looks.
And then the dynamic duo head off to Fine Fitness Health Club. Sure, they’re owned by Lemond Bishop, the teal clad Indira Star-like manager tells Cary, but he pretty much lets us do what we want. What a good first quarter you had, Clarke notes; normally you have 40-60 new members, but this quarter it was 300. “Yes, we were thrilled!” When I call her Indira-like, by the way, I don’t just mean the blond pony tail, but her perky indifference to reality. We’re finding out that only 30 of those people actually showed up, Cary notes. Health clubs are like that, the young woman explains as Clarke takes a look around the gym; people like the idea, but not the reality. Cary presses – 270 people not showing up even once? Isn’t that odd? Hmm, yeah, that could be, maybe, she says. Then Cary notices Clarke smiling oddly, head tilted, at a set of glass doors emblazoned “Juice Bar.” People think they can hide, he muses, but you know the wonderful thing about numbers? They can’t hide.
“How dare you?” Diane demands of Lesli Rand, closing the conference room door behind her, “you’re laundering money through our legit businesses?” Oops. How can you compromise us and not even let us know? Well, they’re all Mr. Bishop’s businesses, Lesli replies, and the legit ones aren’t making money. “I don’t know what’s more startling,” Diane snaps, “your sanctimony or your hypocrisy.” You have a bigger problem than me, Lesli believes; there’s a problem with the accounting that has nothing to do with us.
A smooth looking fellow in a nice suit sits on Lemond’s couch and tells Alicia there’s nothing wrong with the Juice Bar. Except it’s turning a profit and it’s closed, she reminds him. Ooops. Your accountant is wrong, he says – it’s just the health club making money. Hmmm. “Stop lying, Dex, ” Bishop commands. So the other guy was the on-site manager of the bakery? Okay, sorry about that. “I put you in charge of this place. Please explain.” Dex scoots over toward his boss. “Look,” he says, eyes only for Bishop, voice lowered, “when we lost the other two health clubs, you said, be entrepreneurial. Self-starters. I was trying something.” Oh dear. What, asks the boss. “HGH,” Dex shrugs, sheepish. That’s human growth hormone to me and you. Damn.
Bishop slams his fist down on his coffee table. “I told you no drugs on the legit side!” he hollers; Alicia flinches. “It’s not drugs, it’s steroids!” Dex squeaks. Okay, that’s kind of hilarious. “Look, I was clearing $120,000 a month, the health club was going to go under…” Thankfully Alicia’s phone rings and she’s able to run away. And it’s Kalinda, who’s noticed a very suspicious looking cable TV van at the end of the block. She approaches them to see if it’s surveillance. A man walks toward the van, and she runs up to him. “I’m so glad you made it – I just live up there, come on!” It’s a wonderful little dance: I’m not here for you, he insists. How do you know you’re not, I called and they said you’d be here in an hour and here you are. “My wire is sparking really badly, it’s dangerous.” We’re here for another house, and no, I can’t tell you which one. Because it’s private. And confidential. Ha! Inside the van, Lana Delaney decides to rescue her colleague. “Kalinda! Let the man do his work.” Kalinda gives the agent a knowing, admonishing, Mona Lisa smile.
“Oh, Lana, still on the Lemond Bishop track?” Kalinda shakes her head. “Yup. Still working for pimps and drug dealers?” Yup, Kalinda deadpans, and child pornographers. Is that him on the phone? No, it’s my mom, she says. “Mom, it’s not the cops, it’s the Feds, and it’s not an arrest, it’s a search warrant.” Alicia looks over at Bishop and Dex, shocked. “I know you like to know these things. Love you!” Go, now, Lana commands into her walkie talkie, believing that Kalinda’s got Bishop destroying evidence. They’re seconds away, Kalinda tells Alicia. Are you going to tell him, Kalinda wonders, when he’ll destroy evidence? I don’t know, Alicia muses, stunned, but then little Dylan wanders into her sight, and how can she let him get caught in the crossfire? Daddy notices her abstraction. He asks. She tells.
Dex runs up to get something out of Dylan’s Gamebox. For real? Oh, that’s so wrong. “Mrs. Florrick, could you help with Dylan?” Bishop asks, exquisitely polite as usual. It impresses me that he stays polite even under these circumstances. Alicia hustles Dylan away from the front entryway; outside, a federal agent pounds on the door. Open up! We have a warrant!
Dylan sits on a swing in his backyard; little birds chirp, and loud federal agents search his house. I can’t imagine how confusing this must be. He just stares, internalizing – a response which makes a certain amount of sense from his father’s son. Alicia sits on the swing next to him, watching him watch the scene below. They’ll be gone soon, she says. “Did my Dad do something bad?” he wonders. It takes Alicia a second to figure out how to respond. “He says he didn’t,” is what she settles on. The kids at school talk about him, Dylan explains gloomily, looking at the back of his enormous white house and beautiful patio. How much is it worth, this lovely lifestyle, if they’re all alone? “Your dad says you’re going to camp,” Alicia tries to distract him. “What kind of camp is it?” Basketball, he says without much emotion – and, huh? Kids go to camp when there’s no school. In the summer.
“Are you a Bulls fan?” she tries again. He is. “I was there when they won their second championship,” she tells him. Cool! “Did you see Michael Jordan?” he asks, suddenly thrilled. She sure did! “My husband took me there on our first date,” she explains, which, damn, that is some first date! (In case you’re wondering, that would be June 14, 1992.) Of course she didn’t know anything about basketball or what was going on. Aw, Alicia, it’s not that hard. The confession of vulnerability charms Dylan – it puts him one up on a grown up.
“Don’t suppose you could tell us what this is all about?” Diane asks. Lana won’t. How weird is it that the contents of a search warrant could be sealed? I get it, it’s just weird. Lana’s people finds an empty spot where the missing Gamebox should be. Geez, you people. It was the whole Gamebox, not just a disk masquerading as a game? How did he hide it, or escape with it? Kalinda motions to Diane to come downstairs, where she explains to her boss and to Cary that everyone at the scene is FBI. Not, as you might expect, DEA. Which means it’s not about HGH, Cary surmises, because the drug agency would be there if the steroids were the issue. Then what? “The warrant will only be unsealed if they arrest Lemond,” Lesli Rand joins the conversation, “and then it’ll be too late to help him.” What? How so? Because of his whole fatal accident theory?
Well, Cary muses, Bishop doesn’t have to be the one arrested. Oooh, Diane realizes, so if one of us obstructs justice by interfering with the search, we can get arrested and then they have to unseal the warrant! Wow. That’s loyalty for you. Let no one say Lockhart/Gardner’s not willing to go the extra mile for their clients! “I have my ballet class tonight,” Lesli declares (ha! love it!) and all three women turn and give Cary the eye. Ha! Guess who drew the short straw there?
Oh, seriously? You’re not going to show us? Not fair! I really wanted to see that.
“You’re looking determined,” Kalinda tells Lana. Lana is extremely disgruntled at having to fight a “Franks” motion to unseal the warrant. How dare they do their jobs! And be smart! It’s such an inconvenience when people don’t just roll over for you. “I heard,” Kalinda notes (ha!), “but you usually have more of a sense of humor about these things.” And indeed, Lana looks pissed – but it’s because her apartment has been broken into. Uh oh. What? “My apartment was ransacked a few hours ago. You should remind your fine, upstanding client Mr. Bishop that breaking and entering is a crime.” Oh, Lana. You weren’t on Bishop’s radar a couple hours ago, Lana – but we know someone else who’s very, very curious about you. You can see from Kalinda’s anguished face that she knows who the break in was and wasn’t.
Lana stalks off. “How do you know it was Bishop?” Kalinda calls after her, probably hoping against hope. Nothing was taken, she says. “They just tossed the place. He was trying to scare me. Tell him it didn’t work.” It pissed you off, is what it did – but at the wrong person. (Quick, find out so you can shoot Nick for us!) Lana notices that Kalinda looks unhappy. “Anything else?” she says in a softer, concerned tone. No, just glad you’re okay, Kalinda covers. “Thanks for the reassurance.”
Diane’s explaining to a judge in his chambers that Cary’s arrest was made during the search – so under this Franks doctrine, it’s ground to unseal the warrant. The arrest had nothing to do with the search, Lana contends, because Cary wasn’t a target of the warrant. And because Mr. Agos was released immediately. The judge doesn’t look at any of them, but continues typing furiously. “Your Honor?” Diane prompts him. “Oh, I’m here. I just need these sell orders entered when the market opens on Monday.” Okay, I guess it’s a Saturday, but that’s so fricking rude! However, he does seem to have been paying attention. “You can’t properly represent your client without knowing what the warrant was about, and Agent Delaney thinks that Franks doesn’t apply because the man arrested had no connection to the warrant. Okay? Continue.”
Actually, I’d like a sidebar to point out that Grant Shaud, the actor who plays Judge Etts, used to play producer Miles Silverberg on Murphy Brown. The casting of 80s sitcom stars continues to impress! Well, impress and thrill me, anyway.
Anyway. Cary’s 4th amendment rights are being “egregiously” violated, Mr. Bishop is a public threat – Miles gets it. He was always a smarty pants. “What we have here is a legal tie,” Judge Etts decides. “And ties always go to the runner. Miss Delaney, tell them what they want to know.” Wow, that’s two sports references in one episode? Crazy.
“Confidential informant?” Lemond Bishop puzzles. I love that he’s sitting, all kingly, as Alicia and Lesli stand. But why is Lesli doing the explaining here? The person known as CI 691, she explains, has been missing for 72 hours, and the search was an attempt to uncover information about his or her whereabouts. The good news, Lesli notes, is that this person hasn’t told the FBI enough yet to warrant an arrest. “We just need to find them, and fast.” I need your cell phone, he commands Alicia. Huh? “We think his house phone is bugged,” Lesli elucidates. Which probably means his cell phones are bugged, too. He thinks Dex will know who the CI could be, and he stares Alicia down until she somewhat reluctantly hands over her phone.
“Crap,” Eli hisses. What, Peter says, we got volunteers, it’s going great. No, that’s not what. Didn’t you notice the laptop? Jimmy V has a picture of Indira up in a red bikini, her hair curled, her hands on her knees. “He’s found a way to make it go viral,” Eli grouses. “That’s Indira Star?” Peter gasps. Ha. Are you regretting you haven’t committed the sin you’re being crucified for? “That is a photoshopped Indira Star,” Eli snorts. “And if there’s one thing the mainstream media likes…” it’s Photoshop? No, it’s a visual. And there’s scruffy Mainstream Media Guy and his ilk, salivating over a laptap under a big sign that says PRESS. “Damn it!” Eli snaps. It’s like a high school lunchroom, only no one’s pretending the reputation-wrecking gossip is cute. Well, actually, that’s not true. The reporters, at least, are enjoying it.
Kalinda’s not enjoying anything; the skin on her forehead is stretched and tense as she barrels into her apartment. “You broke into her apartment?” she demands when she finds Nick the Dick lounging on her bed. “Who’s apartment?” he wonders. “Lana Delaney,” Kalinda presses, “you broke into a federal agent’s apartment?” Yes, Kalinda, because he’s that stupid and that unhinged. When are you going to wake up? When is this game going to stop being attractive to you? “You know I don’t do things like that anymore, I’m a changed man,” he lies calmly, knowing she won’t believe.
So she calls the police. Quick, there’s an intruder in my house! A break in at 10497 North Damon Avenue, apartment 3B. Awesome. If only I thought she’d go through with it. He thinks it’s hilarious. Tell them you made a mistake, he commands her. “Oh my God, I think I just heard a noise in the bedroom,” she tells the 911 operator. He leaps off the bed. Then he pulls her mirror off the wall to reveal the gaping hole she smashed to retrieve her stash at the end of last season. “Well looky here,” he practically leers, crossing his arms and staring at the wall, ” I think you’ve definitely got termites.”
Defeated, she tells the 911 operator it was only her husband and hangs up.
“The problem is, okay, I only found 10 thousand. Where’s the rest, honey?” He sits on her bed, relaxed in the knowledge that he’s won. I can’t believe she just left the money in the wall. At least she had the presence of mind to dispose of part of it in some way; maybe she thought leaving part of it would pacify him when he eventually found it? “I can’t have you disrupting my life like this,” she tells him. Ah, Kalinda, if only you meant it. Oh, I am, he says. “What do you call what you’ve done to me?” I haven’t done anything to you, she answers, shaking her head. “You made me love you!” he screams, then composes himself a bit, still pouting. “I can’t love anyone else, alright? I’ve tried. You are in my head.”
Oh, dear God, save us. She folds! She folds! She sits down next to him on the bed. Kalinda, girl, you are killing me. How can his cheesy lines affect you so strongly? “Nick. Nick! Look, I’m not the same. You can see that. You … you want me to be what I was.” What did she used to be? Compliant? The look she gives him is so serious – so vulnerable – that I’m not sure she’s going to stop herself from crying. Okay, so it wasn’t a total fold. She starts to run before the tears come.
“Your girlfriend is trying to screw you,” he calls after her. Well, that’s the idea, isn’t it? She turns and gives him this terrible, pained look, as if to ask – really? Are you really going to do this to me after what I just said? “I was in her apartment,” he admits. “For you. Not for me.” Oh, gag me with a spoon. “She’s got photos of you everywhere.” Well, that’s a little creepy if he’s not lying. Also a little weird, right? Does she have them rigged so she can hide them quickly before a booty call? “What photos?” Kalinda plays along; you can see she’s not ready to accept his assessment. He pulls one out of his jacket pocket. “That’s you, there. I don’t know who that is. She’s got these everywhere.” Really? Where? It’s Eli, and they’re both seen through blinds; I can’t tell if it’s Lockhart/Gardner, though that would make the most sense. Kalinda’s shocked and alarmed. “You’ve got to know who your friends are,” he says. What, like you? Or Bill? “Lesbian fed is not your friend.” Ha. That is quite possibly true; Lana’s always had her own agenda. And she does love to manipulate Kalinda.
“And you’ve got to stop thinking down here,” he continues. Damn it, you ass. You have to ruin the one sensible thing you’ve said all season, of course you do. (And before we all forgive him because of what he found – well, not like we would – let’s remember that he had no idea that he’d find anything when he tossed Lana’s apartment. And that it does really jibe with Lana’s claim that nothing was taken, or what we’ve seen of her apartment.) Nick tries to pull her in for a kiss, hips first and lips second. “Get off of me,” she grits through her teeth, pushing him off. “Don’t.”
“They’re looking for a missing CI?” Dex contorts his face in confusion. Oh, indeed, Lemond tells him. We think they were “shaking every tree” by going after the accountant, Kalinda explains. “Dexter, are there any employees you haven’t seen in the last few days? Somebody who could be the informant?” You can see immediately when it occurs to him that he does. “Maybe someone who didn’t turn up to work?” Lemond judges his employees pained expression: “Okay, that’s not good.” “Christina Diaz. She worked at Fine Fitness at the front desk.” Lemond curses quite mildly, don’t you think? I’m intrigued that “Damn” is all that comes out of his mouth. If the feds questioned her, could it cause you trouble? It was Kalinda who asked the question, but it’s Lemond’s face that Dex seeks when he sheepishly admits that maybe she could. Bishop glares down like a forbidding statue. She’s the one, then, Kalinda decides.
As Peter gives some sort of speech on the straw poll stage, a reporter begs Eli over his phone for comment. “The only statement we have is that there is no story,” Eli snaps. “Here’s what I want for Illinois,” Peter says. “I want an Illinois that doesn’t just think in terms of Cook County,” an impressive statement at a Cook County function. “Come on, when did the mainstream media start sucking up to bloggers?” Eli wonders, head thrown back. “Hi Eli,” comes the slightly reproachful tones of Maddie Hayworth. Ooops. She’s making the most fantastic fish face, it’s quite odd. “Troubles?” He denies it, and goes on to laud their performance in the poll – they might get that 95% and beat the expectations. He waits a beat. “Here comes the line!” On stage, Peter affirms his commitment to a women’s right to choose – perfectly timed for the money woman to hear. “I saw it, Eli,” she says, and when he pleads ignorance, she calls up Indira’s bikini photo on her phone. Eli, you ass, just be honest. He hangs up the phone.
“My friends are asking me what I think, which puts me in a very awkward position.” Who are these friends she’s talking about, when she insisted to Alicia that she doesn’t actually have many friends? Isn’t that a little odd? Maybe she’s using the word friend in different ways. “It’s all smoke,” Eli insists. ‘The story was killed because we proved Indira Star lied.” She doesn’t look assuaged. “There’s physical evidence. I can call our investigator over here to lay it all out for you.”
Maddie shakes her head. “My friends don’t like this stuff. They can swallow the fact that there are no women in the race, but this just rubs it in their face.” You can assure tehm it’s a lie, he says, but Maddie walks away without comment. Peter’s come to the rousing end to his speech. “I want an Illinois when everyone, young and old, can realize their dreams!”
Do you think we’ll get to see Peter at work at all this season? Or anyone at the State’s Attorney’s at all? Just wondering.
Lesli and Alicia have joined in on the interrogation of Dex, who’s slumped at Bishop’s table with his head in his hand. “What else does Christina know?” Alicia asks. “She knows about the HGH,” he says, and Lemond inhales his anger, calming himself. She was helping sell. “Did you talk with her about any other part of Mr. Bishop’s business?” I would never do that, he swears fervently. “But you trusted her enough to run your HGH,” the boss insists. Dex looks up, then shrugs apologetically. “Yeah, she was discreet.” So discreet you didn’t know she was talking to the feds, buddy. “Were you sleeping with her?” Alicia asks the question, and Lesli prompts him to answer, but from the way Dex winces, an answer’s unnecessary. He was. “Look, I liked her,” he tells his boss, “I knew you would think it was stupid.”
Is it weird to say that Dex makes me think of Bishop as being disciplined and smart and competent? The way he desires to please him, knows when he’s messed up… I don’t know, if their business wasn’t a hideous one I’d have to respect him as a leader, even with this evidence that he promoted Dex too soon.
Kalinda establishes that Christina hasn’t checked in for three days. It turns out this is normal – she has an intense boyfriend, and she needs to run away every few weeks to get away from him. Huh. Perhaps Kalinda can relate. She has a second apartment in Logan Square. Wow – the HGH really made her good money, huh?
“Was there anything more on the Lemond Bishop case?” Clarke asks Cary, now back in his office and looking none the worse for his arrest. No, we got to see the warrant, so it’s all good from here. “Ah, of course. Any more need for accounting work on it?” Check out his disappointment! That’s so cute. No, I think it’s moved on, Cary says, immersed in his paperwork. “Maybe I should stay just in case?” Clarke asks hopefully. That is adorable. No, no, waves Cary, still not looking. “Oh. Okay,” Clarke wilts, and Cary finally twigs to the other man’s emotional state. Clarke stops on his way out to admit something. “I enjoyed it. Helping.”
Cary smiles, and leans back in his chair, considering. “You were great,” he offers, and Clarke beams, absolutely beams. “The way you told that guy, you had a 12% rise, what’d you do with the surplus?” He squeaks a little and gestures to show how perfect the line was, and Clarke actually laughs, embarrassed and delighted. “He didn’t like that, did he?” Clarke sits down. No, says Cary, “he thought you were going to mess him up.” Hee. Clarke laughs, his eyebrows winging over his glasses. “You should talk to Family Law, Mr. Hayden – they always have probate issues involving accounting.” No, the trustee demurs, I couldn’t. “That’s not why I’m here.” “You’re here to help us get out of debt. That’s helping us,” Cary observes. True, Hayden realizes, pleased, and Cary smiles back at him.
Oh my gosh. I could just hug Cary right now. Okay, now I suppose you could say that was cynical in some way, but he saw Clarke’s need for validation and he gave it to him. And Clarke really did a great job, one which lead to them solving the first part of case. They wouldn’t have known about the scam built into the legit businesses otherwise, and the firm needed that info even apart from the current muddle. Clarke could be similarly helpful in Family Law, and it makes him feel valued, a part of the team. No, more – it makes him an actual part of the team.
So, sorry. I think that was really really lovely.
Just so no one feels all warm and cuddly for long, we head back to the straw poll. Change the story, Eli instructs the blue t-shirted campaign workers. And, woah – who’s that wearing an orange jacket and a pained, determined expression? Why, it’s Indira Star! What’s she more pissed about, I wonder; being proved in a lie, or having that Photoshopped bikini photo plastered all over the net? Eli chases her down, but she’s not there to throw paint (or lipstick) at Peter. She’s here to talk to Maddie.
Which really isn’t any better, when you think about it.
“This young lady called my office. I just made a public statement in support of Peter – I’d like to be sure I didn’t make a fool out of myself,” Maddie tells Eli calmly. Indeed. But how did Indira know to call Maddie’s office? Is she following Peter’s campaign closely enough to know she’s a donor, and what, wants to sabotage him? Doesn’t that seem odd? It’s feeling more and more likely that Indira’s someone’s puppet.
“This woman is a consummate liar,” Eli denounces loudly. “Well then you have nothing to worry about,” Maddie replies serenely. Perhaps, if you have magic truth detecting skills, dear, but I’m not sure about this either way. If she’s going to talk to Indira, she should talk to Kalinda too, don’t you think?
Of course Kalinda’s a little busy. Alicia explains to her that there’s a key hidden under Christina’s mailbox, so Kalinda feels underneath the boxes at Christina’s hideaway apartment until she finds it. “Be careful,” Alicia cautions. “Always,” Kalinda smiles, an open, happy smile. Gosh, it’s like she’s so unhappy in the rest of her life that just talking to Alicia makes her giddy. I can’t think that she’d be that openly pleased if they were in the same room.
As she’s finding the key, she hears a sound like breaking glass or crashing cymbals, and runs out of the building in time to see man – presumably the boyfriend, Noah – ride off on the motorcycle Dex mentioned he had. There are strange paint splashes on the alley wall – bright red, like blood splatter, only too many to really be that. Right? As Kalinda walks back toward the building, she notices a car on the sidewalk. She sees the Fine Fitness employee parking sticker on the windshield. And then she notices the smell coming from the trunk.
“She’s dead?” a stunned looking Lemond Bishop asks. ‘It appears so,” Kalinda confirms. He stares as she comments on the trunk causing advanced decomposition. Lesli winces, then brings up Noah. Noah Mayfield, a producer who works at a sound studio and rides a motorcycle. “So that’s who you saw?” Lemond grasps, clearly freaked and looking for a way out. “I don’t know, but it’s likely.” She saw a thicker-set guy wearing a leather jacket and helmet. She saw his back. And if Christina was long dead, I don’t know that it’s going to help prove he was the killer. “The question is, do we make an anonymous call and let the feds know about the car?” Lesli votes against – they’ll arrest him right away. But if it comes out later that we knew and didn’t say, then they can use that against him at trial, Diane counters. Then how does the anonymous call help? An anonymous call they can later prove is from them? Because they’ll want Kalinda to testify, right?
Lemond Bishop sits, staggered, scratching his head. As Lesli and Diane snap at each other, Alicia sits down next to Lemond, who scoots forward so only she hears. “I’ve done time before, but that was before Dylan.” You’ll make bail, she promises, but he doesn’t believe that at all. Looks like I’m not the only pessimist around. “I need you to draw up a guardian arrangement,” he asks. His sister hates him, but loves Dylan; Alicia will take care of it. He leans away from her. “Call the feds,” he declares, decisive. “Tell them about the body.”
Kalinda sits out in the courtroom hall. Is she waiting for Lana? Lana has arrived, anyway, looking shark-like in a shiny blazer. “Too bad about your boy,” she says by way of a greeting. “My boy?” Kalinda questions. “I didn’t mean it that way,” Lana backs down, swaggering into the hall with her hands in her pockets, gunslinger style. “What’s wrong? You sound surly.” Well, knowing you’re being stalked can do that. (And, okay, I wouldn’t put it past Lana to stalk Kalinda – she has total dominance issues – but on the other hand, Nick could have had the photo taken, too. I told you I’m suspicious.) Lana explains about the call, and that they found Christina Diaz’s murdered body in the trunk of her car. “You done?” Kalinda challenges, surly as advertized. We have enough evidence connecting him to the murder for Judge Etts to issue an arrest warrant, Lana confesses. They do? Actual evidence? “We prefer Mr. Bishop turn himself in.” Does that mean they’ll wait for him to go to them? Why do I think not?
Kalinda walks away, and it annoys Lana. Were you expecting a kiss goodbye? “Listen, it’s work. Don’t let it get in the way.” “In the way?” Kalinda asks coldly. “Of what?” “Of us,” Lana lowers her voice, a little annoyed that Kalinda’s making her say it. “But there isn’t any us,” she replies, searching Lana’s face. “There never was any us.” Lana frowns, confused and upset, as Kalinda walks away.
Peter! Peter! Peter! Peter! chants the crowd. Check it out – even with the bikini eruption, Peter won the poll by 96%, the highest percentage ever. Avacello has dropped out and Staub is about to. (I should say so, after that pitiful showing!) They accomplished everything they wanted, Peter tells his campaign manager as they sit by the stage, and it’s all thanks to Eli and Maddie Hayworth. “Keep her close, we need more allies like her!” “Peter, Springfield is this close,” Eli tells his boss, pinching his fingers together. Um, that’s mighty premature! Those sound like famous last words. When Peter ascends the stage to give his victory speech, Eli’s smile fades to pain.
In another painful reality, Alicia presents Lemond Bishop with the guardianship papers. Alicia will wait with Dylan, since the feds will arrive before his aunt does. Alicia asks for instructions to pass on, and Lemond has them, heartbreaking details. Dylan’s a heavy sleeper, so he’ll need multiple wake up calls. And he never proofreads his homework for spelling and punctuation (um, hello, he’s 8!) so she’ll have to stay on top of that too. Dylan walks in, and Lemond slowly moves forward – almost a dead man walking – to tell him he’s going away. I want to cry just looking at them.
We don’t get to hear what he says, though, because Maddie calls Alicia. And guess what? Those were famous last words of Eli’s. Maddie’s dropping her support of Peter. She wants Alicia to know. “I don’t understand – he won tonight. He’s the only candidate left.” Well, I suppose there’s no saying she has to support anyone. “I know, but this Indira Star business has forced me to – reevaluate.” What, without even talking to Kalinda? “It didn’t happen, Maddie. The woman lied,” Alicia replies. Maddie has no answer for this. “I would like for us to remain friends,” she stammers. “I think you and I are sympatico.” Good grief. I knew this was going to be fraught, but how can Alicia stay friends with someone who believes Indira? Believing Indira is kind of tantamount to calling Alicia an idiot and fool yet again for staying and believing in Peter. At least without further explanation. “Is that possible? Staying friends?” Sure, says Alicia, clearly disappointing and probably lying (if only to herself). I’ll give you your space and check in a few days from now, Maddie suggests; Alicia hangs up without answering.
Father and son hold each other gently; Lemond kneels, and Dylan bends over to hug around his neck. The first knock comes to the door. Where has Diane gone? Lemond puts his hands on Dylan’s arms, likely telling him he has to be strong. Another knock, then a stronger one. Diane arrives and calls Lemond’s attention to it. The two hug again – close, not awkwardly like the first time. Lemond Bishop nods to Alicia, who scrambles forward to rush Dylan out of sight before the feds come in. “Why don’t you show me all the toys in your room, okay, sweetheart?” A Bob Dylan-like song plays regret and soft whistful longing in the background. Dylan turns after the first step; his father looks haunted. Then Dylan and Alicia rush up the stairs. “It’s time to come out,” the feds demand. “Open the door now!” Lemond Bishop turns to face them. Without comment, they cuff him and take him out into the dark night; the yellow letters on their jackets are the last things to fade into darkness.
In some ways, that ham sandwich – the representation of the grand jury who’ll convict anyone – hangs over this episode because of Bishop’s fear that once he enters the system, he’ll never get out. It’s such an apt beginning I can’t even stand it. And I can’t help it, I know he’s a scary drug dealer, but I really enjoyed seeing the softer, more principled side of Lemond Bishop this week. He’s a fascinating contrast to Colin Sweeney, don’t you think? Sweeney, who gets the best tables at restaurants because he’s a murderer, and Bishop, whose child can’t have a birthday party because everyone’s too terrified to come to his house. Mike Colter really is terrific. And I’ll enjoy seeing more of him as we defend him against the murder charge; it’s neat to have a serialized case, and I like the way they compartmentalized it so this episode feels finished but the larger issue of his prosecution (and the chance to steal more of his business) still looms.
And, let’s see. I don’t even want to talk about Kalinda. I’m sorry, but I’ve said all I can say. I’m just sitting here waiting for the right person to die.
Is it possible that Indira really could have said something to Maddie that convinced her that the story’s true, or does she simply think that Indira’s too credible a witness for the press to let go of the story? Why would she back out without hearing both sides of the issue, especially when Eli said he had proof that Indira’s accusations were lies? Now, what should be Eli’s next move, do you think? Should he somehow give the press Kalinda’s information, even though Peter doesn’t want him to? And good grief, why does Peter not want him to? How’s Grace going to handle this, by the way?
I won’t get into them, but the promo for the upcoming episode implies some pretty interesting changes, maybe even gives them away. It looks like they’ve done a good job of setting up a new dynamic for the show, anyway, so I look forward to seeing how that plays out, too.
Sorry to be a little later than usual this week – between Hurricane Sandy and Halloween, it’s been a busy week! I hope you guys are all safe and dry and have power! Let’s talk.