Fade up on Phoebe's hideous Mini Cooper pulling to a stop on an otherwise deserted street, directly across from a power substation. Detective "Doormat" Darryl's sedan presently joins it as Phoebe and Raige emerge, bickering, with Raige wondering if Phoebe's certain they've arrived at the correct location. Phoebe insists the street is the same one from the premonition she apparently forced mere minutes earlier, and bitches at Detective Doormat hurry it up, as she has one of her Knock Me Up NOW! dates to attend downtown within the hour. And as if Phoebe could be any more annoying in this scene, she's sporting a hot pink newsboy's cap that would not be out of place upon the heads of various annoyances on a certain "talent" competition I could mention. You're thirty-one years old, hag. Leave fashion choices that tragic to the kids from now on, okay? The three idiots pedebabble towards the dank and forbidding alleyway where the "possessed" "killer" from Phoebe's forced premonition should just now be breaking into the back entrance of a pawn shop. Raige hastily exposits that the "Phantasm" infecting the perp should emerge from said perp's body to "annihilate" the Glamorous Ladies once they confront the guy. Phoebe stresses for the Doormat's benefit that just because a demon inhabits the gentleman in question, it does not follow that he's an innocent. "The Phantasm only possesses bad guys to make them worse," she explains before perking, "Okay, shall we?" and barreling out of the frame. Detective Doormat lingers behind long enough to ask, "She really wants this demon, doesn't she?" "No," Raige ices, irritated. "She really wants her date." She clomps after her slutty sister as Detective Doormat purses his lips and pouts.
Cut to the dank and forbidding alleyway. Phoebe and Raige have already positioned themselves behind a Dumpster, where Detective Doormat joins them to spy on the demonically possessed perp at the far end of the alley as he attempts to pry open the security bars on the pawn shop's back window. After a brief conference with the gals, the Doormat advances a couple of yards, aims his automatic, and shouts, "Freeze! Police!" The demonically possessed perp spins around to confront the Doormat, looking insane. Despite Raige's frantic whispers that Phoebe remain hidden until the Doormat has things under control, Phoebe tiptoes out behind the Doormat and manages to be in the perfect spot to knock him to the ground when the demonically possessed perp whips out an automatic of his own and squeezes off a couple of shots. The Doormat bounds back up onto one knee and whacks the perp with a couple of rounds of his own. At Raige's prompting, Phoebe hurls a potion vial onto the dying criminal's back. The soon-to-be corpse flares greenish white, and this Phantasm thing we've heard so much about floats out of the guy's back in an ectoplasmic blob that rises high above the alley floor to morph into the shrouded figure of a screeching, twenty-foot-high female ghost. "Mother of God," the Doormat mutters, somehow still maintaining an ability to be shocked by things like this even after five and a half goddamned years of hanging around the Manor Morons. Raige yanks a wand not unlike that used by last season's Doc Diddy and points it in the apparition's direction. The wand spits out a stream of energy that ensnares the keening banshee in the air, gradually sucking the Phantasm's form into the wand itself. Very Ghostbusters of them, but all in all a pretty good effects sequence there. The Doormat approaches the ladies to thank them for saving his life. You stupid man. They're the ones who put it at risk in the first place. Why are you still talking to them? Oh, yeah. Your new nickname compels you to. In any event, Phoebe yammers something about vanquishing evil while saving the innocent and whatnot, before shouting out a hello to The Dazzling Sheila and bolting from the alley for her date with Raige in tow. Detective Doormat attempts to crack a joke, but it sucks, so I'll be moving on to the paragraph.
Out on the street, Raige spots a car she doesn't remember seeing earlier and wonders if they should be worried about it. Not pausing to break her stride, Phoebe orders Raige to relax. "You act like we've never done this before," she pffts, heading out of the frame. Raige soon vanishes as well, leaving the camera alone to track over a bit to the new car before cutting the rest of the distance and panning along the driver's side. A woman who'd been reclining in the front seat pops back up, ensures the gals have vanished from the scene, and hits play on her tiny, handheld digital recorder. We see the shooting and the vanquish play itself out on the recorder's screen, shot from this woman's perspective. She punches the pause button just as Raige's wand starts in with the Phantasm sucking, smirks, and smugs, "Gotcha!" as we shriek into the opening credits.
Shockingly enough, there's no opening travelogue to waste precious moments of airtime this evening. Instead, we fade right up on the sun-drenched Manor façade the following morning. Up in the kitchen, Phoebe's wearing a tight, eye-scorching creation in deep red that features an enormous and fuzzy grey-and-black fleur-de-lis stretched across the Fun Bags, accessorized by opera-length arm warmers with matching fleurs-de-lis patterns at the wrists. A pyjama-clad Raige sleepily wanders into the room from the main hall to fetch herself some coffee and genially wonders how Phoebe's date went the evening. Phoebe, who's been mixing some sort of potion on the stove during all of this, admits she had a good time, but she realizes last night's chump is not the man of her dreams. And how does she know this? She forced another premonition, of course, and saw nothing in their future but sex. Not that she has anything against sex, mind you, but if you're not the father of the child she's anticipating as the result of her stupid vision quest a couple of months ago, Phoebe doesn't have time for you. To that end, she's concocting a potion that should make it easier for her to force yet another premonition on her lunch date that afternoon. "I want to make sure I get a hit off of him before the entrees come," she explains. "No sense wasting those calories." Oy. Not for nothing, hag, but that bony ass of yours could use a little extra padding. In fact, you might recall me mentioning this fact, oh, five or six hundred times over the last three years. Anorexic shrew. Raige, far more concerned about Phoebe's blatant disregard of the prohibition on personal gain, scratches her head and asks, "Does it even matter to you that you're breaking every Wiccan rule that exists?" And she shouldn't have mentioned the Wiccan Rede, because unless I'm misunderstanding it, Phoebe's not really contravening its central tenet. However. This show has its own Rede, which goes something like, "An it make no sense, do what ye will," so I suppose we can all join Raige in hating Phoebe for acting like a self-absorbed moron. Again.
As Phoebe reminds us all that Piper's chosen to confine herself to Not!warts for the remainder of her pregnancy, my pretty, pretty husband orbs in from upstairs in search of the Book of Shadows and dear God, what is that he's wearing? It looks like the top half of a peach-colored union suit with a red neckline and cuffs, and it's got this bizarre placket thing going on from the neck to the mid-chest. Chris, honey. Do not be following the fashion lead of my in-laws, okay? You look like a jackass. A very pretty jackass, but still. In any event, Big Gay Chris has been working his demonic connections as of late, as he has a new "theory" on who might be trying to turn his dead-eyed sociopath of an older brother to the dark side. "Oh!" Raige snarks. "A new theory! What's that, like, the third one this week?" "Are you keeping score now?" Chris pisses back without missing a beat. "You have to admit," Raige grumps, "you've had a lot of different theories lately, and none of them have panned out." "That's why they call them theories," Chris snits. No, Chris, that's why they call them conjecture, but I suppose that's not important, for Raige chooses to retort, "Do we even get along in the future?" and I'm forced to remind her once again that no, she does not get along with her nephew in the future, because SHE'S DEAD.
Phoebe, wiggling her eyebrows, changes the topic of conversation by asking Big Gay Chris how his mother's doing. "She's good," Chris nods. "Big. You know, I keep thinking how weird it's going to be to actually see myself being born." We're way ahead of you on the forum boards as far as impending weirdness is concerned, dollface. If I remember correctly, of the most popular choices in our "Stupid Things The Chrises Will Force Us To Endure" poll, your tiny self whizzing in your big self's face during a diaper change came in just behind you catching your slimy little self when Piper expels you from her uterus. I must admit, though, that no one saw that sonogram coming. Phoebe inquires as to the health of her erstwhile brother-in-law as well, but as Chris just spent most of last week smacking that worthless Dolt ass up, he's understandably reluctant to linger on the subject of his father's well-being with his aunt. Phoebe berates him with much unasked-for advice regarding his relationship with the Dolt, so Big Gay Chris quickly thanks her for letting him abuse the Book before orbing out. Hee! Why haven't any of the others ever employed that strategy, huh? Strident bitch annoying you? Orb the fuck out of there! It's perfect!
Phoebe snaps her head in Raige's direction to peeve, but is fortunately interrupted by the doorbell. She passes through the front hall to find The Distraught Yet Still Dazzling Sheila standing on the porch. After hastening her indoors, Phoebe, who's been joined by Raige, wonders what gives. "It's Darryl," The Dazzling Sheila replies. "They just arrested him for murder." Raige gapes. Phoebe goggles. The Dazzling Sheila sniffles. The camera…
…cuts to the interrogation/interview room at Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World. As a guard hovers in the background, an orange-jumpsuited Doormat admits to Phoebe and Raige that his memory of the evening's events is, at best, fuzzy. In a really bad bit of overdubbing, Phoebe opines that "something really weird is going on here," just as the Doormat's court-appointed lawyer appears to prepare the Doormat for his arraignment. Violating God knows how many of Doormat's constitutional rights, the cop standing guard does not make himself scarce and instead remains in the shadows, listening to everything that follows. I hate this show. There's some babbling about Phoebe and Raige providing the Doormat with an alibi, but as they're typically vague with the details, the public defender's forced to remind them that perjuring themselves isn't going to help their friend. He adds that the prosecution's evidence is overwhelming. Phoebe and Raige make buh? noises. The Doormat instructs his lawyer to show them the videotape. The lawyer slides a CD-ROM into a handy laptop, and we see a drastically altered version of the evening's alleyway encounter. The perp, hands waving in the air, desperately pleads for his life as the Doormat coldly pumps three bullets into his chest. Raige shakes her head, at a loss. "That's not what happened," Phoebe breathes. The lawyer's all, "Whatever, dingbat." The Doormat sighs.
Out at the late, lamented Andy's old desk, the woman from last night shuffles through some paperwork until Phoebe and Raige approach, addressing her as "Inspector Sheridan" and wondering if they can have a quick word with her. Phoebe immediately gets all up in this woman's face, accusing her of doctoring the images on the videotape in order to frame Detective Doormat. Inspector Sheridan, who resembles a less ethereal Julianne Moore, is all, "And you are?" Upon hearing Phoebe's name, she hmmms and notes that the Halliwells' names pop up repeatedly in Detective Doormat's files. "For the record," she continues, "I didn't fake anything, because I was there undercover, and I saw it go down with my own eyes." "I've been investigating Morris for a few weeks now," she adds as Phoebe and Raige shoot suspicious looks at each other, "trying to figure out why so many of his suspects over the last five years just vanish or mysteriously wind up dead. Now I know: He takes the law into his own hands." And with that, she excuses herself and breezes past the Manor Morons, who gape and jaw at each other until they come to a realization they choose not to share with the audience.
The screen wipes over to an overhead shot of a bustling street market. As the camera cranes back down to ground level, Raige orbs into the middle of the thronging shoppers with the Feebs. The extras as one immediately wig and scream and flail and run for cover, instead of going, "Wow. That's pretty cool. How the hell did you do that?" "I hope this works," Raige grunts before gesturing at a nearby coffee stand, dissolving the thing into a vanishing cloud of orbs as the proprietress and a customer freak and scamper out of the frame. Phoebe spies a nearby flower shop and wings the following spell:
Flowers that bring desire --
Make them turn into fire.
The various bouquets erupt, sending even more extras scattering. Suddenly, everyone save Phoebe and Raige freezes, and sweet Jesus, but this is a crappy green-screen effect. They've superimposed Raige and Phoebe on top of a freeze-frame still of the fleeing crowd, said crowd featuring uncharacteristically blurry limbs and all, but they've neglected to scale the still correctly, so the gals end up being suddenly dwarfed by their supposed surroundings. I hate this show. In any event, the birdbrains, clearly standing on some artificially lit soundstage, turn to spot the two Cleaners from earlier in the season. Phoebe demands to know why they framed the Doormat, and receives the expected obstinate response, so she peevishly reminds them that the Glamorous Ladies of Halliwell Manor "clean up [their] own magical messes." Not this time, you wretch. A supernatural entity or entities yet to be named "anticipated" last night's exposure and, realizing the gals would not have known about it until it was far too late to do anything about it, sent the Cleaners in to tidy up. Phoebe threatens to keep exposing magic until the Doormat is freed. "This will not be like our last encounter, Miss Halliwell," Harvey vows, shutting her up with a simple wave of his hand. Dude, can you teach me that trick? "We're under strict orders not to negotiate with you this time," reveals. "Strict orders from whom?" Raige snits, arms petulantly crossed beneath her chest.
"The Tribunal," the Dolt replies from the depths of Not!warts Not-So-Great Hall, for that is where we find ourselves after that last cut. The Dolt babbles something about this Tribunal being comprised of demons and ever-useless Elders, its sole purpose to ensure that no mortal learns about magic. "At whatever the cost," Snidely Whiplash notes ominously. What, you thought I was kidding with that Snidely threat from last week? Think again. There follows some more nonsense regarding the creation of the Cleaners and their powers and how all of this fits into "the grand design" "to allow magic to influence but not take over free will," and no, that makes no sense at all, which is why I called it "more nonsense," but more importantly: You were expecting better from this show? After all this time? Get off the pipe already. Snidely Whiplash adds that this free-will bullshit "is the one thing both sides could agree upon." Shut up, Snidely. The free-will bullshit is the second thing both sides could agree upon after the Hollow, and being an ever-useless Elder, you should know that. Douche. Piper, who had emerged from a room down the hall, like, thirty minutes ago, finally toddles her massively bloated ass into the Not-So-Great Hall to greet her sisters and wonder what they're doing at Not!warts. The Manor Ps plus the Dolt fill her in on the sitch, and Piper is predictably annoyed. After Raige and Phoebe bicker about whose fault this all is -- and I, incidentally, am siding with Raige against Phoebe, like, go figure -- they turn to Snidely for help.
Cut to Raige, Phoebe, Snidely, and the Dolt orbing onto a massive, opaque platform lit from beneath with white lights, surrounded by blackness. "Where are we?" one of the women wonders. "Everywhere," Snidely replies. "Nowhere. You don't want to know." Shut UP. GOD, I HATE this ASSHOLE. What brain surgeon on the production staff decided that what this show really needed was a tedious, sanctimonious, evil, greasy, British, know-it-all hack? And was it just to piss me off? Snidely warns them that the Tribunal is unlike anything they've ever encountered before, and adds that while the Doormat situation is unfortunate, they should be "aware before [they] embark upon this journey that where it ends might just be worse." Phoebe's all, "Shut up and summon them already," so Snidely waves his arms in the air like he just don't care and intones, "Di ecce hora uxor mea me necabit!" which, as the lovely and talented CRM noted on the boards, translates roughly as "I say, behold this hour, for my wife will kill me." I want to die.
The camera's been swooping giddily into the air during all of this, by the way, and we can see that the underlit platform is actually in two sections: A narrower outer circle, encompassing a slightly raised inner hexagon that features a lavender-colored panel at the center. A supernatural breeze lifts Raige's hair for a moment before four ginormous disembodied heads shimmer into view in the void above the platform. Four, hmmm? More of a Quadrunal, then, don't you think? By the way, one of the Elder heads belongs to Ken Page, whom I know from the original Broadway cast of Ain't Misbehavin', because I am a huge queen. He shall therefore be known as "Fats." And because I have neither the time to waste on nicknames nor the time to, you know, actually look up the characters' names, the other ever-useless Elder shall be "Jelly Roll," while the demonic counterparts shall be "Django" and "Bubber." Just go with it. By the way, the other ginormous heads are not immediately recognizable, but if you've seen the '70s version of Superman, you've seen this effect before. Oooh, do you think they're going to imprison Phoebe in a pane of glass and catapult her into the cold, dark, lonely depths of outer space? Because that would be awesome. And justified. Anywho, Django asks Snidely why they've been summoned. Hey, dicksmack. Don't know if anyone told you this, but you're supposed to know these things in advance. I mean, you can't be asking simply out of politeness. You are a demon, after all, and I doubt social niceties hold much appeal for your sort. Snidely explains this evening's plot. Bubber wonders where the third Charmed One is. Jelly Roll replies from the Elder side of the…space?...that Piper is "with child," and adds that he assumes Raige and Phoebe will speak on her behalf "in abstentia." Phoebe, of course, has no idea what "in abstentia" means. Neither do I, because "abstentia" is not a word. With every line, I die a little inside. Fats and Jelly Roll nevertheless exchange a look that basically says, "We've entrusted the future of the world to this fuckwitted skank?" Raige, meanwhile, wonders how a tribunal of four breaks a tied vote. "You don't wanna know," the Dolt whispers.
Fats announces that the Charmed Ones' request for a review of the Cleaners' actions has been granted, and two sets of tables and chairs immediately materialize on opposite sides of the platform. Almost instantly after that, Barbas flames onto the scene. "What the hell is he doing here?" Phoebe blurts, panicked. I'd like to know the same thing. I mean, I get that they simply banished him the first two times their paths crossed his, but that vanquish in "Sympathy for the Demon" seemed pretty goddamned final at the time. Barbas confirms that Cole did indeed vanquish him "to the fires of Hell" -- like, Waste Land, you assholes -- but that he, Barbas, has been granted temporary leave to act as the gals' opposing counsel. The ladies protest, but the ginormous demonic heads insist that they have the right to select anyone they want to prosecute their case. Barbas then babbles some legalese-type crap that I'd transcribe if this were Law & Order, but it's not, so I won't. The upshot of his request is that the lavender hexagon at the platform's center flares to emit an upside-down cone of blue light, wherein we can see the Doormat and his dazzling wife cuddling in a prison cell. The Doormat's lawyer approaches from the other side of the bars to glum, "The governor denied the stay." "What's going on?" splutters the Dolt. "We have accelerated time, but only for the execution," replies Django. "You have until midnight to convince us," Fats adds, "or his sentence will be carried out." Given that the average length of the death penalty appeals process is anywhere from eight to fifteen years, I guess I'm now writing this recap from the future. Fuck me, but this show is awful. "Magic will be protected," Jelly Roll concludes, ignoring my angst, "one way or the other." The Ominous Horns Of Impending Doormat Doom belch as the holographic image of the doormat in question gets sucked into the commercial break.
And we're back. Phoebe and Raige bitch about their current predicament, and shrike something else about their "worst enemy" acting as opposing counsel. Snidely's all, "I warned you, you simps," until Jelly Roll orders him to present his case. Snidely requests a few more moments of prep time, but Bubber, reminding Snidely that he was the one who summoned them in the first place, orders him to get on with it. Phoebe objects to Barbas's presence, citing the clear conflict of interest he has in this case, as he's tried to kill them three times in the past. Fats, outraged, puffs something about her impertinence. Phoebe assures him she's not questioning the Elders' motives, just the demons'. She rises to make some point or another and inadvertently steps on the lavender hexagon at the center of the platform. It immediately flares up with a scene from the as-yet-unrecapped "From Fear to Eternity." First-season Phoebe, looking impossibly young and appealing -- and my, but choosing this particular flashback was a bad call on the part of the writing staff, as present-day Alyssa Milano looks even more wasted and haggard now that the audience can indulge in a side-by-side comparison with her younger self -- wanders through the backyard of a house listed with "SWA Properties," her place of employment for that episode, and calls out for a "Mrs. Joffee." Barbas responds in Mrs. Joffee's voice. Phoebe whirls about with a look of abject terror on her face. Present-day Barbas grins at the memory of events displayed in the hologram as he picks at his nails.
Back in the past, Barbas grips Phoebe tightly by her coat and passes the back of his hand over her face. Phoebe, gasping and panting in fear, pulls it together long enough to challenge him with, "I know how you kill, but there are no elevators around here." "Elevators?" Barbas sneers. "That's what you think your greatest fear is? You mortals need to look deeper. Your greatest fear is losing a sister, and I get two for one." As past Phoebe's eyes widen in shock, the hologram retracts into the floor. "Oh, the good old days," present-day Barbas grins, and he's not kidding. That thirty-second flashback makes me wish I were recapping that episode instead of this one. Phoebe, meanwhile, hisses a question at Snidely about what just happened. He exposits that she stepped into "The Circle Of Truth." "It's enchanted," he warns. "It reads thoughts and shows what needs to be seen. You must be careful." Raige snots that maybe Phoebe should consider sitting down and staying down as Barbas argues that his past deeds are not on trial at the moment. Rather, it is the question of whether the Charmed Ones "have the right to be continually cleaning up after their own magical asses," and wow, this is boring. Phoebe seethes that they're being set up and they have to get out of there. Snidely whispers that if they leave, "Lef-tenant Morris" will die. "Lef-tenant"? You jackhole. Shut it. In any event, Phoebe orders the Dolt back to the Manor or earth or wherever to sort things out. The Dolt orbs upwards, leading Barbas to snark, "Was I boring him?" Maybe. Maybe not. What you should be asking is, "Am I boring Demian?" And the answer to that is, "Yes. Yes, you are. And would you fix your fucking teeth already?" Snidely opens his defense of the Charmed Ones by proposing to remind the Quadrunal of the gals' "long, successful history" of covering up their own mistakes, as we cut to…
…Not!warts, where Piper, having evidently been clued in by the Dolt, insists on joining her sisters. The Dolt reminds her that the situation was already less than ideal before Barbas showed up. Now that he's a part of tonight's plot, she's far better off remaining where she is. The Dolt eventually cuts to the chase to admit that he orbed to Not!warts so he could ask Piper to ask Big Gay Chris if Big Gay Chris could use his demonic connections to figure out what Barbas is up to this time around. Piper's all, "Ask him yourself, loser," but the Dolt's still being an almighty pussy about last week's glorious smackdown, so Piper wearily rolls her eyes and sighs, "Chris?" My pretty, pretty husband immediately orbs in behind her, but pulls himself up short when he spots his deadbeat dad. "We need your help," Piper informs him, in a tone that indicates she will brook no dissent.
Quadrunal. Snidely argues that the Glamorous Ladies always managed to keep "the big secret" when it mattered, and as evidence of this pulls up a hologram of the gals cleaning up the mess at The Casa Del Sole following the first vanquish of Phoebe's ex-husband. After it reaches the point where Raige recites the "Object of Objection" spell, the hologram disappears, and Snidely adds that "Lef-tenant Morris, whom the Cleaners would have die to cover magic, [was there] instrumental in keeping it protected." Barbas requests the hologram be allowed to play out, and we get to rewatch the bit where Phoebe biffs Raige in the face, which has nothing to do with the matter at hand, but then again, so few of these clips do. What a freaking waste of time.
Barbas counters that the gals are so often under the influence of something or other that it's inevitable they'll screw up and expose magic on a level that cannot be contained. Or something like that. I think I just made his point better than he did. To back up his claim, he replays the later scene from that same episode wherein the Phoetus, through Phoebe, attempts to fry the cop investigating Cole's disappearance. Barbas then flicks his hand around to conjure up the scene from "Bride and Gloom" wherein Piper and Phoebe fuck with the wedding planners. Once that's played itself out, Snidely rises to shout, "I frankly don't see the relevance of any of this!" Join the club, tool. They just wasted five minutes showing us clips that have nothing to do with the case as presented; the wedding planners, if you'll recall, remembered nothing of the incident afterwards, and the attempted toasting of the Cole-investigating detective was passed off as a bizarre trashcan fire. Barbas sneers something about the Charmed Ones getting possessed by outside influences so often that they can no longer be trusted to handle matters on their own. Phoebe, annoyed, wonders where the Dolt is.
On The Rocky Outcropping Of Doom For Man-Stealing Hussies And Embarrassing Latino Stereotypes, as matters would have it, watching as his younger son threatens to pitch a scruffy demonic sort into the lakes of Hell unless the scruffy demonic sort tells them everything he knows about Barbas. Big Gay Chris has forced "Phinks" to the edge of the ledge and is keeping him from falling into the pit by holding onto the back of the guy's coat and…I'm not really buying this. Big Gay Chris simply doesn't have the upper-body strength to keep a guy suspended like that, but whatever. He's pretty. Phinks eventually babbles that Barbas cozied up to a couple of Phantasms down in Hell, the plan being to use them to "win" something that would grant him an eternal reprieve. "The case," the Dolt guesses. "He must have used the Phantasm to cut a deal with the demon members of the Tribunal. We need proof." "Whaddya think he is?" Chris snorts, gesturing towards Phinks with his free hand. "He's a demon," the Dolt pffts. "They'll discredit him." Chris, agitated by this second-guessing from the Dolt, temporarily loosens his grip on Phinks's coat, and the demon topples into the fire below. "Shit," Drew Fuller mopes. The editing staff then drags him into a sound booth to overdub -- badly -- "Shoot" instead, for this is not HBO. "Look what you made me do!" Chris howls. The Dolt rolls his eyes around in his scary, gigantic gargoyle head.
Back at the Quadrunal, Snidely's pulled up the scene from "House Call" where Piper snaps out of it to realize that she's vanquished the Manor. We watch that fairly cool restoration effects sequence, then Snidely concludes his case by demanding that "Lef-tenant Morris" be freed. Also, he would like the Glamorous Ladies to be allowed to continue cleaning up after themselves. The Mighty Heads Of Justice are not impressed. Barbas makes with the sarcastic clapping and rises to counter that, as a result of the "evidence" Snidely presented, the current case should be expanded to include an actual indictment of the Charmed Ones' historically reckless tactics. To demonstrate what he means, Barbas conjures up the rooftop torture scene from "Witches in Tights," and aw. Julian McMahon. His wryly bemused delivery of the line "What the hell are you doing?" makes me miss the actor, if not the character. Barbas then sneers, "And where were the Charmed Ones to clean up this mess?" Waving a hand around, he conjures up the bar scene from "Sam I Am." Phoebe rises to object. "That is absurd! That was Cole! We weren't responsible for that -- we weren't even there!" And she's got a point, but Barbas argues that she was there in spirit, or something, and the stupid Quadrunal agrees with him. "Hexes, possession, evil influences, affairs of the heart," he rants, slithering up from his chair and dancing around the platform. "I say we're lucky that all magic has not been exposed beyond repair long before now." Raige shoots him a stink-face as he concludes, "We should not just be deciding the fate of some poor, pathetic mortal -- we should be deciding the fate of these three and whether they should ever be permitted to practice magic again." Fats nods his disembodied head as Jelly Roll intones, "So be it." Phoebe turns to Raige and sighs, pathetic-like. Raige is all, "Whatever, dipshit. Thanks for getting me into this mess, you hosebag." Commercial.
Manor. Non-Existent Attic. Big Gay Chris and the Dolt babble, each to himself, about Barbas and the Phantasms before bickering with each other. The Dolt finally orders Chris to set aside his daddy issues long enough to save Detective Doormat and "the girls." Chris quickly remembers that Phinks specified "Phantasms" -- in the plural -- and realizes there must be another one out there for the guys to find. Scene.
Quadrunal. Barbas summons Harvey Cleaner, who twinkles onto the platform already seated in a chair. We learn that the Cleaners were "assigned to the Charmed Ones when they first became witches," so I'm wondering, "When? At birth? Or does he mean six months after Phoebe killed Grams and the binding spell was reversed? And if the Cleaners have been around all this time, why did they not get involved when Phoebe whacked a baseball player? Or when Phoebe whacked a classmate? Or when Phoebe whacked a co-star?" But no, instead of focusing on things that actually matter, we launch into The Dead Cops On Parade Flashback Extravaganza: Law Enforcement's Greatest Hits. The first is Andy's as-yet-unrecapped death scene in "Déjà Vu All Over Again," only they've excised all traces of Shannen Doherty, you really can't see Ted King, and the clip focuses solely on Piper and Phoebe's brief pre-commercial-break reaction, so unless you're a long-time viewer of this crapfest, you'll have no idea what just happened. "Truly tragic," Barbas murmurs after the clip cuts out. "That was their sister Prue's first true love." As he ambles over to the defense table, he pointedly adds, "Wonder whatever happened to her?" Alyssa Milano leaps to her feet to scream, "I had that bitch FIRED, and you KNOW IT!" We then get a two-minute-long sequence from "Death Takes a Halliwell," in which Reese Davidson accuses Phoebe of complicity in the Colethazor's disappearance before getting his brain sucked out by the demons of the week. comes another two-minute-long sequence featuring Agent Bruce's threats and eventual death from his own bullet. Harvey concludes his testimony by asserting that there are many Inspector Sheridans waiting to snare the Charmed Ones, and suggests that the list of dead cops end with Detective Doormat. Harvey, incidentally, seems altogether far too evil -- far too pleased that the Doormat will in all likelihood die while the Charmed Ones receive some sort of massive sanction likely involving the loss of their powers -- to be the supposedly neutral character they've presented him as since his first appearance. I'm wondering if they're setting the Cleaners up to be a part of Barbas's latest conspiracy. Then again, ol' Harve here could just be as irritated with this cast of misfits and morons as I am after six years.
Whatever. Barbas dismisses the witness, so Harvey twinkles out. Snidely sneers that he too had questions for the Cleaner, but Raige, who had reached some sort of conclusion during that last sequence, calls out, "Never mind!" and shoots Snidely a look before suggesting that the Quadrunal carry on. Barbas's closing argument is all about "the recklessness of the Charmed Ones," and he basically suggests they be whatever and BORING! Snidely has nothing to add, so the Quadrunal members dissolve to debate their verdict. Raige quickly summons the Dolt, who orbs in with Big Gay Chris. The boys reveal what they've learned, which matches Raige's conclusion regarding Inspector Sheridan -- to wit, Barbas had to have infected her with the other Phantasm in order to ensure her presence at the vanquish that got them into this mess in the first place because Phoebe wanted to get laid. Raige orders the guys to fetch the good inspector and deliver her to the Quadrunal posthaste.
Death Row. From The Future. Using a trick she picked up at Not!warts, Piper glows into the cell with the Doormat and The Dazzling Sheila, mainly so Holly Marie Combs could have something to do in this episode. And what the hell is The Dazzling Sheila doing in her husband's death-row cell, anyway? You know the corrections department would have banned her emotional wreck of an ass to the witnesses' gallery. And why is she wearing the same thing she had on at the beginning of this episode, fourteen years ago? With the same hairdo? And why hasn't anybody aged? And sweet Jesus, this must mean that Holly Marie Combs really is one hundred and sixty-eight months pregnant. GOD, I hate this show. Piper proposes that she drag the Doormat and the Dazzling Sheila back to Not!warts until the Glamorous Ladies can sort things out. The Doormat objects for some asinine reason, but it doesn't matter anyway, because at that moment the Quadrunal summons Piper to the platform for the verdict. Just one pointless scene after another tonight, huh? Basically, the Quadrunal rules in favor of allowing the gals to continue with their bitchcraft, but the Doormat must die. Back on Death Row -- From The Future -- the Doormat's lawyer arrives with various guards to escort the Doormat to the death chamber. The Dazzling Sheila freaks all the way through a bizarre, cross-fading montage sequence and right into the final commercial break.
Quadrunal. Long story short, the ladies agree as one that if the Doormat bites it, they quit. "You'd have us erase your memories?" Jelly Roll asks. "Change all that you know?" "All that you are?" Fats emphasizes. "If necessary," Phoebe responds, and you'd think this would affect The Doltine Psycho and Big Gay Chris as well, and the two would therefore necessarily need representation at the current proceedings, but this is the most sloppily constructed, written, and executed episode I have ever seen on this show, and yes, I'm including "The Wedding From Hell" in that statement, so whatever. WHAT. THE FUCK. EVER. "Very well," Jelly Roll replies, and we cut to…
…The Death Chamber. Guards strap the Doormat down and prepare to wax him for good. Yawn.
Quadrunal. Big Gay Chris and the Dolt orb in with the strenuously protesting Inspector Sheridan, who, once she materializes, stammers, "Wh-wh-what is this? Where am I?" "Nice act," Chris snipes. "It's very convincing." Barbas panics and shouts out an objection to the effect that mortals are not allowed at the Quadrunal. "Sit down and shut up," sneers the Dolt. In the one bit of amusing business we get all evening, Barbas begins to obey, then remembers just exactly who the asshole is who tried to order him around, and straightens right back up. Hee. Big Gay Chris latches on to Inspector Sheridan's arm and hurls her bodily onto the hologram thingy. What? Oh, zip it. I'm sure as hell not gonna call that fucking thing "The Circle of Truth." The hologram thingy spits out an image of Sheridan working alone at Trudeau Memorial, presumably late at night, only to be waylaid by the missing Phantasm. After a moment, the infected inspector rises to cross to a filing cabinet. She paws through its contents for a bit before withdrawing a thick folder bearing the Doormat's name. The instant the hologram flares out, Sheridan flashes a pair of wild, insane eyes at Barbas and hisses, "What now?" "Surrounded by idiots," Barbas groans, collapsing into his chair. The Dolt flips a potion vial into Sheridan's tits, which disgorge the remaining Phantasm. Big Gay Chris whips out his wand -- heh -- and sucks the shrieking ghost into the thing. Sheridan promptly drops into a dead faint on the platform, Barbas slurs something along the lines of, "It's in my nature," and Snidely "begs" the Quadrunal to reverse its decision.
The Death Chamber. The Doormat gets sweaty and lets his eyelids drop shut as the automated panel cycles through the various lethal injections. Suddenly, The Dazzling Sheila calls out his name, and he snaps open his eyes to find himself back at Trudeau Memorial. The Dazzling Sheila, in a black, drop-shouldered top with a flower tucked above her ear, lifts an amused eyebrow and smirks, "Did you forget we were going out tonight?" Detective Doormat leaps out of his chair to wrap her in a hug as the de-possessed and apparently mind-wiped Sheridan ambles past. Harvey Cleaner emerges from a nearby hallway to lock eyes with the Doormat and smirk before twinkling out of the police station. Way to guard against the exposure of magic by twinkling out of the middle of a crowded police station, Harve. Fuck this show.
Quadrunal. The Mighty Heads Of Justice confirm the Doormat's reprieve, then turn their attention to Barbas. He languidly pushes himself from his seat and makes one final argument, this time regarding Phoebe's recent personal gain kick. Phoebe looks guilty. Piper looks as bored as I am. The Quadrunal arrives at a silent decision, and Django announces, "Phoebe will be stripped of her powers." "What?" she bites, outraged. Fats notes that they'll be divesting her of her "active powers" only -- premonition, levitation, and empathy. She'll be able to "earn them back," and in the meantime, she'll still be able to cast spells and mix potions and shit. And with that, the Quadrunal dematerializes for good. Raige and Piper make a show of protest, but Phoebe stops them with, "It might be kind of refreshing not to rely on my powers so much anymore, you know?" Bitch, please. You haven't levitated since the third episode of this season, and we haven't seen a premonition since Janet Reno was in knee pants. And as for your Fucking Backup Band? You never should have gotten that in the first place, you undeserving, selfish, self-centered, arrogant, ignorant, bony-ass shrike. "Are you sure?" Piper frets. "Yeah," Phoebe replies, warily eyeing Barbas. "Let's get out of here." Raige lightly places her hands on her sisters' shoulders and disappears upwards with them.
And still this episode will not end. Barbas gloats that while he may not have won the entire case, he appears to have succeeded to the point that he no longer has to dwell in Hell. He ambles over to Snidely, passes a hand in front of sanctimonious prick's face, and correctly determines that Snidely's greatest fear is being exposed as the malicious, goateed, Psycho-sacrificing British bastard he really is. Just before he flames out, Barbas instructs Snidely not to worry, as Snidely's secret is safe with him. Well, not if Big Gay Chris and the Dolt are still standing over there on the far side of the fucking platform, it's not. After all, we never did see them leave. Christ, I hate this show. Snidely looks annoyed as the camera pans back and cranes into the air before fading -- finally -- to black.
week, Raige conjures up a slampiece who is not Eduardo Verástegui. Somehow, this involves stapling another crappy blonde wig onto Phoebe's head while shoehorning her into a pleather catsuit, allowing the WB's marketing department to dub the episode "Stormy Leather." I want to die. But you all have fun, okay?