Belated props to joanofdark, since I forgot last week.
Movie night at the Girardis' house. Mom enters with bowls of buttered and unbuttered popcorn. Will asks, "What about The Godfather?" Luke and Joan grumble since they've already seen it "like, 111 times." Dad insists, "There are nuances." Luke wants something funny. Will suggests Duck Soup. Joan refuses: "Nothing black and white!" Hey, now. Let's not be rash. Will suggests The Godfather: Part II. Kevin suggests they just argue about movies for two hours. I'm waiting for Will to suggest the third Godfather, the one Joe Mantegna was in, but he doesn't. Helen doesn't want anything sad because she doesn't want to cry. Joan complains that her mother cried when she saw Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Luke says it's becoming increasingly obvious that the only thing they all have in common is DNA. As Helen gets up to pull on a sweater, she notices a breaking news bulletin on the TV. They've got video footage of an incident that just occurred in downtown Arcadia: two white police officers are beating the hell out of a black man. Helen calls Will's attention to it. Will watches with dismay. It's not long before Will's pager goes off and the phone is ringing. Will says, "So much for movie night," as he answers the phone. Helen looks sad and Joan and Luke look disturbed as they watch the footage of the assault. Shortest opening yet, I think.
At school, there's a career fair going on, and the Misfit Posse drifts through, complaining. Grace: "What if you just want to live in your car? Where's the booth for that?" Adam: "Dude...you have a car?" Grace replies, "It was an attempt at humour, Rove. And I told you about 'dude.'" Adam claims, "I tried 'yo.' It didn't take." Joan whines that she doesn't have time to think about her future right now. Grace asks Adam, "Is it just me or are you spacier than usual?" Adam mutters that he doesn't like November. Grace: "The whole month?" He sadly agrees. She asks what November ever did to him. I don't know about him, but ever since I started recapping, November is one of my least favourite months. Also, February and May -- sweeps months, all. But then, I always hated February, anyway; the weather's crap, and it's a sucky month, and my birthday's in February and it sucks to have your birthday during the crappiest winter month when you hate winter. ["It's my belief that that's why February is so short -- sucky month, bitch to spell, let's not drag it out." -- Sars] Grace asks about February. Joan says she hates February. Atta girl. I hope the November/February thing is a little sweeps in-joke from the writers. Grace wants to know what's with hating months: "That's, like, arbitrary." Hey, if anyone should grasp random hate, I'd think it would be Grace.
They run into Vice-Principal Price, who informs them, "The point of this afternoon is to pretend that you might one day make a valuable contribution to society. Perhaps you could play along. For example, Ms. Polk, you might want to look into journalism, which is a profession where they actually pay people to be cynical and disaffected." I'm hoping Grace won't let me down, and she doesn't. She sneers, "Not since all the publications got consumed by media conglomerates who manipulate information and --" Atta girl! Way to go all Manufacturing Consent on his ass. He gives her a little push and says, "Go!" he turns his attention to Adam, wondering what career he'd like to "explore." Adam says, "I want to do something...soulless and corporate, Mr. Price." I was hoping he'd do a variation on Lloyd Dobler's speech to Diane Court's dad in Say Anything when Lloyd's asked what he plans to do with his life. But this is fine, too. Price says, "Good choice," and claps him on the back, steering him off. Joan says she thinks she'll just "browse." Price makes a disapproving sound and moves on. He's got a full schedule of kids to hassle and he can't waste any more time here.
Joan heads for the table right ahead of her, where there's information about careers in the airline industry. The woman at the table, who's wearing a flight attendant's uniform, asks if she can answer any questions. Joan puts on an oxygen mask and asks if it's kind of gross "breathing all that recycled air." The woman replies, "All air is recycled, Joan. You've heard of photosynthesis." Busted, again. Joan takes off the mask and says, "Look...Madam Almighty...it's really awkward when you just drop in at school. And I'm not going to become a flight attendant, if that's what you're here to tell me." Flight Attendant God says that's not it at all: "I find Career Day a little bit bogus." Hee! God said "bogus." She adds that it's too early for Joan to be thinking about this stuff. Joan wants to know why she had to get a job, then. Flight Attendant God says that's different: "That's work. Work is a spiritual exercise. Keeps things moving along, prevents stasis, builds character... Most of all, the point of working is to help." Flight Attendant God is a little bit too giddy for my liking. She also has an odd '60s vibe to her, and I don't think it's just the kicky little scarf knotted around her neck. Joan keeps bugging Flight Attendant God about who she's supposed to help do what, and Flight Attendant God explains, "You're about to realize that you're going to be in a position to help someone." Joan wonders how she'll know. Flight Attendant God: "You're going to pay attention. You might even listen and stop interrupting." Joan looks like she's refraining from making a comment. Flight Attendant God says you have to watch people's behaviour: "Not everyone knows how to ask for help." Joan looks slightly mystified as Flight Attendant God shoos her away: "Now move along, unless you want your friends to think you're interested in this profession." She gives a weird little giggle and says, "Buh-bye!"
Blue and grey. You know what that means. Will is interrogating the two young white officers involved in the beating incident. There's some other older, uniformed officer there, too. The name of the one doing most of the talking is Koczara, and he seems slightly nervous. The other one is Eicher. Koczara says the suspect was going fifteen miles over the limit, and he gave chase. They finally forced him to stop. Koczara says they did everything by the book. Eicher: "The guy was slinging serious trash in between making no sense. He was on something!" He apparently refused to turn around and put his hands on the vehicle; he was flailing around. Eicher says they were getting nervous. Koczara apparently told him again to assume the position, and then the suspect reached into his pocket and they didn't know if he was armed. Will: "You didn't frisk him?" Koczara: "The guy wouldn't settle down long enough, Chief, that's what we're trying to tell you." Eicher insists the perp was "twitchy" and "on something." Older Uniformed Cop says they're waiting for the toxicology results. He adds that the suspect is still at the hospital and has a concussion. Will asks the cops, "Then what?" Koczara doesn't know what he means. Will: "How did you get from there to what I saw on the tape?" Koczara: "The guy was a nut, Chief. He -- he wouldn't listen to us. I used reasonable force to subdue a suspect." Maybe if the subject in question had been on PCP. That was a pretty brutal beating. Will's assistant (does she have a name? I'm sure she does, but we never seem to hear it) tells him IAD is there. Will turns off the tape recorder and advises his officers to "give it to them straight." As they're leaving, Will reminds them that they're suspended for thirty days, as a matter of policy. Koczara looks wronged, and asks, "What for?" Will: "It's policy." Come on, that can't be that big a surprise to this guy. He doesn't argue any more, and the two of them leave. Will looks at Older Uniformed Cop and says, "What the hell?" Older Uniformed Cop says, "The way they see it, they made a judgment call. They expect you to back them." Will counters, "Hey, I know what it's like out there. Hasn't been that long. My position is, we'll figure out what happened and act appropriately." Will wonders if anyone's spoken with the suspect or his family. Older Uniformed Cop says that an attempt was made, but they're not talking until they've lawyered up.
Helen's having lunch at a pleasant little diner with Father Ken Mallory, the priest from the DMV parking lot. He's wearing regular clothes, not his vestments. She thanks him for seeing her, explaining that she's not a practicing Catholic... "or any religion." Father Mallory assures her that it's fine, and that it's a priest's job to serve all people: "And, you know -- fundraising." She explains that she was bugging him in the parking lot because of Kevin and all the concerns she had about the situation: "I'm not really crazy." He knows. Helen: "You look different in your clothes." Ha! That got a big laugh out of both Frink and me. There's a comment he probably doesn't hear much. Mary Steenburgen delivers her lines so naturally that you buy everything she says, from the goofy to the grave. She laughs, embarrassed, and tries to explain herself. Father Mallory: "It's okay. Priests scare people. You're worried that I'm seeing into your soul or gossiping about you with God." Helen: "Oh no, no. Priests -- priests make me feel like I'm going to hell." He asks her why that is. She sighs, saying she doesn't know: "I'm just rambling." She think she needs to talk to someone. She admits, "I've been doing this perpetually optimistic, 'everything's gonna work out' thing, and it's not going so well. I've been crying a lot more than I used to." She says all this smiling and nodding. She sure has piled a lot of socially acceptable expressions on top of her pain. Father Mallory asks if she is familiar with Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's theory of the five stages of grief. I'm kind of surprised to find that Helen doesn't seem to have really heard of the theory. It's been common fodder on talk shows and in popular culture for such a long time that I thought practically everyone had heard of it. Anyway, he suggests that Helen read Kübler-Ross's On Death and Dying. Helen smiles, and says, "But my son didn't die. And I know I should just stop complaining and be grateful." Father Mallory points out that while Kevin didn't actually die, "all of you experienced a kind of death -- of the life you imagined for him." Helen stops smiling and looks more troubled than she acknowledges. The priest says, "The philosopher Kierkegaard -- he said that the most painful state of being is remembering the future...particularly one you can never have." Fo' shizzle my nizzle. It's all a little too much for Helen, and she seems a little upset as she fishes some money out of her purse and says she only gets half an hour for lunch. She thanks him.
Joan and Adam are riding the bus somewhere. Adam seems more distracted and morose than usual as he stares out the window while Joan reads something from her chemistry notes: "'Sublimation is the process of conversion from solid state to gaseous state, while bypassing the liquid state.' Does this make any sense to you?" Adam explains, "CO2 solid becomes CO2 gas." Joan asks, "What does that even mean?" A little shirtier than normal, Adam says, "I told you, I don't know. I just memorize things." Joan looks slightly irritated and says, "Rove...you plus cranky becomes a real pain in the ass." Adam says, "I've explained my situation, Jane." Joan's suddenly distracted by the sound of a woman sobbing a few seats ahead of them. She's young, maybe in her late twenties or early thirties, with long blonde hair and wearing a jean jacket. Joan mutters, "Oh, God." She figures this must be her assignment. She gets up and moves to a seat nearby, and asks if she's okay. The woman doesn't say much at first, but eventually blurts out that her ex-husband met a woman, ran off the Mexico with her, and stopped sending child support payments. She's waiting tables and trying to support her eight-year-old son on that income. In addition, one of her co-irkers (tm somebody on Hissyfit whose name I can't remember) is "such a pain in the ass." Joan thinks that all sounds pretty bad. The woman adds, "It gets worse. My babysitter quit and moved to Hawaii!" She says this in that fake light-hearted way, and then struggles and sobs as she explains that she's trying to go to night school in order to become a legal assistant, but if she can't find a babysitter soon, she'll have to quit: "You know what? I'm just going to quit. I'll be a waitress for the rest of my life!" Nothing gets past Joan: "So, you need help." The woman asks, "Were you listening, or what? You know, because...yeah." Joan asks if she needs a babysitter. The woman says she needs a cheap babysitter who's not a psycho. Joan says she can do it, and claims she's not a psycho. The woman explains that her kid, Rocky, is a great kid who mostly entertains himself: "And you're really not a psycho?" Joan claims she's totally normal, and says, "You can even ask my friend." She turns to look at Adam, who's rhythmically banging his head against the window as he stares out. The woman looks doubtfully in Adam's direction, and Joan says, "Um...maybe you should just take my word for it." The woman smiles at Joan.
Will's in his office, pouring himself a drink of something. I hope it's water. He glances through the window and sees two people come in. His assistant comes to the door and says that the mayor's here. Will says, "I noticed the seas parting." The mayor, played by H!ITG! Richard Gilliland, enters and shakes Will's hand, introducing Brad Crewson, "the PR wrangler for the department." I can't figure out where I know Gilliland from, and I keep asking Frink, "Where have we seen that guy?" He doesn't know. It drives me crazy all through the show. As for Brad, I don't think he's a H!ITG!, but with his extremely frumpy haircut and his particular physiognomy, I can't help but think he'd be well-cast as a hobbit. He doesn't have the slick look of your usual PR type.
Will says he's met Brad, who states, in a kind of patronizing way, "Well, we all know why we're here." The mayor says, "I want to come out of this strong, Will. I do not want to take a defensive posture, and most of all, I want it handled." Will says IAD is interviewing "the boys," and they've been suspended for the time being: "And I'm making a statement to the press today." Brad whips out a statement prepared for Will, who says, "Let me guess: we're distancing ourselves from our boys?" The mayor, whose name is apparently Albert Dunbar, says they can't argue the case with that videotape evidence out there: "It sounds like we're supporting police brutality." Will says they don't know anything yet, and when they do, they'll assign blame. Mayor Dunbar says, "They beat the crap out of an unarmed man!" Will says they didn't know that, and they still don't know if he was on drugs. They don't know anything yet. The PR guy says, "Ray Hartzel is in the hospital with a concussion and three broken ribs. He nearly lost an eye." Will counters, "Raymond Hartzel, who was driving without a license, gave chase on a public street, resisted arrest, and threatened a police officer." Crewson: "Allegedly." Will: "So our story is alleged and his is gospel?" He hands Crewson the statement, saying he has his own. The mayor asks Will to be reasonable. Will says he's managed without a script for a long time. Dunbar: "Not this job, you haven't." Will replies, "Any pre-packaged nonsense is gonna sound that way!" Dunbar: "You can sing your statement for all I care, but if this comes back on me, Will...let's just say, I hope you're not too comfortable in that chair." Hey, who do you think you're talking to? Will Girardi doesn't take marching orders emanating from political motivations. He says, "These are my men. This situation happened on my turf. I will make the statement, and I will take the heat." There was a little bit of Fat Tony in the sound of that last sentence. Dunbar says, "Fine," and leaves. As everyone files out, Dunbar asks Will, "By the way, have you filed charges against the victim?" Will asks, "The perpetrator? Charges are still pending." Nodding in Toni's direction, he says that she's handling it. Dunbar says to keep him apprised.
Seems to be the end of the school day, and Helen's in her office, leaving a message for Father Mallory. She tells him she picked up the book he recommended, and she's having trouble figuring out which stage of grief she's in: "I think I'm somewhere between denial and bargaining...and I think I skipped right over anger." Joan and Luke suddenly walk in and say hi. Helen, surprised, says, "Oh, God!" And then to Father Mallory's voicemail: "Not you." She quickly hangs up and Luke asks, "Talking to your boyfriend again?" Helen declares that that isn't funny and goes to get her coat. Luke says it wasn't his best material as Joan comments, "Weird."
Rebecca comes over to Kevin's desk to tell him he did a good job on the garden show article. Kevin asks if she knew that hydrangeas can change colour from bloom to bloom depending on the acidity of the soil. I actually did know that, but nobody asked me. Rebecca asks, "Is that a fact?" Kevin: "It is...because facts are my life." Some other co-irker walks over with a statement from the chief of police, which he's just pulled out of the fax machine. He asks if they want to hear it. Kevin inhales and braces himself. Rebecca looks both sympathetic and uncomfortable as she glances at Kevin. Reporter Guy, who didn't wait for an answer, reads, "'We take police misconduct seriously, and we don't tolerate it on any level. If we are convinced our officers were out of line, we will take swift and draconian measures.' 'Draconian.' So he's smarter than the last guy. 'I will keep the public informed on this matter as it progresses. Thank you.'" Rebecca tells him, "Go write the story." Man, she runs everything around here. She's pretty young to be in charge of a whole lot at a paper in a town the size of Arcadia -- whatever that is, exactly. Sydney Tamiia Poitier is just about to turn thirty as I write this, but I feel like her character is supposed to be younger. Reporter Guy complains it's not much of a story: "Black guy gets holy hell beaten out of him and the white chief of police says he backs his guys." And you can't make some kind of headline-grabbing hash out of that? Dude. Rebecca argues that that's not all it said. Reporter Guy says, "Aw, come on. Nothing's going to happen to these cops." Rebecca starts to point out to Reporter Guy, whose name is Dave, that Kevin is the son of the chief, but Kevin quickly interrupts, "I'm just the fact-checker. I got no politics." Rebecca tells Dave again to go write the story. He leaves, but not until he's smirked silently at both Kevin and Rebecca. Kevin tells Rebecca, "I've been a cop's kid my whole life. You don't have to worry about me. Besides, aren't you the one I'm going to remember for not cutting me any breaks?" Rebecca says she doesn't think those were her words. Kevin says, "Well, if it's any consolation, my dad's a fair guy. He's not a racist. He'll do the right thing." Rebecca asks with concern, "Did I...imply something else?" Kevin is a little taken aback, and says, "No, I just..." He looks confused. "It felt implied somewhere in there." Rebecca smiles a bit and says, "I've had this complexion mah whole life. You don't have to worry about me." "Mah"?
Joan comes to the apartment of that crying woman on the bus, whose name I don't think we ever find out. It's Sylvia, though. I wish we could get characters' names more consistently. It's the one place I cut the Exposition Fairy a lot of slack. Sure, I can look it up online -- the information can usually be found somewhere -- but what did those poor saps do back in the day when they were recapping shows before the internet? Wait... Anyway, Joan knocks on the door, and a little kid answers. It's David Dorfman, who was the kid (Aidan Keller) in The Ring, in which most of you probably know Amber Tamblyn also appeared. David Dorfman is perhaps on the verge of "Hey! It's That Kid!"-dom. Is there such a thing as "Hey! It's That Kid!"? (Sars?) Most child actors probably don't have busy enough careers to achieve this status before they're pushing things on the "kid" front. ["I concur." -- Sars] Anyway, this is probably a good place to mention that after I found out last summer that I would be recapping this show, I went and rented The Ring -- I thought I should see it since Amber's in it. Well, she was fine in her part, and David Dorfman seemed good, too, but I found the movie pretty boring -- so boring I fell asleep about a third of the way into it. And I am not a person who normally falls asleep during films. (My idea of a good Saturday is to take in the seven-hour presentation of Hans-Jürgen Syberberg's Hitler: A Film From Germany -- which was actually nine hours with the two-hour intermission -- so I know from butt-numbing cinematic endurance tests, people.) So if there are some obvious jokes related to the movie to be made here, you're on your own.
Anyway, the kid, Rocky, doesn't really let Joan in, but questions her at the door, asking her how old she is. Joan says she's sixteen. (But for all the people out there jonesing for her and feeling vaguely guilty: Amber Tamblyn is twenty. She's over the age of majority. And her birthday is the same day as Professor Frink's.) Sorry, the show. Yes. Then Rocky asks her if she smokes. Joan seems to need to think about that, which is odd. Isn't it? I wonder if she's thinking about whether dope counts. Not that I have any evidence she smokes dope. In fact, she told her father she doesn't do drugs, and I have no reason not to believe her. But why the hesitation? Rocky asks if she exercises moderately. Joan: "I guess." She laughs weakly. Rocky announces, "Your current life expectancy is approximately eighty-five." Sylvia appears at this point and asks Rocky not to "creep Joan out." Sylvia tells Joan, "He likes facts. Come on in." He likes facts? Maybe Kevin should baby-sit him. Kevin's all over the facts these days, like lies on Bush. Rocky informs Joan that his mother used to smoke, so her life expectancy is seven years less than Joan's. Sylvia says Rocky's eaten dinner and can have a snack at seven o'clock when he's watching the Discovery Channel. Rocky tells Joan, "It's Disaster Week. Tsunamis tonight. Thousands dead." He sounds kind of...pleased about it. Maybe not "pleased" so much as "satisfied." Sylvia says she'll be back by 10:00 PM at the latest, and that her cell phone number is on the fridge. She takes Joan over to a desk and opens the top drawer, saying Rocky has some "breathing issues." She shows her a bunch of inhalers and medications and says that Rocky knows exactly which ones to use: "But if it gets bad, I need you to call me." Joan mentions she's got chemistry homework, and Sylvia tells her son, "Don't talk her to death." Heh. Sylvia assures Joan that once the disasters start, he'll be glued to the set. Sylvia kisses Rocky and leaves. Before she's even out the door, Rocky says, "I can list all the organic poisons in alphabetical order." Joan doesn't know what to make of that. But hey, maybe he can help with your chemistry homework.
Helen's in the kitchen reading the Kübler-Ross book when Will arrives. She quickly shoves the book in a kitchen drawer and calls her sons for supper. Will asks where Joan is. Helen says she's babysitting: "Her latest enterprise." Helen wonders if she's saving up for a tattoo. Will: "Nothing would surprise me." He kisses her on the cheek. She asks if he had a long day. Will doesn't want to talk about it, and asks what she did: "Did you go out to lunch again?" Helen's evasive, saying she only gets half an hour. Will says he called her at work yesterday and was told that she'd gone off campus for lunch. Helen lies, "I just needed to get some air...and a decent cup of coffee." She calls the boys again. They arrive at the same time, just as Will's cell phone is ringing. In the background, you can just barely make out Luke telling Kevin that it's his turn to set the table. Kevin fake-whines, "My arms are tired!" They start punching and shoving each other playfully. Will doesn't say anything when he gets off the phone, and Helen can tell he has to go. She asks, "How long will it be?" He asks her to save him a plate. She and the boys sit down to eat as Will leaves.
Will arrives at the hospital and finds Older Uniformed Cop and Brad Crewson outside a hospital room, looking very grave. Through the window we see Officer Koczara in bed, with a woman at his side. Older Uniformed Cop says that Koczara was still conscious, and his wife found him in time. Apparently he took an overdose of the antidepressants the doctor had given him to get through this. Brad turns around to Will and says, "It's impossible to know how this will affect us...in terms of negative fallout." Oh, shut it, Hobbit Man. Frink: "Okay, I just want to step on that guy." Will enters the room and greets the officer and his wife. Koczara apologizes, saying he's not proud of himself. Will says the important thing is that he's all right. His wife says that's what she keeps telling him. Will thinks it's lucky she came home when she did. She tearfully recounts that she almost didn't, because she was going to stop off for a drink with friends. Will tells Koczara that they're going to keep him overnight, and he will be receiving a psych consult. Mrs. Koczara says, "I can't believe you have the nerve...calling him nuts. It is normal for him to be depressed after what you did." Her husband says, "Nancy..." She goes on about how being a cop is his whole life and this is what happens when it's taken away from him. Will says he wasn't fired, just temporarily suspended. Koczara says, "What she's saying is, it's a stain against me. It's a humiliation, suggesting that I'm a bad cop. Some freaking skell talks trash at me, and I respond with an acceptable amount of force, and I'm the one who gets in trouble? How does that work?" "Skell"? This guy's watched too much NYPD Blue.
Back in Apartment 505, Rocky is riveted by a tsunami on TV. Joan watches too, wondering, "Is this really good for you?" Rocky says, "Death is a natural part of life. Why does it scare you?" Joan: "Maybe because it looks like it might hurt." Rocky assures her that it doesn't. He's researched it: "A chemical goes off in your brain and anaesthetizes you. So the worst that happens is nothing and you just go away and cease to be." Joan: "See, now that seems like it would suck, ceasing to be. Where's the fun in that?" Rocky says that it's only our consciousness that ceases to be: "Matter is neither created nor destroyed." Joan asks, "Just out of curiosity, why are you so interested in death?" Rocky replies, "Because that's where we're all heading. That's how the story ends." She asks him why he's worrying about it now. He explains, "I have breathing issues. It's a lung disorder. You can die from that." Joan's dismissive and assures him that he's just a little kid and he's not dying: "They can fix all kinds of things nowadays. Just take it easy and stop obsessing." Rocky doesn't say anything, since he's too polite to tell Joan to shut it since she doesn't know jack about what she's talking about. He goes back to watching the show, and Joan just sighs.
Joan comes down to the kitchen, presumably the morning, saying she's late. Her father's there, watching news coverage of the beating incident. She asks if Luke already left; he thinks so. She asks where her mother is, and Will says she had some kind of early appointment. Joan grouses about homeroom and asks her father to do something about school schedules as chief of police. Will says it's at the top of his list. Joan watches the footage too, and says, "Whoa. Dad, you're not in trouble over this, are you?" Will: "I'm the chief of police. It's my job to be in trouble." She wishes him luck and starts to walk out, but then thinks about what God told her, and stops to ask, "Do -- do you need any help?" Will: "Do you have any?" Heh. Joan says, "Well, apparently, you're supposed to pay attention to behaviour, because people don't always ask for help." Will: "Really." Joan: "Yeah. And...that's all I got. Bye, Dad."
Helen arrives at the little diner again, where Father Mallory is sitting at the counter. She apologizes for being late. He says he got her message about the book and he's looking forward to discussing it. Helen doesn't sit down, and says she can't stay: "I just came to tell you, I don't think I can see you anymore." Frink: "Are we breaking up?" The priest just says, "Oh." Helen sits down and says, "I'm lying to my husband about seeing you, which is wrong, and kinda defeats the purpose of talking to a priest." He understands. She continues, saying that there's nothing to lie about, and she knows a lot of people get crushes on priests, but she loves her husband. Father Mallory says gently, "Helen, I think what you're touching on here is that you should be talking to your husband, and you miss being able to do that." Helen says he doesn't know the kind of job her husband has, and that it's really difficult for him right now: "I just can't make it worse for him." Father Mallory says, "I've married a lot of people, and I remember the words. You're depriving him of the privilege of living up to them." Helen says, sighing, "Well, when you put it like that...I'll think about it."
Will and Toni are walking through the police station when he asks if she has a take on the beating case. She says she's working it out right alongside him. He asks her about Koczara. She says he's not her favourite: "The odd offensive remark now and then when he's been drinking. Across the board, though, he doesn't single out any particular brand." Will, noticing Toni's eyes are all over the place, remarks, "And yet, you can't really look at me when you say that." At that, she looks at him. He says, "I could benefit from your candour, Detective. And don't worry about the blue wall. Everything stays right here." She looks hesitant, but finally says, "Guy's a racist. In my opinion, he was looking for an excuse." Some cop comes out of a room not far from them, and she looks uncomfortable. After the cop walks away, she says that Raymond Hartzel's been released and will be brought in for questioning. She thinks Will should be present at the interview, and Will agrees.
AP Chem. Ms. Lischak asks for two general categories of energy, and then pretends like she might ask anyone in the class, but ends up asking Luke, who promptly states, "Kinetic and potential." Ms. Lischak: "With the sexier of the two being...?" Luke: "Potential, for its chemical bonds being the forces that hold atoms together." I notice Glenys is gone from his and Friedman's desk, and the original male nerd seems to be back in the saddle. Or whatever chemists ride in. The teacher rambles on about energy while Joan whispers to Grace, who's gently tapping her own chin with a pair of those tongs you use to pick up hot beakers, "This kid is totally obsessed with death. Isn't that strange?" Grace mutters, "No stranger than being obsessed with this stuff...like Atom Boy." Luke turns and says, "I heard that!" He pretends to be annoyed, but is obviously secretly delighted to register on Grace's radar. Grace loves Lu-u-u-ke! Grace loves Lu-u-u-ke! Yeah, I'm five. But it's so obvious. Now she has a cute little nickname for him. Joan says the kid has asthma or something: "But it's not like he's gonna die from it." Adam suggests, "Then maybe he knows someone who's dead." Joan turns to him and sniffs, "You can't know dead people." Adam: "Forget I attempted to contribute." He turns his face away and rests it on his other hand. Joan asks, "Seriously, what is wrong with you?" Grace: "He doesn't like November." Adam looks much sadder than usual.
At the park, Little Girl God is riding a swing. She's wearing quite the getup: no goggle-eyed antennae this time, but a fuchsia cardigan, a horizontally striped turtleneck in various shades of pink, clashing pink tights with some kind of white dots or splotches on them, a black miniskirt with pink flowers all over it, and long scarf like one of Joan's, with white horizontal stripes of pink and fuchsia and burgundy. This isn't the first time Joan's gone looking for God, but it's the first time the God she found seemed to match up with the one she expected to find. When she went looking for Orange Jumpsuit God, she found Electrician God. So can Joan figure out where to find God now? Is God more likely to be available to her now? Anyway, Joan calls out to her from the other side of the chain link fence, and Little Girl God, still swinging, asks how she likes babysitting. Joan says it's okay, but describes Rocky as kind of freaky. Little Girl God says he has a lot on his mind. Like memorizing actuarial tables, apparently. Joan asks, "Like his asthma?" Little Girl God gets off the swing and walks over to the fence, saying, "It's not asthma. He tried to tell to you what it is, but you ignored him. I understand why. You don't want to look at anyone's pain." Right now, I don't want to look at seventeen clashing shades of pink. She continues, "The trouble is, when you try to avoid it, you stop helping. People end up alone." Joan asks, "You care about everybody so much. Why can't you help them?" Little Girl God: "Hey, I'll do my job and you do yours." Joan: "Mine is confusing. I thought I was supposed to help the mother, and now I'm supposed to help Rocky. Where does it end?" Little Girl God: "It doesn't. Help kind of moves around, like...light. Even a little bit is good." Joan: "Well, if I help two people, do I at least get extra points?" Yeah, for every ten people you help, you get one sin for free. Little Girl God: "It's not a point system, Joan. You don't get coupons." Joan sighs and asks what kind of system it is. Little Girl God says, "A perfect one." She tosses one end of her scarf over her shoulder and adds, "Trust me." Joan puts her elbow up on the fence, props her chin on her hand, and makes an expectant face: "I'm listening." Little Girl God announces, "I'm finished." She jumps down off whatever she was standing on and walks away with a dismissive wave. Joan: "Hey!" ["I know Little Girl God dresses like Little Edie Beale, but she's still my favorite." -- Sars]
Raymond Hartzel and his lawyer are at the police station for his interview. Raymond's obviously been badly beaten; his right eye is swollen shut, and the area around it is purple. His lawyer says that because of his head injuries, the doctors don't want him interviewed for more than thirty minutes. Will understands. As Lt. Williams arrives, his lawyer says that the doctors say Raymond has traumatic amnesia, and can only remember events up to a certain point. Will says that anything he can tell them will be helpful. Toni introduces herself and turns on the tape recorder. Raymond says, in a slow, deliberate way: "I like the police." She's ready to start the interview, but Raymond continues, "I like the uniforms." Toni starts by recounting the cops' version of things, but before she can ask him anything, Raymond says, "It was my sister's car. She lets me borrow it sometimes, even though I shouldn't. I went to the store to get things for dinner. She needed green onions and unsalted butter. 'Make sure the butter is unsalted.'" It's become clear to Will and Toni that Raymond is mentally disabled. Will swallows. Raymond looks around and then at Toni, asking, "Are you sure you're the police? You're pretty." Will asks the lawyer, "Is this secondary to the head injury?" The lawyer replies, "No. My client has always had an IQ just shy of seventy -- which helps explain his resistance to your officers' orders." Raymond says, "That policeman was yelling at me, but I had to get home, because of the unsalted butter." Will and Toni have very serious expressions. Hartzel's lawyer asks, "So we're clear on the situation?"
Joan's babysitting and working on her homework. Rocky's up reading a comic. Joan warns him he'd better start to get sleepy, because his mom is due home soon. Rocky: "It's all right. She won't yell at me. She's too guilty about going to night school." Eight going on nineteen. Joan asks what he's reading; it's Modern Vampires. She wonders if the modern ones are any different: "I mean, do they improve substantially?" Rocky says they don't. Joan puts her homework aside and gets down on the floor to him, asking, "Seriously, Rocky...do you know why you're so interested in this stuff?" He doesn't look up at her, and his face just kind of twitches. She asks if there's something bothering him: "Maybe something you'd like to tell me? Maybe something you tried to tell me before, but I wasn't listening to you, so..." He looks up and says that something is bothering him. Joan's all ears. Rocky: "The Spanish flu epidemic of 1918? It killed more than twice the amount of people who died in World War I. So why is it still an obscure point in history?" Indeed, kid. ["If I recall correctly, and I may not, the armistice was signed while that epidemic was peaking in the U.S. So that news cycle might have something to do with it." -- Sars]
Just then Sylvia comes home, and Rocky scampers off to his bedroom. She walks in and asks Joan, "He was up, wasn't he?" Joan admits he was, and says she's not much of a disciplinarian. Sylvia doesn't care, because she's in a good mood, having just passed her latest exam and found out that her babysitter's coming back. Apparently she found Hawaii's humidity too much for her hair. Sylvia says, "Yeah, so tomorrow will be your last day with Rocky." Joan's disappointment is obvious, and Sylvia asks, "You went and got attached to him, didn't you? He has that way with people." Joan admits she did, and then adds that she's concerned about him, because he seems to think he's dying. Sylvia tells her, "He is dying." Joan: "You mean like...dying dying?" Sylvia: "There's another kind?" She explains, as Joan's eyes fill with tears, that Rocky has cystic fibrosis, for which there's no cure. I knew that had to be it, but I've known a couple of people with CF. Sylvia: "He's going through a good spell right now. They call it a grace period." Joan: "But he could grow up and stuff?" Sylvia explains in a matter-of-fact way, "It's an unpredictable disease. He has an aggressive form. He's had a lot of episodes. There's scar tissue in his lungs. It's...pretty unlikely he'll survive another infection." Yeah, and I'll bet it's a picnic trying to pay for his health care on a waiter's salary, too. Joan wipes her eye a bit and thinks. Sylvia says softly, "You don't have to come tomorrow. This stuff freaks people out." Joan says she wants to come: "I'm just...I'm sorry." Sylvia: "Me, too." Rocky comes out, pretending to have just woken up. He says he wanted to say goodnight. Sylvia tries to straighten her face up before replying, "Yeah, like I'm buying that." She says she'll tuck him in, and tells him to say goodnight to Joan. Joan sadly watches them go into the bedroom.
Outside the police station, Will gives a statement to a crowd of cops and reporters: "Ladies and gentlemen, the Arcadia Police Department has determined there may have been serious police misconduct in the case of Raymond Hartzel. I don't like saying that. I'm a police officer. I was on the line for many years. I wanted my guys to be cleared of any wrongdoing. As police officers, we always have the option for physical force." The camera cuts to the administration office at the high school, where Helen and the other staff members, including Price, are watching the press conference on TV. Will continues, "But it should be considered a last resort. First we should exhaust our other options. We should listen, and pay attention to detail." Helen gives Price a sly, sidelong glance that he doesn't see. Will: "In this case, we failed. We will be bringing charges against Officers Koczara and Eicher."
We cut to the newspaper office, where all the staff members are watching the broadcast, as Will concludes his statement with an apology to the victim, his family and the public. Everyone except Kevin and Rebecca goes back to work as Dave turns off the TV saying, "Okay, we'll see if it happens." Rebecca: "He just said they're indicting the guys." Dave: "Yeah, so a white jury can exonerate them." Rebecca says that's not up to the chief of police. Kevin sits between them, listening. Dave sneers, "Since when do you defend the cops?" Rebecca: "I'm just saying, maybe he's trying to do things differently. I mean, that's why they brought him here. Maybe --" Dave: "Maybe you're just hot for his son." Frink: "Maybe you're just hot for his son." Kevin didn't see that coming, and kinda scrunches his eyebrows. Dave takes off, leaving Rebecca standing there with her mouth hanging open. She turns to look at Kevin, who says, "Now that's a man, picking on the guy in a wheelchair." Rebecca says he didn't tell Dave who his father was. Geez, it's not a big leap. It's not like their last name is Smith. Kevin looks skeptical anyway. She adds, "He's a reporter, Kevin. He finds things out." Kevin starts to wheel away, saying, "Okay. Well, what about that last part?" Rebecca tries to play that off, and she fidgets with her necklace as she says that was just Dave editorializing. Kevin says, "I had to ask because, you know, I'm the fact-checker." He wheels off. Rebecca loves Ke-vin! Rebecca loves Ke-vin!
Joan and Rocky are walking through a cemetery. Joan says, "When you said a fun place, I thought more like laser tag." Rocky says he comes here often: "It's informational." He points out the tombstone of a girl who was born April 6, 1929 and died April 4, 1930. He asks her to notice how often people die around their birthdays. That seems to be true; I know I've read a couple of studies that showed that a significant percentage of terminally ill patients managed to hold on until just after a holiday of importance to them -- could be Christmas, Thanksgiving, Yom Kippur, Chinese New Year, whatever -- and would then die shortly thereafter. I wonder how Jason Ritter felt about this script, since I suspect it was one of the ones that came after his father's sudden death in September, six days before John Ritter would have had his birthday. They keep walking, and Joan tells him she understands his condition now: "What's happening to you." Rocky replies, "It's happening to you, too. It's just happening to me sooner." They sit down, and he asks, "You're leaving now, right?" She says she'll still visit him, but she doesn't like hanging out in graveyards. Rocky's puzzled: "Well, why?" Joan admits that death scares her. Rocky informs her, "Death doesn't hurt. You just go away. It doesn't matter that you don't get to see your mom and stuff anymore, because you don't know that." Okay, I've mostly managed to hold it together so far, but it's getting harder. He doesn't sound quite as confident about all this as he usually does. Joan decides to take a chance on Rocky: "Would it make you feel better to know that there's somebody out there watching for us and caring for us and that that person or thing or whatever, will still be caring about us after we leave?" Rocky says he doesn't believe in God. Joan wonders, "What if I promised? I mean, crossed-my-heart promised?" Rocky looks politely skeptical. Joan says, "I've seen him." Rocky: "You've had a near-death experience?" He almost sounds hopeful. Joan says no, and stumbles over explaining how she knows God exists, and finally sighs, saying, "It's complicated. But the point is, God is there. And if he's there, there's a plan, and if there's a plan, then...everything is gonna be okay, I think." Rocky nods, and says, "Yeah...that'd be cool."
He and Joan get up and walk around a gravestone, and Rocky says, "There it is again." He reads, "Elizabeth Rove / Beloved Wife of Carl, / Mother of Adam / November 8, 1952 to November 11, 2000." So she died when Adam was about thirteen, if he's the same age as Joan. She kneels in front of the marker, and then looks down, noticing the small sculpture that Adam had left there. She picks it up and touches one of its spiky metal fronds gently, and then puts her hand over the spot where his name is engraved. She runs her thumb along his name as Rocky asks, "Do you think people hang around for their birthdays on purpose?" Joan doesn't say anything. I knew Adam's mother was dead. I've thought so all along, since the first episode he was in. He's never mentioned either of his parents even once, I don't think; I know he's never mentioned his mother. But we met his father, so I knew he had his dad. Ever since Mrs. LandingGod suggested to Joan that Adam had burdens, I've been very sure of it. And I don't know -- I don't want to be all Joey Potter here with the dead mother issues, but I lost my mother when I was eighteen and there's just something about Adam's sadness that I recognized. I can't explain it any better than that. And I suppose it's part of the reason I find his personality so endearing.
Joan's stop is Adam's workshop, where she finds him welding away. He doesn't see her at first, what with the arcing and smoke and all. He takes off the mask, and eventually notices her standing at the door: "Jane." She waves and says hi. He wonders aloud, "Did I know you were coming by?" She says it's a surprise. He says okay. She comes in and says, "I haven't been a very good friend to you." Adam shrugs, "'Kay." She says it's not okay: "I mean, you were cranky for a reason. People should pay attention to things like that. I should have asked you if you wanted to talk or something." Adam says, "I don't need to talk. But thanks." He starts to fiddle with his sculpture again. Joan sits down across the worktable from him and says softly, "I know why you hate November." Adam glances up at her, and back at his work, his face contorting ever so slightly: "Who told you?" She says she was at the graveyard. He gives her a look, and she says it's a long story. After a pause, Adam explains, "I always, um...made her something for her birthday. She liked it. She said, um...'Don't buy me something. That doesn't tell me anything.' She said, 'This is like having a piece of you to take with me.' She said stuff like that." Joan's teary-eyed, and says, "You miss her." Adam says that making art helps: "You know, it's like she's watching me, and I know that sounds stupid, but..." Joan says, "You talk to angels." Adam's managed not to cry, but his eyes are watery. He says, "I'm glad you came by." Joan: "Me, too." Adam sniffles and goes back to work. Joan just sits and watches.
Helen's on the sofa reading On Death and Dying when Will comes home. She doesn't bother to hide the book this time. He says, loosening his tie, "Welcome to the longest week in my life." Helen says it didn't fly by for her, either. He sits down and she says, "I was proud of you today." He asks, "What you reading?" She shows him the cover and he asks, "Why?" Helen: "Because for me, sometimes, it's like Kevin died, and I need to deal with that." She's not smiling, so that's progress. Will says, "Helen..." She replies: "I know. I'm the one who's always preaching gratitude and moving on, and I was clinging to that so hard, and then it stopped working for me. I felt alone, and I, um...I talked to a priest..." To his slightly baffled look, she says, "I didn't want to bother you." Will: "That was the deal we made a long time ago. You get to bother me. You don't have to do anything alone." She apologizes for lying about the priest, and explains that's who she was having lunch with. Will puts his arm around her and says, "You come to me...not some stranger." Frink starts doing Godfather dialogue, but I shush him. Will: "Promise me." Helen's crumbling. After a moment, she whispers, "Our beautiful boy, Will." He wells up, too. "Our perfect, beautiful boy." They both cry as they embrace tightly.
A bus drives along a dark street. Cute Guy God gets on. Frink: "Hey! He didn't pay his fare! Scofflaw." I'm like, "Dude, never mind that. Did you notice he seems to have boarded the bus while it's still moving?" Joan's sitting near the front of the bus, brooding -- and crying a bit, it looks like. Cute Guy God sits in a seat perpendicular to hers and asks, "Remember me?" Well, I should hope she does. Joan asks, "Why all the familiar looks? Doing the greatest hits? Starting to get a little pleased with yourself?" He says, "You see me the way you want to see me, Joan. Like right now, you're mad at me. Maybe you feel safer to be mad at me when I look like this." Joan sticks her foot in that door of permission he just opened: "You have a lot to answer for, buddy. Nobody asked to be born." He just looks at her. She continues, "So we all get to die. And then everybody we love dies." Cute Guy God: "Yeah." Joan, getting angrier: "And that's -- that's good for you?" He says, "Joan, there's nothing I could say about that that would make sense to you." ["Pardon me for interrupting again, but…what a perfect, gracefully turned answer to that question. I have to give the writing staff on this show giant props for how they handle God's dialogue when it comes to the big issues; it's bold but not presumptuous. Excellent handling of difficult terrain." -- Sars] Joan: "A lot of what happens here really sucks. So much for your...'perfect system.' Can you see me being really mad at you right now?" He replies, "Yes." She asks why it has to be so hard. Cute Guy God: "What, specifically?" She says, "Being alive. Let's start there." He asks, "You wish you weren't alive?" Joan: "No, I -- I don't know. I wish it didn't hurt so much." He explains, "It hurts because you feel it, Joan -- because you're alive. You love people. That generates a lot of power, a lot of energy. The same kind of energy that binds atoms together -- and we've all seen what happens when you try to pry them apart." Joan figures the answer is to not get attached to people. She might be able to drum up more support for the way of non-attachment if she were talking to a Buddhist, but Cute Guy God says, "No, it's in your nature to get attached to people. I put that in the recipe. It's when you guys try to ignore that, when you try to go it alone, that's when it gets ugly. It's hell." Joan: "It's hell? Like, the hell?"
Suddenly the bus stops, and Cute Guy God says in a totally contrived way, "Oh, look. Your house." I can't remember if we've ever seen a bus run right in front of the Girardis' house before, but I get the distinct feeling this bus driver has a co-pilot he doesn't know about. Note that Joan doesn't get an answer to her last question. I have the feeling that's going to be significant. Joan seems vaguely surprised to be right in front of her house, too, so I think God's playing fast and loose with this route. He says, "Go on, Joan. People are waiting for you." She's still crying, but she doesn't seem quite as angry. She still shoots him a bit of a look as she gets up. She gets off and stands on the sidewalk, watching as the bus drives away. Cute Guy God doesn't look at her; he just stares straight ahead. Kris Lemche is bringing more depth to this incarnation of God than I would have originally expected. Ben Harper's song "Blessed To Be A Witness" plays as Joan stands on the sidewalk, and there is a succession of progressively longer shots of her standing there before she finally turns and walks slowly toward the house. "I am blessed / I am blessed / I am blessed / I am blessed / I am blessed / I am blessed / I am blessed to be a witness." What will it take for Joan to believe that?