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Our little tale takes place in the City of Angels, as subtly indicated by the choppy editing of the first eight seconds of the program (bikinis, palm trees, Venice Beach). Skip Ross is a nineteen-year-old law-school graduate trying to find a position in a law firm. Unfortunately, due to his tender age, there is nothing but rejection for this little whippersnapper. There is a silver lining for Skip, though: he caddies for Grant Cooper, a down-on-his-luck attorney who mostly handles insurance cases. Grant needs brainy Skip's help in writing a brief, and offers him a chance to do some courtroom lawyering. Their case is that of a Marc Jacobs-clad street urchin named Paradise accused of murdering a drug dealer. She was found holding the murder weapon and has confessed the murder to Grant, but tells Skip that she didn't commit the murder. However, she insists on taking the heat, apparently for her boyfriend. Grant is ready to let Paradise be lost, but Skip insists that they go to trial and save her. Because there are apparently only like four people working in the LAPD, the judge presiding hates Grant and the detective involved in the investigation of Paradise has known Grant for years. The bad detective fills Skip in on Grant's past (attempted uncovering of police brutality, orchestrated ruin of his reputation by LAPD, relegation to lame insurance cases referred by bad detective). Paradise insists that she wants to take the fall for the crime, even though her boyfriend has moved on without her. After Skip sees some pictures of Paradise and her sister, as well as a piece of the prosecution's evidence (a denim jacket), he concludes that Paradise's sister was the murderer. Paradise admits that her sister killed the drug dealer because he was trying to force himself on her; however, she refuses to let her sister take the blame. Grant presents the final argument for the defense, stating that though Skip had no luck at all in proving who committed the murder, he had firmly established reasonable doubt. The jury agrees. The judge, however, reveals that Paradise was on probation, and lying to a jury is in serious violation of that probation. She gets ten years in prison. Suspended. Weekly reports to probation through her lawyers. Looks like Paradise is here to stay, as is Grant and Skip's working relationship. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Californian, sun-drenched bikini girls on rollerblades; graffiti; surfers; palm trees; frolicking; and the New Radicals apparently reuniting to create the intro music, singing "It's a good life, so why ya'll trippin'." So begins our journey into Jerry Bruckheimer's newest wonderland, Just Legal. Fast-mo to sunset, and then we cut to a house that looks mildly adorable, yet has been dirtied up to read "crack den." Yeah, maybe as envisioned by Nate Berkus. Inside, an '80s-era boom box is playing hard rock amidst empty beer bottles, pizza boxes, and a serene punk couple canoodling on the sofa. Suddenly, a group of guys in the breakfast nook hear screeching and see bright headlights. It's a raid. I wonder if it's Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. Wait! You guys, why are you running away? Oh, it's the cops. In Bruckheimer fashion, the guys inside perform confusing West Side Story-style choreography as they climb out of the windows. They have escaped. Odd that a raid would consist of flashing your headlights and honking, instead of maybe going to the door. I hear, though, that Mr. Punk is really difficult when you try to take Sally Punk on a date. He's totally intimidating. Better just to wait for her to come outside. They apparently change their minds as, accompanied by slow motion and a menacing background score, the police break the door with a battering ram and find a tattooed and wife-beater-adorned man, dead on the floor. Beside the man is a lovely crying girl with perfect charcoal eye makeup and pink lip gloss; she's holding a knife. Though she was only looking for something to remove the price tag from here new pair of 7 Jeans, it looks like she's going to be accused of killing the guy.
Roll the title sequence. It sounds like one of the surfer songs from the soundtrack to Pulp Fiction. More carnival shots, Don Johnson and Jay Baruchel separately arguing in court, surfers, the Santa Monica courthouse, the title, and Jonathan Shapiro's name. Okay, so you know the whole thing about "you never have a second chance to make a first impression"? Jonathan and Co. totally have dandruff on their sweaters, as my first impression of their show has included multiple clichés and improbabilities. Such is life on The WB, I suppose, but would it have been so hard to find a crack den that wouldn't easily fit in on Wisteria Lane?
David Ross is interviewing with an older gentleman for a position with a law firm. Per his résumé, David was Phi Beta Kappa at fourteen and first in his law school class at seventeen. The guy tells David that he will be a perfect candidate for employment at their firm...in, like, five years. At which point, David informs the interviewer that it is legal to practice law in the state of California at the age of eighteen, and that not hiring David because of his age would be discrimination. That reminds me of the time I was being interviewed for a job and I said, "You know, if you and I did it, I could sue you." Well, I got the job, but David's comment did not go over nearly as well, which he realizes; he begins to stammers apologetically. David says he thinks that his youth is an asset, giving him time to be what he wants to be, which is a trial lawyer. The old guy laughs at David and says, "Tom Cruise in A Few Good Men, Clarence Darrow? That sort of thing?" Retarded. First of all, the old guy -- even if he didn't want to hire a nineteen-year-old -- would be looking at David like the freak he is, or at least with respect. He wouldn't be staring down his nose and talking about fucking Tom Cruise. Also, if Jonathan Shapiro thinks the audience is going to find this show comparable to Aaron Sorkin's or Spencer Tracy's or even Rob Lowe's work, some changes are going to have to occur. Change #1 would be not having senior members of law firms talking like twenty-two-year-old D-girls from Universal. David then explains that trial lawyers have championed every great cause in this nation; as well, they have fixed every injustice. So, to effect change with your law degree, you must be a trial lawyer. Spoken with the true black vs. white conviction of a nineteen-year-old. Suddenly, the old guy's secretary announces over his intercom that there is a woman at her desk looking for a "Skip." David's cover is blown. His nickname is Skip, because of all of the school grades he skipped: "Not because I skip." His mother is here to pick him up and take him home. Apparently Mrs. Ross, though ambitious enough to assist her son through a remarkably speedy passage through childhood and law school, is not savvy enough to know that interrupting her son's job interview to pick up "Skip" will do him no favors. Skip doesn't get the job.
Don Johnson is at the police station, and he looks perturbed. He is the court-appointed lawyer for the pretty killer girl. He asks her questions about the night, but she doesn't say anything. He says, "So, it wasn't self-defense, it was something that just...happened." Don's delivery of the period of ellipses is very pointed.
, we see Don walking out of the questioning room. He hands a piece of paper to a detective and says that the girl confessed to second-degree murder and that he promised her fifteen years: "You're welcome." And, he's gone. The cop standing to the detective asks who the DA was. The detective answers, "Grant Cooper. He's not the DA. He's her defense lawyer." Then, he walks away smirking.
we find ourselves on a golf course. Skip is a caddy. There is some sort of profound displacement going on here. Now, Skip managed to enter college before he was even a teenager and finish law school before he was twenty, yet, YET he doesn't at least have a job as a runner for a respected attorney. No, he doesn't even have a free internship at a crappy law firm. Skip is a caddy. I don't believe it. And, I mean, it's not believable. And, I'm down with the prodigy thing. When I was in high school, there was this nine-year-old in my city who had finished high school and was taking courses at the local college. So, I know that it's possible to finish school young and all. But, this? I don't believe this. There is an even younger boy to Skip who says he shouldn't worry about getting turned down by "another" law firm. He should just chill and let everyone catch up with him. Pretty good advice, actually. Skip rudely replies that "Tom" is pretty smart for someone who failed the tenth grade. It always comes back to academics for you, doesn't it, Skip? Tom says that failing was the smartest thing he ever did because now "Mom and Dad" will be happy just to see him graduate. That kid's got it right. And, he's going to get laid first. Skip is Grant's caddy. Small world. Grant asks Skip how much money he owes to the other two guys playing. Skip is also a human calculator and quickly adds it to $735. Grant is perturbed by accurate math and bets double or nothing on the hole. He gets it, and Tom tells Skip that he helps Grant hustle. So, I guess Tom is Grant's caddy and Skip was just helping for the day? Whatever.
Montage of more California beach stuff, with a Third Eye Blind-ish song playing. Wow, they're really reviving the mid- to late '90s for me. Thanks, I was stoned through those years for a reason. Grant and the boys are having lunch at a table at a sidewalk café. Grant takes a swig from a bottle of whiskey and tells Tom and Skip, "Sometimes you have to make your own luck." A pretty girl with a yoga mat passes their table and makes eyes at Grant and kind of glances at Skip. Skip asks Grant if he knows her. "Not yet," he answers, subtly revealing that we are to expect plenty of lady shenanigans with Grant later in the season. Skip says that he went to law school with her and now she's working (world still smaller). Grant hears that Skip still hasn't found a job, and offers him some "more" work. What, his laundry? No, Grant has an insurance case and wants Skip to write Grant's response to a motion, because Grant is "not a paper kind of guy." Skip tells Grant not to hustle him. Where's the hustle? Like it's anyone's dream job to write a big, boring paper. Grant expands his offer and says that if Skip helps Grant, he will have Skip in court on Monday morning. Skip mulls the offer as the music gets louder.
As the Ross family is sitting down for dinner, Skip's mom asks if he really wants to start his career with Grant, since she hears that he drinks. Tom points out that Skip doesn't have a choice, since no one wants to hire him. Skip's dad says they should just be glad that he has a job and gets to go to court. Skip's mom (whose name is Deborah) is still skeptical, but unconvincingly says that it's JonBenet's...I mean, "Skip's" choice, since Deborah doesn't like parents who push their children.
Grant and Skip are in court. Grant says that you just plead guilty and move along, since all of the court-appointed defendants are guilty anyway. Who keeps putting Don Johnson in double-breasted suits? Unflattering because they're not unfattering. Words to live by, people. Grant points out their client. Her beauty stuns Skip. Her name is Paradise. Oh my. Grant introduces them, and Paradise wordlessly expresses her shock that a man so young will be defending her, even though she has apparently admitted to the crime. Skip senses her shock (intuitive for a guy who can't think of a better summer job for his genius law student self than golf caddy) and reminds the audience that you can practice law in California at age eighteen. Grant tells Paradise that the DA has accepted the deal of a fifteen-year sentence. All she has to do is plead guilty, to which she utters her first words: "Can we talk first?" She seems really pissed at Grant. The bailiff escorts her into court before she gets a chance to say anything. Grant tells Skip that the judge presiding hates him, and if anything bad happens he should ask for a continuance.
Hey, that judge really does seem to hate him. When Grant announces himself as the defense, she reminds him that she told him not to come back without a second chair. He presents Skip, who whispers, "They ordered you to have help?" I guess he feels hustled into writing that brief, because Grant had to have another person in court with him anyway. Grant tells Judge Abrahams that Skip was first in his class in law school, so she decides that, "with his smarts," Skip should be the first chair. Skip says he would like a continuance, and Judge Abrahams says, "No. You would move for a continuance and I would deny it." So, Skip goes back to Paradise, who tells him that she didn't kill the man. Skip says, "Your Honor, she...I...we are not pleading guilty." Grant's totally stunned. Skip says he's "sorry" to the judge, which is kind of funny. Grant lays his head down.
Yay! Commercial break. I love that heavy guy on the Capital One commercials. Seriously, he cracks me up.
Back to the show. Grant's pissed. Skip starts to interview Paradise in a flirting manner. She apparently has her jaws wired shut, since she does not speak without clenching said jaws. That can't be a choice. She says that her boyfriend, Kem, murdered the guy, who was a rival drug dealer of his.
Grant and Skip are walking on the sidewalk with an umbrella, though it's sunny out and no one else has an umbrella. Grant says that Paradise is lying. Skip thinks she's innocent. Grant reminds Skip that Paradise was caught with the murder weapon and is angry that Kem has dumped her. If she doesn't plead guilty, she may get life in prison, so she must plead guilty, says Grant.
At Grant's office, Grant is conducting a meeting with the lady seeking damages in the insurance case for which Skip is writing the brief. Skip interrupts their meeting to ask why Grant has obtained none of the reports or evidentiary photos from the crime scene. Finally, the lady stomps out of the meeting saying she'll sue Grant if he doesn't win like he said he would. Skip assures Grant that his brief will definitely win, but, in return, he will need all of the reports and evidence for Paradise's trial. As Grant swigs some scotch, he asks if he's being hustled. He likes it.
Grant and Skip are at an abandoned house. Now, this place looks like a crack den. There are people skating in an empty pool. Grant tries to tell them in Spanish that he could get money for them if they injure themselves. Skip tells him that they're Samoan. In the back of the house, the tanned and buffed Kem, with the new tattoos he got at Burning Man, says that he can't help Paradise, and that she wouldn't want his help. Skip asks if Kem has committed any violent crimes, and suddenly there is a fight. Skip's getting pummeled when Sonny Crockett pops into action and saves the day with a roundhouse, a head butt, and, finally, a metal pipe wielded like a Samurai sword as they leave the back yard. They turn and run...ten feet into the front yard. Then they are walking. Guys! The people who just tried to kill you are feet away from you. Shouldn't you at least run across the street? As they slowly stroll through the front yard, Skip explains that they have to ask questions in order to establish reasonable doubt. Grant insists again that they are pleading out of the case. Besides the fact that he thinks Paradise is guilty, she's also too poor to afford any of the fancy prove-that-I-didn't-do-it court stuff. Like fingerprints, witnesses, and whatnot. Skip points out that Kem had more of a motive to kill the dead guy, since he'd once tried to shoot Kem, which Grant would've known if he'd read any of the reports on the case. Grant insists again that Paradise will plead guilty.
At the police station, Skip is trying to get more police reports and has to talk to Detective Walsh, the guy who accepted the confession Grant extracted from Paradise. Walsh tells Skip that Grant used to be a big-time trial lawyer with an even bigger ego. Skip says that most great trial lawyers are egotistical. Walsh replies, "It was more than ego. Hubris...is that a word? 'Hubris'?" Nice texture. He says the perfect word, then asks if it's a word. Of course, Skip gives the Oxford English Dictionary definition of the word. Walsh tells Skip how Grant defended alleged cop killer Leonard Debbs back in the early '90s, around the time Skip was memorizing the Magna Carta. It sounds like the guy really didn't do it and Grant all but proved it, but the guy was executed anyway. Afterward, the cops ruined Grant's reputation, and Walsh says that the only work he gets now is from Walsh. Skip thanks Walsh for the information and hands him a subpoena and tells him that they are going to trial. Booyah! How you like that hubris?
It's morning and Skip is staring into space, dressed, as his alarm clock rings. Tom asks him "again" if Paradise will be executed if they don't win. I like Tom.
In Grant's office, Skip is looking at pictures of Paradise that her mother apparently brought in for him to have. Her sister is in the pictures with her. Skip is hoping to use the photos to humanize Paradise in front of the jury. It's something he read he should do. Grant, in another un-unfattering double-breasted monstrosity, argues with Skip that, instead of their defense being that Kem committed the murder, they should go with self-defense. At this point, Grant is starting to just sound like a contrarian. If he wanted an easy innocent theory, blaming it on Kem is much more obvious than self-defense.
In the courtroom, on the stand, the coroner talks about the angle and thrust of the knife that killed the victim. Skip notices that Paradise's sister is in the courtroom. Paradise says that her mother wouldn't come. She must be feeling really stupid that her daughter named "Paradise" is on trial for murder. Should have named her "Sing Sing." Skip decides to cross-examine the coroner, to which Grant takes issue. "Is the victim not dead?" Point taken. Skip asks the coroner to demonstrate how the knife was used on the victim. He sweetly asks Judge Abrahams how he would go about that. Though she is stern, she is really helpful to Skip. Luckily, she asks the coroner to use a pencil instead of the actual murder weapon, which Skip had in his hand and was ready to use. No time for Boy Scouts, huh, Skip? Conflicted with Model UN? Too bad, 'cause they would have taught you safety with weapons. I guess. I don't know, I was in tap class. The coroner knocks the wind out of Skip, which seems unnecessary.
Afterward, Grant is drinking more scotch in a bar. Still daytime, by the way. Detective Walsh comes in and tells Grant to make sure Walsh doesn't go on the stand, because Walsh finds it "insulting." He brings up the insurance case and really does a number on poor Grant's self-esteem, talking about his reputation and how he hasn't won a court case in years. Grant sinks into his sad self and assures Walsh that they'll settle in the insurance case and that Grant will make sure Skip doesn't call Walsh to that stand. Walsh then says that, after the trial, he wants Grant to "fire that little bastard." This Walsh guy is a pretty effective villain, though contrived. He finds it "insulting" to go on the stand? Really?
Back at Grant's office, it's night, and Skip is working on the brief. Grant comes stumbling in. He tells Skip that they are pulling out of Paradise's case. Skip freaks out and berates Grant for not reading any of the case work pertaining to Paradise, concluding by lecturing, "Justice is supposed to be blind, Grant, not the attorneys." Grant tells Skip not to lecture him: "My God, it must be a pain in the ass to be right all the time." It is, Skip lets us know. People don't like you and you don't impress women. I don't suppose your gawkiness or pseudo-Woody Allen-speak have anything to do with your not impressing women, huh? It's because you know everything. I'm just gonna have to let that sink in for a moment.... Skip brings up Leonard Debbs and says that they should be fighting for Paradise like Grant fought for Debbs back then. Grant sadly says that he learned from the Debbs trial that you shouldn't try to fight, because the system will crush you. Oh my God, they're having a Daniel-son and Miyagi moment. Then, Grant says that Skip can do whatever he wants to in the trial, but that Grant's done. Then, he leaves.
It's the courtroom again. Only Skip and Paradise are on their side. I thought Grant meant that he was metaphorically checking out, but I guess he meant he'd actually be out. I'm going to take this moment to comment on Paradise's wardrobe. It's really nice. Her hair? Perfect layers. Her makeup? Expert. I have a really hard time believing that a girl like her would end up in a situation like this, with the drug dealer boyfriend and hanging out in crack dens and all. And, not because she's pretty. She's also so immaculately put together. And, again, I don't mean she just knows how to make herself look good. Her outfit and makeup and haircut are the model of elegance and restraint. I do not believe that a girl with the sense to keep such long layers perfectly clipped and conditioned would allow herself to be in this kind of predicament. And, I know that people on trial try to dress to impress a jury, but Grant doesn't care and Skip probably doesn't even pick out his own clothes yet, much less some pretty girl's. He'd probably pick out a halter-top and thong. Skip decides to question Detective Walsh. Ooh, Walsh looks so insulted. Skip asks Walsh why no fingerprints were taken or other forensic tests performed. Walsh says that they were unnecessary because Paradise was holding the murder weapon. Skip points out that she was found without any blood on her, despite the fact that, since the knife wound was made in an upward motion, she should have been covered in it. Also, none of the other people who were in the house on the night of the raid were questioned. Skip then announces that Paradise is lying to protect someone. As well, he tells the judge that he has a witness who will testify under oath that Kem committed the murder. Skip asks Walsh whether he knows Kem, and Walsh says he doesn't recall, at which point Skip provides the court with a record of two occasions on which Walsh himself arrested Kem. Now, I know that this show is trying to make a case for the LAPD's corruption, but all I see is laziness. Is laziness the same as corruption? In that case, the girl who checked me out at the supermarket yesterday was so fucking corrupt, because it took her like five minutes to ring me up and all I had was some peaches and a Fresca. And, she didn't even smile. What is Walsh doing with his time, anyway? He'll follow Grant into some dive bar and berate him just because he doesn't want to answer a few questions? It seems like a lot of trouble to go to avoid a little work. What did Walsh think this job would be anyway? There are a lot of jobs easier than being a police detective. I just feel like the LAPD is a pretty easy target, but that this show is not making a good case for their being the bad guys. Meanwhile, Grant is drinking again in that bar. Okay, I'm feeling a new drinking game developing: Drink with Grant. Sound good?
Paradise is having a visit with Kem. The point-of-view is Skip's, as he watches the visit from behind Kem. The only words of Kem and Paradise's conversation that can be understood are, "You gotta keep your mouth shut." Hmm, maybe that's a message from her dentist -- advice about living with wired-shut jaws.
After Kem leaves menacingly, Skip talks to Paradise as she gets dressed for court. He plays "hiding my eyes when I really want to look" while telling her that he can't let her lie to protect Kem. She says that she will not say Kem is the killer, and that Skip has to think of something else. This show is all about people just saying the opposite of whatever Skip says.
Grant shows up at the courthouse and apologizes to Skip, who tells Grant that Kem has gotten to Paradise. Grant then returns to his old form and lambastes Skip for allowing Kem to talk to Paradise in the first place. Skip is unsure whether he should put Paradise on the stand. Grant says that he gave up trials to avoid making decisions like that.
Skip puts Paradise on the stand. ClenchJaw is totally uncooperative. She didn't see the murder. She says that she lied when she confessed to it. When Skip asks, she says that Kem didn't kill the dead guy. Skip points out that she just said she didn't see the murder, so how could she know? During the prosecution's cross-examination, the prosecutor pulls out an ugly denim jacket as evidence. Skip objects because he had never seen the jacket, but the prosecutor says that it's on the evidence list. Paradise, upon questioning, says that the jacket is hers. Skip suddenly stands and requests that Paradise try on the jacket. He says that it doesn't belong to Paradise (which I believe, because experience has told me she has lovely taste in clothing) and that "if it doesn't fit, the jury must--" Thank you, Judge Abrahams, for stopping that. She doesn't, however, permit Skip's motion for Paradise to try on the jacket.
Outside, Skip laments ever letting Paradise take the stand. He had seen the denim jacket on the evidence list, but had thought that it was the victim's jacket. Newbie mistake. It would suck to be responsible for someone's execution because some drunken guy didn't want to help you. Grant tells Skip that he didn't quit: "That's something." Tell that to Leonard Debbs. Grant asks Skip why he wanted Paradise to try on the jacket. Skip says that it wouldn't fit, pulling out a picture of Paradise and her sister. Her sister is wearing the jacket. And, we all know how rare it is that sisters might wear the same clothing.
Daytime, back at the bar, Detective Walsh is tossing them back. He's so insulted about taking the stand. Grant enters and tells Walsh that Paradise is innocent, but Walsh says he doesn't care. Grant counters that they need to call a mistrial or investigate more, but Walsh is not having it. They have an arrangement: Grant convinces people to plead out on cases, and Walsh sends him "car crashes," thereby giving Walsh wins and Grant money. "This client isn't guilty," says Grant, and Walsh announces that Paradise wouldn't be the first innocent person out of whom Grant procured a confession. Grant walks away as Walsh laughs a maniacal, end-of-the-scene kind of laugh. But wait, it's not the end of the scene. Grant turns with his soon-to-be classic roundhouse and knocks Walsh off his stool. "We're not on the same side anymore," Grant says to bleeding-lipped Walsh. "We're not supposed to be." Then, he's outta there.
Back at the courthouse, Skip confronts Paradise. He concludes that her sister committed the murder. She confirms it, telling Skip that her sister had come to the crack den for a party and was manhandled by the dead guy. She grabbed the massive hunting knife/murder weapon to protect herself and accidentally killed him. Paradise absolutely refuses to "snitch on [her] sister." Apparently, Paradise's sister has a "chance." Again, finding it hard to believe that the second coming of Grace Kelly here couldn't get it together enough to enroll in junior college or something. Skip tells Paradise that she's a terrific person and that he doesn't want her to be convicted. Paradise asks if Skip could please come up with something else. From the back, Grant says, "I will." That would seriously compromise attorney-client privilege if that hadn't been Grant. And, what's with Paradise's lack of peripheral vision? For someone who lives on the edge, she is not that good at watching out for herself.
Back in the courtroom, Grant is giving the final statements. He looks really nervous. His argument, essentially, is that Skip may be totally inadequate as a trial attorney, but that even he has proven reasonable doubt. He points out that the police investigation was woefully inadequate and that although Skip is "no Johnnie Cochran, he did enough." It's fairly convincing. In fact, there are a few moments when I'm kind of impressed by Don Johnson, like when he's talking about all of the bad stuff you see when you practice law and how it can break your heart. He ends repeating Skip's thing about justice being blind, not the attorneys. Skip smiles, and there's happy violin music.
Back at the office, Grant is icing the hand with which he hit Walsh. I guess it didn't bother him earlier in court. At all. He tells Skip that he settled something "out of court." He's working on the insurance case. Skip offers to help, but Grant says it's no use because he should have started months ago. Skip suggests that they start trying to win. That's kind of sweet.
Back in the courtroom, the decision is ready: Paradise is found not guilty. Grant and Skip are elated. Judge Abrahams congratulates Paradise, but informs her that she finds Paradise guilty. "For wha?" chime Grant and Skip in unison. Judge Abrahams tells us that Paradise was under probation at the time of arrest and trial (she had pleaded guilty to a burglary that Kem committed a year ago. Seriously, this girl has major priority-importance misappropriation issues) and hiding a murder weapon and giving a false confession are in giganto violation of that probation. The judge sentences Paradise to ten years in prison, which seems severe. Then, she says that the sentence is suspended with stay-aways and weekly reporting to probation through her lawyers. I have a feeling Judge Abrahams is trying to play cupid with Skip and Paradise, since this keeps them together for up to a decade. If Skip hasn't figured it out by then, he never will. Wait a second. He'll be twenty-nine? That's actually just about right. Good luck, kids.
Grant and Skip are walking past their office when Skip stops. He says he's going upstairs to start working on Paradise's sentencing appeal. Before he's gotten away, Grant is griping that she doesn't have an appeal, but Skip's already off to work. Now, this I don't get. According to the implied philosophy of this show, laziness makes a corrupt cop and a normal lawyer, but appealing a ten-year prison sentence is not, like, a crazy thing to expect from your lawyer. Right? Not doing the bare minimum doesn't make you some sort of activist. Grant doesn't let it get to him. He walks into the Santa Monica din, reaffirmed as a vital attorney and...puts on his sunglasses. I thought it would be something important, but, no, it's just that. He puts on sunglasses and walks away as the New Radicals ask me why I'm "trippin'." Don't get me started.