Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts.
That is so not going to work.
We see a flashback of Keane's showdown in the gym as Hill tells us that we have certain inalienable rights. He goes on that the state, however, can take all our rights away by killing us, as we get a montage of more shots of the aforementioned scene and ones of Keane at his new trial. Hill tells us that the Pernicious Peewee has brought back capital punishment in the state, and that he's decided that Keane, a person he's never met, should die. Cut to the PP in a press conference, saying that the mood of the country has changed, and that people need a sign that something is being done about crime. A reporter asks if he thinks so in spite of the fact that, as has been amply shown, capital punishment has "no effect" on crime. The PP: "Especially if it has no effect. These days murders are random, senseless. Maybe the punishment should be too." Wow. It's a good thing you're so teeny, Pernicious Peewee, because no one else could get away with standing on a platform that shaky. To his credit, Glynn, standing to him, looks like he doesn't even know where to start with that statement. The PP goes on that Jefferson Keane will be the first person executed by their state in thirty-four years. "He's the first because he deserves to die."
The Ironic Segue Fairy, who got held up through the first few episodes by a strip-search gone horribly awry, finally appears as Sister Pete bites out, "Jefferson Keane is the first because he's black and he's young. The public is not gonna feel safe if we execute a seventy-year-old white guy." Really? That Rebadow looks awfully shifty to me. See how I cleverly got a Rebadow execution reference in there? See? See? You guys never see. Glynn asks if she's going to turn this into a racial thing with him. Rather than get into the obvious socioeconomic discussion, Pete simply responds, "Oh, please." Diane asks about all the protesters Keane's execution will inevitably draw. Glynn says they won't be a problem, but Pete informs him that she'll be standing with them. This provokes a tête-à-tête until Glynn lets her know that if she goes through with joining the protesters, she'll be singing "I Like To Be In America" on a street corner, or doing some other activity that is not her current job. Everyone flinches, and Pete, after a pause, dramatically walks out of the room, but not before telling them there's no need to wait for any kind of resolution, as they won't be seeing her sassy ecclesiastical ass again. No wonder they call her Pete -- she's got balls.
On the main drag, we get a montage of different conversations, the topic of all of which is Keane's impending execution. Schillinger says he'd choose to be hanged were he in that situation, as Groves wonders how they know that lethal injection causes no pain to the victim. Rebadow comes scampering into Beecher's pod with the news about Sister Pete, which Beecher already knows thanks to his position as her assistant. He says he's against the death penalty, and Rebadow gets a small wry smile as he says, "Me too." Me three -- without it, we would have been spared all your boring blather about talking to God. Beecher asks who the last person executed in the state was, and Rebadow reveals that it was he. If only, Bob, if only. We get a black-and-white flashback, complete with "Jailhouse Rock," of a young Rebadow -- looking like a shorter, younger Richard Moll -- strapped into an electric chair. A blonde bombshell winks cheerily at him, and then the hacks fasten the mask around his face. Someone gives the nod, the switch is pulled, and Rebadow starts to do the seated version of the Spandau Ballet. However, the lights start to flicker, and the execution is aborted. Back in the present, Rebadow says that the '65 blackout killed power in five states, and he's not sure if he caused it or was merely saved by it. He goes on that that's when he first met God, like, WE KNOW, and says that God told him to play the oboe, but he doesn't have the lips for it. I'd make a Patti Lupone joke here, but that would just be painful for all involved, and this episode is going to be tough enough as it is.
Ryan's looking into a Viewfinder. Beecher pops into the picture. How'd that get in there? Ryan's smoking a joint, and Beecher takes a puff as Ryan says that he thought Schillinger had forbidden Beecher to get high any more. Beecher: "Yeah. Fuck him!" I think he just can't resist your wily charms, Ryan. Ryan asks about his appeal, but Beecher tells him his meager skills are no match for all the eyewitnesses they have lined up against him. Ryan sighs that at least he's not on death row like Keane, and opines that Keane should have just let the Latinos kill him. The Lord Of The Dance just caught his toe shoe on a nail! Beecher tries to get more information, and says that Keane shouldn't be executed if he was indeed set up. Ryan grabs Beecher's face and yells, "Fuck that! Don't make trouble or you'll be !" He storms out. So, no sex, then?
In the library, Beecher asks for a faxed copy of the transcript from the Keane trial. Soon after, he's coming up the steps reading the transcript when Schillinger yells to him. He stuffs the papers down the back of his pants and hurries in. Schillinger: "That laundry's not gonna wash itself." Aw, that sounds just like something Jonathan Kent would say! Which makes me very, very scared about what Jonathan might be doing to those cows at night. Schillinger did call Beecher his livestock, after all. Beecher asks Schillinger if he's heard anything about Keane being set up, and Schillinger jauntily tells him that the hacks made him a gladiator, and I pray that Beecher KEEPS HIS FAT FOOL MOUTH SHUT HERE FOR ONCE. Schillinger goes on that they've even got it on videotape, and Beecher excitedly says he'd love to see that, as it could stop Keane's execution. Schillinger, with his feet resting in Beecher's lap, mildly says he wouldn't want to do that, and Beecher must have given him a really good blowjob recently, because he sends him off to the laundry room without further ado. There, Beecher's telling Rebadow that he's going to go to McManus. Rebadow suggests he might not want to do that, as they'll kill him. Beecher: "'They' who?" Rebadow: "Exactly." Listen to Old Man Moll, Beecher. Ryan appears, and apologizes for getting testy earlier. He slips an arm around Beecher and asks him if he wants to get high, and I think an effective counter to the Say No To Drugs slogan would be a poster of Dean Winters holding a baggie filled with white powder, with the tagline, "Say yes to Ryan." They'd have to legalize through sheer force of demand in that case. Amazingly, Beecher turns him down, saying he's trying to keep his head clear. Ryan leaves. Beecher says that he should represent Keane and appeal his conviction, and if he did that, I think we'd have Murder On The Orient Express right here in Oz, as just about everybody would try to kill him. I'd bet the corpse would be in a lot worse shape in this version, though. Rebadow suggests he talk to Keane, but Beecher points out the difficulty of getting into death row. Groves, who's been on the scene for a while: "I have a way." It doesn't involve eating anyone, does it? Just checking.
Cut to McManus's office, where Beecher is begging to be put in protective custody. It warms my heart that even Groves, an introverted psycho, is aware of how easy it is to hoodwink McManus. Yeah, the inmates respect you, Timbo. Timbo tells Beecher that protective custody is only for extreme situations. "time you ask for protection, I may say no." Just make sure he's had his Midol and you'll be fine, Beecher.
Beecher gets escorted into his new cell, which of course is right to Keane's, and calls his name through a vent. I haven't seen Season Two yet, so I don't know exactly when they set up a separate death row here. Keane asks who it is, and Beecher identifies himself. He says he read the trial transcript, and asks why he didn't come forward about being set up. Keane says that if he had been released back into Oz, the Wise Guys would have killed him, and then one of his boys would have avenged him, and the cycle of killings would go on and on. "My death can put an end to that." Life is a mystery. Everyone must stand alone. Keane says he's also afraid if he went back to Em City, he could lose his faith and his soul. "I'm at peace right now, Beecher. Please don't take that from me." I feel you call my name, and it feels like home. Beecher says he's on the side of justice, and he doesn't need Keane's permission to file an appeal on his behalf. You don't need his permission to SHUT UP AND MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS, EITHER. I mean, obviously it's difficult to watch someone make this kind of decision, but Keane doesn't strike me as particularly impulsive, and he's had a lot of time to think this through. Moreover, I think he's right about this being the only way in his power to break the cycle of murders. Of course, there'll probably be another such cycle week, but they'll be someone else's problem, natch.
But Toby's on his little mission to bring his own life some meaning, and, in the library, he tells Rebadow they have to find the tape of the set-up fight. He orders Rebadow to see if he can get any help from above. Schillinger enters and asks why Beecher went into PC. Beecher says he needed some time alone. That's one's going to fly about as well as a waterlogged chicken. Schillinger asks what he's doing, and Beecher tries to sell that he's working on Ryan's appeal. Schillinger doesn't believe him, and tells the attendant, who looks like he couldn't last a round in a flyweight competition with the Pernicious Peewee, to leave. Schillinger rips out a page and notes that it's about a stay of execution, and I hope Beecher read that one carefully, as he could use one right about now. Schillinger makes him eat the page. Well, I knew he'd be forced to eat those words to Keane, but as usual, the show manages to find ways to literalize everything. "Tom, I think we should try to convey that Alvarez is feeling like shit." "Have I got a scene for you!"
In the hole, Healy tells Rebadow that the videotape doesn't exist. Rebadow says he doesn't believe him, and Healy throws him in the hole for a couple days. Great fucking plan, Beecher.
Ryan enters what looks like his pod to find Beecher sitting on the bed. I was hoping it would come to this. Damn -- Ryan just tells him he hears he talked to Keane despite his warnings. "That took some balls. You starting to grow some balls, Beecher?" Let's find out! Show, don't tell! Beecher sighs that he used to have balls, and he thought he could grow his back by saving Keane, but he realizes now that that was a futile effort. Ryan sits behind him and grins lasciviously. Beecher asks if he's got any "dope," but Ryan says he needs an upgrade, and sticks out his hand, which has a bit of heroin on it. Beecher Hoovers it right up. I knew he couldn't resist our poster boy.
Hill talks about bugs. Stop bugging me, Hill.
Said, glower turned up to eleven, tells Glynn how outraged he is as a man of color at the verdict in Keane's trial. The subtext nicely echoes Pete's dismissive comment from earlier. Said goes on that, as a Muslim, he's concerned with Keane's soul, and that he wants to serve as Keane's imam. Glynn asks Mukada, who's walking with them into PC/DR, if that's okay with him, and Mukada assents. Glynn permits Said to talk to Keane, but only about spiritual matters, saying that if there's any shit-stirring, "I will give him a rabbi." Said rubs his temple all, "I really need to stop clenching my teeth. It's giving me migraines." Said reaches Keane's cell and reaches a hand through the bars, which Keane grasps.
On Prison TV, a female reporter tells us that tension is growing as the execution draws near. Pete gets a clip, saying she doesn't believe in murder, while Mineo thinks lethal injection is too comfortable a way to die. We learn that Keane's execution is the day. A couple more interviews, and then Said, who's looks more stressed out than a UPN lineup planner now that Buffy The Vampire Slayer has been canceled, falls over.
McManus enters Gloria's office. She tells him that Keane's sister is in kidney failure, which has been diagnosed as fatal. McManus tries to blame himself for all the deaths, but he's obviously only so doing so that Gloria will tell him otherwise, which she sort of does. Try telling me that, McManus! I'll give it to you straight! They start to flirt, but thankfully, an orderly rushes in and tells Gloria she's needed. Said, you may be one stressed-out dude, but your timing's impeccable. The man in question gets wheeled in and looked after as Hill takes us through the five stages of grief. He tells us, "In Oz, we know all about acceptance."
Keane Light visits Keane in his cell, and offers to braid his hair. I guess they made up, because Keane Light still looks as gay as the day is long. Keane declines at first, but can't resist this: "I'll make your hair look so nice they won't want to kill you." Keane laughs for the first time in memory. Aw. Keane Light tells Keane that he saw their father on TV the day before, and that he's sorry he's not who Keane wants him to be, but he likes being queer. A tear drops onto Keane's forehead, prompting Keane to look up and say, "I love you, Billie. Allah loves you." Keane Light says that their dad doesn't. Damn. I find Keane's extended storyline very moving. This season may be depression in a box set, but it's certainly beautifully written. McManus interrupts this touching scene, and his timing is as bad as Said's is good. Jerk. He tells the boys the news about their sister, and that she's waiting for a transplant, but organs are scarce. Keane immediately volunteers one of his kidneys, and charges McManus with making it happen. I'm actually rooting for Timbo to come through here. Shocking, isn't it?
Outside, Sister Pete is leading the protesters in cries of "No justice, no peace." McManus watches through an open window, and Glynn finds him to break the news that the Pernicious Peewee won't grant a stay of execution, as he thinks Keane is too dangerous to be released to a hospital. I think they need to hoist the Pernicious Peewee on his own public-opinion petard (alliteration, whee!), as it's one thing to execute criminals, but it's quite another to let an innocent person die because they couldn't wait an extra day or two to execute someone. McManus begs Glynn to fight, but Glynn says that if they go public, it'll only fuel the protesters, with which I frankly don't see the fucking problem. McManus says the PP thinks he's God. "Maybe it's time we got some help from the real one."
Cut to Mukada's office, where he incredulously parrots, "You want me to call the Cardinal to intercede?" McManus says yes. Mukada tries to tell him that the Cardinal is more conservative than Jesse Helms and Bill Buckley combined. Well, we'll see if you get invited to the Lido Deck the time the Love Boat sails, mister! McManus tells him to make the call anyway, and this is one time his reputation as the bloodiest-hearted liberal is an asset, because if he doesn't have a problem with it, it's hard for anyone else to. Mukada gives us some of his own backstory, namely that he was a favorite of the Cardinal's until he worked in his office and asked a few too many questions. "I defied him instead of deifying him." McManus: "So Jefferson Keane's sister dies because you and the Cardinal had a tiff?" Well, Billie Keane got sent out of Em City because you were in a snit with his brother, McManus, so blow it out your self-righteous ass. And that's about as mild an insult as I can come up with for old Timbo, so you can tell I'm on his side here. Mukada says he'll make the call, but it probably won't do any good. Oh, I don't know about that. "Cardinal Stubing? Remember that night you plied me with just a few too many piña coladas in the hot tub? Well, I'm calling in that favor. No, not like that."
Hospital wing. McManus goes to see Said, who's sitting up in bed, about the transplant.
Oz TV. We learn that the Pernicious Peewee folded faster than an origami expert on crack when confronted by the Cardinal and a Muslim leader whom Said no doubt contacted. Keane gets a thirty-day stay of execution. Keane is led out of PC to go to the hospital, a big smile on his face. Hill talks about clemency, and says that letting a condemned man die is merciful, since life in prison is worse than death, and considering that this is only the fourth episode, do they really need to be recycling monologue concepts already? This is exactly why Ortolani wanted to die, right?
Ryan and Hill play checkers when D'Angelo appears and summons Ryan. D'Angelo informs him that he lost a sports bet, and demands payment immediately. Ryan asks why he's busting his balls, and they start heating up until Diane asks if there's a problem. Ryan returns to the table, and Hill makes a move and tells Ryan he lost. Ryan dons his Mickey O'Velli hat and intones, "I never lose when it counts." Start the music!
In the classroom, Ryan tells Adebisi and Wangler that Keane was set up. They guess it was Schibetta, but Ryan "corrects" them that it was D'Angelo. Ryan expertly spins the tale that since Ortolani died, D'Angelo has been looking to move up, so he set Keane up to impress Schibetta. Wangler wigs, but shuts up when several other inmates arrive. Ryan whispers that another murder will lock Oz down, but since Adebisi and Wangler work in the kitchen with D'Angelo, they should be able to arrange a little accident. They nod. Adebisi asks why Ryan is so keen on justice for Keane. The answer, in tempo: "Because Jefferson took care of Ortolani for me. I owe him." I'm just waiting for him to add, "These aren't the 'droids you're looking for." I really think he's got that Jedi mind control down. Someone who looks like a Hey! It's That Guy! but probably isn't comes in and introduces himself as the replacement for Sister Pete, and the nervousness this guy gives off chums the waters more than a barge full of blood, as within seconds Wangler is yelling at him to "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I haven't seen such a display of disrespect toward a teacher since the sixth grade. The guy plows on that they're going to talk about anger management, which gets a chuckle out of me, although I wonder how it's possible that Alvarez isn't there. Then I remember where he probably is, and I get all sad, so I'm glad when the laughs continue, as the guy droning about controlling one's temper leads into a shot of Adebisi clocking D'Angelo with a pan in the kitchen. He and Wangler shove his head into the industrial dishwasher and turn it on. Hee.
Ryan opens the door to Schibetta's pod and asks if he can enter. Schibetta beckons him in, and we learn that D'Angelo is unconscious and will be laid up for a while. Ryan offers his services, reminding Schibetta that he took care of Keane without it coming back to either of them. Schibetta muses that one of his best Army buddies was named O'Reily, and that he didn't take any shit from anyone. "Who knows. Maybe we can do some business." Ryan offers his hand, but Schibetta bemusedly stares at it. Hee. Ryan leaves, looking satisfied with himself. I'm satisfied with him, too.
Groves touches a wound on D'Angelo's forehead, then walks away and licks his fingers. Hee. Mukada comes to see Alvarez, whose right cheek is bandaged. Alvarez hopefully asks about his baby, but Mukada says he's not getting any better, and that the doctors are thinking of taking him off life support. Alvarez doesn't want to hear that. Mukada tells him that Maritza thinks it's the best thing, but he thinks she's just going along with the doctors. "I don't want them to kill my baby!" I don't think even Ryan could spin anything out of this material. Sorry about the Snark Lite here, but executions and dead kids do not a funny recap make. Especially not when my poor Miguel is lying there like a wounded puppy dog. Mukada says that if they take the baby off life support, he can have a natural death. Alvarez demands to talk to Maritza and to see the baby, but Mukada says that's impossible, as the state is going to give Alvarez a psychiatric evaluation for the slice-and-dice job he did on himself. Alvarez says he did it for the baby. Mukada asks how. Alvarez tells him it's between him and God, but if Mukada had read the details of Alvarez's crime, I would think it would be pretty clear. Alvarez begs Mukada to help him see his baby, and yells the request repeatedly as Mukada leaves.
Mukada and McManus meet with Sister Pete's replacement, who looks like a cross between The Little White Sex Dork and John Oates. And that, my friends, is not a face that's going to make the cover of GQ. Mukada tells him that he just wants Alvarez released to see the kid, because he thinks Alvarez will then realize that keeping his son alive in this condition is cruel. Dorkoates says he needs more time, and on hearing that the doctors want to pull the plug the day, he says there's nothing he can do. McManus says he doesn't need his permission, and that he'll take the responsibility on himself. Tim, I know you've done two things that I was on board with this episode so far, but nothing is going to make up for what's to come, so fuck off. Dorkoates shrugs all, "What can I do?" Shut up, Dorkoates.
Sad church music starts up as Alvarez is led out of Oz. He enters a room to find an hysterically crying Maritza. Dude, I was almost like that when I put my dog down -- I can't even imagine having to go through that with a child. Alvarez walks in, the moment starting to overwhelm him. Mukada looks on, and I know I was trying to figure out if he or Pete has the suckier job, but he's winning by a lap at this point. A lap of The Amazing Race. Mukada performs the last rites, and we hear the flatline over the music. This can't get much worse, right?
Back in Oz, Alvarez thanks Mukada for all he's done for him, and tries to be philosophical about the baby's death. He says he feels better about himself, and that he never knew he had so much love to give. In fact, he says, he never loved anything before in his life, and it's opened up a whole new part of him. Mukada just looks like his day couldn't possibly get any more abysmal. He rises to go, but before he gets out the door, Alvarez asks him, "Where was God when my son died?" And the day finds a lower place. Mukada: "Same place He was when His own son died."
Gloria examines the scar left by Keane's surgery, and says he's doing fine. Diane enters and tells Keane he has a visitor. It's his father, who gives him a warm hug. Keane asks after his sister, and his dad tells him she's recuperating faster than expected. He says that he's a little turned around by all the media attention, but that a lot of people have been very supportive. Keane gets serious, and tells his dad he wants him to talk to Keane Light. His father's face falls. "He's turned into a fag." Keane makes an impassioned speech about how lonely it is in Oz and what it does to a person. His dad exposits that he raised the three kids alone, and that now that she's going to live, Keane's sister is going to make something of herself. "What's Billie ever gonna be?" Keane: "Your son. My brother. Forever." Sniff. Diane calls time, and the two Keanes share a tender embrace. Hill VOs that it's rare to say goodbye to someone when you know it's the last time. I can think of a number of people I've shown the door the morning after, knowing I'd never see them again, but that's not really what he's talking about, I'm guessing. Outside, Keane's father breaks down as Diane humanely stays with him. He says that Jefferson was his oldest kid (and he uses the past tense, which kills me), and as such always had a special place in his heart. "A man shouldn't live to see his own son die." That's one sentiment that has been expressed over and over on TV and the movies, yet will never get old, because it's so heart-wrenchingly true. Diane sympathetically puts a hand on his and looks ready to cry herself. Tom, do you own stock in Kleenex or something?
McManus comes to see Keane, who's back in PC/DR, and says that he brought him some tea. Okay, even I have to give Timmy some credit here for that simple act of kindness with no ideological strings attached. Maybe this episode has worn my snark shields down. Keane accepts it, but asks why he's really there. McManus simply and unmelodramatically tells him he's sorry he's going to die, and...Keane: "You'd like my forgiveness?" McManus shrugs assent. Keane forgives him for whatever he thinks he's done. I'm reminded of Giles's statement to Buffy in "I Only Have Eyes For You": "Forgiveness is an act of compassion. It's not done because people deserve it. It's done because they need it." And boy, does Timmy look like he needs it right now.
By the way, I can't believe I just quoted a Marti Noxon episode while passing on a chance to tear McManus apart. I think I need a hug.
McManus gives Gloria a back rub. Okay, sap's gone. He asks if she's gotten Said's test results, and she says she's just waiting for the MRI. He asks her to dinner, but she begs off, and says she's witnessing Keane's execution. Knowing that's going over about as well as someone jumping the Grand Canyon on a tricycle, she turns to look at him. She says she's not actually administering the injection, only declaring the death, but he doesn't care. They fight, and he grabs her arm and punches the wall in anger. She dismisses him, not that I blame her, but I wish she hadn't opened the door for the ever-approaching horror I'm going to be witnessing soon.
Protesters. Some guy rushes up and tries to grab Pete's sign away. Diane watches out the window as McManus sits down to her, facing inside. Oh God. It's not like my dinner was so great that I'm dying to get reacquainted with it or anything. She offers him the bottle of clear liquor out of which she's been swigging, and he accepts. McManus asks what's going on, and she tells him that some pro-death-penalty guy took a swing at Sister Pete. He asks if she's okay, and we see Pete kick the guy in the balls. Heh. They both say they're not going to watch the execution. Diane says she can't even watch flowers die. "The closest I ever came was Bambi." Huh? Turns out her ex-husband was a big hunter, and she tagged along with him one time. She managed to shoot a deer, and went over to check it out. "This deer looked up at me, with these eyes like flashlights. I knelt beside it, and I held its head and whispered, 'I'm sorry.' Then, like batteries going bad, the light in his eyes flickered a little bit and went out." Diane goes on that she had to stare at the deer's head in their living room for two whole years, and when they got divorced, the only thing she asked for was the trophy, so she could bury it. Well, thanks for throwing a little comic relief into this episode, Tom. I could use a couple more laughs, though -- do we have time for anyone to slit his or her wrists? McManus says he feels like his head is on someone's wall, then invites Diane to dinner. So that's what the bleeding-heart liberals are calling it these days.
Keane chats with L'Italien, who says his execution is the following week. Keane tells him about a death row movie starring Susan Hayward, which I've identified as I Want To Live!. Keane says that Susan was up for execution, but her attorney pleaded for a reprieve, so she waited for the call that would set her free. L'Italien predicts that the call came at the last moment, but Keane says he thinks she fried. Is there room in Oz's budget for a professional motivational speaker? Because these people suck at making each other feel better, and I'm getting the worst of it. The misery continues as Glynn, accompanied by Said, enters, and in a businesslike manner asks Keane to divide up his possessions. Keane says his family will be claiming his body, and his dad and Said will be his witnesses. Keane signs the form Glynn gives him, and Glynn asks Said if he's sure he should see this, and I don't think hell or high water would stop Said from being with Keane until the end. And that end, it seems, is now, as Glynn calls for a hack to escort them.
Said tells him that death is the supreme moment of truth, as two hacks join the three men in a funereal procession. Said gives him his hat, and they pray in unison. McManus and Diane kiss. I can't even be bothered with that now. Then, both pantless, he shoves her up against the wall, and okay, I am feeling a searing pain in my corneas now, thanks, but I'm going to soldier on. Hill VOs about the death penalty. Keane is led in to the last room he'll ever see, and made to lie on a gurney and strapped down. Said tries to enter, but is rebuffed, and the door closes. I briefly wonder about Leon's propensity to play Christ figures, but while I'm sure there are jokes to be told in that vein, I'm not really in the mood here. (Did you get that? "Vein"? C'mon, people, I still have to try! It's my job!) A doctor prepares Keane's left arm for the injection. Shot of McManus that I can't even bring myself to recap. One horror at a time here, people.
The curtain opens, and Glynn tells Keane he can make a statement. Keane tilts his head toward the window and, voice breaking, gives a speech that is, to me, possibly the most moving moment of the entire series: "I want my family to know that I love them. I believe that this punishes them more than it punishes me. I am so sorry for the three murders that I did, and I wish, by killing me today, you could bring them back. My time on this earth has been far too short. Maybe too short to get it all done right. So, I'm ready to move on. All praise to Allah." God, it's hard to get through that. Keane's father agrees with me, although the Pernicious Peewee gloats behind him. Assmunch. At the end of Keane's speech, the camera closes in on Keane's eye, reminiscent of the deer Diane described. When we get very close, his eye fades into that of McManus, who's at a certain special moment with Diane. We move back to Keane, who's dead. I know, Jefferson -- that practically made me shuffle off this mortal coil too. Cut to the lobby, where the PP tells reporters with a smile, "Justice has been served." Yeah -- served a steaming pile of your shit. And by the way, his smile is one of the scariest things I've ever seen on the show, and since I only last week finally saw the infamous spoon scene, I think that's saying a lot. I just hope he doesn't mount Keane's head on his wall.
But we're not done yet! No, apparently God decided to punish Mukada for letting a sarcastic "Thank you sir, may I have another?" permeate his thoughts. Anyway, a shirtless L'Italien does push-ups as Glynn tells him that the Supreme Court (he didn't say "State," so I'm assuming it's the big one) refused to hear his appeal. L'Italien, who looks a bit like a scruffy Chris Sarandon, opines that Rehnquist is a fag. I'll stick with "don't ask, don't tell" on that one, myself. Glynn exposits that his execution is the following day. His rhythmic movements and labored breathing continue into a sepia-toned flashback, where he chokes a woman to death on a bed. "Prisoner Number 97L641. Richard L'Italien." Murder one, death. L'Italien tells Glynn he wants to share something he's never told anyone. He confesses to the crime for which he was convicted, but as Glynn walks away, he admits to suffocating another woman. Glynn says he'll notify the proper authorities, and turns to walk away again, but L'Italien really stops him by confessing to a string of murders so long it would prompt Jame Gumb to build a couple more wells and buy a lot more lotion in the interest of catching up. L'Italien is playing with a yo-yo as he spills all this, by the way. Of all the props to show that the serial killer doesn't have a shred of remorse for his crimes, I think the yo-yo is at the top of the list.
In his office, Mukada smokes and tells Pete that L'Italien confessed to thirty-nine murders in total. I get a little uncomfortable as I realize that this might be my thirty-ninth recap, but a quick check proves that it's actually number forty, which brings up a host of other issues, but as they're much more normal, I think there's no cause for alarm. Not that I was planning to grow a beard and go straight any time soon, but numbers can be very meaningful, and who knows what can be that final impetus for turning to murder? Our prisoner flashbacks certainly speak to that. Oh, look how I finally got back around to the topic at hand in that last sentence. I must be learning from the Buffy posters. Anyway, Pete bites out some anti-death penalty sentiment, and asks how Mukada can be a willing part of this execution, as she knows he feels the same way as she does about the death penalty. Mukada says maybe if anyone deserves to die, it's L'Italien, and anyway, it's his duty to be there at his side. I have to say that they're doing a pretty good job presenting us with two cases that, from a holistic standpoint, provoke completely opposite gut reactions regarding the death penalty. Mukada lights a candle with a lighter, making me like him even more, and says, "That's for him. That's for all of them." Pete looks sad. Again. Can anyone get out of this episode without being emotionally bitch-slapped? Maybe Keane and L'Italien got off easy.
L'Italien asks Mukada if he's ever eaten "bull's balls." Mukada smiles and says no, undoubtedly thinking that if anyone he knows has, it's Groves. I'd like to note that, while the "fuck" count is again much lower than in the first two episodes, I don't know that I've ever seen an episode of a television show where the word "balls" was used so liberally. I wonder what the logical progression here is. I suppose "ass" is as good a curse of the day as any, although I'd expect that to occur in a Schillinger-centric episode. Anyway, L'Italien tells him that they're served every year at the Bohemian Grove, a retreat in San Francisco for white-collar stuffed-shirt types. Oh, you mean a place where a bunch of overeducated, sexually repressed types smoke way too much pot and try to out-bullshit each other while trying to sound as intelligent as possible. I went to one of those. They called it "college." L'Italien waxes nostalgic about men of power, which leads into a rant exposing L'Italien for the hyper-misogynist he is. We learn that Mukada's never been with a woman, like that's some revelation or something. Father Ray is gay, yo. L'Italien blathers that he loves women, and the list of the kinds of women he likes is basically the serial-killer version of that verse of "Spill The Wine." He tells us, "I fucked the dwarf while the fat lady watched us." That doesn't sound like a breakaway pop hit. I could definitely see it climbing the country charts, though. He also says he fucked a woman with no legs, which means he's done Tony Soprano one better. Mukada opines that fucking them isn't the same as loving them, and asks why he kills them. L'Italien gives the distressingly dissatisfying answer that love is ownership. "I will not be possessed." Tell that to Satan when he's fucking you up the ass, Dick. Thoroughly beaten, Mukada asks him if he wishes to be absolved for his sins, to which the answer is a hearty, "Fuck, yes." He slaps his head all "I coulda had a V8!" and says he should have ordered bull's balls for his last meal. Well, from the look on his face, I think Mukada would cut off your balls and feed them to you if you're interested, jerky.
Strapped down, L'Italien whines that he isn't ready for this. Thirty-nine women snicker sardonically from beyond the grave. Hill gives us a description of the lethal injection process, and we see L'Italien start convulsing. He unclenches his hand, and the yo-yo unspools and falls to the floor. Very soon after, Gloria pronounces him dead.
Pete is praying in Leo's office when he enters. She tells him that the world would be a different place if Christ hadn't been executed -- the point being, I suppose, that we don't know if it would have been better or worse. Anyway, Pete asks for her job back, and Glynn immediately and unceremoniously gives it to her. I hope that means we won't have to see Dorkoates hem and haw his way around the classroom again. She tells Glynn she's still against the death penalty, as "thou shalt not kill." He counters that the Bible also says, "An eye for an eye," and good one, Leo, except that that's Hammurabi's Code Of Laws, so you're not exactly on any sort of theological ground here. Anyway, Glynn's not really being argumentative, as he muses that no one is going to claim L'Italien's body, and no one will grieve for him. Pete says she will, and Glynn smiles warmly and says he knows, and he loves her and is glad she's back. Aw. Do I detect the tiniest bit of solace in this hopeless wasteland?
Mukada returns to his office and removes his collar. He blows out the candle as Hill tells a story of a guy who was on death row for sixteen years while his case went back and forth. While he waited, he painted, not letting anyone see his work. When it finally came time for his execution, his mural was revealed to say these words: "Death is certain, life is not." And if there's any message we're meant to take from Oz, I think that's probably it. That, and to be very, very afraid if anyone ever asks us to spoon.
I'm going to watch cartoons for about ten days. See you soon!