Oh, my God! They killed Marilyn! Those bastards!
So when the episode opens up, Marilyn's still at large and Michael's trying to keep his plan together despite T-Bag, imminent cell-tossing, and the doctor's increasing curiosity. He tells his compadres about a pivotal part of his scheme: the inmates must be able to get through a small building, which he thought was a storage room but is now a guards' break room.
Michael's first efforts to recruit Westmoreland to his cause are fruitless: Westmoreland pokes holes in Michael's D.B. Cooper theory, then gently tells him that he'd prefer not to burn down the break room in a sketchy escape attempt, thank you. A little later, Bellick comes into Westmoreland's cell and makes an emotional plea to get Westmoreland to snitch on CO Bob's killer. Westmoreland turns him down, and Bellick makes a veiled threat toward the kitty.
When Westmoreland comes back from showering a while later, the dead Marilyn's laid out on his bunk. Bellick is watching intently. And within minutes, Westmoreland's set fire to the building and framed Bellick for it. The would-be escapees are now back on track to break through the floor of the room.
Speaking of framingâ¦Agents Hale and Kellerman kill Lisa and NiMRoD, then frame LJ for it. He's currently on the run.
And speaking of people on the runâ¦after narrowly escaping death by pre-credits gas explosion, Nick and Veronica are kicking it Unabomber-style in a cabin on the back forty.
And speaking of people on the back fortyâ¦Martha Stewart of the West finally leaves the ranch and returns to the West Wing. Surprise! She's the vice president. This conspiracy, it reaches all the way up to the top.
But who cares? They killed Marilyn! Those bastards!
The episode begins with Michael giving Chicago's Gold Coast neighborhood a free show, what with standing in the window of his old apartment without his shirt on. The congregation of the First Church of Wentworth Miller has a religious experience; I have a feeling the date of this scene will be celebrated as a Church holiday starting in Anno Prison Break 2006. We get a shot of the tattoo and see that the central picture on the back is of what I presume is the archangel Michael carrying out his traditional role as Satan's adversary and judger of innocent souls.
The camera zooms in on Michael's tattoo as he narrates, "Seventeen days from now, they're going to strap my brother to the electric chair, send 15,000 volts coursing through his body for a crime he didn't commit. I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen." Then the CGI kicks in so we can see that so far as Michael's concerned, real religious iconography eschews angels and demons for angles and dimensions.
We transition to the clammy corridors of Fox River as Michael continues with the voice-over: "I've been in Fox River for three weeks now. In that time, I've managed to get out of the back of my cell and into the drainpipes that run beneath the prison." And hey! So has Marilyn. Hello, kitty. We see Marilyn continuing to explore and Michael explains, "Those pipes are our way out."
Up the camera swoops to the prison yard, and we see that Team Escarpara is having a meeting on the bleachers. Michael keeps jawjacking: "Think of this place as a map of the U.S." Sucre's got a look like, I was told there would be no geography quizzes in prison? Michael says the Cell de Escarpara is NYC, and the infirmary is California. Sucre realizes that the pipes beneath their feet connecting the two are Route 66. I would have gone with I-80 myself, but there are fewer snappy jingles written about that road. Abruzzi wrings some grease out of his hair and joins the conversation by asking if the boys are planning to "drive" "cross country" at night. Abruzzi points out, "We're locked up, fish, and your boy is in solitary. How are we going to fly out of our cages and right into your cell? Right into New York City?" Michael says that they're not: they're going to meet him in St. Louis. Abruzzi's all, "Dibs on the Tootie Smith part!"
Anyway, Michael continues talking: that building is the only one that sits atop the pipes leading from Cell de Escarpara (NYC, for those of you playing the Metaphor Game at home) to the infirmary (the hospital California. Such a lovely place). The PI crew will get into what Michael think is an old storage room and "dig an on-ramp." Abruzzi gurgles that it won't be that easy to get into the room, and Michael's all, "Make it so, number two. If we don't find a way to get into that room, we're not getting out of here." Sucre looks at Michael all, You know, until you showed up, the most nerve-wracking thing I had going was sharing a shower schedule with T-Bag.
And speaking of the man who said, "I'll take the children's menu" at the big buffet of crime, here he is! And he's correctly guessing that the breakout posse is making plans without him. He's all, "New York, California, St. Louis...what are we discussing?" "Baseball," says Michael. "I understand the playoffs are on FOX this year." T-Bag's all, "Oooh, I love sabremetrics! Can we debate whether Bud Selig is the Antichrist or merely one of his more inept minions? Kick around the vital issue of whether to call Alex Rodriguez 'Pay-Rod' or 'A-Fraud'?" Abruzzi's shuts him down with, "Season's over. Time to talk about the Bears!" Or something to that effect. The upshot is, the boys are using sports as a metaphor now because it's a little less brazen than standing on the miraculously restored prison green and screaming, "I AM TOO ESCAPING WITH YOU!" and "OH, NO, YOU'RE NOT, COTILLION KING!"
The legit members of Team Escarpara wander off in a snit and Abruzzi's all, "If you think I'm going to break out of here with that nasty piece of work…" Michael reassures them in a new, manly voice, "We won't have to. He'll be out of the picture soon enough."
And with that line, we transition to a picture of the late CO Bob. It's on his driver's license, which his widow is gazing at while Pope awkwardly explains the skimpy compensation one can expect when one's spouse is beaten and knifed during a day at the office. The Widow Bob interrupts to say that the money issue's the last thing on her mind. I am surprised there isn't an Illinois Dept. of Corrections attorney circling her, waiting for that statement so he can leap in with, "Really? Then would you mind signing this document promising not to sue for wrongful death?" Anyway, Bellick happens to be in the office too and he's looking all tore up. Pope vows to the Widow Bob that "we are not going to rest until we find out what happened." She's not even listening: she's just noticed that Bob's pictures of their (unnamed) daughter are missing from his billfold. Pope gives Bellick a quick look, then assures the Widow Bob that they'll find the pictures.
This does not stave off the Widow Bob's entirely understandable meltdown. She stands up, weeping, and says she begged CO Bob not to take the job. Bellick's all verklempt too. Pope gets up to hug the Widow Bob. Frankly, Bellick looks like he needs the hug more. They hustle the Widow Bob out. Bellick and Pope have a moment together and Pope tells Bellick, "I want the son of a bitch who did this. You do whatever you need to do to find him. You understand?" Bellick's mood does a 180 at the prospect of carte blanche among the prisoners.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Nick is hucking boxes out of the trunk of his car. He asks Veronica, "I've got five boxes. You want to give me a hand?" No, she'd rather stand on the sidewalk and wonder what she ever did to incur the wrath of the wardrobe department. Nick the Legal Beagle finally snaps, "That phone call [threatening our lives] was textbook scare tactics. That's what they want. They want to scare us from doing what they know what we can do." Veronica turns around and --- aiiieeee! It's not just wardrobe who hates her this week. Whomever directed this apparently decided to try out the melting-face filter. She asks what exactly their little caller is afraid they'll do, and Nick snaps, "Expose them."
Just then, Lucas the handiest man around comes on over to ask Veronica if Nick's bothering her again. You know, he is a gem among handymen. Aren't all you former and current renters wondering why your handyman couldn't be like this, instead of some surly malcontent who messed up your carpets out of spite? Veronica tells Lucas that the dramatic scene of the other night was all her fault. Lucas's voice says, "Okay...but if you need anything…" and his body says, "Hulk want to smash legal beagle!" Nick gives Veronica a slightly amused look. She gives him a sly smile and turns back to Lucas, telling him, "You'll be the first person I call." Can you call him now to put your head back on your neck? Seriously: Veronica's face is listing at a 45-degree-angle and it's distracting. Robin Tunney's an attractive woman and I just don't get why she's all ugged up for this role.
And then Lucas steps in to unman Nick by taking the five boxes the wiry legal beagle was attempting to maneuver. As Lucas wheels the boxes toward the door, Nick explains that they contain seven years' worth of appellate legal work, so "if there's a precedent in there that can help us suspend Lincoln's execution, we're going to find it." Veronica gives a Dali-esque grin in response. Lucas wheels the boxes inside and Veronica's all, "Just leave them by the door. I'll bring them in." Oh, no -- Lucas is a full-service handyman. He'll roll them on inside, since he's sure Nick's pea-sized biceps couldn't possibly handle the load.
As Lucas trundles toward the door, Nick comments to Veronica sotto voce, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Lucas was sweet on you." Veronica is not amused. Lucas opens the door, and there's a big explosion. Not only does Veronica lose her cleaning deposit, Lucas loses his life. And a generation of handymen decides not to go the extra mile lest they meet the same crispy end.
Commercials. Media buyers, I'm taking the Burger King commercials personally now. Where the hell is the pill-crazed Romo when you need him? Why can't some roid-addled freak end this national nightmare by concussing the Burger King at the end of this spot?
Michael's hanging out by the fence, staring at nothing in particular, when Abruzzi comes over and says, "Fire." "What?' Michael replies. Abruzzi repeats himself: "Fire. We'll burn the place down." Michael mentally calculates the odds of Abruzzi inadvertently catching fire in his own grease. He asks how the fire would help and Abruzzi explains, "A few years ago, the chapel burned down and the [Department of Corrections] realized they had some toxic issues -- asbestos, lead paint, you name it. They couldn't find a contractor, so they put the inmates on the job. We spent, like, five, six hours in there at a time. The thing is, no guards came around. None at all."
Before Michael and Abruzzi can brainstorm ways to set fire to the building, T-Bag and his new pocket projection stroll on over. T-Bag slaps away Seth's hand. He gives such mixed signals. T-Bag then flounces over and asks, "I'm going to need a PI card, aren't I? I mean, that's where this whole thing is happening." Abruzzi attempts to stall him, but T-Bag's not having it. Once again, T-Bag threatens to tattle to the warden about the escape hole if he's not let in on everyone's plans. And once again, Abruzzi and Michael stand there and take it. I cannot comprehend how a well-connected Mafia guy and Mister Smartypants Prison Breakout Planner have not, between the two of them, found a way to shut T-Bag up.
And now, a heartwarming little scene in which LJ visits Lincoln in prison and confesses that the summer before fifth grade, he broke Linc's glass coffee table and lied about it. LJ's all teary as he recounts, "And you told me, you could care less about me breaking the coffee table. You just didn't want me lying to you. You'd said I'd feel a lot better before I told you the truth. You promised not to be angry? Well, I broke it." Lincoln is impassive. It's really too bad he needs to be beaten silly before he expresses any emotion. LJ fishes around, asking, "If there's anything you want to get off your chest, you can tell me. And -- and I promise I won't get angry." Lincoln is...impassive. He reiterates his innocence, admitting, "I went there planning to do something wrong, but I didn't kill that guy." He then tries to make LJ feel better by saying he's feeling pretty good about his odds, because Veronica's working to get the execution stayed. Lincoln is so doomed. He also has a reporter coming "who actually believes I'm innocent." Lincoln then mumbles, "LJ, look at me. You gotta have faith, kid. Just have a little faith."
Meanwhile, on the outside...your tax dollars are at work, what with Agents Hale and Kellerman pulling up to view the damage from Veronica's burning apartment building. Unsurprisingly, Kellerman's driving the car. The phone rings, and he answers it. On the other end, the Martha Stewart of the West is asking, "Well?" Incidentally, she seems to have resolved her kitchen issues and is now working on assaulting office supplies. Kellerman assures her it's all taken care of, and she says, "Good. Now move on to the second thing." Hale watches the EMTs heft a bodybag-covered corpse into an ambulance; he says, "If you could see what we're looking at -- believe me, Burrows is going to get the message." Martha Stewart of the West isn't having it. She wants that second thing done. Kellerman rolls his eyes, but reassures her, "We're headed there now." He snaps the phone shut, then tells Hale, "You're thinking too much." "Yeah. God forbid," Hale snaps back. Kellerman gives him a look like, Dude, it's going to be awkward if you make me make you the third thing on our dark mistress's to-do list.
Back in the prison, Sucre's fretting some more. He is an old maid in britches, is what he is. The problem is that the COs are going to continue their ungentle examinations of every cell until they find CO Bob's killer, and that will also reveal the escape route. Michael grits, "I know." Hey, remember when Michael thought rioting was a good idea? Sucre thinks they have no choice but to turn T-Bag in, and Michael reminds him that if they turn T-Bag in, he'll talk.
Then the guys are all doing PI duty in their little blue coveralls, and they're hucking laundry toward the St. Louis building. I would love to know how Linc is considered so dangerous he has to take all his visitors in a Silence of the Lambs-style cage, yet he is allowed to roam free with the rest of the PI squad. Team Escarpara gets all stealthy with the entry into what is supposed to be an empty storeroom and -- surprise! There's a bunch of guards kicking it old-school. They are not happy to see the cons coming on in. At gunpoint, Michael explains that sorry, he thought this was a storeroom. He's rattled, as is Abruzzi.
Commercials. Are all of Brad Pitt's exes fated to make movies in London that prominently feature trains?
So Team Escarpara adjourns to the apparently-very-secure tool shed -- since there's no reason why, immediately after a riot that killed a CO, the surviving COs would not be at all nervous about a group of cons who wander unchecked about the prison grounds. Once they're inside, Linc loses it and yells, "A break room?" Michael says calmly, "They must have changed it since the retrofit." Sucre snaps, "The bulls are camped out in there. They'll never leave." Abruzzi piles on: "You got a back-up plan?" Michael admits there isn't one, and says with suppressed panic, "It's the only room sitting on top of that pipe. It's the only way out. We gotta get back in there." But how, oh, how? Lincoln directs everyone's attention to the window, where they watch Westmoreland waltz on into the bulls' break room with a fresh coffee tray. He's allowed access because he's a trusty. Michael breaks out the Blue Steel and asks, "How does one become a trusty?" "Just have a spotless record for the last 30 years or so," Linc shoots back. Heh. I like it when these two bust each other's chops. Michael decides they need to get Westmoreland on board, and Lincoln snorts, "Forget it. Guy's a Boy Scout." Michael Blue Steels extra hard to let us know he's thinking.
Within seconds, Michael's striding across the lawn, greeting the older man with "Mr. Westmoreland." "Hey, Michael," Westmoreland replies affably. Michael asks if Westmoreland's found his cat yet, and the con replies sadly, "Still MIA." Michael says, "You can always get another." I wonder if he uses that line on bereaved widows too. Westmoreland points out that it's not really having a cat that's the issue, it's having Marilyn, and anyway, it's not like he's allowed to have another pet. Michael's all, "I repeat: you can always get another. On the outside." So...he thinks cat people are crazy enough to break out of prison just to get another cat? And he's probably right. Maybe Westmoreland can join Team Escarpara and spend all of Season Two breaking into animal shelters and collecting cats.
Anyway, Westmoreland's amused that Michael's still chatting about escape. Michael sits down and says, "This is the part where I extend a formal invitation." Westmoreland says, "You still think I'm D.B. Cooper." Michael replies, "I don't think. I know." Then he launches into a brutal, recapper-punishing monologue:
"The way I see it, you're doing 60-to-life for vehicular manslaughter. It would have been 20, but the car you were in was stolen. The felony murder rule cubes up your sentence --"
And here I have to interject because 20 cubed is not 60 -- it's 8000. Back to the monologue:
"So here you are. Hitting that woman was an accident. But the car? No one accidentally steals a car. So the question is, why would Charles Westmoreland be in Arizona boosting a car ten states away from where he lived and only ten miles away from the Mexican border? And why, two days before that, did he make a phone call to his wife from a motel in Portland, a stone's throw away from the airport out of which, shortly after, Flight 305 was hijacked by one D.B. Cooper?"
And here I have to interject to note that while Michael's talking, we see a map and a lot of newspaper clippings in what was apparently his mural of great planning. The camera lingers on a clipping with the headline "D.B. Cooper Myth Still Alive Despite Conviction," and it's evident the prop department had fun for ten seconds before they got bored and began cutting and pasting the same paragraph four times. The byline's one "John Muir," and the lead reads: "Bloggers and self-proclaimed experts maintain to this day…" Nice categorization! Also, nice selection of great American naturalists. I hope Rachel Carson gets a byline on the Wall O' Planning too. Back to the monologue:
"Seven hours after the hijacking, records show that Charles Westmoreland was treated for a busted knee in Brigham City. Only way to get from Portland, Oregon, to Brigham City, Utah, in seven hours is in a car -- breaking every land speed record known to man -- or flying. According to public record, D.B. Cooper jumped out of that 727 one hour after takeoff, taking a dive of 10,000 feet with $1.5 million in cash. A hastily-packed parachute might make for a pretty rough landing. Rough enough to shatter some bones. Maybe even a left knee. D.B. Cooper would've had a car waiting for him when he landed. According to DMV records in 1971, Charles Westmoreland was the proud owner of a 1965 Chevy Nova. As it happens, a '65 Chevy Nova with the registration number scraped off was found abandoned with a blown gasket along the Arizona border, a mile or two away from where you accidentally hit that woman with your stolen car."
Westmoreland stops rubbing his left knee and looks over, saying neutrally, "Interesting story." "Interesting man," Michael replies. Westmoreland says, "But you didn't answer one thing...maybe I did hurt my knee. I did steal that car. I did accidentally hit that poor lady. But how could I have hijacked a plane in Portland on November 24, when I was in Folsom, finishing up a 30-day drunk and disorderly?"
Michael looks stunned. He shouldn't: this is the same guy who tested Michael's background research the first time they talked. He's probably doing it again. Michael should reply, "I didn't answer that thing because it's a lie." As Michael reels, Westmoreland testily says, "I hope you weren't hanging this whole escape on that money, because I'm not the one in possession of it." Michael is still too gobsmacked to pull himself together. Westmoreland rises and pats Michael on the back, saying, "Thanks for the invite, though." Michael's too rattled to snap back, "Thanks for RSVPing."
Meanwhile, on the outside...Nick is tending to his assorted flesh wounds while Veronica stands around and stares at the lake they're parked by. Surprisingly, her near-death experience has actually made her more attractive. Anyway, if two boring characters had a subplot in the woods, would anyone care? My hypothesis: no. The upshot of this scene is to establish that boy howdy, did Hale and Kellerman jump to conclusions when they called Martha Stewart of the West. And Nick realizes this, so he suggests they lay low for a while.
Back inside the prison, Michael's brooding, because not only have his plans suffered two setbacks in one day, he's got Sucre brainstorming with him and that's a recipe for disaster. Michael needs Westmoreland to start that fire, but he has no idea how to persuade him to do so. Sucre boils it down: "What does he want?"
Hey, it's Marilyn! She's fat and sassy, hanging out in the corridor behind the cells. How convenient. Michael comes over, crooning, "Come on, kitty, that's a good girl." He picks her up and she squawks, and then we transition to Michael walking across the rolling green to the despondent Westmoreland. There's a joyful reunion, or as joyful as these cat/human things get. Westmoreland looks at Michael and asks, "Why do I get the feeling there's a string attached to this?" and Michael protests it's not a string, but a favor: replace the break room's coffee pot with one doctored with highly flammable rubber cement, and see if anyone notices. Westmoreland strokes Marilyn and asks her, "Marilyn, did he strike you as the arsonist type? Me neither." Michael actually laughs for a moment. Westmoreland emphasizes again how grateful he is to have Marilyn back, but he won't wreck his record for this.
So Michael repairs to the clinic for his "diabetes" shot. He tells Dr. Tancredi, "After what you went through in the riot, I thought you might take a day off." Sara protests that she's fine. Besides, she couldn't find anyone who wanted to cover for her. That's...really jerky on behalf of her colleagues. "Sorry you nearly got raped and murdered, but I have tickets to Teatro Zinzanni. Good luck! I'll be thinking of you during 'Love, Chaos, Dinner'!" Sara then stabs Michael's arm with particular vigor and after he manages to catch his breath, he says, "I hope you don't think you owe me anything." Sara stammers a bit, then collects herself to say, "I really appreciate what you did for me...but you told me you had been up in the crawl space for PI, and PI was never assigned there." She stares at him, but Michael just Blue Steels her for a while before saying, "We're done here, right?" Sara protests, "Michael, don't be like that. I just want some answers." Yeah, well, I want some Scharffen Berger. Michael Blue Steels some more, then walks out.
Meet Sue Parsons of "Headline Press." She flashes her press pass at Linc, then hits him between the eyes with some really hostile questions that can basically be boiled down to: "Don't you think you're a selfish son of a bitch for refusing to go quietly?" "Don't you think your loved ones will think you're a selfish son of a bitch for refusing to go quietly?" "Would you like us to suck your loved ones into this increasingly unsubtle conspiracy too? Keep it up, Rhino." As she marches out, poor Linc is left screaming, "Who are you?" Amazingly, the COs fail to respond to the intimation that someone snuck into the prison on false pretenses.
Meanwhile, on the outside...speaking of false pretenses, it's Agent Hale at LJ's front door. He claims, "I'm Officer Hale, of Juvenile Court. We just need to do a quick survey of the premises, make sure your environment here is reflective of your terms of probation." LJ looks suspicious. Hale asks if the parents are home and LJ says, "No, but they'll be home any minute." Hale pushes past LJ with, "Let's get started."
Hey, LJ's parents are home now! Not My Real Dad (a.k.a. NiMRoD) is bringing in the groceries and telling Lisa, "LJ and his dad -- you never said how it went this morning." The grocery-toting Lisa replies shortly, "It sounded fine." Aw, they're humanizing NiMRoD. I'm sure this is in no way meant to manipulate us viewers.
We switch back to LJ, who's standing across the foyer from Hale and asking, "No offense, but can I see some sort of identification?" Hale says sure, and produces an object that leads LJ to conclude his name is Mr. Snub-Nose Revolver. Lisa walks into this tense scene, and Hale says, "Drop the phone, lady. This is the only warning I'm giving you. Drop it." He swivels over to train the gun on her, and LJ lobs his full juice bottle at Hale's head, grunting to his mom, "Run!" Hale ducks and loses his aim for a moment. LJ takes off.
Lisa runs and ends up behind her kitchen table. She dials 911 frantically, and as it rings and rings, Hale sneaks up behind her. LJ escapes through the basement, and as he prepares to run off, Kellerman pipes up, "LJ, we're not here to hurt you." He's such a stealthy, magnificent bastard. LJ flips open his phone and Kellerman says, "Whoa, whoa...nine one one send. You really think you can hit four buttons before I get to one?" He opens his coat to reveal his still holstered gun. So I'm thinking the answer is "yes." LJ freezes. Kellerman tells him to come on, and then NiMRoD pops out of the bushes and whacks Kellerman once with the baseball bat. He then tells LJ to run. It is his last smart move: because NiMRoD does not continue pounding Kellerman until he's a pulpy mass, the trained Secret Service guy quickly recovers and kills NiMRod. Meanwhile, LJ has run...right into his mother's body.
Commercials. At long last, Pier One has abandoned annoying celebrity pitchpeople. However, they are still pimping goods apparently inspired by someone's weekend in a Bangkok brothel, so they're not out of the woods yet.
Poor barefoot LJ is now stumbling through the alley behind his house; he's totally in shock from the events of the last few minutes. His mobile phone rings and he picks it up. Kellerman asks, "Where are you going, LJ?" "What do you want from me?" LJ half-shouts, half-sobs into the phone. We switch to Kellerman, who's coolly planting evidence in the house; he tells LJ, "Cooperation. That's all." "You want cooperation? I know what you look like, you son-of-a-bitch! I'm going to the police!" LJ replies. And this is where Agent Kellerman calmly points out that he's rigging the house to look like LJ snapped and killed his parents, and between the evidence and LJ's prior as a juvenile offender, it's not going to look too good for the young man. LJ takes off. We go back to the house where Kellerman's dropping the doctored weapon. He tells the obviously disgruntled Hale, "She made that choice. Not you." Hale just grunts, "Let's find the kid."
Back in prison, Westmoreland is sitting on his bunk, reading a newspaper. Marilyn is placidly curled up against his chest. Bellick comes by and says, in a voice that almost sounds pleased, "You got Marilyn back." "Sure did," Westmoreland replies. "That's good. How long ago did you quit smoking?" Bellick asks. Westmoreland doesn't look up from his magazine as he replies, "A little over nine years now." Bellick's all, "Mind if I smoke in your cell?" Westmoreland doesn't even dignify that with a response. Puffing away, Bellick comes into the cell and says, "I feel a kinship with you, Charles. More than any other con here. And we've seen a lot, haven't we?" Westmoreland concurs. Bellick presses, "I've always treated you fair." Westmoreland's still not making eye contact with Bellick; he says, "I've always appreciated that fact." Bellick segues: "I've known Bob since he was 18 years old. I got him this job." His voice begins to waver as he adds, "You can imagine how responsible I feel." Well, you should: your actions led directly to the riot that killed him. Westmoreland holds Marilyn tighter and continues to look at his paper as he says, "I can't help you with that, boss." Bellick thinks otherwise. He's sure Westmoreland witnessed CO Bob's murder and can finger the perp. Westmoreland finally looks up and points out that if he snitches, his own life will be considerably shortened. Bellick leans in and says, "If you don't tell me who killed Bob before I leave this cell, our friendship goes with it." Westmoreland tactfully does not reply, "'Friendship'?" He just turns back to his paper and resumes reading. Bellick gets up and pets Marilyn, commenting on what a nice cat she is.
As Bellick leaves the cell, T-Bag and his little friend watch him go; the guy says, "Westmoreland knows. And his jaw ain't that strong." T-Bag grabs his head and makes a gesture as if to mimic snapping someone's neck. Then he looks up and sees Abruzzi looking down on him; John shakes his head subtly. T-Bag maintains eye contact with Abruzzi as he pulls out his pocket and peremptorily smacks Seth in the back of the head. Seth comes back from whatever mental vacation he was on and grabs the pocket; his expression is deeply resigned. Abruzzi watches the two go.
We then shift to a form, where we learn Michael's affiliated with the "Masters of Science." It's clearly a wrestling tag-team. Their nemesis is the "Lords of Creationism." Anyway, the reason we're seeing the form is because Sara's studying it. She opens his docket (this is when we see that he used to live at 1373 Ogden Ave #2101, so all you Googlestalkers, start your engines) and studies his mug shots. Nurse Gossipson comes in; Sara jumps, but is secretly relieved that the nurse didn't catch her doodling "Dr. Mrs. Sara Scofield? Mrs. Dr. Sara Tancredi-Scofield? Mrs. Michael Scofield? Mrs. Dr. Sara Scofield-Tancredi?" Sara admits, "I don't get it. He doesn't fit the profile, right? The man's got a graduate degree, he lives in my neighborhood. Guys like that hang out in Streeterville, they drink single-malt scotch, they pay $200 for Cubs seats. They don't rob banks." Nurse Gossipson quips, "Maybe he couldn't afford season tickets. Maybe that's why he robbed the bank." Hey, someone had to say it: I pay $200 for a season of tickets. Of course, I'm watching the As. Anyway, Sara's all, "Thanks for the inappropriate humor!" and Nurse Gossipson says, "Can I ask you something? Why do you care so much?" "'Cause he lied to me," Dr. Tancredi responds. Nurse Gossipson responds matter-of-factly, "They all lie to you." The more this lady talks, the more I like her. Sara sighs and says, "Maybe because he's the one guy in here I can actually get to. One guy I can...make a difference with." Nurse Gossipson rolls her eyes, but her voice is not unkind as she says, "Go home, girl. You keep burning the candle at both ends, you're going to drive yourself crazy."
And then we switch outside, because Pope has decided that in the middle of the courtyard is where he'll break the news to Lincoln that his ex and her new squeeze are dead. Oh, and it looks like his kid is the one who did it. Why this couldn't be said in privacy, in his office, is a mystery. Lincoln says he needs to call LJ, and Pope's like, "Nope, no can do! If there's aaaaaany chance you make contact with your fugitive kid, that might reduce plot tension for the few episodes!" So Pope elects to treat any contact Lincoln makes with LJ as, say, aiding and abetting the kid instead of, oh, I don't know, helping locate him for authorities. Lincoln has himself a little rhino moment, then calms down enough to think that he'll just bust out of prison early instead.
Back inside the prison, we see a few beefy cons standing outside a cell, shaking their heads. The first one says, "That's messed up." The second says, "Ah, jeez. Does he even know?" The first con eyes Westmoreland's trepidation-filled expression and says, "I don't think so." The old head's coming back from the shower. As he gets to his cell, he sees Marilyn's stiff little body laid out on his bed. Geez, the innocents are dropping like flies on this episode -- Lucas, Lisa, NiMRoD, now Marilyn. Westmoreland's reaction is heartbreaking: he crouches down to the bed; the camera zooms in and we see his chin trembling violently. He leans over and picks her up. Westmoreland looks outside his cell; his face is a mask of anguish. A bunch of cons are watching, of course. So is Bellick. Westmoreland's jaw firms and his face hardens. Bellick tosses aside the stack of cards he had been futzing with, then walks away. He misses the moment when Westmoreland's expression becomes murderous.
Oh, now we're in the cell of T-Bag's little buddy Trokey. He is reading a magazine when T-Bag flounces in and asks, "We family, right?" Trokey concurs. T-Bag swoons against the bunk, confiding, "Well, I'm in a quandary, and I need your help...Bellick's squeezing tighter and tighter around here, and you were right -- somebody's mouth is going to start moving. Thing is, Trokey, if I get popped for this, what with my priors and my predisposition toward violent behavior, I'll spend the rest of my life in the SHU. But if you come forward, with only your drug convictions and a whole lot of remorse --" "I can't do that," Trokey interrupts. "I ain't finished yet," T-Bag says softly. "No need. I ain't goin' down for murderin' no hack," Trokey says. T-Bag rolls his eyes, but assures Trokey that yes, he understands how it might seem unreasonable to expect someone to go down for a crime they didn't commit.
Speaking of going down for a crime they didn't commit, here's Westmoreland filching cigarettes from Bellick's locker in the St. Louis building. And here's Westmoreland lighting the cigarettes. He's glaring at Bellick's picture on the wall the whole time he does it. Bellick should be very, very glad looks really can't kill.
And now the merry band of PIsters is hucking bags of concrete over to some location in the prison. Linc drops his bag to tell Michael that he needs out now because he has to find LJ. With barely restrained impatience, Michael says, "We both will. Soon." Soon is apparently not good enough for Lincoln. He also expresses skepticism that Michael's really got a plan to break them out of prison. Lincoln, you blockhead. Do you think Michael got that tattoo on his torso for kicks? Michael gets called away to actually, you know, work. And that's when a guard conveniently leaves Linc unwatched, so the big lunk can hunker down and prepare the world's most ill-conceived prison break. Michael tackles Lincoln before he can do anything truly stupid, and he barks, "They'll gun you down." "I don't care!" Lincoln rebuts. Now would seem to be a fine time to point out that Lincoln will not get magic zombie powers, so he'll be of even less use to his son dead than he currently is. So Michael does. The guard picks that moment to pop back into view.
And speaking of views, what's that burning just over the guard's shoulders? It's the St. Louis building. Michael and Linc exchange looks: Linc's all, Maybe you do know what you're doing! and Michael's all, Um. Yeah? I mean, yes! Yes, I do know what I'm doing.
Commercials. I'm only sorry all of you can't see the special election commercials I get to see with the Governator. They're so delightful, they make up for the fact that the Burger King reappeared during this block. ["I think I speak for everyone in the New York area when I say: jealous! Dear Doug Forrester's PR team: stow it." -- Sars]
So we come back from commercials, and the prisoners are reliably assembled to make with the gaping and heckling. Michael finds Westmoreland and says, "Thanks." "I didn't do it for you," Westmoreland responds. Michael lets him go without saying, "And I'm sorry about your cat." Way to win hearts and minds, Michael!
The fire's been put out and the fireman comes over to tell Pope, "I found the source. Does someone smoke these?" Pope looks at the remarkably lengthy, intact cigarette and snaps, "Bellick!" Somewhere, Westmoreland is smiling. Bellick is saved from having his ass chewed by two other COs escorting Seth onto the premises. He squeaks out, "I know who killed Bob, sir."
Sadly, this is not a plotline in which we learn that Seth mustered the cojones to turn in T-Bag. Rather, he's playing along with T-Bag's plot to frame Trokey. The plot worked: pictures of CO Bob's daughter were found stuffed under Trokey's mattress. Trokey's protestations that he has no idea how they got there fall on deaf ears. As the guards drag him off, Trokey screams at T-Bag, "You set me up!" T-Bag drawls in response, "Bad enough you killed a guard. Don't try and set the blame on someone else." Trokey's pulled off-camera and T-Bag's feeling so good, he gives Seth an affectionate hair-ruffling. Seth flinches and pulls away. As T-Bag heads back into his cell, Seth remains outside, fighting tears.
Meanwhile, on the outside...it appears Nick the legal beagle has decided that the best thing to do when you're on the run from a shadowy government conspiracy is to make time for a romantic weekend in a lakeside cabin. That man's libido is fireproof! Nick explains to Veronica that his father lived there with "he wanted someplace completely off the grid, that the government didn't know existed. Tapped into the power lines. A well supplies the water." Isn't this all very convenient? Nick adds, "When you spend your life fighting cops and prosecutors and judges trying to take your freedom for something you didn't do, you lose every cent you have in attorneys' fees, you wind up losing anyway...[sigh] Fifteen years of his life. Almost all his son's childhood. I guess I can forgive him for wanting to hide away. For wanting to be alone. We'll be safe here until we can figure out our move." Veronica's all, "Did I ask for backstory? No. I just wanted to know if I'd have to use an outhouse."
Back in the prison, Team Escarpara is trundling off to their latest work detail. T-Bag renews the bleating to get on board, and gets their attention after pointing out, "After our long, illustrious history together? New York City? California? In St. Louis? They were good times, weren't they, John? Tell the badge here about them! Because if you don't want to, I certainly could." Ooh, T-Bag's crafty. I would love to see him and Agent Kellerman matching wits some time.
And that's how, with one quick fading shot, T-Bag ends up in a smart blue coverall. He's escorted into the St. Louis building where the rest of Team Escarpara is assembled. Michael looks wary. Bellick tells them all to gut the place -- drywall, studs, all of it. Also, try not to take any tools because the guards will be checking them nightly. The door closes and everyone looks at Michael; they're practically vibrating with anticipation. He kneels over a drain and explains, "This goes down four feet. It connects to the main line below. All we've got to do is widen it, and we've got ourselves an on-ramp to Route 66." He hands out sledgehammers so Team Escarpara can commence bashing the floor in, and Linc objects, "They're going to hear this." "No, they're not," Michael says, unfurling what is apparently a magical blanket that muffles all sound. You know, if I had a piece of fabric that had some physics-defying properties, I'd see if its powers stretched to also defying gravity. Then I'd fly away. Anyway, everybody gets a hammer except Sucre, who's on look-out. Abruzzi, Michael, Lincoln, and T-Bag begin bashing.
Meanwhile, on the outside...we see the barefoot LJ standing hidden in a downtown doorway. He checks his cell phone, and we learn that he took a picture (or perhaps a video?) of Agent Kellerman during their standoff. My opinion of the kid has just been revised upward.
And speaking of Agent Kellerman, he and Hale are being called on the carpet in Martha Stewart of the West's office. She snaps, "I don't have my glasses. How about you read this for me? Tell me the news...the latest developments." Kellerman says, "Evidently there was an explosion in a Gold Coast apartment yesterday. Gas line. Everyone inside was killed." By the way, Kellerman is completely at ease here, while Hale looks very uncomfortable. Martha Stewart of the West taps her fingers on her desk and says, "Shame. Is there anything else? How about that kid in Oak Park, the one who killed his parents." "Oh, they got him," Kellerman smoothly lies. Hale gives him a startled look. Kellerman lies some more: "He's in custody." Martha Stewart of the West purrs, "Good. I imagine heads would have rolled if he hadn't been caught. Lives would have been lost. How about you hand [that paper] back to me? Now that it's yesterday's news, we can put it behind us, move on to the chapter of our lives."
The camera swings around, and we finally get our big reveal of Martha Stewart of the West. Well, the lady shares a hairdo with America's favorite ex-felon-cum-domestic goddess. She tells the boys, "You're not just doing this for me, you know. Or my brother. You're doing it for your country." And some flunky knocks, cuing her with, "They're ready for you, Madame Vice President." She saunters off while I sit on the couch, marveling. A vice president, based in the western states, whose staff promulgates lies? Well, this show just divorced itself from reality.