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So much excitement in one episode! It's a good thing we all have three weeks to recover after the heady developments of last night.
Linc takes off after L.J., who is being released from prison in 24 hours, because Linc is too stupid to contemplate the possibility that this is part of the One World Conspiracy's efforts to smoke him out; meanwhile, the One World Conspiracy offs Governor Dad, puts Kellerman on notice and sets the tableaux for Dr. Sara's death-by-overdose scenario. In another part of the government, Mahone tries to use Tweener to get to the rest of Team Escarpara. I never thought I'd write this, but Tweener actually uses his brain. Chiefly, he uses it to fool Mahone into taking him to Debra Jean's house, where he delivers a very sweet good-bye. And then, having met his goals of making a clean breast of it with Debra Jean and not selling out Team Escarpara, Tweener then goes on to meet his maker, courtesy of Mahone.
As for the rest of Team Escarpara: they find the money, but then Sucre decides that there is no "I" in team, and the episode ends with him holding T-Bag, C-Note and Michael at gunpoint, then demanding the $5 million.
Also, Haywire contributes his tribute to fictional classics you should have read but didn't. Last week, we had Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Last night, we had Miguel de Cervantes' Don Quixote, as Haywire gives every indication of saddling up and heading out to tilt at Holland's windmills. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Previously on Prison Break: Michael and Linc made it to Tooele, Utah, where Westmoreland had buried his $5 million in airplane booty. However, nearly all the surviving members of Team Escarpara also had the same idea -- except for Haywire, who is apparently turning his escape into a tribute to great fiction classics of the last 300 years -- so, long recap short: six cons ended up posing as a construction crew and five of them ended up digging up the succulent Jeanette's garage. But there were six guys, you say? Yes: T-Bag took one for the team and decided to spend his time practicing his people skills on folks who actually hover above (well above) the age of consent. However, Michael inadvertently creeped Jeanette out riiiiiiight as her cop daughter pulled into the driveway. Thus spooked, T-Bag took himself a hostage...
And so we open this episode with Jeanette ruing the day she decided she didn't need to know the meaning of the word "irascible," as T-Bag shoves his filthy arm into her mouth to muffle her cries, then makes all sorts of threats about cutting her a new smile. Over at the shades, Michael's eyes bug out in panic and he whispers, "She's coming up."
Michael tensely watches the fresh-faced, young female cop stroll up the sidewalk. What he may not see: how she carefully wipes her feet before entering the house. That right there is a nicely-placed clue for alert viewers at home. The cop lets herself in, then calls, "Hey, Mom, you home?" Cut to a shot of Michael and T-Bag exchanging horrified glances: Of all the houses for Westmoreland's money to be buried under, it's the one that houses a cop's mom! Well, boys, it could have been worse: it could have been a cop who actually schooled her mother on crime prevention, and then you wouldn't have been able to get in the door.
Downstairs, Ann the cop goes through her mom's mail (or hers?) and sort of putters around until she notices the spilled ice on the carpet. Ann silently puts her hand on her pistol and heads upstairs. As she goes, we get a shot of the three bald boys pressed up against the kitchen hallway. Linc is rolling his eyes upward as he imagines how Michael will react.
Ann makes her way upstairs. Downstairs, Sucre and C-Note both look a lot less calculating than Linc, and a lot more panicky. Upstairs, Jeanette is trying to suppress her gag reflex. T-Bag's re-animated arm has got to be fragrant by now. Michael sort of dithers. Ann pulls her gun as she heads up the stairs and comes down the hall.
<,p>Jeanette manages to squirm free for a moment and manages a hoarse, inchoate bellow before T-Bag gets his grip on her again. Ann wheels around and heads for her mom's room. She opens the door and immediately draws her gun. T-Bag has centered himself so Ann can't help but see her mom, the human shield. Behind them, Michael raises his hands. In a high, panicky voice, he says, "It's okay! It's okay!" Ann firmly tells him to back away and put his hands up. T-Bag tries to regain some control by snarling that "you ain't the one carrying the cards here," but Ann merely aims at him, then tells T-Bag to back away and put his hands up.
As Ann heads into the room with her gun drawn, she says, "I don't want anyone to do anything stupid, okay?" This is Sucre's cue to try and rush her from behind, but Ann takes him out without even looking at him: she just throws her elbow in his eye. It's like a Three Stooges moment, only with follow-up gunplay. Ann trains her gun on Sucre and tells him not to move. And that's right when Linc does manage to get her from behind and just peel the gun out of her hand. He is disturbingly good at this sort of thing. Anyone else get the feeling that he's sort of an improvisational, criminal version of Michael? Linc says very calmly, "Let's be civil. Stop. Relax."
Hey, who wants to bet that nobody's ever said that to Mahone? And who'd want to bet that even if they did, he wouldn't listen? Mahone is busy scampering about the labyrinthine law enforcement headquarters of Tooele, explaining to anyone unfortunate enough to be around him that A) the cons are not taking off from this little garden spot until they find Westmoreland's money, and B) he is confident he can get the freshly-apprehended Tweener to spill the beans on where the remainder of Team Escarpara may be. All he needs is a street-to-English translator and he can get started.
We get a tight shot of the sullen Tweener's face, and then we go to commercials. I see we've entered that dreadful period in the ad cycle where it's about half an hour too early for holiday ads but two weeks too late for a commercial encouraging people to drink a lot of bad beer during sporting events.
And when we get back from the commercials, we're at the Chicago grocery store where Dr. Sara has just run into Lance. Remember, she just got off the phone with her dad, who was all, "Stay away from the magnificent bastard!" and sure enough, the minute her dad said that, there Kellerman was. So Dr. Sara's spooked. She's doing the grocery cart sprint through the store, but Kellerman's just skipping alongside her, saying, "My aunt Maxine finally gave me her famous chocolate chip cookie recipe, and if you're free tonight, I'd love for you to be my guinea pig." Do you think every time Kellerman has to adopt a new persona, he's secretly thrilled because it provides a fabulous excuse to whip up some tournedos Rossini and gougeres, plus a chance to murder someone? Without looking at Kellerman, Dr. Sara says. "I can't. Not tonight." Channeling his inner David Fisher, Kellerman huffs, "You sound just like Daniel -- 'Not tonight not tonight.'" Kellerman leaves out the part where he killed Daniel after hearing that one time too many.
Dr. Sara tries to take off. Kellerman blocks her cart with his hand basket, and the soundtrack clangs alarmingly. Because we wouldn't have known she's all tense and in danger without it. He says feebly, "Your cart's empty... " Dr. Sara lies unconvincingly that she's good, but she's got to go. As she takes off, we see Kellerman's face twist from bafflement to near-murderous anger, then back in just a moment.
By now, all five men from Team Escarpara have managed to subdue, tie up, and gag the two women. They are in the kitchen; Sucre has been tapped to guard them. Michael is standing there, looking agitated, and whispering, "This is going wrong in every possible way." Now he thinks that? Where was his attention twenty-some episodes ago? C-Note is running around bellowing about how this whole tying-people-up thing is a bad idea. T-Bag coolly tells him, "Hat's over the wall, now." C-Note speaks for us all with, "What's that supposed to mean?" T-Bag snaps the kitchen shades shut with a small, economical gesture; the off-handed way he does this suggests his criminal mindset and past misdeeds far more evocatively than any number of lip-licking monologues.
He tells everyone else, "We're committed now. It's time to go get the hat. We don't have a choice." C-Note begs to differ, arguing, "We can walk out of here right now, man." T-Bag presses his advantage, asking, "And then what? They're already in the house. Those women are bound. We have already committed this crime. We leave, it ain't gonna change any of that." We pull back to get the hostage eyes' view of the four men: T-Bag is facing the unhappy C-Note and Michael, while standing at a 90-degree angle to the arguing men... is Linc. Whomever staged that scene did a really great job of illustrating the ever-shifting alliances and stances among the guys.
Michael abruptly peels off and walks into the living room, muttering plaintively, "Why couldn't it just be a silo in the middle of the field, with no-one around." As he stresses out by the drawn shades in the living room, Linc comes over and calmly says, "We'll figure it out, we'll get the money another way." Michael shoots back, "Yeah. I could rob another bank." Linc refrains from pointing out that Michael hardly made off with any ill-gotten currency during his knockover job. Instead, he just lets Michael talk. Michael says, "You know what Charles once said to me?" "Owwww, my stomach"? That's my guess.
"He said there's no such thing as an ex-con," Michael says, and continues, "Because I used to think there was a way we could wipe the slate clean, make up for everything we've done...the hat's over the wall, Linc. For everyone." Lincoln just looks at Michael. It's not clear whether he's busy mulling over his own lack of a clean slate, or if he's sort of wigged by Michael's meltdown, or if he's not sure what to do if it doesn't involve actively menacing other people.
Michael walks back over and tells the struggling women, "'Sorry' isn't going to mean anything to you. But I'm going to say it anyway. This wasn't supposed to happen. One or two hours tops, and we're out of here. You have my word -- no-one will harm you." Michael then tasks Sucre with ensuring that nothing happens to the women, and by "nothing," he means "anything but T-Bag, who is looking like he's in the throes of an acute flashback to his good ol' days." Sucre holds a clean ice-pack to his eye -- how cute is it that he bothered to put one in the zipper-top baggie and everything? -- and glowers. Everyone else goes back to digging.
Meanwhile, Kellerman's checking in with the deliciously evil Agent Kim. He says reluctantly, "The doctor is...suspicious," and Kim says smugly, "She should be. She was on the line with the governor when you walked up." As Kellerman swaps out his "Lance" accessories for the ones he prefers to wear on the job, he determines what, if anything, Governor Dad managed to tell Dr. Sara. Kim merrily says, "He knows who you are, and so does she!" Kellerman's silence speaks volumes. Kim cheerfully continues, "Seeing as how she was supposed to lead you to Scofield, and eventually to Burrows, looks like you're back at square one." Kellerman flatly points out that he's got the L.J. ace in his pocket, and he plans on playing it. He then asks, "Our terms with the governor --" "The Burrows kid, Paul. Focus," Kim chides. We cut to Kellerman, who looks like he's keeping his cool by reciting a list of all the hidden, deserted well locations between Chicago and D.C..
In another part of Chicago, Dr. Sara is running a press gauntlet to get into her dad's office. She collars an aide of his, Bruce, to schedule a little face time. Bruce's duties have expanded beyond scheduling. He now provides exposition, telling us all that Governor Dad has just landed, and while he was in mid-air, he got a call from the White House telling him that he was no longer going to be promoted to Vice President Dad. Bruce says, "According to [the White House], his confirmation was going to be a 'problem.'" Nice work pronouncing both the euphemism and your skepticism there, Bruce! Dr. Sara's struggling to understand: "We had the votes, right?" "Supermajority," Bruce replies. Dr. Sara asks, "President Reynolds pulled the plug on a sure thing in order to start over from scratch? How often does something like that happen in politics?" Bruce looks to his left and right before answering, "Never." (I am beginning to suspect that Bruce is hip to the One World Conspiracy, but is trying not to let anyone know that he knows, because he knows if they know that he knows, well, it'll be a very knowledgeable crowd, but also a very deadly one.)
Out in the Tooele garage, C-Note flexes, taking extra care to make sure the dim light gleams off his muscles so we can all admire their definition. Mission accomplished, my man. He hops back into the pit and resumes digging. As Linc digs, he grunts, "Since when did we become kidnappers? It ain't right!" Shouldn't Linc have raised this objection earlier? It seems like a lot of this could have been prevented if someone said, "Hey -- there's $5 million there. You ladies sit and watch us dig, we'll give you a million in hush money. Then we each take our $1.6 million and everything's cool. Otherwise... well, we can do this the hard way." Thinking this over logically, it seems like spending $1 million to avoid kidnapping charges could be a wise investment.
In any event, as the two-handed members of the team dig, Michael and Linc bicker over how things are shaking out. Michael gasps, "I'll take five years of a situation I can control over fifteen years of one I can't." Since this little sibling squabble isn't enough to shake the team apart, T-Bag does his part by holding up a copy of "National Anthropology" and asks, "Hey -- hundred dollar bill. What's it like, being of the African persuasion?" C-Note cordially invites T-Bag to shut the hell up. T-Bag mutters happily, "Oooh, hit me a nerve." He sure did. C-Note clambers over and inquires as to why T-Bag is not busy contributing to the hole. As the threats escalate, Linc has to pull the "Don't make me turn this car around!" voice so they can hear what Fox News has to say about the Fox River Eight: "The escaped convicts, whom we believe to be significant donors to the Democratic efforts to take back the House, still have not been apprehended." Or something along those lines. As the bubblehead anchor carries on with reassurances that other prisons are ensuring that boy geniuses cannot infiltrate their walls, then waltz out with a demographically diverse group of characters, the guys stop digging. T-Bag snaps, "It should be the Fox River Seven." Of all the assorted accuracy issues Fox News has, T-Bag has managed to fixate on the most innocuous. Linc uses the numbers quibble to query what's taken Tweener so long to fill a gas tank.
Speaking of Tweener... we're in the Tooele law enforcement complex, and Agent Sands has just come out of Tweener's interrogation room to tell Mahone, "I leaned on him in every way I can think of, and he's not talking." Mahone wordlessly heads into the room, then draws the shades. Oooh, such a renegade. He then asks Tweener, "Are you Catholic?" Tweener just glares at him. Mahone repeats himself, and Tweener looks away, because he can't come up with any decent Torquemada jokes right now. Mahone strolls over and sits down, continuing, "Not much good in it. The guilt. But the one good thing is confession. Whatever you've got eating at you, you just... give it up. Feels good, I have to say. Guess it's letting it out. Letting another human being hear --" Tweener interrupts Mahone's soothing musings by slamming his fist on the table and effectively informing Mahone that he doubts Mahone's qualified to dispense the sacrament of penance. Shrugging in the face of Tweener's informal catechism-check, Mahone switches to Plan B: "What if I told you something? A secret nobody else knows?" Tweener rolls his eyes.
Mahone's eyes are nearly shut as he whispers, "Oscar Shales." We get three quick-cut black-and-white flashbacks: the first two are of Shales and the third is of Michael. Hands up, all of you who were not shocked by the idea that Mahone merely transferred his obsessive attentions from one target to another. Now, put your other hand up if you think he's going to get a little freaky about who's advancing in the season of American Idol. Anyhoodle, Mahone continues, "A guy I was chasing a few years back. Smart as hell. I... kept just missing him. He made it kind of a game, just... it would have been fun if it weren't for the fact that he was killing people along the way." This actually gets to Tweener; he's clearly thinking of T-Bag here. Mahone continues, saying ruefully, "The bodies kept stacking up, and I started to feel it was because of me." He flashes a self-deprecating smile at Tweener, but it slides away as he adds, "Because I couldn't do my job. Because I wasn't smart enough." Mahone's lost Tweener again. Well, appeal to his cerebral side and that's the risk you take. Mahone finally concludes, "Never did catch him... but I did lose him." The agent then unscrews that fat black pen, telling Tweener that the loss so haunted him, he began hallucinating and suffering sleep deprivation. Mahone adds, "It was a complete break from reality." He then tells Tweener to say hello to his little friends. Tweener looks at the tidy row of pills. Mahone then looks up and, in a blatantly transparent attempt to be sincere, says, "So now you know. Now it's off my chest. Ought to try it some time." Tweener is sweating, and he leans forward, as if to finally disgorge some painful revelation. He blinks, swallows, and says, "Like I said before... I ain't gonna tell you nothin'."
Mahone issues one reptilian blink, then moves on to Plan B: showing Tweener pictures of Dr. Gudat's dead face and body. Oddly, I'm reassured to know that someone found him, and that his murder -- while senseless -- is not in the "It's a mystery -- !" files. However, given Mahone's well-established record of indifference over any escaped inmate whose name does not rhyme with "Bike All, No Field," it's pretty freakin' rich that now he's playing the whole "Only you can prevent more of T-Bag's killings" card on Tweener.
In another law enforcement complex -- this one in Arizona -- L.J. is busy trying to talk his way out of a meeting the guard claims is set up with his lawyer. That L.J., he's got a nicely suspicious mind. It has to be a recessive gene, given how blithely Michael and Linc trot into sticky situations. Anyway, L.J. protests, "He's a court-appointed public defender in Illinois. I doubt he would come to Arizona without calling me."
We then switch to a shot of Kellerman waiting behind the driver's wheel of a car, just to give us that "Oh no, he isn't!" moment, where we wonder if Kellerman really thinks he can pass himself off as L.J.'s lawyer. While that would be deeply amusing, it's merely one of the show's clever fake-outs. Kellerman's actually stalking Dr. Sara in downtown Chicago. But the show's not done messing with our tiny, TV-addled minds, because we see a shot of Kellerman watching Dr. Sara walk around in slow-motion as her hair billows quite dramatically. This shot is to TV-related supposition what a dinner bell is to Pavlov's dogs. And so I respond as I've been conditioned to: by gasping aloud, "Kellerman's not carrying a torch for Dr. Sara, is he?"
L.J. is continuing toward his meeting with the mystery lawyer, raising his well-reasoned objections the whole way. He's ushered into a holding cell and there's a long moment when he -- and we -- wonder exactly who he's going to meet. Answer: some heretofore unknown guy who introduces himself as "an ADA here in Mojave County." This unnamed man serves L.J. with release papers. The music swells ominously.
Then we're whisked off to Chicago, which is apparently where the governor lives? What, no love for Springfield? Dr. Sara just waltzes on up the driveway. No word on whether or not Kellerman's slowly driving behind her as part of his ongoing stalking effort. Anyway, Dr. Sara heads inside and the security guy at the door tells her Governor Dad's in his study.
We get a shot of the closed door, and Dr. Sara knocking on it. She heads inside, calling for her dad. As she rounds a corner, she sees her father's body hanging.
To Dr. Sara's credit, she only stops short for a moment, and she does not once scream, "Is there a doctor in the -- oh." Instead, she rushes over to her dad, while shouting for help, swiftly lets him down -- we see a key fall out of his pocket -- then immediately begins checking his vitals. Dr. Sara begins CPR, but we get a tight close-up of Governor Dad's gray face and, because we are well-conditioned TV-watching droolers, we in the audience know he's a goner.
Commercials. I see the ads for the X-Men DVD and it is like flashing back to season one.
When we get back, Sucre's busy brooding over how unfair it is that he has to watch the women instead of digging with the men. He's distracted by Ann saying through her gag that she needs her pills. Why? Do they keep her from going all Mahone-y on unsuspecting strangers too? Sucre comes over, pulls down the gag and demands, "What?" Ann repeats that she needs her pills. As Sucre tells her to forget it and goes to yank the gag back up, she says hastily, "You don't understand. They're for my baby." Well! That's the one concept that is like kryptonite to the heartbroken con. In fact, Team Escarpara better hope they don't drive past any Babies 'R' Us on the way out of town or else it'll be Sucre having that full-blown break with reality as he sobs into a pile of blue onesies. Ann tells him she's taking Metformin, to prevent a miscarriage. Sucre goes to get the pills, which are in a drawer in the kitchen, and some water.
Okay, digression time. The pills are in a drawer, which implies to me that Ann still lives in the house, as it makes very little sense for her to have just stashed caches of pills all over town. And if she lives in the house... what is the story with her impending bundle of joy? Is she going to be a single mom, or is there a Mr. Ann somewhere in the picture? Or maybe, since Metformin is a drug for treating diabetes, she's really not pregnant but diabetic, and only telling Sucre she's pregnant because she calculated that motherhood would affect him more than diabetes did. Or maybe I'm overthinking this.
Anyhoodle, Sucre eases the pills into Ann's mouth, then gently holds her chin as he gives her a swallow of water. Sucre says, "Okay, I'm putting the gag back on," and Ann quickly gulps, "You seem like a really good guy. Why are you doing this?" Sucre jams the gag back in Ann's mouth and says bitterly, "I'm not a good guy." DAMN YOU, MARICRUZ! DAMN YOU! Look what you did to our poor, sweet Sucre, you cobweb-cranium'd hussy.
Meanwhile, the boys in the garage continue to watch Fox News ("Do you really think you can link the Fox River Eight to Whitewater? Is it true one of them used to be named 'Monica'?"), and T-Bag frowns when the anchorlady says something about "Keep[ing] predators like Theodore Bagwell behind bars." His mug shot flashes on screen and T-Bag huffs, "This show makes me look like a sociopath." Hey! The show I'm watching makes him look like a sociopath too! As T-Bag storms away, he gets a lap full of dirt courtesy of the disgruntled C-Note; the other man snaps, "I'm not joking with you, Trailer Park. Now get in here and dig!" T-Bag snarls dramatically, "I am incapable, thanks to all y'all." Oh, he's just pissed that he can't wear a wrist corsage to the spring cotillion now. He continues with how he's the one who found the place, conveniently forgetting how it's Michael's deductive reasoning that actually figured it out. Linc is still fretting about Tweener, and Michael telling him that Tweener's been gone for about an hour and a half does nothing to appease his fears.
However, Linc gets totally distracted when the anchordrone ceases her monologue ("The Fox River Eight may terrorize the populace by committing random gay marriage ceremonies!") to provide a bit of plot-advancing exposition: L.J. is being released tomorrow, since the evidence linking him to the crime has suddenly disappeared. T-Bag says thoughtfully, "Hey, Linc, I didn't know you had a boy." Linc is too distracted to bother reaching over and beating T-Bag about the head and shoulders with his formerly-reattached hand. He's trying to figure out how to get to Arizona by L.J.'s release the morning.
Sucre's brooding is interrupted by Linc coming in and demanding the keys to Jeanette's car. Michael pleads with Lincoln to hold on for a moment. "We are five minutes away in there!" he says. "We've been 'five minutes' for an hour," Linc replies. Michael pleads, "Just give me some time. Be patient --" "You think I give a damn about the money?" Linc demands. Pushed into panic, Michael shouts, "I'm doing what's necessary." Linc replies, "You're afraid to fail! You're afraid this big plan of yours ain't gonna work out." Three questions: is now really the time to break out the psychoanalysis of What Makes Michael Tick; does Linc not understand what the word "plan" means; and since when did he begin saying "ain't" so much?
Anyway, Linc snarls, "If you think you can pull this thing off, be my guest. Meanwhile, L.J.'s out there." He makes to go, but Michael stops him, pleading, "We have come 1500 miles cross-country. We have made it this far." Too bad: Linc has decided this is where they part ways. Michael reels back, stunned. There are clearly no tattoos covering the "what if Lincoln decides to split" possibility.
Back in the Tooele law annex, Mahone has left Tweener alone for a while to look at pictures of Dr. Gudat and imagine what could happen . Joke's on Mahone! Tweener's not big into thinking!
Back at the Chicago FBI office, Wheeler provides some desultory exposition on Haywire's whereabouts, since we don't have enough to keep track of in this episode yet. Wheeler muses, "He leaves the cash and the jewelry and the only thing he steals is the $10 oil painting. What the hell does he want with that?"
We're about to find out. Haywire is crouched in the aisle of a sporting-goods store, emptying jerky into a rucksack, then topping it off with a few more bags of dried whatever. A nearby border collie barks a warning -- perhaps it's a guard dog against excessive sodium consumption? -- and Haywire's eyes pop in response. The store owner limps over and asks if there's something he can help Haywire with. Haywire answers in the negative. There's a little exchange where we find out that Haywire's stocking his bag with all sorts of supplies for roughing it, and then Haywire points to the guy's cane and asks, "What happened to your knee there?" "Motorcycle accident," the guy replies. "So, uh, you don't move around too well, do you?" Haywire asks. Then he answers his own question with "Well, that's good" and sprints off with his rucksack. The dog gives chase. Is it the least tense chase scene in the history of this show, since Haywire's moving in a manner more suited to race-walking.
Having managed to pick up the car keys and peel the clinging Michael from his leg, Linc is about to head on his merry way. He tells Michael, "You can still come with me." Michael's regained a little of his composure, and tells Linc defiantly, "I can do this." Linc walks back up to face Michael and asks, "If you can't." "We still meet up, exactly where we planned," Michael replies. "Bolshoi Booze," Linc confirms. He tells Michael L.J. will be with him. Michael doesn't touch that one. Nor does he raise the possibility that it's all a trap. I... I... I don't even know if I can craft a hypothesis to explain that. Anyway, there's a little more stilted information-exchanging, with Michael telling him they'll have to meet up at Thursday night, 6 PM, because "it's our last shot. If we're, uh...if we do this right, we're gone forever." Linc seems to be ignoring the fact that his brother is fighting back tears. Instead, he woodenly remarks, "A lot of ground to cover in three days." Michael won't even look at him as he echoes, "A lot of ground."
So then Linc moves in to hug Michael. As he walks off, Michael's finally pulled it together enough to warn him, "They'll be gunning for you. They'll get you any way they can, so... " Linc's all, "Uh-huh." As he gets in the car, Michael says, "Tell L.J.... " ... that you're peeved at him for throwing another spanner into the works? No. "Tell L.J. there will be a surfboard with his name on it." That makes Lincoln smile. Tears in his eyes, Michael watches Linc drive off. Good thing Lincoln decided not to take the plates off the car or anything!
Back in Illinois, Dr. Sara's sitting in a window seat, watching the paramedics wheel out her dad's body. Some random guy with silver hair tells her, "Ms. Tancredi, the M.E.'s finished her preliminary examination. She found no signs of foul play." Because Dr. Sara is distraught with grief, she does not snap, "It's Doctor Tancredi!" nor does she ask if the M.E. merely drove by the body on her way to another appointment, since that was the fastest post-mortem ever. Anyway, the suit blah blahs on about how this is a totally unsurprising suicide, which is our cue to believe that there's someone on the site who set the whole thing up. And now, the poor bereaved Dr. Sara -- who is quite literally alone in the world, as her mother had already died and she was an only child -- is stuck trying to figure out all the machinations swirling around her. Fortunately for her, she can get a start thanks to the key that fell out of her dad's pocket; her giant bag has been covering it this whole time.
Now that Tweener's had a chance to think about what T-Bag has done, Mahone comes back in to see if he's ready to talk. He puts down a Coke and tells Tweener, "That's a hell of a deal, son. No additional time on your sentence for the escape -- if you want it in writing, I'll put it in writing. We will put you up at Club Fed, you will spend your days playing racquetball with brokers and lawyers. And four years from now, you'll be out on the street, 22 years old, with a clean slate, your whole life ahead of you, and no blood on your hands. Okay?" Mahone is practically drilling laser beams of sincerity into Tweener's skull, but the boy is too busy looking at the table to notice.
He finally looks up and says, "There's a woman in the house. You guys show up, [T-Bag's] going to turn her into a hostage." Now if Tweener can figure that out and he's not even there, why the hell was Michael all surprised when it really did happen? Mahone is looking all steely and resolved. Tweener tries again: "T-Bag, he ain't coming out alive. And he's going to take her with him." Still staring intently, Mahone says, "Let me worry about that." Tweener is not down with that. He adds, "The only way that woman comes out free is if someone shows up on that porch that they trust." Mahone -- who has not blinked this entire time, which is really freaky, and given some of his other mannerisms, that's saying a lot -- confirms that Tweener wants to be that guy.
We go to commercials. Oh, no, it's that damn Gap commercial again. How many other 49-year-old things are still hip? The federal highway system? Mamie Eisenhower's hairdo? Pat Boone's recording career?
We come back, and the theme formerly known as "the rap music of impending racial violence" starts up. Since this theme now accompanies any escaped prisoner who's scheming, it needs a new name. Post your suggestions in the episode thread. Anyway, we've got the music because we've got Haywire running around Wisconsin with an extremely persistent border collie on his tail. They bond over jerky. It looks like that faithless dog is going to leave his gimpy old master for this treats-dispensing lunatic. It also looks like I'll need to name the animal. Very well -- I dub thee Barnabas.
Back in the Tooele house, Sucre's dispensing another round of meds. Because he is either stupid or soft-hearted (or both), he leaves Ann's gag off as he goes to give Jeanette some water. So Ann begins talking again; she may be a young cop, but she is not a dumb one, and she knows how to get inside Sucre's head. So within seconds, she finds out that Sucre was doing time for aggravated robbery, he had only 19 months left to serve, and he broke out because his woman on the outside was pregnant. Ann knows she's getting to Sucre -- he's pacing around and he can't look at her -- so she says with an edgy smile, "I'm two months. I just had my first-trimester sonogram on Tuesday. Has she shown you pictures --" On the table, her radio goes off with a dispatch call and Sucre whirls around. He shushes Ann and catches the tail end of a message with the words "David Apolskis," "apprehend" and "FBI."
Meanwhile, in the garage, C-Note and T-Bag continue to bring out each other's worst sides. Their nascent struggle to the death is cut short when Sucre comes in to announce, "We gotta roll." Michael turns around and sharply asks, "Why?" Sucre shares the news about Tweener. T-Bag immediately gets up and hisses, "Nice knowing y'all." Michael tries to pump Sucre for information, but because he's not a winsome-yet-wily pregnant woman, his fact-finding foray is not nearly so successful. And then C-Note alerts everyone to something he and T-Bag managed to uncover during their tussle: a big pile of money. (Damn, C-Note! Why not keep your mouth shut until after ungrateful rat T-Bag has scampered away?)
As C-Note begins digging out the money, we get looks at all four men's faces: T-Bag's practically glows with covetousness; C-Note is beaming, all irritation gone; Sucre is as gleeful as a child; Michael is too relieved and wrung out to be happy. C-Note's laugh rings out and Michael's mouth finally quirks up.
Meanwhile, in a black law enforcement SUV, Mahone is busy drilling Tweener: "Let's go over this again. None of them are armed." Tweener confirms that none of the cons have guns. He protests the necessity of the wire, but Mahone says it's necessary "in case you decide to do something stupid, like tip them off."
And now, Haywire's continuing adventure. He has reached a beach of some sort and is laying out a map, a compass and some rope. Barnabas is intrigued. We switch back to Haywire, who is wearing a purloined life jacket in safety orange. I like how he's always safety-conscious, between the helmet and this. Haywire says to Barnabas, "I bet you're wondering what we're doing down here at Lake Michigan, huh?" Barnabas gives the impression that yes, he was wondering exactly that. Haywire points to the lake as the musical theme kicks up again, and explains, "If you go far enough that way, you get to the ocean. You know what's out there? Holland! Barnabas barks an inquiry as to whether or not they'll be living in Amsterdam. Haywire unrolls his acquisition from last week and tells Barnabas, "We're going to live in a windmill. All we need is a raft." Barnabas looks around to see if there are any rafts on the beach. There are not, but Haywire is optimistic that he'll find just the right collection of sticks to get started.
Back in the garage, the guys are hauling out the money. C-Note says, "Charles Westmoreland, God bless you and your wrinkled old sack." Um. Okay. T-Bag gloats, "I'm going to be walking down the streets of Bangkok with a million U.S. dollars. That's about $40 million baht, the local currency." Instead of inquiring as to how T-Bag's been staying on top of international exchange rates, C-Note merely asks why there's the fascination with Thailand. T-Bag replies, "Black market surgery. Anonymous transplant donors. He's dressed like she's -- what's not to like?" C-Note asks in a deadpan, "Are you really going to try and replace that hand? T-Bag raises his arm and says, "My body ain't takin' to this one."
C-Note and Michael pull the big crate of cash out of the hole they dug, but before they can put it on the ground, the bottom of the crate breaks and the bags of money fall to the ground. As the guys toss the bags of money onto something else (a wheeled cart? I can't see, despite many rewindings), C-Note goads T-Bag with, "You know, that hand ain't gonna be white." T-Bag looks up, honestly stricken by this idea: "What?" C-Note clarifies, "The new hand -- even if you get it, it ain't going to be white. Johnny KKK over here is going to have an Asian hand." Michael begins chortling, whether from genuine amusement or schadenfreude over watching T-Bag be the one whose plans go pear-shaped for a change. Then the guys hear a sudden noise and stop short.
We then cut to Tweener walking up a sidewalk, looking as though he were walking to the electric chair. He turns to look back at the phalanx of cars lining the... extremely leafy street? Wait a minute...
Tweener continues walking. As he goes down the grass-lined sidewalk, he flashes back to: he and Michael talking in the prison yard; Bellick harassing him; Avocado's smug and abusive face; Michael saying coldly, "We had a deal -- now walk." Tweener continues walking in the here and now. After wiping his palms on his shirt, he casts a last nervous glance at Mahone and rings the doorbell ...
And we go to commercials! As a Californian, one of the things I love is how when it drizzles here, it is treated with the same level of coverage that a hurricane gets elsewhere. Ah, local news. Don't ever change.
When we come back, Tweener's still ringing that door bell. After endless shots of him being all tense and fidgety, the door opens. It's Debra Jean! Tweener smiles despite himself. She starts, "Scott... " and he steps forward. Speaking quickly, Tweener says, "I don't got much time, a'ight? I had to tell you something: what you did for me that day at the motel? Ain't nobody in my life who's been to bat for me like that. I lied to you, okay? My name ain't Scott -- it's Dave. David Apolskis. And I just -- I wanted you to know. I'm going to be writing you. I sure as hell hope you'll be writing back."
Isn't that a sweet speech? Doesn't that make you sort of proud of young Tweener, both for figuring out a way to avoid snitching and for making a clean breast of it with Debra Jean? But you really want to know what makes it great? As he's giving his little repentance monologue, Mahone is going absolutely incoherent with rage and two dozen men are descending upon Tweener to cuff him as he declares his intentions to write.
Grinning like a fool -- a relieved fool -- the now-radiant Tweener is hauled off. He keeps turning his head back to beam at Debra Jean while he's marched to a nearby van. Debra Jean is left to stand there and wonder, So, does this mean we're going steady? Mahone looks at Debra Jean and nearly smiles for a moment, before going all broody.
Meanwhile, back at Jeanette's, it turns out the vehicle Team Escarpara heard belonged to some guy named Keith, who was supposed to pick up Jeanette and take her to the club. Michael is dispatched to take care of Keith, so he just gives the guy the Blue Steel and acts creepy until Keith retreats to go have an attack of the screaming mimis elsewhere. Then Michael goes inside and lays it out for T-Bag and C-Note: "We've got to hurry, because once he gets to the club and finds out (Jeanette's) not there, he's going to be back."
Back in Mahone's SUV, a newly sweaty Tweener is telling Mahone, "You know what? You were right. It does feel good to get stuff off your chest." Ah, Tweener: you have all the survival instincts of a squirrel on the side of a highway. Because that guy who was all, "Hi. I take the crazy pills so the voices don't talk to me"? That one you just screwed over? That one who is sitting silently in the driver's seat? Is the only one in the car with you. So maybe gloating is not the best idea. I doubt your apology -- "Sorry I had to play you like that, bro" - is going to hold much water.
After Mahone's pulled over in an especially remote area, well away from any main roads, he stops the car and exhorts Tweener to get out and stretch his legs for a bit. This is when it occurs to Tweener that perhaps he could have spent more time pondering the post-confession part of his scheme.
Cut to Chicago, where Kim is calling Kellerman to hector him, all, "I thought you were going to deal with the L.J. Burrows situation?" Kellerman says casually that he did. Kim floats around on his cloud of ineffable smugness and asks, "Then why is he being released from custody tomorrow?" Kellerman points out that L.J. becomes valuable if Linc comes looking for him. He then changes the subject: "More importantly -- Governor Tancredi? Not part of our plan." Kim says placidly, "Last time I checked, you left no shortage of bodies in your wake." Kellerman justifies his murderin' ways with, "I did what I had to do to get Caroline where she is. Now that she's there, let's not draw any more attention than we have to." Kim pounces on this opening: "You think getting to the top is the hard part? She's a hundred times more visible. She has a hundred times more enemies. Anyone who knows anything has got to be dealt with. If someone is a liability, they go. Tancredi was becoming a liability. So was his daughter." The unspoken statement here: And so are you, Paul Kellerman. Kellerman, however, seems shocked -- shocked! -- to discover that Dr. Sara's on the short list for execution.
So, by the way, is Dr. Sara. Only she finds out the very hard way: after letting herself into her apartment, the teary doctor shuffles through in a daze. She lifts up the latest origami bird missive to the light but doesn't open it. Instead, she lets her mail fall to the floor. And then she notices -- someone has lit the candles in her apartment. But the housewarming hasn't stopped there. There's also a few bottles of morphine, plus a wide array of accessories, laid on the coffee table. She's being set up to look like she took a fatal overdose. And the person who did the set-up appears as a shadow behind her...
Back in Tooele, Sucre still has not gagged Ann again, to his regret. She's busy outlining all the dire consequences Sucre faces if he takes off with the rest of Team Escarpara: "You're not just going to be facing escape charges, but assault, kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment --" "I don't need to hear this right now, lady," Sucre says. Ann presses her advantage: "Oh, no -- you do. How much longer do you really think you can stay ahead of the cops? If you turn yourself in, I will testify at the sentencing, I will say that you cooperated -- that can make a huge difference." Sucre, whose head-soaking in the kitchen sink has not cooled his temper at all, tells Ann to shut up. She plows on: "Be smart. You have a baby on the way." However, "smart" and "baby" apparently brings up all the Hector-associated rage, because Sucre tells her to shut up again. Ann keeps talking about how if Sucre really wanted her to shut up, he would have re-gagged her, but he demonstrates that there's more than one way to transmit the "shut up" message. His extremely effective alternative: training her service pistol on her while he screams, "¬¡Caiete!" Down in the garage, Michael shouts, "Fernando! It's time to go!" Ann says quietly, "Do the right thing, Fernando." Sucre just looks at her with impotent fury.
The guys are all lifting packs filled with money and joshing each other about the big wads of cash. C-Note asks, "Where's Sucre?" He says, "Right here," which is apparently verbal shorthand for "standing in the door and holding a gun on my compadres." Michael asks numbly. "What are you doing?" Sucre cocks the pistol and tells him, "Drop the bag. No-one's going anywhere." Well, not for three weeks they're not.
Seriously. Even Mahone's standing still. He's outside, just sort of standing there and exuding weirdness rays. Tweener has had enough stretching of the legs. He reiterates that he has no plans to snitch on Team Escarpara, so if Mahone's brought him out here to do that, it's a trip in vain.
No, as it turns out, Mahone's brought Tweener out here because he wants to do some confessing. He says, "I think I owe you an apology, because I lied to you about Oscar Shales. Things just kept pushing at me --" We cut to Tweener, who is looking to the right and left as if waiting for Ashton Kutcher and his Punk'd crew to leap out of the underbrush. Mahone misses this. He's too busy carrying on by grabbing Tweener's neck and saying, "Right there. That's where I put the bullet in him. The mistake about that was that forensics would tell the whole tale: powder burns, the gun was right against his head... " Tweener makes a feeble attempt to get back in the van, but Mahone bursts out wildly, "See that's the thing about confession! You say these things and you get it off your chest, and it just goes out into the whole world, and I'm so sorry about this, kid, because I really hope you'll understand. I got nothing against you, kid." Mahone backs up and pulls his gun. As Tweener asks tremulously, "What are you doing, man?" Mahone explains, "But they do."
The plainly frightened, confused Tweener is forming the word "What?" when the first bullet tears through his left pectoral muscle and exits his back, striking the SUV. It's hard to see where the four bullets go, but none of them go above the neck, because Tweener's face, although bloodied, is still intact as he slides down the SUV.
Mahone surveys his handiwork for a moment, then walks over and gently places a gun in Tweener's handcuffed hands. Because that will sure look convincing when he trots out the "I shot in self-defense!" excuse. Then Mahone sinks to the SUV's bumper and swallows a couple of crazy pills. We fade out on him listening intently to the little voices in his head. I guess we'll find out what they said in three weeks.