Lindsay's insipid voice says: "Previously on The Practice." Bobby and Richard "The Runt" Bay are arguing in court. The scene sees The Runt (tm deborah) going off on a tangent about the not-so-ethical ways his opponent uses to free his clients. Bobby makes some crack about The Runt having a Napoleon complex: "Res Ipsa Pipsqueak." Quick cut to The Runt fawning all over Helen. He professes his infatuation for Helen, she spits out her drink, he raves about her, umm, qualities: "You're smart, sexy and I totally go for it -- the whole package." Helen "Mankiller" Gamble shuts him down. Then they show the whole clip of the detectives busting into Jimmy's house, where his very naked girlfriend Judge Kittleson is waiting. Oh, wait, we saw that last year on Ally McBeal. In fact, we've seen a lot of this plot-switching lately. Do you think DEK's imagination is running out of steam? ["Does shit smell?" -- deborah]
The lawyers are walking through the offices of The Firm. Bobby asks how long Ellenor thinks a case will take. "Three, four days, tops," she replies, "there aren't many witnesses." Mid-sentence, The Runt busts into The Firm (he's wearing a raincoat that sort of floats behind him like a Batman cape) and doesn't close the door behind him. Goodness. "What?" The Runt says as he surveys the room, "People don't greet people when they come through the door here?" Ellenor gives him the big ol' stink-eye and says, "'What do you want?' How was that?" And she walks steadily away. "Ellenor," he stops her, "our complaining witness isn't doing so well. He's at Mass General awaiting a donor heart. The doctor's don't expect him to last much longer." The Runt wants to introduce a video deposition at trial instead of having a normal deposition either in court or in the offices of The Firm. Looking up at the other lawyers, he says, "And I'm assuming you'll agree." Eugene jumps in, saying that Richard certainly has that wrong; Ellenor concurs: "If you can't get your witness to trial, Richard, that's not our problem." The Runt is astounded: "The man is on his deathbed." Ellenor sympathizes that he's not well, but she also wants The Runt to understand that they aren't going to make it easier for the chief prosecutorial witness to put their client away. They bicker a little while. The Runt accuses Ellenor of being indecent. She snaps back that she's not about to facilitate an attempted murder conviction. Cue Runt histrionics: "I'm only talking about a deposition. I suppose I can't expect you people to be decent or humane. You think you're heroes, playing a part in the criminal justice system, the crusaders against oppression, well, it might have started out that way but look at you now. The day-to-day stench of your clients has rubbed off and you are every bit as vile and contaminated as the murderers and rapists that you defend." And on. And on. He calls them repugnant animals, states that they are the opposite of everything that is good and fair in the United States, and just when you take a deep breath because you think his ridiculous tirade is over, he throws in a little "if there is a God he will certainly get you, you sleazy, cancerous infected, malignant grotesque snakes." ["Geez, take a freaking pill." -- deborah] The Runt turns on his self-aggrandized heels and slams the door. Which signals the credits. Which signals the first commercial break.
Richard is sitting at his desk. Helen "Stone Cold" Gamble is giving him a pep talk. She says he's going to die an early death if he doesn't calm down. ["We can only hope." -- deborah] Richard "The Agitated" Bay claims that the partners of DYD&F "get to" him. Helen sighs, sits on his desk, and explains: "They're defense attorneys." As if that's all the explanation the situation needed. The Runt goes off on the whole witness-on-his-deathbed-what-scum tirade again, calls them some more names, because he's so-o mature dealing with his anger by calling people names. He might as well be in grade two. Helen encourages him just to go to court and get the order to have the deposition taken in the hospital. "Who's the judge?" she inquires. "Kittleson," he snipes back, "and I hate her too." Why? Because Kittleson could have defended him when Raymond Oz called him a midget. And she too almost called him a midget in open court -- she caught herself -- but he hates her nonetheless. Helen's wearing all gray and her hair is ripped back into a ponytail. Her face looks like it's been ironed and then made up. ["Snerk!" -- deborah] Her hair turns her face into a walking facelift. I'm surprised she can actually speak, her hair's pulled back so severely. "Richard, you're about ready to start an attempted murder case. If you go in there hating the defense attorneys and the judge, you're going to end up being defeated by your own anger. Now, go to court, get the order to take the video depo and take it from there." He doesn't look convinced.
an issue. We've got to protect Louise." Ellenor's not happy.
Whoosh. Watch Helen and Gnatty Bay fly into his office. "Maybe I should take over?" she asks. Helen's wearing this gray sweater that makes her head look so small you'd think she was a character on The Howard Stern Radio Show. Her hair is pulled back so tightly that she looks like Joan Rivers. Because she doesn't look thin enough. The Runt protests that he can handle the case. Helen counters, "Look, Richard, if you pushed Eugene, that tells me you have some judgment problems. He could squish you like a bug." Exactly. Helen wonders why he's personalizing this so much: "Is it because Bobby called you a pipsqueak?" Runty McRunterson starts in on the tirade of us-against-them justice that serves as the backbone of this entire show: "There's a difference between giving a fair defense and distorting the system!" Helen snips, "If you start quoting the founding fathers again, I'm going to leave!" They speak at the same time. I hate that. I can never hear one over the other. I also don't know how DEK can write the dialogue that way. Does he type each speech and then add a little: "Oh, you both have to talk at the same time because that's the way -- un ha un ha -- I like it"? Runt rants on about how Ellenor will cross examine the fellow into having a coronary and "not even blink an eye." Hey, Richard? This is ragdoll. Wasn't it your idea to make the guy give his testimony from his hospital bed? Aren't you the one who decided to go ahead with this, and can't you be the one to rise above it all and prosecute the case after the guy's had a chance to recover? Just a thought. Anyway, Helen says, "Richard, for three years I've been telling you what would happen if you personalize your cases --" "I'd lose my hair." Heh. Now if she could only convince wardrobe to lose the comb-over. "You're a great DA but you've got to keep an even keel." He looks up at her: "Helen, can I ask you something?" Oh, those questions are never good, you know something you don't want to hear is coming. No one who ever has something good to say ever asks if they can ask you something -- they'll just ask it. "Will you have dinner with me tonight?" Helen turns her head in disgust and cringes, because the idea of having dinner with the Runt is so much more upsetting than say, eating with an old fart like Jack Nicholson. Helen starts with the "I don't date people I work with" party line. He cries, calls her a big meany, tells her to get out, and she must like the violent angry type because it's his abuse that changes her mind. She agrees. Ragdoll tosses her cookies.
Egg Trial. Jimmy and the other lawyer are giving their oral arguments. They are arguing about the moral effects of selling human body parts like sperm and eggs. Mr. Emmerson's lawyer opens by stating that federal and state law both prohibit the sale of human organs. Jimmy cuts him off by saying that they aren't talking about selling organs. Retort: the same principal applies. Again, Jimmy: "The law doesn't say that." In comes Judge Humpty Dumpty, who thinks that maybe it should, just as we prohibit the sale of livers and other organs. Unless you're Larry Hagman, that is -- then anytime you destroy your own liver, you can just hop over to the corner liver store and buy another one. Jimmy makes the point that, if they stopped selling eggs, well, then they'd have to stop selling sperm too. The other lawyer jumps in -- he thinks that they should stop selling reproductive "equipment" -- that it's one thing to donate semen or an egg out of altruism, but quite another to hawk your wares on the Internet. Jimmy states, "He's in here arguing what the law should be, but that's not what it is, and if he wants to do that let him go to Congress. The judge is supposed to rule on the current laws. Right now, the law says that it's okay for a woman to sell her eggs, and this distinction between altruism and profit, forgive my language but that's just crap. Profit saves lives." Blah blah patents and drug companies. Jimmy makes a good point about the monetary basis of the medical establishment, and that his client, selling her eggs, is acting within the bounds of the law. They made a contract. Emmerson breached it. She's entitled to have a judge rule on behalf of the law.
The Firm. Lindsay walks into the scene just as Rebecca exclaims in disbelief, "Dead?" Bobby replies, yes, that's what she said on the phone. Lindsay "Nosy Parker" Dole asks what happened, just so that Rebecca can explain, "Ellenor cross-examined a guy -- to death." Lucy wonders what's going to happen with the trial. Bobby explains that they've all retired to Judge Kittleson's chambers, and boy, if Mr. Morgan's testimony is excluded, the trial's over -- he was their whole case!
Whoosh. Egg Trial. Judge Humpty Dumpty starts reading his decision: "I'm mindful that every ethicist, as well as leaders of all our infertility groups, vent disgust at the prospect of peddling eggs for cash. But Mr. Berluti is right. The law prohibits selling organs but there's nothing to prevent trafficking sperm and eggs. I find the contract to be binding and order the defendant to pay costs plus interest. Adjourned." Susan thanks Jimmy, and he begrudgingly accepts her thanks. She again reiterates that this case was a matter of principle, but Jimmy interrupts her to moralize: "Susan, if you're telling people about the case. I'd say it was about the money. Saying that it's about principle? You're selling your eggs." Finally, she gets a bit steamed about his overbearing attitude as you see her expression change: "Can I talk to you in private somewhere?"
They adjourn to a side room. Susan lays her purse and her coat on the table, and with her back to Jimmy says, "Do you know why we broke up, Jimmy?" He sort of shakes his hands with his briefcase in on arm and coat on the other: "It's coming back to me." She turns to face him, and reads him the riot act: Jimmy always told her what to do, he was always telling her she was doing things wrong, and, just as he starts to speak, she raises her voice some more and says, "You were never letting me talk." Susan lists his likes and dislikes -- he doesn't like women having abortions, he doesn't like women selling their eggs, "and you're entitled to them but none of them," she continues, "render you more principled. You want to know what principled is, Jimmy?" He snaps back, "Yeah, why don't you tell me?" Well, if you must know, "it's recognizing responsibility. Principled is duty to your children. Making sure they are fed and sent to a decent school --" The scream for a minute, and Jimmy interrupts her, again, to tell her that she's like a prostitute. ["Please, please slap his sanctimonious face into week." -- deborah] "What did you just say to me?" She walks around for a minute collecting herself, because we all know that he crossed the line with that statement. Hey DEK, you know what? We. Get. It. But that's not enough, here we go again, flogging the horse that died with the last ratiocination regarding egg-selling: "When you come into this room with your clients, do you call them murderers, rapists, thieves to their faces? I doubt it. You quite likely show them more respect than that. Me, you called a prostitute." Okay, he didn't say that -- he said you were like a prostitute, but it's still abhorrent. Jimmy's speechless. Susan walks toward him. "Tell me, Jimmy. Why is it that you are so much harder on me than on the rest of the world?" Jimmy scoffs, "Please, if you even have to ask that -- I loved you -- that's why." The Sonata of Jimmy's Broken Heart starts to serenade the two of them. Susan asks, "Do you still?" He doesn't know. Because the idea that someone might have once loved you makes it okay for them to almost call you a prostitute. Because it's love that forgives highly critical, overbearing, morally swaggering men? Susan wonders if he loves this other woman. Jimmy shakes his head and answers that he doesn't know. She's cold, thanks him for his services, and says that he's obviously turned out to be quite a good lawyer: "I'm sorry I disappoint you." And this comment causes ragdoll to start ripping out her hair! "You're sorry?" I scream at the television. Sorry for what? Taking control of your life, your body, and not letting some man who is obviously not living your life or paying your bills make you feel bad for doing just that? Anyway, Susan doesn't hear me because she doesn't turn around and deck Jimmy before she leaves him standing alone in the room. With the damn music still playing.
Kittleson's chambers. "You saw it yourself!" Richard screams. "She all but murdered him!" Oh, pul-ease. What? They start bickering. And I'm tired of typing that sentence. Kittleson barks for them to settle down because she's tired of these "scream-fests." Aren't we all? They squabble, call each other some names, until Eugene steps up: "Your Honour, obviously Mr. Morgan's testimony has to be excluded." Why! Gnatty gnarls. "Our client has to have full opportunity for cross-examination. We were cut short." The Runt rails, "Bogus. If ever a witness were fully cross-examined -- she killed him!" Ellenor snaps back, wondering if Richard has a crystal ball that could have foreseen this event. And then Richard kicks Ellenor in the shin. A good soccer kick. And it actually makes a thwack sound. "He kicked me!" Judge Kittleson, whose entire role this episode has been keeper of the friggin' playground, screams, "All right!" She begins to put a price tag on their behavior: The kick costs five hundred dollars; the insult will cost one thousand. Eugene says, "Your Honour, even if you find we were afforded full opportunity for cross-examination -- the man had a heart attack. The damage of Ms. Frutt coming off as too unsympathetic, it's too prejudicial." Richard stamps his foot on the floor like a baby. Ellenor: "With all due respect. He has clearly lost his mind!" Kittleson: "With all due respect, Ms. Frutt, that just cost you one thousand dollars." The Runt asks if he may speak; Kittleson responds, "You may speak. Do not kick. Do not stomp. Do not even move your legs." They get back to issues of law. Sort of. Richard explains that even if Mr. Morgan's testimony was excluded, the whole squeeze-my-hand brouhaha constitutes a dying declaration, which isn't subject to cross-examination. Sneaky. Ellenor says, "And you were calling me despicable?" They start name-calling, stomping, and kicking until they all end up in jail, even Eugene, who's an innocent bystander.
Jail. Richard: "Why do you hate me so?" Ellenor shakes her head: "Richard, hate you? You're the one that always starts this." Eugene pulls them apart and wonders what the heck he's even doing there. Kittleson walks up at that instant with a guard to let them out. She explains that she's going to cut the video deposition personally and that they are going to go to trial tomorrow to finish off the case. "If any of this shows up in my courtroom, I'll send you to the bar with a recommendation for a sixty-day suspension." Then she lets them out, but not before Richard can open his yap. "Good!" he says, "I have a date." Ellenor and Eugene roll their eyes.
The Firm. Jimmy's explaining to Lindsay and Rebecca about how he used to have feelings for Susan. Except he left out the prostitute part. Apparently, he looked at Susan like she might have been the mother of his children (well, he could buy some eggs like everyone else, and then she would be the mother of his children), so he held her to a higher standard. But he doesn't look at Roberta that way. Rebecca makes a crack about how Roberta doesn't have any eggs to sell. "Not funny," Jimmy snaps. Lindsay editorializes: Maybe you don't see yourself having a family with Roberta but you do with Susan. "Susan's not in the picture," Jimmy responds but, of course, Lucy brings her into the room at that instant. All the other women just stand there, watching. You'd think they'd get the hint and just leave. "Am I really out of the picture?" she asks. Jimmy starts to stutter: "You. Think. Umm." Lucy cracks, "He mumbles when he's smitten." Oh, I get it. That's the cue for the two other lawyers to say, "Lucy!" and then leave. Just like Ricky Ricardo. Poor Lucy. Is there any classic television show DEK hasn't plagiarized? Susan and Jimmy are left alone. She smiles and asks him to dinner. But before he can accept, he says, "I have some loose ends I have to tie up with someone else."
Richard and Helen arrive at Hellenor's (tm deborah) after their date. He's talking about the trial, expects it to wrap up soon, which is good, because apparently, he's agreed to counseling. He starts to complain about Ellenor again and Helen begs him to stop: "I don't want to hear about it anymore. You've used up your whole date talking about a case, Richard." He's bummed: "Does that mean I'm not getting another one?" Maybe he has a death wish: he kicked Ellenor twice and even took a run at Eugene. Thus begins the introspective portion of the episode -- oh, these sensitive men. What's really wrong with Richard: "I think I do want to get into a fight. A fist fight!" Helen looks stunned: "Have you ever bothered to ask yourself why?" Here it comes: the short, smart guy speech. You know, it wasn't convincing on Ally McBeal, and it's even less convincing here. Poor Richard, he was captain of the debate team, chess club, state spelling bee champion, but he got picked on on the playground. He would love to get into a fight. Helen advises Richard to get some help. Rightfully so, because all kids get picked on --that's why you grow up -- to get over these things. Richard asks Helen for a second chance, another date; she reluctantly agrees, and then he plants one on her. It's probably the least romantic on-screen kiss I've ever seen. Richard's lips look like he's vacuuming up Helen's face; she has to bend down in this awkward stooping stance as his hands plant themselves in a vice-like manner on either side of her head. And then I don't even have time to reach for my barf bag before he says, "I go for you. The whole package." And walks away. Helen's stunned.
We're back from commercials and at the Morgan trial. Ellenor's questioning Mrs. Morgan: "Why didn't the garage clicker work?" Louise doesn't know, but she thinks maybe the batteries had given out. It often didn't work. She went for the brakes, hit the accelerator instead, and ended up running right over Ronald. "It was an accident, though?" her lawyer asks. "Of course it was an accident!" Louise shouts. Richard gives his cross. The car lurched. There wasn't anything wrong with the car. He wonders whether or not she sued the car company? There are a lot of objections to Richard questions. It's all pretty ridiculous. He essentially gives the same kind of cross-examination Ellenor did previously to Louise's husband. It was human error, she explains; she hit the accelerator hard going for the brake. It happens. Cut to Richard giving his closing arguments. She hated him. She inherits everything. Ellenor. Who of us can say that it couldn't have been an accident. Richard explains she ran a car over someone she hated, gets two million dollars, Mr. Morgan saw her face. Ellenor: a fraction of a fraction of a second. Reasonable doubt overcome by a fraction of a fraction of a second?
Kittleson's chambers. Jimmy drops by to dump the judge. He finds it difficult. "I like a lot of things about our relationship. But there's some stuff I find wanting." Roberta puts her glasses on the table and looks at him: "You find wanting? What do you find wanting, Jimmy?" He wants to have a family. And that he's kidding himself thinking that they could go that way. He's probably right. "Have you come in here to end our relationship?" Yes: "I'm thirty-seven. I've got to take stock of where I'm headed. Take control of my life's direction. Where I'm going." She's obviously upset: "You think you know yourself? You don't know yourself. I know you, Jimmy. And trust me when I tell you -- you'll be coming back. It might take months, maybe three, but you'll be back. Do you want to know why?" No, he stammers; okay, yeah, he does. Roberta continues her ridiculous psychoanalytical lady-getting-dumped-has-to-dump-on-the-dumpee speech. We've all been there. Okay, well, I know I've been there. "Because of your mother and your father [insert ragdoll screaming for her life here] you were raised a strict Catholic. You grew up repressed. And what you're looking for in a woman more than anything else is a woman who liberates you sexually." Insert The Music of Jimmy's Pounding Libido here. "A woman who makes you feel sexual. Do you really think that you can be with just anybody what you are with me? Best sex you'll ever had, you'll ever have, you'll get it right here. Nothing will even come close. And whether you want to admit that to yourself or not -- it's important to you." They stare each other down awhile until a court officer knocks to let Roberta know that the jury's back.
Kittleson's courtroom. We see Helen entering just as the verdict is about to be read. The Judge asks the defendant to rise, blah blah what say you, blah blah. Well, isn't that something. They found Louise Morgan not guilty. She squeals and thanks Ellenor and walks over to The Runt and says: "You know, I'm still having trouble with my garage door. Maybe you can be there tonight as I try to get it open." Ellenor drags her away, and does no one, not even the clients, ever take the high road in this show? Richard's left with his head in his hand. Helen starts to console him: "It's stacked against us sometimes: little old ladies, forget it." Richard won't let it go; he's after every member of the jury, going to impound their cars. Still, Helen must find this insatiable anger thrilling, even scintillating, because she asks The Runt to lunch. As they walk out of the courthouse, he starts yammering on about how he was sorry he kicked Ellenor yesterday, but today he's glad he did. And I'm glad that the honour and legacy of the law isn't above some down-and-dirty violence.