Fade up on a shot of Maddy "Bad Die Job" Feguson, emulating her far cooler Cousin Laura in the copycat ensemble of a clear plastic bodysuit and accessorizing with those black splotches of dirt dotting her pasty face. Poor Maddy. Someone forgot to tell her that that look is, like, so last April's dead teenage demon attack rape victim chic. Cut to a shot of Albert "Mr. Brown" Rosenfield, Dale "Mr. Blue" Cooper, Harry "Mr. Pink" Truman and Hawk "Mr. Orange" White-man-stole-my-last-name, ambling toward the camera in exaggerated High Drama for Dummies slo-mo through the woods by day. The trees blow moodily. The minor chord holds forebodingly. The opening credits are just filthy with James Marshall's name. The good news? There is no good news.
Albert, who a certain FBI honcho (not to mention Twin Peaks executive producer) named COLE promised would not be coming back to town, holds in his hand a tiny plastic evidence bag with the paper letter "O" in it and reports, "The short answer is this is the work of the same ghoul who killed Laura. More fan mail." The "O" was again extracted from under the ring fingernail of the victim. Further evidence reports that "there were strands of fur clutched in her right hand" from a stuffed white fox. Truman leaps into action, telling Cooper he's going to contact Leland to find out how to get in touch with Maddy's family. Gee, seems to me the route of least resistance would be crossing the border to Montana and talking to, oh, I don't know, the only people who live there? Cooper asks Truman not to make any calls just yet, asking for twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours for what? Cooper is one ripped tank top and a line of bodily-worn machine gun ammunition away from Sly Stallone-ing the place up when he fixes his gaze on Truman and takes himself a mite too seriously: "To finish this." Yay, RamboCop! Between that kind of bad-ass, renegade crime fighting and a comparison of Kyle and Sly's career trajectories for the better part of the 90s, I'm hard-pressed to tell them apart right now at all. Oh, that's right. Cooper wasn't in Get Carter. Thank God. Well, there's always the third remake.
Albert beckons Cooper over to his patch of sinister woods to offer the following uncharacteristically unhilarious piece of advice: "I don't know where this is headed. But the only one of us with the coordinates for this destination, this hardware, is you. Go on whatever vision quest you require, stand on the rim of the volcano, stand alone and do your dance. Just find this beast before he takes another bite." Actually, that was a little funny, in an accidental, purely "Word Up" kind of way, though Albert left out the rallying cry of "When you hear the call you've got to get it underway" which, in all honesty, is what always inspires me to do my best work. Albert walks away and Cooper observes in reply, "Now all you sucker DJ's who think you're fly, there's got to be a reason and we know the reason why." Actually, he doesn't say that at all. What he really says is, "God help me, I don't know where to start." Hawk, as per usual, is burdened with the latest contrived foray into faux me-like-pretty-cloud-of-white "Native" spirituality, offering, "You're on the path. You don't need to know where it leads. Just follow." But the words of the good and great Chief He Speaks With Banality seem not to comfort Cooper during this stressful time. No romance. No romance. No romance for me. Coop.
Donna "Thin Lizzy" Hayward sits alone at a table in a gauzier, far snazzier update of the Double R Diner (the "Triple R," 'haps?) until she is approached by James "L'il Bow Wow" Hurley a few moments later. He sits down and takes her hands in his, telling her, "I went for a ride this morning. God, the engine was like a thousand people singing." Singing what? "Requiem for This Script," one can only hope. The "Cameo" version. She asks what they were singing about, then continues that she herself could sing "about last night." Last night? Continuity being what it was on this show around this point (that being "non-continuous"), I'm going blame my ignorance for not knowing exactly what went on "last night" and just be glad that the cameras sent to record this amorous event smashed into a billion pieces at the slightest suggestion of James Hurley, er, "riding her bike." James extracts a jewelry box from his pocket and slides a diamond ring onto Donna's finger, worrying, "I didn't know what size to get." But the fact that it fits her finger perfectly proves that his decision to test the width of the ring out on a conveniently-appearing chopstick was, in fact, an informed one. Because she's real skinny, people. He continues on that he wants to be with her all the time, and they kiss passionately. I think that was a marriage proposal. And here's me, left without so much as one "isn't he a little young to…" jokes from the once overflowing coffers.
Mama Legs sits at the counter of the Double R eating an omelet. She takes a bite and, in horror, spits it back onto the plate with a protracted gagging sound (okay, that is SO much more yucky than lingering shots of a grisly murder site. Who's with me?) and snarks, "Whatever fowl did you take these eggs from?" Norma asks if that means her mother doesn't like them, and Mama Legs adds, "I'm afraid I'm going to run into a thumb tack." Norma sighs all angrily and tells her mother that she's tried "so hard," but that Mama Legs doesn't have a positive word for anything she's ever done. Domineering mom, put-upon nothing-is-good-enough daughter, we get it. Poor Norma. Without her soapy alienation from true love Ed keeping her character afloat, her plot arc has devolved into her acting out the title role in a live-action teleplay of a Cathy comic strip. Mama Legs retorts that she supports Norma wholeheartedly, adding, "the menus are very presentable." Norma doesn't think that's so funny. She'll have to wait in line to register that grievance with the board, I'm afraid. And so Mama Legs tries to be of actual assistance around the place: "If you want to serve a truly memorable omelet, try white veal sausage and morel mushrooms." Norma snarks that she'll "go pick the mushrooms." Oh, Cathy. Will you never win?
Sitting alone down the counter is Deputy Andy, gazing into a piece of pie he can't seem to get around to eating and haltingly reciting "J'ai une âme solitaire." Donna happens by (oh, I guess she was in the Double R, after all) and hears him, stopping to ask, "What did you say?" Andy, not yet willing to share the knowledge of the Berlitz Guide to Elegant Suicides tapes he has been rigorously studying, denies having said anything at all. When she presses further, Andy merely volunteers that "it's French," before going silent again, perhaps in the fear that his pronunciation is so unadulteratedly BAD that he fears Donna is going to return to her group of cool friends at Twin Peaks High and tell them all, "So that weird police guy was sitting alone in the diner repeating, 'I crave your eye drop fork, Freakzilla' over and over and over again." Which he might as well be saying. Donna presses and presses, to the point that the once-and-future Mr. Donna Hayward jumps in and asks, "Donna, what's the big deal?" Shut up, fetus. Why she agreed to marry you is so far beyond my grasp of comprehension. She needs to bail, get out, run, cut the cord. Oooh. Just when I thought I was out of hackneyed fetus jokes for good. Lucky for you I wasn't. Donna asks Andy how he knows Mrs. Tremond, whose grandson first spoke those words to her back in the halcyon cream corn days. But Andy clarifies that he only knows those words from Harold Smith's suicide note. Donna looks perplexed: "I need to find Agent Cooper." She runs out and James follows. Andy repeats the line egregiously one more time: "I roller-skate with dolphins who are scrapy." Man, he really needs to get back to those tapes.
Donna did track down Cooper, it seems, and the two of them (with Andy in tow) walk up the path to the Tremond's front door. Cooper stabs at linear logic and guesses that L'il Lynch spoke those words to Harold also, and that's where he found his inspiration for his suicide note, but Donna deems that as impossible, claiming that "the suicide note is a message." They knock on Mrs. Tremond's front door, pandering to the casual viewer with the non-helpful reminder, "She's pretty old. It might take her a second if her grandson isn't here." From inside the house walks a slightly portly lady we've never seen before wearing a canary yellow shirt with matching earrings and another "tropical" shirt that evokes memories of the glory days of O.P. t-shirts and their accompanying, similarly-patterned "Jams." What is this woman doing living on the rural outskirts of the northwest woods when she should clearly be living on the west coast of Florida running for Condo Board President against Morty Seinfeld? So Donna launches in, asking Del Boca Vista, "Is Mrs. Tremond home?" Del Boca Vista is Mrs. Tremond, she responds. Donna is confused: "Well, it must have been your mother I spoke to." Del Boca Vista replies that her mother has been dead for three years, and that it is not possible that Donna spoke with her mother or her son, considering she has no children. Donna's confusion mounts until Cooper insists, "Donna, we should go." At this name identification, Del Boca Vista asks if she is "Donna Hayward," and upon confirmation returns to the back of the house. While she's gone, Donna has time to inform Cooper that she has never seen this woman before. Del Boca Vista returns with an envelope with Donna's name on it, and she and Cooper stand inches from the front door and crack it open. It's a page from Laura's diary, compliments of Harold Smith: "February 22nd: Last night I had the strangest dream. I was in a red room with a small man dressed in red and an old man sitting in a chair. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to tell him who BOB is, because I thought he could help me." The entry reads, "Tonight is the night that I die." Cooper reports that he and Laura had the same dream, a proclamation Andy reports is "impossible." Cooper retorts, "Yes, it is" before telling Andy to take Donna home, as he has to see Gerard because…
…Solving this murder primarily through tangible facts and evidence is a concept that was abandoned shortly after the opening credits of the Pilot, so why not devise a character who speaks in fortune cookies cracked open at Syntactical Szechwan, the same restaurant at which Yoda culls his advice. Enter Mike. Cooper leans by his bedside at the Great Northern, and he is writhing and sweaty and twitching that shirtless little nub of his as Doc Hayward stands aside and warns that Gerard needs his medication pretty darn soon if he doesn't want to become the victim of the Excess Character Fire Sale the ABC Accounting Department seems to have set in motion recently. And more power to them. Cooper tells a barely coherent Gerard that "BOB has killed again," informing him of the dream he and Laura shared. Again. Mike pants and huffs, "BOB and I, when we were killing together, there was this perfect relationship, appetite, satisfaction, a golden circle." He makes an "A-OK" sign with his hands and Cooper somehow deduces from this round of The Charades of the Criminally Freaking Insane that his lost ring has something to do with all this. Cooper reports that he gave his ring to My Giant, and Mike huffs and pants, "He is known to us here" because the passive voice always makes an already sinister situation just that much more creeeeeeepy. Mike adds, "You have all the clues you need" before pointing at Cooper's head and alerting, "The answer is not here. The answer is here." He points at Cooper's heart. Dude, that's pretty weak right there. Thirty TV minutes away from the culmination of a murder investigation and the only advice Captain Clairvoyant can toss out is "Follow your heart"? To equate him with Yoda is now officially an insult to Yoda. That's less Yoda and more Nell Carter telling Joey Lawrence that he can make the football team even though all the other kids tell him he's too small on a particularly special episode of Gimme a Break. This sequence, of course, also lacks the incomparable cabaret singing flair of said Nell Carter. Shut up, One-Armed Man. Gimme a break, indeed.
Cooper stands at the end of a long hallway inside the Great Northern and watches as The Elderly Room Service Waiter from the second season premiere ambles into his view at the other end. Drool Cup speaks: "I know about you. That milk will cool down on you, but it's getting warmer now." Cooper looks curious and repeats "getting warmer now." Drool Cup gives Cooper a thumbs up and leaves to curl up somewhere and quietly die.
Finally in Ben's office, Truman shows Cooper Ben's recovered telephone records from the night of Laura's murder. Truman confirms that the phone call Leland described to them was made from Ben's office. Also, Ben gestures toward a stuffed white fox sitting on a table behind the couch, corroborating the strands of fur they found on Maddy when they pulled her out of the waterfall. And though I had completely forgotten about this and thought it so insignificant when I last watched it that I didn't even bother to recap it, when Leland returns "good as new" to Ben's office, he visibly turned around and grabbed a clump of hair off of that fox and shoved it in his pocket. Oh, cool. I didn't remember that Ben-as-killer was so explicitly set up as an intentional frame. I love that detail. But this episode is still kind of putrid. Back to the action, Albert saunters up to let them know that Maddy was killed between 10 P.M. and midnight, which also stands to implicate Ben. Noooooooooooo! Albert then hands Cooper an envelope that contains "Ben Horne's blood test." Cooper takes a peak and reveals nothing to us before handing it off to Truman. If the furrowing of eyebrows constitutes "deep thought" as much as the director of this episode (check out these accolades…snerk) would very much like us to believe, these guys are about to squint their way to a Nobel Prize, the trifling matter of Laura's murder be damned.
Police station. Another Useless Extra is toiling on a ladder fixing the sprinkler system because wacky comic hilarity is much more wacky, comic, and hilarious when there's a straight man present to watch it unfold. And with all the upcoming chatter about Dick Tremaine, I was beginning to doubt the presence of any such "straight man" on this show in the first place. Ha ha. Whatever. Andy accosts Lucy outside of her office and insists, "I want to talk about our child. Our baby." Lucy whines (why oh why do I even bother to qualify?), "Maybe it is our baby and maybe it isn't." Wacky Comic Foil stares down from the ladder with some confused brow-furrowing of his own (which, considering that gesture's direct correlation to above-average intelligence, I'm surprise Wacky Comic Foil doesn't suddenly glean the knowledge of how to bond hydrogen and oxygen molecules without the help of a sprinkler system and just get the hell out of this frame and go water the damned lawn himself) as Lucy bellows, "I thought you were the father, but then you said you didn't have any sperms!" But then she found out the sperms were back, "So as far as I can tell, it's a fifty-fifty proposition." Andy marches angrily over to a nearby phone and picks it up. Pause. Then: "I want to speak to Richard Tremaine, men's fashions." Lucy whines out some "please Andy don't hurt 'em" rhetoric while he waits, and moments later Andy speaks again, "Tremaine? Brennan. Andy Brennan. We need to talk. That is, if you're not too busy." Awwww. Darn lovable goofball. Watching Wacky Comic Foil looking at him so admonishingly, how on Earth could I believe otherwise?
Tojamura shows up at Ben's prison cell with the following sentiment: "You are in prison." Crazy, literal-minded Asians. Ben rises from the bed and assures "him" that his incarceration is "a momentary inconvenience," and Tojamura cuts to the contracts and insists, "you have papers to sign." And so Ben sets about the one-man spin machine, telling "him" about his unforeseen circumstances "some legal in nature, others…" He then apologizes and explains that he is both unable to return the five-million dollar investment or sign the Ghostwood contract. He sets about a speech about "the air that free men breathe" this and "the long, dark night of the soul" that, and as he retreads the isn't-there-another-way-to-prove-I'm-rich-and-fussy laying down of the hanky before he sits on the bed, Katherine bails him out and slides a red-polished foot out of her shiny black loafers. Ben puts on his glasses. "Katherine?" Yes, Ben. Just like the last time we saw it. She speaks, Piper Laurie Bitch Drawl in full-tilt, "Benjamin Horne. You're a slimy rat bastard, and I intend to make whatever remains of your pathetic existence a living hell." Ben has never been so overjoyed. He kneels down on the floor of the cell and kisses her feet, begging her to hand over her alibi to the police for the night of Laura's murder. She asks if she'll sign Ghostwood and the mill over to her and he offers, "In a heartbeat." She slides the papers and a pen through the bars of The Most Minimum Security Prison Ever (I mean, hello, murder suspect. I'm surprised Jerry hasn't devised a madcap "cake with file" scheme to bust his big brother out of there yet), and he forks them back in a hurry. "Now, you'll tell the Sheriff?" Katherine shrugs, "I'll think about it." Ben throws his arms through the bars and insists, "It's the truth!" More two-timing hijinks, "Why, Ben, we've spent our entire lives lying to each other. Why spoil it with the truth now?" She leaves. Ben runs across the cell, holding his hanky over each of the bars and screaming her name. 'Cause he's real fussy, like.
Palmer house. Donna stands in the living room wearing black sunglasses so clinical and large she looks like she's just flat-out making fun of blind people, and Leland enters the room and smiles big in welcoming her. He offers her "a glass of lemonade," and Donna declines on the basis that "I'm also pretty hungry, and your endless evil preening indicates that you've already chewed all of the scenery." Or maybe she really says, "This is for Maddy. It's a tape of a song we did with James. I want her to have a copy." Donna hands over the microcassette labeled "'Just You,' from James Hurley and the Hurlettes' upcoming recording debut, Low Water Mark." Leland smiles even broader: "She told me all about this. She thought it was a very enjoyable experience." And how right she was. Except for the…oh, I give up. Anyway, she asks if he'll mail it to her and he comforts her that it won't be a problem at all. He turns his attention suddenly to those glasses, glaring with a look of real concern that just goes to show that even the most demented demon in town still knows an ocular fashion victim when he sees one. Even BOB is lurking inside, rolling his eyes and thinking about how strangely large they look on Donna's diminishing face, and this is a guy with a jean jacket, people, and an overall fashion aesthetic best described to the unacquainted as "The Nelson Brothers after a nuclear holocaust." The reason he asked, though, is because the glasses were Laura's. Leland seems distracted as he ambles around the room, evilly. Donna quite rudely lights a smoke without even asking, and then informs Leland about Laura's secret diary that turned up at Harold Smith's house, which Leland knew nothing about. Leland advances on Donna for no apparent reason as Angelo Badalamenti works his orchestra to the bone trying to invent a chord that's so minor it's, like, really minor, in order to instill this scene with an ounce of the dramatic tension the director really wants it to have. It doesn't. The phone rings, and Leland answers to assure a woman named "Beth" that he dropped Maddy off at the bus station himself. He hangs up and tells Donna, "It's the strangest thing. She never made it home." Donna expresses furrowed-brow concern (natch), but Leland pops a stick of gum and tells Donna not to worry about a thing. He walks over to the mirror and stares into it, and the slowest pan in the history of moving picture technology shows us who's staring back at him. It's BOB. Try to keep the shock at bay, people. Oh, and he's chewing gum also, which makes him look really angry as well. It's Pure Chewing-of-scenery Satisfaction!
An indeterminate, lemonade-accessing time later, Donna faces the mantel staring at Laura's prom photo when she feels a hand on her shoulder and wheels around and gasps like the heroine in the cheap horror movie this episode has turned into. Donna pisses and moans that she thought she could see Maddy any time she wanted, but Leland assures her she's taking this whole death thing too seriously and that there's only one way to "cure what ails" her. Anyone wanna guess? Who's got an inkling? It's dancing. But, then, you knew that, didn't you? Leland walks to the phonograph and puts the needle on some kind of shuffly player piano Ol' West Before the Saloon Doors Open and the Villain Strides In theme, and takes Donna's hand. Oh, and how they dance. Until, that is, the needle hits an indistinguishable point on the record, and Leland grabs her suddenly and hugs her real tight. More gasping. Doorbell. Leland loosens his grip and warns her not to go anywhere, then opens the door for Truman, who tells him that they need some further help on the murder case. Leland leaves, the picture of civic-minded calm.
Donna sits outside at a picnic table in the middle of nowhere, and James drives up to find her in an advanced state of weepy badness. Donna launches into a speech about Maddy's death, and James observes that "this is no good." Oh, Hurley, you don't even know. He continues that "nothing we do matters. Nothing's ever gonna change. We're happy and the rest of the world goes to Hell." And vice versa, I hasten to point out. Anyway, since nothing they do matters, by their own admission…
Moodytreescakes, and we're inside the Roadhouse during a thunderstorm possessing the same high-drama timing as a short story Snoopy might compose on the roof of his doghouse. Ben Horne sits alone in a distant booth cracking nuts in his hands, and Albert and Cooper sit on barstools waiting for the pretentious dolly shots of the entire room to finish up their survey. Truman enters with Leland, who asks Cooper, "Why are we here? Is someone meeting us?" Cooper confirms that someone is. "Is it the killer?" Cooper claims that it just might be. Ed enters, and with this brawn in check, Cooper can act in more of an advisory role as he instructs the rest of the men to clear the room of its tables and chairs. Hawk wheels in Leo as Bobby (jeez, what's he doing there? Oh, who cares. Hi, Bobby) stands aside, and once everyone more or less hits their mark in the room, Cooper starts in, "Gentlemen, two days ago a young woman was found murdered by the same individual I believe responsible for the death of Laura Palmer. I have reason to believe that the killer is in this room." He continues on that he has employed many methods from traditional to Tibetan to instinct to luck. But now, after this endless FBI investigation that just drags on and on (we've got to be almost into week two of this case by now, which is odd, considering this episode is now entering its nine millionth marathon hour) Cooper sees the need for something new, "which for lack of a better word, we shall call…magic!" Suddenly a shot rang out, and a thunderclap and some really pretentious directorial posturing gives way to this scene's only worthwhile line, compliments of Ben, "Would you like us to hum?" Ha. It's too good. The clock strikes three as Cooper notes that "someone is missing," and with another clap of thunder, Major Briggs accompanies Droop Cup through the front door. Drool Cup stands to Leland and takes a piece of gum out of his pocket and hands a piece to Cooper. Leland, apropos of tying up loose ends, comments, "I remember that gum. I used to chew it when I was a kid." Drool Cup looks back and deadpans, "That gum you like is going to come back in style." Cut to flashes of The Dream, but this time Laura approaches Cooper and speaks her message out loud: "My father killed me." So there you go. A nation, holding its breath, lets out a collective gasp. If by "nation" you mean "me and my brother" and by "gasp" you mean "switching the channel to LA Law in a determined hurry." Cooper stands in a blinding white light in front of the red velvet curtain and stares up at My Giant, who mysteriously appears before him. My Giant holds out his hand to show Cooper his lost ring, and then My Giant disappears and Cooper's ring falls to the floor. Wow. That was one of the most overdirected scenes. Ever. With the storm suddenly gone, Cooper puts the stylish gum in his mouth, picks up the ring, and thankfully returns to the direct approach, announcing, "Ben Horne, I would like you to accompany me to the Sheriff's Station. And you might want to bring along Leland Palmer as your attorney." Hawk and Truman escort the struggling man out, as Cooper gives the thumbs up to Drool Cup and leaves Bobby, Leo, Ed, and Major Briggs gawking in front of the red velvet stage. Suddenly, a schlock rang out.
The Wacky Ruse Boys escort Ben Horne into the Sheriff's Station as Leland asks if his client is going to be charged. Cooper assures Leland that he is, then holds Truman back for a moment when the others go ahead to whisper a sweet nothing of wacky ruse-esque proportions in his ear. Cut to a far more sinister Holding Cell for the Criminally Freaking Insane than Ben has spent time in before now, and just as it appears Ben is going into the coolie for crimes against de rigeur chewing gum for a very, very long time, the cop folk two-time his lawyer and toss Leland into the room instead. Slamming the door behind him, Leland goes full-tilt madcap, throwing down his suit jacket and running headlong into the bare cement walls all around. The other men gather around the tank, Ben genuinely curious when he asks, "Leland?" Hawk confirms that that's no Leland, and Truman takes this moment to respect the unconventional methods of his partner, asking how he knew. Cooper replies, "Laura told me. In my dream." Truman rapid fires that they'll be needing some stronger information than that, and Cooper asks if he'd prefer something more in the way of a confession. Yes. Yes, he would.
Poor, poor Leland. It's been such a good run. But now he's handcuffed and cackling crazily, as Cooper, Truman, Albert, and Hawk look on as Leland hoots and howls and chips a tooth trying to chew the scenery off the metal bars that cover the windows, snarling, "I guess you want to ask him some questions." Cooper does: "Did you kill Laura Palmer?" More howling of the Emmy-vying, Nicholson-poaching, all-work-and-no-play-makes-BOB-a-dull-murder-resolution variety ensues. BOB admits to Laura's murder, and Cooper moves on to Maddy, and BOB engages in a "you are, no you are, no you are" cat-and-mouse with that question until he smiles with a "Well, gosh, gee whiz, I have this thing for knives." Sigh. The planet's purest form of evil who's been silently steering his human host into committing heinous deeds for the better part of the last forty years, and when he's finally cornered his personality is one of dark, treacherous…snarky sarcasm? Weak, people. But looking at the positives, I'll be sure to keep his name around for MBTV recapping consideration if that Michael Crichton project ever gets around to airing. Anyway, BOB thanks Leland for being a "good vehicle," claiming that he will now "shuffle off to Buffalo." Now that Leland's body is weak and captured, BOB will be taking his leave. And when he goes, he continues, Leland will suddenly be confronted with the full weight of the crimes for which he's been charged. Truman notes, "That's enough for me" and they all take their leave of the room. And I'll bet they're glad they didn't walk…
…To the front of the Police Station, where the inappropriately positioned Dick/Lucy/Andy subplot could not have reared its cheesy, gay head (um, did somebody say "gay head"?) at a more inopportune time. Lucy takes her two beaus into an open interrogation room, where Dick asks Andy if he has a light for the cigarette that's -- sigh -- IN A HOLDER. Because he's come a long way, baby. Anyway, Lucy tells them that she's made up her mind, and she's keeping her baby. Andy don't preach, but Dick rolls his eyes and uncomfortably adjusts his paisley ascot as he listens to Lucy describe a blood test the baby will take after it's born to determine the father. But during the pregnancy, she expects full cooperation from them both. Dick finally lights his cigarette and the smoke tendrils up toward a nearby smoke alarm as…
…Albert lights a cigarette of his own outside of Leland's cell as Cooper offers his version of The Secret Cliff's Notes of Laura Palmer, tying the murder case up so quickly and so tightly it all but cuts off circulation to the part of his brain that eschews "hasty illogic." Cooper reminds the assemblage that the little man danced in his dream, which is what Leland began to do compulsively shortly after Laura's murder. BOB was a gray-haired man, and Leland's hair turned gray overnight after he killed Jacques, but not after killing Laura or Theresa Banks, for some reason. And he killed Laura because he was on to her in the secret diary. He was the third man at the train car, and it was his blood they found. Truman country bumpkins that BOB can't be real, and from inside the cell Leland begins crying the "I'll catch you with my death bag" speech which, let's face it, I've recapped in its entirety like a hundred times. Give a recapper a break, people.
The cigarette catches the smoke alarm and the hallway fills with water spraying from the ceiling. Inside Leland's cell, the water falls as well, and Leland screams and runs toward the wall at full force, slamming his head into the cement and falling to the floor. The other men enter in a hurry, and Cooper holds Leland in his arms (awwww) as Leland suddenly comes to his senses and remembers, "I killed her. Oh, my God. I killed my daughter. I didn't know." Pathoscakes, until exposition comes back to play, with Leland weeping, "I was just a boy. I saw him in my dream. He asked if I wanted to play. He opened me. And I invited him in. And he came inside me." Um, there's some imagery I have absolutely no idea what to do with, m'kay? And as Sad Strings predictably rages, Leland offers many and varied "what have I done," and then begins to fade away as Cooper, looking twelve with his tousled hair, cradles Leland in his arms. He offers a little speech about looking to the light, and Leland dies. He killed Laura Palmer, you know. And have known. And now know again.
And we're outside, Cooper, Albert, and Truman walking on a woodsy path toward a strangely resurgent Major Briggs. Truman slumps down against a tree and observes that Leland was "completely insane," but even the cynical-as-all-get-out Albert admits that "People saw BOB. People saw him in visions. Laura, Maddy, Sarah Palmer." Truman is having some trouble grasping the concept, and Cooper posits that Book of Scruples query, "Harry, is it easier to believe a man who would rape and murder his own daughter any more comforting?" In fact, it is not. Albert coins one of the only memorable lines in what should have been a cornerstone of interesting television, wondering, "Maybe that's all BOB is. The evil that men do. Maybe it doesn't matter what we call it." Truman asks where BOB is now that he got away from them, triggering one more Blair Witch-cam survey of the crime site, accompanied by an owl-not-what-it-seems hurtling toward the camera at an unsafe, unoriginal speed.