Deadline
Red Herring

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Sweet Merciful God, It's Over

Wallace stands on the rain-drenched pavement guzzling liquor from a brown paper bag. "I was thinking, 'Look at that dress, the hair, the crazy joy she had, that beautiful blood-lust,'" Wallace voice-overs. "We all like to watch. If only I'd stopped there." Wallace drinks again. If he slit his wrists, he'd bleed whiskey. Benton recalls Valerie's face, Ramos' words and then Valerie's breasts. The unfriendly cop drives up and orders that he accompany her somewhere in the patrol car. . The Ghost of Cancellation Future lifts its leg and prepares to urinate on my television set. I subdue it by reminding the ghost that it must save its energy for dealing with the entire fall lineup on the FOX network.

Mean Cop leads Wallace toward the boxing ring at the fight club. Sammy Klein is standing there, cast in shadows. He beckons to Benton. As they enter the men's locker room, Benton crumbles against the doorframe when he sees Ramos's lifeless body slumped against the white tile. We get a close-up on a syringe poking out from his arm, beneath a knotted rubber tourniquet. Benton's devastated, because he was clinging to Ramos as a way to help clear his own name. And he'd been craving a boom-boom juice smoothie. "That's the trouble with mainlining junkies," breezes Klein. "So unreliable." Benton broods that he's back to square one. This is so dreadful -- I can't even pretend that I care about this plot. Dick Wolf, I loathe you. Oh, and speaking of a dick wolf, let's bring this back to Valerie. Klein, delighted to be one-upping Benton at last, says that the tissue samples from under Valerie's fingernails, plus blood and DNA tests, match with Wallace's own samples. Benton says she scratched up his back and offers to show the marks as evidence. A nation pleads with him to let it go.

One thing I hate about Texas: the truck commercials. They're everywhere, and they all have their own little yay-Texas jingles. My God.

As has become the pattern, Wallace is chasing after someone who's trying to avoid him completely. This time, it's Walter, the D.A. Benton blithely notes that there's been two related stiffs in two days, but Walter doesn't want to talk about it. "I didn't know the woman -- it was a one-night stand, a quick bang," Wallace insists. "What, you never had one of those?" Walter is laughing. Benton, this bumbling, abrasive doughy dumpling of a human, scores one-night stands like he's Shaq under the hoop, and Walter's just...bald. So when I said Walter was laughing, I meant he was laughing through the pain. "What about your pattern of antagonism with women in the office that night?" Walter asks Benton. Wally pleads for help because he isn't sure where to turn, and Walter says he will be recusing himself from the Grand Jury if and when it's called. Benton asks if Walter thinks he's guilty. "DNA overrides belief," Walter says, leaving. In his mind's eye, Wallace sees a guffawing O.J. Simpson taking DNA Evidence over his knee and giving it the spanking of a lifetime. Outraged, Wallace shouts at Walter's retreating figure, angry that no one's willing to support him or stand up for him.

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Deadline

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