To Briarcliff! Lana storms into Monsignor Howard's office with the cops behind her, court order in hand. She demands to speak to Sister Jude, but as expected, Howard tells her that Sister Jude is dead. To her credit, Lana doesn't believe him. To her slightly less credit, she backs down once the Monsignor produces a death certificate. The show even gins up a "flashback" for us, of Howard walking in to find Judy hanging from the ceiling. As a representative of the audience, Mr. Murphy, we are not so easily fooled. Lana is incredulous that Howard had her cremated, but he gives some Catholic-sounding hoo-ha about dying outside a state of grace. Once again, his hands were tied! What could he do but abide by doctrine set out by Rome? Personally, he's devastated, but what could he do? Lana straight up accuses him of murdering Jude. "You might as well have tied the noose yourself." Howard tries to turn the tables on Lana, guilting her with the thought that if she'd showed up a week ago, she could have averted Jude from her suicidal path. This guy cannot die bad enough to satisfy me at this point.
Lana exits Briarcliff, seemingly defeated, past the crazies in the foyer. The camera then takes us on a journey, through the kitchen, past the solitary ward, down to the deepest, darkest corner of the asylum, behind what looks to be an old-school dungeon lattice. That's where Monsignor Howard has stashed Judy Martin. Out of sight, out of mind, Judy prays to the patron saint that bears her name, St. Jude, the saint of hopeless causes.
Finally, one more reminder of institutional evil before we wrap things up for the week: Lana has delivered her baby. Now, just because she wasn't willing to abort doesn't mean she's interested in raising little Ollie Thredson Junior herself. The plan is to give the baby up for adoption and her wishes were to never see the child upon delivery. Only the delivery nurse is an incompetent and she wakes Lana up because the child won't drink the formula. Or he's allergic, I guess... whatever. Apparently there were no contingencies for this in 1965 other than to wake up the recovering mother and ask her to nurse the baby she's giving up for adoption. Lana kind of can't believe she has to deal with this for one more minute, but she ultimately gives in and starts nursing, craning her neck towards the ceiling so she doesn't have to look at the child. The future Dylan Face. I guess this is where it supposedly began for him. Way to blame the ladies for the crimes of men.