Her voice goes out across the Fleet; the people nod. She's getting them. "The citizens of the Twelve Colonies entrusted their fates and the lives to Gaius Baltar. What we received was a reign of terror that staggers our minds and breaks our hearts." We linger over the tylium refinery, the fuel that keeps the Fleet jumping, the belts keep rolling, under dirty hands: "Instead of governance, we got tyranny. Instead of justice, we got oppression." Wait, who are we talking about? What were we talking about again? "Instead of a president, we got a murderer."
Back to the trial. "Today, humanity holds him accountable for his crime. Gaius Baltar is not a victim. Gaius Baltar chose to side with the Cylons and to actively seek the deaths of his fellow citizens. For that...he must pay the ultimate price." Cassidy cedes the floor, and Lampkin begins his opening statement, using his crutch like a champ. "Your honors, the defense would like to change our plea to guilty."
The gallery murmurs; Gaius chokes. Franks is not amused. "What choice do I have? I mean, it's obvious my client is guilty. He's a traitor and a killer. He's no better than the Cylon, and what do we do with them?" A man in the gallery (or Mary McDonnell doing a very gruff voice) shouts, "Throw 'em out the airlock!" That word still makes me giggle in this context, and the voice is kind of hysterical and shouty anyway, and though I do love the law, not even jurisprudence can stop the church giggles once they get going. Lampkin stomps his cane. "That's right! Throw 'em out the airlock! This man sold us to our enemy. This man is our enemy. And if there's one thing that's good in war, that is right and just and proper, it's slaughtering our enemy! Getting some righteous payback! What are we waiting for? Let's just kill him now!" Guns in the temple. He turns back to the tribunal, his voice moderate: "It'd be easier, wouldn't it? Simpler. Justice of the mob. It's what they want." Your people: these are your people. What they want is revenge: do you give it to them? Do you lay yourself down before that, in them and in you, or are you worthy of your position?
Laura Roslin enters, and seats herself in the stands. "Especially her," he says, pointing. "She's been wanting this for over a year now, ever since he beat her in a free and fair election of the people. Now she gets a chance to exact her revenge upon a man whose only real crime is bowing to the inevitable! Gaius Baltar saved the lives of the people on New Caprica -- where Laura Roslin would've seen us all dead, victims of a battle we had no hope in winning! I don't know about you, but I'm glad she wasn't the president when the Cylons arrived and said, 'Surrender, or die.' I owe my life to Gaius Baltar and the decision he made that day. And so does Laura Roslin." And he's right by being wrong: if Laura Roslin were President, they'd never have settled. That was the point of the election. But the higher point of all elections is something she schemed to take away, and only a last-minute save from Bill kept her and Tory from going there. This whole season is just one question: when you preserve humanity, what are you preserving? When you put guns in the Temple, when you steal the election, when you kick Cavil dying in the dirt, when you toss Jammer out the airlock. When you co-opt the judiciary, when you tell Chief he matters, when you tell a woman her child has died, and send her out into the Fleet. When you look your father in the face and tell him you're doing this because you love the law. You're killing somebody for stealing a box with nobody inside, and that's not war. That's getting lost and needing desperately to find your way home. The Pegasus is with us still, and only something massive and unexpected could ever save them now. This whole season is just one question: why do you do the things you do, and how strong can you let yourself be, in the name of what is right?