Cut to Lois and Frank. She's inside and he's outside. Each is playing to their strengths, i.e. he's making it his personal mission to irritate others and she's having a freak-out. Eventually, Lois realizes she can leave her house -- she'll just have to hop out the back window.
Outside the compound, Bill's GMC is pulling up to Henricksons' homes plus. He gets out of the car -- time to meet with the wives and spring the news that they're all about to get home alarm systems. Margene protests that there's no need for her house to have one because she's got nothing valuable. Bill's all, "Tough noogies. The security firm comes out tomorrow." Barb asks worriedly, "Do they know about us?" Bill's not worried about that. He then lies about how this is all because they have assets to protect and they're moving up in the world, instead of saying, "This is because one of my fathers-in-law is trying to shake me down for money." He claims that because he's been on TV for the store, crazed stalkers might try something. It's a measure of the wives' collective brainpower that they don't buy it. "Is there something you're not telling us?" Barb demands to know. "If there's something going on, Bill, you should tell us," Nicki adds. "Sometimes? When I'm in the kitchen at night? And there's all that glass? It feels like someone creepy's looking in on me!" Margene reports. Oh, Margene. So easily led. That, or a Keyser-Soze-level manipulator whose subtle machinations are still hidden. Bill is all, "I am a lousy liar, and now my wives are having a wiggins! Let me keep referring to this venture as a 'home invasion system,' because that won't stoke their irrational fears at all!"
Speaking of irrational, here's Roman rewriting the early history of the Church of the Latter-Day Saints so it justifies taking middle-school-aged multiple wives. And he's got a mural to help his cause! Alby is hovering behind him like a pathologically friendly vulture, and there are two reporters who are taking all this in. Alby then gets in his creepy quota for the week by turning to the press and saying, "You may take a photograph of our mural, if you'd like." It's plain that he's aiming for friendly-yet-authoritative like dear ol' Dad, but he's landing on "thug who thinks he's a people person." The reporter whips out a recorder and asks if it's okay, so Alby takes that as license to show her his machine too.
Roman informs the reporter that "we alone have kept the principle alive. We are the one, true church." The reporter asks, "And the violence? The coercion of young girls? The abuses committed against children?" Roman leans forward and says, "We...root it out. We crush it." Well, it is hard to actively abuse children when you're dumping them in Salt Lake City and driving off, I s'pose. Roman goes on to say he's got 31 children and 187 grandchildren (clearly, Nicki's slacked off, as she's four shy of the average) and he loves every one of them. He adds, "A lot of times, their mothers will say, 'Leave Grandpa alone' and I'll say, 'Let them come to me.' Precious darlings, all of them." When I write that out, it doesn't seem nearly so sinister as it sounded. Alby then prods, "And the gays, Papa. The homosexuals." Roman eventually grabs the cue and says, "If the Supreme says yes to the privacy rights of homosexuals, truly it's time to recognize our rights too." And, um...no. I'm sorry, but you're not comparing apples to apples there. To quote columnist Cathy Young: