Back at the veterans' bar, it's Fight Night at last, and Tom the bartender is working over Sagorsky pretty well. The gathered vets are all cheering and making a ruckus, while in their midst, Richard Harrow just stands silently and observes the whole scene. Sagorsky mounts a comeback, though, and knocks Tom down. However, the crowd is decidedly with Tom, and when he gets up and starts really pounding on Sagorsky, they cheer even louder. Sagorsky goes down after one final uppercut, and the crowd joins Tom at the bar for a celebratory drink. Only Richard lingers behind to see if Sagorsky is all right.
In D.C. lockup, Nucky cools his heels and makes friends with one Alby Gold, a small time hooch-slinger with a still in his basement, who says he was caught with "quite a haul" -- five cases! A week's worth of work. Nucky's kind enough not to mention how small-time that makes Gold in comparison to him. He just asks him if it's worth it. "There's gotta be easier ways to make a buck." Gold says if there are, he hasn't found them.
Outside the veterans' bar, Richard tends to Sagorsky, helping him put on his clothes and listening while he rambles about the Philippines and about how this bullshit drinking ban robs the American soldier of his God-given right to a drink. Sagorsky's daughter pulls up to collect her dad, and you get the impression that this is not a rare occurrence. Richard helps her walk him to the car and she thanks him. She introduces herself as Julia, and from the way his gaze follows her as she drives off, I'd say Richard is a bit infatuated. Richard watches the car drive away, but then realizes Sagorsky left behind his coat, and with it his medal for distinguished service.
Back at the Maison Derriere, Gillian is going around the house and collecting all the framed photographs of Jimmy to be put in a cabinet and out of sight. It's sad to watch Gillian take the last vestiges of her son and put them away, a true acknowledgment that he's gone. She's brokenhearted, but it's hard not to be happy for her too. She's moving on! Progress on a personal level! Very happy that nothing is coming along to make her backslide!
Back in D.C., the courtroom where Volstead violations are being heard looks like a cross between a 1920s version of Night Court and a cattle-call for some sad old-timey reality show. The judge is old and cranky and doesn't have time for any of this stuff, and at the prosecutor's table is none other than our old pal Esther Randolph. After failing to convict Nucky last season, Esther's been bumped down to prosecuting the sale of ten cases of liquor to frat houses. The judge isn't eager to waste much time on these small-time cases, and you kind of can't blame the guy if all the cases are like this one: the defendant is clearly guilty, and the fine is only five dollars, so who really cares? That's basically what he tells Ms. Randolph when she objects to this brusque application of justice. "Is this some kind of joke?" she asks. Judge: "This entire undertaking is sort of a joke." Is the worm ever turning on Prohibition, huh?