Jesse stomps into the strip-mall parking lot, so angry he doesn't even know where to go. He picks up a loose hunk of curb, carries it over to Walt's car, and then heaves it at his windshield. It doesn't shatter, but the giant cracks spidering away from the point of impact are pretty much an exact replica of what happened after the plane-crash victims hit it. Momentarily satiated, Jesse picks up his bag of money and drives off.
Finally, Hank follows his lone remaining RV lead, and it takes him to the house of our old pal Combo. Of course, Combo ain't there no more so it's his Mom who answers. There's no one to protect anymore, so she eventually answers Hank's questions honestly. There's still sadness and shame in her voice when she talks about her own son, "Christian," stealing her RV and (as far as she knows) selling it for drug money. He was still her son, so she never reported it. "He ran with a bad crowd," she says, "but he was never a bad person." It's funny, you could probably say that about all four members of Jesse's sad little crew. Can you still say it about Walt?
Inside Combo's room, which is still stuffed with the video games and weed posters of a burnout who hasn't been gutshot by a grade-schooler, Hank picks up a photo. It's of Combo, Jesse, and the strippers from their wild night. The look on Hank's face says he's got no problem remembering Jesse, even with all those boobs distracting him. Closer and closer.
Joe R really does love that lawyer. He can be reached for lavish praise and nothing but at email@example.com.
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