Cut to Dr. Turner in Price's office saying, "This is insane!" Well, yes it is, but Steven Bochco has a pretty good track record and CBS needed to fill some programming holes. Lilian Price says that the criminal they just brought in, Mr. Keane, has chronic hepatitis and is going to get the coveted $126.55 liver. "So let him get in line," Turner says. Price says the man is a 2A and Malcolm is a 2B on the donation list scale, so the criminal has priority. Turner tries to find ways around it, like transferring the man to San Diego, but the liver would just follow him, like in a bad horror movie. Turner slams his fist into a shelf and says he won't just stand by while a young boy loses the only chance he has and there's still half an episode to go. The criminal, we learn, raped and killed a nun. Price says she's on Turner's side (remember the nookie from the last episode?) and that the entire donor committee agrees. "So call a committee meeting," Turner says. Price says it won't be that easy: Mr. Lawyer McShyster is aggressive. Turner says the lawyer is proposing an insanity plea which would disqualify him as a recipient. Bamboo Heather yawns, bored, from the couch which is unusual because Heather and I thought she was inanimate. Lilian argues that this is a high-profile case and they have to do it by the book. Turner gets frustrated, saying it's clear what the right thing to do is, and storms out. Now, what's the right thing to do, again?
Turner is back in Malcom's room trying to extricate the elongated foot from his vocal orifice. He calls what's happening an administrative glitch while Malcolm and the male nurse play Tomb Raider. Only the sound coming from the TV is some weird crunchy noise, and I'm pretty sure that's not what Lara Croft's ass sounds like. The mother, who is smart and looks a little like Alfre Woodard, asks if it has anything to do with the killer who was brought in to the hospital. Turner confirms that the convict is the same blood type. "But he's a killer!" Malcom's dad says. Malcolm himself, who is as centered as a set of Microsoft Word page margins, asks if he should be worried. Turner says he thinks it'll be all right. "Okay then," Malcolm says, smiling. A tiny halo appears above his blessed skull and angels play harps. "You guys need to quit stressing," he tells his parents. "Dr. Ben Turner is on the case." A tiny halo appears over Turner's head, but it is quickly engulfed in flames and falls off.
Back at the county courthouse, Jackie Chiles, er, I mean Emerald Jordan, is putting questions to an expert in anesthesia. The man, who had a crude chart that says N.P.T. (Nocturnal Penile Tumescence, he informs us) is supposed to test for impotence, kind of like hooking up diodes to test a battery that can't achieve a copper-topped erection. Ordinarily, men get about five to six erections per night, as measured in the flow chart and depending on how recently they watched The Spice Channel. Carlton, the opposing side's lawyer, leans forward and watches intently, as if this whole presentation constitutes soft-core porn. The medical "expert" then shows Amos Sotheby's chart, which could double as a topographic map of Kansas. Nothing, nada. "No erections," the expert says, and Amos looks down, disappointed, like maybe he was expecting to see a chart showing a raging hard-on. The expert describes Amos as "absolutely totally (one hundred percent) not potent." Emerald Jordan says, "Mmm," and thinks, "I am so much more man." Heather asks the TV, "Sir, just how impotent are you?" On cross examination, the expert reveals that lack of sleep could have affected the No Penis Turgidness test. On redirect, the expert acknowledges that spinal injury could have caused Amos's lack of penile fortitude. Ron Harris looks really upset because this case just keeps getting harder and harder [insert punchline here].