Back in the present, Lawrence says, "Vern just bitched out. Wanted to forget it ever happened. Not me." Gil says slowly, "So you stole the Hummer...for revenge?"
Cut to the Bickersons, arguing about whether or not he should have gotten directions. No wonder they're so cranky -- their life lacks anything above the clichéd. Anyway, Lawrence gets the Bickersons out of the car by dint of sheer lung power alone, and we see the Hummer heading the wrong way down a one-way street so he can, presumably, strike down the taco master where he stands. Unfortunately for him, he is going down a one-way street, and so runs into opposing traffic from the Fiero. Pontiac wasn't lying about building excitement, were they?
Back in the present, Brass asks, "Let me get this straight. An old man refuses to let you steal his money, so you jacked a Hummer to try and run over his taco stand." Lawrence realizes for the first time that sometimes, if a plan sounds really stupid when spoken aloud, it actually is stupid. He says in a small voice, "Maybe." Gil raises an eyebrow, then tells Brass in a choked tone, "I think this is the dumbest thing we've ever heard." Gil looks like being so close to something so stupid is paining him. It's the best line reading EVER.
And now, Vegas is bright! Shiny! Lights moving! Things rewinding! And now Gil is reverse-brooding! As Sara and Liam go reverse-walking through the Labitrail! And we zoom away from Las Vegas! The Hummer goes backwards! Night becomes day! It's all very exciting and nonlinear.
And now we're at a car show. It's filled with shiny cars and shinier women, and the schlubs who love them. People are gathering as someone extols the virtues of a mobile home: "It's a ski lodge, a beach house, a state-of-the-art virtual office. Your home on the road." Curiously enough, he's neglecting to mention what kind of gas mileage these things get. Is that not a selling point? Anyway, Deluca Motor Coaches is proud to present an interior cutaway of the G-4700, and that's when we find out that in addition to being a ski lodge, a beach house, and state-of-the-art virtual office, this thing also makes an excellent crime scene.
Cut to Warrick walking inside and greeting Vartann. Since the victim is thin, he's suitably outraged over this senseless loss of life. She is Lisa Schumacher, age 29. I should point out that I actually typed in my own name there, as the victim and I share a first name, and our last names both begin with "Sch," have an "m" in the middle, and end with "er." No doubt this is purely coincidental. Warrick muses, "A convention girl." Emergency Backup David plays the naïf for exposition purposes: "A what?" "You know, a model, stripper or showgirl working the convention floor for extra cash," Warrick replies. I can't help but wonder if there's some sort of convention-girl hierarchy depending on what your other gigs are. Anyway, we find out Lisa died at 4 AM, she's got laceration on her lower lip, contusions on her neck, and petechial hemorrhaging. Vartann says soberly, "So she got slapped around, strangled, and maybe somewhere in between she was raped." Warrick notices some streaks on Lisa's neck that don't look like blood, but she's got all sorts of skin and hair fragments under her nails. Well, that's a bonus.