Wallace and Charlie pop out of a grim stairwell onto a building's roof. "Beautiful day in the hood," sighs Wallace. Charlie's bitter and skeptical of Wallace's motives for toting him and not Beth. He thinks it's a racial thing: "You know, the old salt-and-pepper team; bring in the trophy Negro sidekick to camouflage your bad white self." Wallace doesn't deny it, which is a wonderful step for a primetime show to take in our global struggle to improve race relations. It's also especially cute that Wallace uses students, especially his only African-American student, for what is essentially slave labor. Brilliant concept. Maybe next week, someone will work in a swastika somewhere. Charlie climbs up near the top of the drainpipe and pulls out a gun wrapped in protective paper. "The smoking gun," he says, awed.

Wallace gives Klein the skinny: the gun is apparently Bradford's, and Benton has a technician comparing the gun's bullets to the slugs from the dead bodies in Williamsburg, both of whom were killed the same day as the first Speedy Burger slayings. Either the New York Ledger has its own forensics staff, or Wallace wields way too much clout for this show to be anything but irritatingly false. The technician shouts out, "Absolutely, 100\%, on the money." Klein is dense. He's not drunk enough to be an ace crime-solver, and asks Benton to spell this scenario out pho-net-i-cal-ly. "I visited Bradford and he gave up the gun," Benton says. This must've transpired off-camera, and is so fully, thoroughly, completely implausible that the writers probably couldn't even conceive of a way to craft the scene. Klein cackles, because this is all so rich. "This guy was born to be hanged," he giggles. Benton develops a moral core and snaps, "You can't let that happen to Washington. He [just] robbed a few burger joints with an empty gun." I love how Benton, the hard-nosed bulldog reporter, bought this story about the angelic non-violent Jimmy Washington after a five-minute session with two felons and a visit from the kid's loving mummy. He's easy. And why didn't he talk to them in 1998 before crucifying them in his column? God, I'm gonna go postal here in a minute. Klein blathers that unless the real killer confesses in full, B&W are toast.

Benton and Beth appear at Chantal's place. Wallace lies that he talked to Tyrell, who happily spilled his guts over the telephone. Glibly, Wallace fibs that a frightened Tyrell wants to implicate Chantal. "He's gunning for you," Benton booms. "He sure as hell seems ready to let you help him take the fall by ratting your rear end out." Benton implies that Chantal told her brother everything about the robberies, down to how much was stolen and the french-fry detail. That enabled him to commit copycat crimes that turned murderous. "I didn't do anything!" shouts Chantal, but Benton persists and insists she even went so far as to cut a key to the backdoor. Chantal says nothing, but looks warily at Wallace. We know she'll cave.