At Gleason's Arena, a boxing facility, Benton talks to manager Tom Lindeman. Tom argues that Ramos is a Christian man with a wife and kids, so he ended the affair with Valerie because he recognized it as a terrible mistake. "He may have been an animal inside the ring, but outisde, he's a decent, loyal guy," Tom says. "What, did his Church share space with the S&M parlor?" Wallace wonders aloud. That doesn't sound so foreign to me -- plenty of religions promote self-flagellation.
Next up is Pablo, the trainer, who is coaching another boxer. This man is talented, understanding that when your trainee is on the ropes bleeding and barely clinging to consciousness, it's time to pause. Benton complains that Tim's account of Ramos and Valerie was too glowing. "[Ramos] carries his Bible in one hand and his [penis] in the other," grins Pablo. Yeah, that is one heck of a Church. Pablo says they're both philanderers, calling Ramos dangerous after the way Valerie toyed with him. "You were at the fight -- he let his machismo get in the way, and you saw what happened," Pablo says. "You don't want to piss off a Mexican fighter." Oh, but feel free to get all up in Mike Tyson's face. He'll only have a tiny nibble.
O'Neill harasses Benton again about how he let Valerie leave alone at 3 AM. As Benton shouts "no comment," the mean female cop drives by and glares at him.
Benton drops by to see Yacqui Ramos, who shoos away his wife and child in order to chat about his Valerie exploits. Downstairs in Ramos's trophy room, there's a huge framed photo of a boxer's fist pounding on his face. What a special, cherished picture. Whenever I feel low, I often crave nothing more than the simple comfort of a photograph in which blood and tooth enamel are flying from my gaping maw as I get publicly pummeled. "When you're hit hard, it never hurts," Ramos says, dreamily. "It's, like, peaceful. Serene. For a moment, you feel God's love." And the rest of the time, you hurt with the white-hot pain of a thousand trucks slamming into your body. Oh, but God loves you. He then asks Wallace why he's chasing him around as a suspect in Valerie's murder. Ramos argues that he didn't even have time to notice where Valerie went, because he was getting the shit beaten out of him by a rioting crowd. Plus, it doesn't make sense that he'd wait around in his boxing trunks outside Benton's building just for the purpose of killing Val. "She had that effect on people," Wallace says, speaking from a level of experience only slightly greater than his depth of knowledge about Ultra Slim-Fast. "The first time I saw her, I thought, 'She's doing every fighter in town, or she's not doin' nobody,'" Ramos recalls. The boxer admits that Val only wanted him for the "boom-boom juice." In her coffin, Valerie slaps her forehead and grouses, "I could've had a V-8." Wallace manages to extract the names of several fighters who screwed Valerie, and Ramos confirms that basically everyone banged her -- except for Pablo. "Pablo likes to watch," Ramos said.