There's a heavy knocking on Rita's door, and I'm going to assume it's FOPpy McGee. Rita, who's wearing an oversized white t-shirt, opens the door warily. "Oh my god," she says, seeing who it is through the cracked door. "Are you okay?" She opens up to reveal Dexter, who looks dejected. He silently walks towards her, and kisses her passionately. Things get heavy quickly, and Dexter reaches down and removes her panties. Face to face, they fuck against a wall in the dark, and it looks like a lot of fun, despite the serious Now We Are Fucking faces they're both wearing. At one point, Dexter puts a weird, vacant face on, and Rita implores him to stay with her, which...seriously, dude. It's the first time you guys are boinking. Pay attention. He throws her down on the bed, and they're both really sweaty. It's pretty hot.
As Rita takes a post-coital nap, Dexter sits up and puts his watch on. Rita stirs behind him and says, "You're sweet." "I am?" "Next time we'll figure out what to tell the kids, so you don't have to sneak out like this." "You want there to be a next time?" he asks sheepishly. "And a time after that," Rita responds, smiling. "Don't you?" "No...I mean, yeah! I mean...I didn't freak you out?" "Dexter," she says, "there's nothing you could ever do that would scare me away." I wouldn't speak so soon, lady. Dexter looks relieved, but confused. You did it, Dex! We're all so proud of you! She really does like you!
Neil Perry again, and I gotta say, this is also getting old. Can we please just get to the part where we find out somehow that he's not the Ice Truck Killer? Because, really. Enough. LaGuerta walks in with a large blue cooler. "I really hope you came to apologize," says Perry, like a douche. "Nope, I came for a consult," says LaGuerta. "And you brought beverages?" This guy's too dweeby to be a serial killer. Apparently, what's in the cooler is from the morgue, and LaGuerta needs an "expert opinion," specifically Perry's. She puts on a pair of rubber gloves, and pulls a head out of the cooler. "We couldn't figure out exactly how the killer cut off this head. Can you?" Perry looks pretty grossed out. "No," he says queasily. "Really? I think you can. I mean, you chop people up, don't you? Maybe you need a closer look." At this, she shoves the head into Perry's face, and he freaks out. "No! Keep it away!" See, dude? I knew it wasn't him. LaGuerta, now satisfied, tells Perry that the medical examiner said that he didn't cut his mother up until she had already died. "Even then, you were too squeamish to cut off her head. Not exactly the same as stuffing roadkill, is it?" "Fuck you!" LaGuerta's got him. "You're not the first groupie to take credit for someone else's work." He tries to bring up how he knew everything about the case, and LaGuerta throws it back in his face by telling him she traced the security breach with IT. "You read all of our reports. You even went out and got a wood-panelled station wagon last month!" Busted, Perry. Sorry, dude. You're a big ol' faker. He admits it.
LaGuerta's meeting with Captain Ast-- er, uh, Matthews and some other dude about Perry, and tells them both that he "recanted his confession this morning." Mathstor wants to know what the hell she's talking about. "I was going over some details with him at county, and he admitted that he gave us a false confession. He's a wannabe, Tom. Just wanted his fifteen minutes, that's all." "How do know which time he was lying?" Mathstor asks. Silence. "All due respect, Maria, if we dropped charges every time someone recanted his confession, our jails would be empty. We're going to trial." LaGuerta tells him it's not up to him, but to the DA, and she looks at the other dude, whom I assume works for the DA. "I understand your frustration, Maria, but I reviewed the DA worksheets. The evidence is compelling. We'll move forward with the trial as planned." After a long pause in which Mathstor gives LaGuerta a big snooty I Told You So face, LaGuerta says, "Fair enough. If that's what you two want, I'm fully behind it." Of course you are. Anything to get your seat at the lunch table back, you spineless loser.