Episode Report Card
Mr. Stupidhead: B+ | 2 USERS: A+
Fanning The Flames

Dexter walks into the office, and looks into the BHB task force room, where Masuka is gesturing in slow-motion. "They're still playing my tune," Dex VOs. "It's like I'm conducting a final symphony. Requiem For Demonic Dexter." He walks over to the interrogation room monitor, where Doakes is blasting his finger into Wilson's face. "And forming the entire brass section, Sergeant James Doakes. When I reach the end, maybe I can lay to rest the monster formally known as Dexter." I don't think the suits at Showtime would like that very much, bro. "Just hang in there, Mr. Wilson." Yeah, poor guy. I'd be so freaked out. Dexter walks over to Doakes's desk. After looking around, he places his blood report in his inbox, but under a bunch of other files to make it look like it's been there for a while.

In the BHB room, Masuka says, "I've asked a psycholinguist at MIT to analyze our manifesto." Apparently, the guy's computer is able to look at punctuation, misspellings, and sentence structure to create a profile of the killer, and it all sounds very suspect. "Sounds...complicated," says Lundy. "Stay on it." Heh, yeah, anything to keep Masuka out of your face. Lundy then tells everyone to break for lunch, which they do, except for Deb. "Are you alright?" asks Lundy. She says she is. "Anything you want to talk about?" "It's my brother," she offers. She explains that she's upset that and Rita broke up and now he's banging Britty McShit. "I'm just pissed at Dexter. And my boyfriend, who's done nothing wrong, but every time he opened his mouth last night, I just wanted to fuckin' slap him!" "You've been listening to Chopin." "Yeah, I downloaded Nocturne #2 in E-Flat Major," she says. Trust me, you've heard it. It's his most overused pieces. "One of my favorites," says Lundy. Pssh, poser. "It can have this effect on people. It can stir up some dust." "No shit," Deb says with a smile, and leaves. Lundy looks as though he hates to see her go, but loves to watch her walk away, if you know what I mean.

Back in the office, LaGuerta is watching Wilson try to convince Doakes that "Just because you say it doesn't make it true." She looks concerned, and Dexter comes in and says, "Why are we questioning that guy?" "He's a murder suspect." "No, he's not. He's innocent." "What did you say?" "My blood report backed his story. Mr. Wilson found his stepdaughter dead, just like I told Sergeant Doakes at the crime scene." Maria can't believe her ears, and asks when Dexter turned his report in. "Some point before I went home last night. I put it right on the Sergeant's desk, just like he asked. Green folder." LaGuerta goes over and fishes the folder out as Dexter explains that the blood mist was exhaled from the daughter when Wilson tried to revive her. LaGuerta, to be sure, asks if some of the blood couldn't have come from a beating, and Dexter explains that Wilson would have been covered head to toe in that case. Maria heads into the interrogation room, where she tells Wilson he's free to go. "What the hell? Lieutenant, this man is a killer!" says Doakes, offended. "This man has been through enough for one day." She tells Wilson where he can pick up his stuff, and he takes off, but not before giving Doakes a harsh look. Outside, Dexter watches. Doakes immediately starts beefing with LaGuerta, who asks if he even checked the blood report. "I didn't get the blood report!" "It's on your desk, and it exonerates your suspect! We should be out there looking for the real killer!" "Maria, that is not what he told me at --" Yup, there it is. Think about it, Doakes. Think real hard. "Muthafucka. He's good." "Who?" "Morgan. He planned this whole thing. Maria, that psychopath set me up!" Naturally, this only reinforces LaGuerta's idea of Doakes totally harassing Dex, and tells him so. As Dexter watches, Maria laces into Doakes, telling him how this has "nothing to do with Dexter, but everything to do with the poor judgment you've been showing for months..." Excellent. I hope this doesn't backfire, man.

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