Matthews tees off, and tells the ball to sit down. Somewhat satisfied with his shot, he turns around to see Dexter approaching. "Well, hello, Dexter." Dexter addresses him as Captain, but Matthews insists on being called Tom. "You start your round yet?" he asks Dex. "I'm afraid Bay Shore is a little outside my pay scale." Matthews gives a chuckle and asks Dexter what brings him out. Dex comes right out with it: "I want to know if there was anything unusual about my father's death." Matthews tells his golf buddies to go ahead without him, and he and Dexter take a walk. At first, he works the "his heart gave out" line, but Dexter says he heard there was more to it than that. "From whom?" "Does it matter?" "I guess it was inevitable you'd find out, one of these days. You know, Harry was a good friend. He was a great cop. But, it's a tough job, and it can wear on even the best of us." "My father was always firmly in control," says Dexter, probably trying to convince himself. Matthews agrees, to an extent: "But towards the end...look Dexter, they system doesn't always work. Sometimes, they get away, you know that. That just got harder and harder for Harry to deal with. That's what did him in in the end." "What did? What am I missing, here?" Matthews waits for a second, thinking of how best to put it, then finally just says it: "He killed himself, Dexter." Whoa. Dexter asks how, and Matthews reveals that Harry's autopsy showed an OD on his ticker meds. Dexter tries to rationalize, saying that people accidentally overdose all the time, but Matthews tells him that Harry called him the day before, asking him to keep an eye on Deb and Dex. "I didn't realize what that call meant, until he was gone, so I made sure that autopsy never saw the light of day. I was looking out for the two of you." Dexter looks pretty devastated, and Matthews tells him earnestly how sorry he is. He offers to take Dexter into the clubhouse for a drink, so they can talk some more, but Dexter says no and walks away. "The legendary Harry Morgan, force for justice, architect of all that I am. Suicide. It doesn't make sense."
Lundy's sitting on a bench outside the station, looking over Doakes's files, when LaGuerta approaches. "I have good news," she says. "I could use it," he replies. "Whaddya got?" "Proof," she says, "that James Doakes can't possibly be the Bay Harbor Butcher." She hands him a notebook, which he takes with a weary look. He opens the notebook as LaGuerta explains that it contains her fastidious notes from a stakeout that she and Doakes worked together. "Very detailed," Lundy comments. "We were doing surveillance when one of your new victims went missing. James and I were holed up in a motel room twenty-four seven for two weeks. He didn't have time to piss, let alone abduct and murder a man." Lundy tells her that he respects her compassion for her friend, "but I'm afraid this proves nothing." He hands her the notebook. "No, it proves that he was with me!" Lundy stops her, and explains that despite the thoroughness of her notes, he can't use them. "You can't just ignore legitimate evidence!" she shouts. "I can, and I will ignore it, because you gave me no choice, lady! Those are your personal logs, and your credibility was compromised the second you failed to report a phone call from the subject of a goddamned FBI manhunt!" He goes on to tell her she breached protocol and ethics, and she's lucky he doesn't charge her with anything. She looks ashamed. "What really pisses me off? You might be right, but in trying to protect your friend, you blew the best shot we had at bringing him in from the cold. Come back to me if you find evidence I can use." Yeah, tell her, Lundy! LaGuerta really screwed the pooch on this one.