The cops lead away Angry Husband, who gently bids his bleeding wife farewell with a tender "See you, bitch." Gallant can be forgiven for momentarily feeling like he walked in on the morning-after end of a Pratt Night Out. As the wife, Amy, gets wheeled away, Gallant hears sobbing in the closet. He goes to open it, and a gunshot cracks through the air, sending a bullet through the door mere inches from Gallant's noggin and his decidedly non-bulletproof knit cap. At least he has the presence of mind to open the door before shitting a brick. A little boy is huddled on the floor of the closet, clutching the gun clumsily. "I thought you were my dad," he gulps. Gallant's knees buckle a little as he sits down and heaves a shaky sigh. We fade to black wondering how thick that closet door is, if the kid couldn't hear the authorities enter and his father get arrested. Also, in the Dad vs Gun race against the laws of physics, gun is going to win, so the kid could've at least waited until the door opened to squeeze the trigger.
In class, Luka explains that if you avoid ordering a needless CT, it saves the patient $2000. "We do ten unnecessary scans a day," Luka insists. Kem sticks up her hand and notes that the costs to get and maintain a scanner are fixed, so if it only performs half the scans, the patients will get charged double just to cover those costs. What? Do they pay a monthly rent on that thing? "Wouldn't the real solution be to have several hospitals share one scanner?" she asks. I get her first point, but this? In what universe? Where would they put it -- a centrally located warehouse? Have a shuttlebus take the patients and their test results back and forth? Luka looks like he'd really enjoy committing her hypothesis to paper, lighting it on fire, mixing it with ground-up glass, and watching her snort it with a rolled-up photo of Carter while he eats prime rib off a hooker's belly.