Benton sutures Kenny's arm as Kenny sings the praises of his partner, Officer Kimball (formerly Ms. Cop): "She's a good cop. Saved my ass a couple of times. No one ever wants to draw their gun. She was forced to make a split-second decision." "Was she?" Benton asks skeptically. Kenny insists, "She followed the guidelines." Benton sarcastically asks, "They teach you to shoot little old ladies?" Kenny points out, "She could have shot anyone in that hallway, and you know that." Benton says that all he knows is that an elderly black woman is dead. Kenny protests that Officer Kimball is "not like that. At all," adding, "I would have done the same thing." (Officer Kimball is white; Kenny is African-American.) Benton gruffly tells Kenny to hold still. Kenny continues, "Look, you don't know her. You can trust her. She's a good person. She's been raising two kids on her own ever since her husband died. She's had it rough. I'm telling you, [if] this investigation goes the wrong way, you could ruin a good cop's life. She was trying to protect you and your patients -- that's all she was doing. You might want to consider that when you talk to these detectives." Benton sighs dejectedly. I feel him.

Mark is on the phone, trying to track down Dr. Alexander, Laura's gynecologist. Malik shows up with Bo's test results. Mark hangs up and tells Malik they'll have to admit him to the Pedes ICU. They take off.

Down the hall, Luka and Lisa are discussing Emily's case. Luka points out that Emily is only in the seventh grade; Lisa replies that girls are legally emancipated upon pregnancy for a reason, and that Luka can't tell Emily's mother. Luka comments that Emily will have to tell her mother eventually, and Lisa chuckles, "Yes, she will." Luka asks whether it wouldn't be better for Emily to tell her mother now, and Lisa ambivalently agrees that it would. "So, you'll talk to her?" Luka somehow assumes is the appropriate end to the conversation. "What?!" Lisa asks. "Maybe she'll listen to you!" Luka offers, and directs Lisa to Emily's room.

As Lisa and Luka pass by, we're back with Mark and Bo. Bo tells Mark that he can just go home and rest, and Mark replies that they really need to call Bo's parents. Bo says they won't be back until 8 or 9. Mark asks whether either of them has a cell phone or a pager, and Bo tells Mark not to bother trying to reach them. "We really do," Mark says firmly. Bo looks terrified and asks, "What is it?" With no preamble at all -- and, look, I know Bo is a punk and all, but he's twelve! -- Mark declares, "You're in liver failure." Bo takes the news rather calmly, considering, and asks, "How'd that happen?" Mark judges, "You need to huff pretty much every day to hurt your liver." Um. Hi. He's your patient. He's a kid. Could you not lean on him quite so heavily after giving him this pretty devastating news? If this is the way you act around pre-teens, Mark, I feel a lot more sympathetic toward Whiny Rachel than I used to. Bo counters that people drink every day, and Mark announces, "This is worse." Is it? Don't alcoholics suffer liver failure, too? Isn't it the same? Bo can't believe it's worse, and Mark gruffly says that they need to start looking for a liver donor for Bo. Way to sugar-coat it! GOD! Mark flatly says, "You could die if you don't have a liver transplant." No fool he, Bo suspiciously asks, "Is this another one of your scare tactics?" Mark says it isn't. I guess Mark doesn't need a "tactic," because he's plenty scary already. Didn't Mark have some kind of bedside manner, once? I barely remember that.