Hours later, John investigates adoption records at a furious pace. He searches databases. He delves deep into the theory that Prescott and Elizabeth are his parents. Cue The Memory. Then cue Doe waking up in Vanessa's apartment, only she's lying in a pool of blood beside him on the floor. Oh no! She's dead. Oh no! Contrived Plot Stereotype #43 -- The Dead Witness. This means that John Doe might not ever get to the bottom of this mystery.
Police Station. Frank circles around Doe like a shark circling its prey. I guess John must have tried to explain the whole blacking-out-and-waking-up-miles-away-from-home phenomena he's been experiencing, only Frank's not buying it. John mumbles, "I just wanted to talk to her, about me, about the baby." Frank slams his fist down on the table: "What does that baby have to do with you?" Doe doesn't answer, which prompts Frank to yell, "This Ollie North routine is getting real old real fast." John apologizes. Why did he go back? Why was he giving Vanessa the third degree in the first place? Frank screams, "Now I'm telling you this is starting to paint a really ugly picture here, John." John grabs his head, like it's the source of the entire world's pain, as he explains to Frank that he's been blacking out since the brain test. He huffs. He puffs. Then John says, "These flashes, voices." Frank leans in: "Whose voice? Was it Vanessa's?" John pants and whirls his eyes around like light is their cocaine. Frank continues, "Was she screaming?" John doesn't know. It was all too much of a blur. Frank deadpans, "Well, you'd better start getting it in focus. Just when I was starting to trust you." Frank slams the door and leaves John alone in the interrogation room. There's a single light on the desk, only it looks like a spotlight, shining a circle around the now prime suspect for Vanessa's murder.
From behind the glass, Frank and Captain Jamie look at John writhing on the table, tormented by his visions, tormented by his knowledge, tormented by his torment. Frank: "You and I have seen hell of a lot of horrible bastards." Pause. Is everyone on this show a stereotype who can only talk in platitudes? Frank is a Type A cop, the one who's been on the beat, who knows the streets; similar Type A cops include Lenny Briscoe, Andy Sipowicz, and Sully from Third Watch. He continues, "There's something in their eyes, you can see it. Whoever this John Doe is, I don't think he's one of them." Captain Jamie responds, "I hear you, but that's all you've got, and I can't sell a hunch upstairs, Frank." Jamie continues, "I'm just getting settled in this new job. I can't go out on a limb for a guy who just fell from the clear blue sky, despite how much help he's given us." At this point, Doe is up and pacing around the interrogation room, wallowing in his anguish. Frank purses his lips and looks through the glass before going back into the room. John greets him: "Got an idea that might be able to give you some answers." Frank's not biting: "It's too late for that. The DA's already got you fitted for an orange jumpsuit." John lets out a big sigh. Then he quotes Voltaire, of course. Frank quips, "What, are you a philosophy major now too?" John doesn't get down with the good-natured ribbing. He's all business: "Just five minutes, Frank, please."