With all this talk of dreams, there had to be something about the wet ones. It's time. A shirtless Hill talks of the wonderful, wonderful wet dream, which arrives at puberty with thoughts of canoodling with Pam Grier, Barbi Benton (big shout-out to her), or some little white girl from the fifth grade in a slouchy Girl Scout uniform, which for reasons I'd rather not explore grosses me out. As we get older, the wet dreams stop, but by then we're getting laid, so who cares. Until we realize that our partner doesn't fuck like Pam Grier, look like Barbi Benton, or love us as innocently as the Girl Scout. Wow. I can relate to that approximately not at all.
As a television journalist struggles with a sudden onset of narcolepsy, Governor Devlin talks about a new law that brings back the death penalty -- in the form of electric chair or lethal injection -- and sends a clear message to miscreants: "Stop murdering our families." Yes, that's definitely the message it sends, Governor. Pan out to reveal Beecher sitting with Rebadow and Busmalis, and constantly turning around to look behind him. Rebadow wonders what's going on, and Beecher explains that his hunk of burning love returns today, and he's feeling a bit anxious. Yeah, I'll bet that's what he's feeling. He asks Rebadow how he looks. "Anxious." "I was hoping you were going to say 'fuckable,'" says Beecher. Not with that hair, honey. And yuck. And I think he's got some pretty stiff competition from Schibetta in that department. And I so did not need to hear that.
Why, here's Keller now. Back where he belongs. And Leo's there to greet him, a fact that does not go unnoticed by our prodigal son. Keller tells Leo that he's going to be the goodest, bestest boy in Em City this time around, which suits Leo just fine, except that Keller's not going to Em City. Or Unit B. No, Chris Keller will be in protective custody for the time being. Why? He'll see.
Right away, apparently. FBI Guy -- in helpful expository mode -- reminds us that Keller was released by the state of Massachusetts because it was Pancamo, not Keller, who hired the hit man that killed Schillinger's son. Why, wonders FBI, did Keller confess? Keller says he owed Pancamo, which FBI does not believe -- finally, someone who doesn't immediately believe what every prisoner says! Keller tells FBI to prove it, but FBI hints that it doesn't really matter, since there's been a new development in an old murder case against Keller. A witness has come forward in the Brice Tibbetts case -- picked Keller's picture out of a mug file, and tomorrow they're going into town to see if said witness can do the same with a line-up. As Keller and FBI face each other like soldiers, or like there should be a bit of chicka-bowm music in the background, FBI tells Keller that he'll be isolated -- thanks, old news -- but that he'll be moving to death row before long. I'm thinking this is just a bargaining tactic. "Officer, put this caviar on ice," says cool-as-a-cuke FBI.