Schillinger delivers the mail. He gives Beecher, who's playing cards with Keller, a note on Cartier stationery, then laughs about Beecher's wife. Beecher ignores him and reads the note. He tells Keller that it's from Genevieve. "She says that I did it. I killed her just like that little girl." Well, that's the guilt that keeps on giving. He stomps off.

Beecher comes into the visiting area and asks an older woman (it's his grandmother, and I totally recognize the actress from All My Children, which is pathetic) where the kids are. She tells him they're in the playroom, but she asks him to wait, and tells him that the kids were the ones that found her. Ugh. You know, I bet the psychiatric profession mourned the systematic thinning of the Beecher herd, because the therapy bills this family would have generated would be enough for several yachts and college educations, I'd wager. She begs him to go slowly, and wonders whether they should have come this soon, as the kids are still in shock. Beecher seethes and looks through the window at his kids. Suddenly we're in a flashback, as the drum of Oh God, They're Not Really Going There crashes a warning. Beecher's kids, cutely decked out in their bicycle helmets, open the garage door as birds incongruously chirp. Luckily, there's a lot of smoke, and they cut away before we see anything, although we do just catch the son starting to run away in horror. Of all the visceral reactions this show has provoked in me, this one was way up there, and that's saying a lot. In the present, Beecher says he understands, but then snaps, "Get them the fuck out of here." Oh, no no no, Toby. I wouldn't say I have a very extensive moral code, but number one on my list is that you don't say "fuck" to your grandmother. That one's non-negotiable. The grandmother collects the kids as Beecher watches sadly.

Keller is woken up by the sound of Beecher crying. Keller asks what's wrong, and Beecher sobs that he's completely fucked up his life. He says he's all alone, but Keller hugs him from behind and says he's not. Then he slides his hand down and grabs Beecher's dick, which is hanging out of his boxers. Upon examination as close as my DVD player would allow, I think that was a prosthetic, but points for the idea, anyway. Beecher throws Keller off and tells him not to touch him. Yeah, I think you jumped the gun a little bit, Chris. But only a little.