Guenzel hanging from the fence in flashback. Beecher gets a visit from his mother. Both forms of castration. Get it? Good. If Beecher got a perm, he'd have the exact same hair as his mother. And he'd look like Weird Al Yankovic. Mother Beecher went to Guenzel's funeral, and saw Olivia Guenzel looking shriveled, and felt sad, as Olivia Guenzel was one of the few sympathetic parties after Beecher's arrest. When she hugged Olivia, says Mother Beecher, she grabbed her ass. Well, not really, but she had some human but guilt-inducing thought that reveals a lot about Beecher's own self-immolating tendencies. Then she pulls out a valentine from Beecher's daughter. Beecher radiates guilt.
Guilt that drives him to Franklin, to offer help and to explain that Franklin doesn't have to endure Schillinger's naughty caresses. "Like you helped Adam Guenzel?" asks Franklin, who won't pull his own weight in the Beecher redemption scheme. Finally, under searing pressure from inside his head, Beecher cracks. In an interaction with Pete. Said wants to hear what Beecher has to say; Schillinger warns Beecher to not say it. Pete, however, finally sees a way into the salacious details and brooks no dissent as she shoos Schillinger and Said out of the room, intent on slaking her thirst for knowledge. We're spared the sharing, thankfully, and zoom straight to Leo explaining to Schillinger that he's been tried by a rainbow coalition of his peers and found guilty of a "fuck and fry" regarding Adam Guenzel. And that he'll be exploring new real estate options in solitary. "Nice color," says Vern of his new home as the door swings shut.
Keller, shirt open, tie undone, returns to his cell. Pete swings out of the shadows to ask about his trial. Found guilty. The shirt comes off. Pete sighs. As good as dead. The pants come off, and Keller's doing a freeball -- no panties! Pete suddenly snaps to, eyes riveted to Keller's impressive plumbing, swaying free for all of us to enjoy. The potential sexiness of the scene evaporates when Keller says, "Show me your tits." Were that to happen, it might just eclipse Robson's mouth. She tells him to stop it with the nastiness; he pleads that a bad mood, prior control of penis, and his simple but unrealized desire to share his love with another person have led to inappropriate boundaries. "Im-po-tence," whispers The Power Outage Of Overblown Symbolism, straining to return and plunge everyone into darkness even deeper than the metaphorical stuff that surrounds this show like a fog. Keller, now clothed and retreating deeper into his "I'm Sexy, Dark And Intense" costume, says he wants to die by electric chair. "I want the juice," he hisses, "I want to go out on a charge." Pete looks like she wants another glance at Keller's dong.