Staff meeting. Glynn tells everyone that he's been asked to pick a member of the staff to travel to South Africa for a conference on human rights, and whoever is chosen had better book a connecting flight though Heathrow Airport, 'cause a trip to Africa sounds like the red-eye express to Non-Contract Renewals-Ville these days. Officer Claire, I'm looking at you. Tim is soon to bust in on this meeting with a slam, and launches right into his own agenda. He wants to talk about "Officer Howard's memorial service. Y'know, it's important, consarnit, because the man was killed right in front of me." Yeah, and like twelve other people in that room, as well. Oh yeah, and he didn't really say "consarnit." His hands are shaking because that's what happens when a person goes crazy, I guess.
Cut to the service itself, where Ray is ending his eulogy and introducing McManus, who wants to "say a few words." And these, much to the shock of all, are the words he chooses to say: "Joe loved to bet on the horses. And so, in honor of him, I would like to..." At which he breaks into an unusually heartfelt and vibrato-dependent version of Stephen Foster's ode to equine worship, "Camptown Races." Which, truth be told, I can barely even hear over the incessant tearing sound of McManus becoming completely unglued. Sister Pete looks on in barely-constrained horror, Ray and Gloria avert their eyes as much as it is possible to do when rubbernecking at the emotional car wreck their boss has become, and Officer Claire sits in back smiling broadly, as if she has simultaneously won both the battle and the war.