But there's Isabel, looking for the hair extensions she clearly left on Michael's head one fateful night, marching up to the teacher and his pupil, telling Michael she needs to talk to him. Fussy Bio compliments Isabel on her hair and walks off. Isabel fills Michael in with a sentence about Max and Liz and Utah. Michael notes, "So much for ever getting out of this school" and walks out of the school.
Seedy Utah Underbelly is ready for its close-up. We're back at the police station, seemingly ten minutes later, Isabel and Michael rushing in. Roswell, New Mexico to Salina, Utah: six million miles. Travel time: nine seconds. Merry Mason, smiling away, introduces Isabel to a lawyer named "Jesse Ramirez." His position in the office is "from my office." I think his job tasks include a) carrying his boss's briefcase and b) wearing a nicely tailored suit so his boss doesn't have to and c) sleeping with the boss's daughter. Oops! We're not supposed to know that yet. The Evans parents, the Parkers, Michael, Isabel, and Jesse stand around in a circle, filling us in: Max and Liz are first-time offenders, there was no gun, and the only witness was "the nutcase behind the counter who claims to have seen an otherworldly yellow light." God. Please leave poor, suffering Sam alone. He's toiled so long to make the place his own. Isabel makes sure to focus the action appropriately: "So, as long as there's no evidence, Max and Liz will be okay, right?"
Cut to inside of Max's cell, with Max launching in: "There's an underground government storage facility underneath the convenience store." Deadpanning duties? Isabel's on it: "Well, that's a surprise." Max continues that their spaceship is there and that it's been "reassembled." Isabel thought they made an agreement to "let go of the other world and live here." But it's all about Max. Max, Max, Max, and he says that that deal was off after his son tried to contact him. Isabel reminds Max that the spaceship "sucks. It's a lemon. It crashed to begin with. That's why we're stuck here." Not to mention the obvious fashion crisis of spending the better part of fifty-five years AWOL from your ruled minions, only to reassert power by pulling up in the interplanetary version of an Edsel. An out-of-date auto just doesn't garner the most respect among your people, is all. Just try it out for size: "Hey, look! It's the President of the United States! And he's leading the motorcade! In a cherry red Corvette with a spoiler and a blaring Styx eight-track!" Max tell them he needs help finding the diamond. Isabel says she's not helping. She must really hate Styx.