Back at Once I Had A Bite Of A Latke State Correctional Facility, the red Jetta pulls into an empty spot and Maria "Unapologetically Present Navel" steps out. And the no-longer-subtle process of Mariah-Carey-ization continues almost unabated. Even her skin is getting all waxy and shiny and ambiguously pigmented. She steps out of the car muttering the tired ol' saw about Utah I've been draining the remaining mileage from for the better part of forty minutes, steps into Liz's cell, happily demands some "sugar" from Liz (Liz just looks confused; the only way to elicit such a condiment from her would be to insert the correct change or a crisp dollar bill), and passes her some contraband pie she's smuggled in the place. Liz pointlessly offers, "If you were a boy," only so Maria can warn her to not "go there, girlfriend." "Don't go there, girlfriend"? What's the 411 on that exhausted expression? It's not mint anymore, at all. Liz awkwardly digs into the pie while Maria fills Liz in that the important people in town are trying to lynch Liz and Max because there haven't been any arrests made for violent crime in their county since the last time a witch was burned or something. Maria ill-advisedly hides a flashback inside the damn pie, and Liz eats it up whole.
It's nookie o'clock in the year of the Bad Touch when we land some time before. Liz, on top of Max on top of a chair, asks Max, "Do you love me?" She hands Max a piece of paper with a photo and description of the exact diamond that they're looking for to turn on the spaceship (I can't believe I'm actually writing these words). Where's the diamond, Liz? "It's on permanent loan at the Tate Museum in London. But it's gonna be the main event in the traveling exhibit. It'll be in Santa Fe in two weeks." I don't think I need to point out what a darned coincidence this is, do I? Eeexcellent then, thanks.
And speaking of the nookie, we cut to Sideshow Jesse's hotel room, where Isabel enters in an extremely professional fashion and says, "Thank you for this meeting, Mr. Ramirez." No problem, he says. And there really is no problem, for the door closes and then, between them, there is love. Carrying the boss's briefcase. Good career move. Boning the boss's daughter. GREAT career move. Smacky "mmmemrreegghghh" noises ensue for a blissfully non-recapped many minutes. She extricates herself from Sideshow Jesse's lips (they're her favorite part. You can just tell) for long enough to ask what he and her father are not telling everyone else. And so he comes clean: "Last year there was a robbery in the county. A kid died. No one was ever charged and the local prosecutor has taken a lot of heat for it. They picked a bad place to play Bonnie and Clyde." You can practically hear Max bellow from his far-off cell, "It's Thelma and Louise, you idiots! And I'm Thelma. SHE ALWAYS GETS TO BE THELMA!" The phone rings, and Merry Mason tells Jesse that "they found evidence." He makes off in a hurry, and the UPN execs high-five and whisper among themselves, "We even got him into the opening credits and everything. Take that, lily-white WB. If we keep this diversity thing up, we can air this train wreck on any night of the week and we won't even have to explicitly mention that he's, y'know, like, foreign and stuff." Good for the UPN, I say. Really. Good for them.