Clay then storms out and dispatches Tig to chase down Jax. This being Tig, he does not ask questions. Chibs then hits up Clay to let him know that Juice is MIA. Clay figures Roosevelt's got Juice, but since the club hasn't heard from Lowen, that's not likely. Opie offers to look for Juice up at the cabin. Besides, he should check in with Piney. It is a good thing Clay is wearing sunglasses because otherwise his eyes would be bugging out like a cartoon character. Instead, he's all, "You should stick around! There's pie!" Actually, there's no pie. Which is a pity. And yet Opie lingers, although he gives Clay a sideways look. (I dearly hope this pays off in a future episode.)
Jax is filling up the van at a gas station, sticking his tongue out at the boys to make them laugh. A California Highway Patrolman pulls up right as Tara grabs Abel for a bathroom run. Tara tells him to relax -- "We're civilians" -- and heads out. In the spirit of getting away from it all, Jax then leans into the van and turns off his ringing phone. As he does, a disembodied voice asks, "How'd you like it?" Jax drops the phone in surprise and squeaks out, "Excuse me?" The motorcycle cop says, "My daughter wants one." Jax calms down a bit and says, "Oh! Uh, my old lady loves it. It's hers." The cop nods, as if wanting a minivan is incomprehensible to him. Jax then asks how fast the BMW 1150 the cop's riding is. "Fast enough," shrugs the patrolman. He asks, "You ride?" "Yeah," Jax says with admirable understatement. He and the patrolman talk motorcycles for a bit more, and you can practically see the revelation dawning as Jax realizes plenty of people share his passion for riding, yet do not want to kill him. It is like he has just glimpsed a view into a parallel universe.
Back in this one, Roosevelt is visiting Potter to find out where Juice is. Potter blithely assures him that Juice is in good ATF hands: "Now that he knows of our RICO goals, it's best to keep him sequestered. Until a trust can grow." Because you know what keeps government witnesses safe? Cutting them off from the high-contact, vengeful social group in which they are hopelessly enmeshed. Roosevelt then gives Potter a piece of his mind: "You played me -- worse than the outlaws. All that bullshit about my gang experience, and you just needed a local scapegoat. Let all that shit pile up at my door so you can keep your secret war room concealed. And I jumped in like a goddamn Boy Scout." It's a beautiful piece of work by Rockmond Dunbar, because you can see where his righteous anger at Potter is spiced with a little anger at himself for being so damn trusting and idealistic. Potter's whole attitude -- "You Earth humans and your 'distrest' confuse me" -- only irks Roosevelt further, and he shrugs that Potter's welcome to badmouth him to his superiors, because he's d-o-n-e, done. That bluff blown, Potter then tells Roosevelt that somewhere in the metric ton of paperwork he signed merely to enter the war room, he agreed to do whatever Potter wanted, whenever Potter wanted it. Roosevelt gives him a look that sees right through Potter, then says sardonically, "I guess we play it your way."