Meanwhile, his brothers are tearing through the mountains, past the big slice of redwood bearing the legend: "Welcome to Charming. Our name says it all. Population 14,679." Then, as the club rounds a corner, they see heavy equipment at work clearing trees and moving ground, and a sign informs us that Charming Heights is coming soon: "New custom homes: Small town living, modern luxury." Your lyric accompanying this revelation: "What a thing to tell/ the poison in the well." Would you all like to know how luxurious these places are: "Granite accents, limestone detailing, teak and mahogany flooring options, Italian stone builders, customizable deluxe living spaces, infinity pools." I look forward to finding out how Hale & Associates (developers) and Oswald Construction (contractors) think they're going to convince the type of buyers who want masstige semi-custom options for their McMansions to sink their money into an area with no discernible tax base or commerce.

Clay and the rest of the guys haven't thought this through to the "Who in Sam Hill is going to buy these luxury houses in a remote area in the midst of an economic downturn? Nobody!" conclusion. They're merely horrified by the fact that this project exists at all. Or perhaps they're horrified that known arsonist Opie hasn't taken any initiative with this development yet.

Anyway, we zip to the barbershop in town, and we meet the new sheriff right as Floyd the barber (hee!) is clipping him bald as an egg. The sheriff rolls out the door, and we see a lot of uniforms and SUVs just hanging around. Across the street, a lanky man we've never seen before strides toward his own motorcycle, absently patting the pockets of his jacket. The gentleman in question looks like the end result of a breeding experiment between Abraham Lincoln and Tom Petty. And for all that he's got a bike, he's not MC material.

SAMCRO comes rolling into town and all those law enforcement SUVs pull out and block the main street. Our new man quietly rolls away, unnoticed, as SAMCRO stops. Clay unsnaps his helmet and drawls, "If you're the welcoming committee, I was hoping for flowers, maybe a Bundt cake." The sheriff smiles and says easily, "I'm sorry -- no cake." Then he fills us all in: Charming is now under the jurisdiction of the San Joaquin sheriff's department and he, Lieutenant Roosevelt, is the new sheriff in town. Although Jax is giving him lip, Roosevelt calmly points out, "The conditions of your release state no gang colors or identifying clothing may be worn in public." And according to the federal government, SAMCRO qualifies as a gang, "so the next time I see any one of you who got out today wearing cuts, well ... they'll belong to me. We clear? Welcome home, gentlemen!" Roosevelt finishes with the kind of friendly smile that usually accompanies the sentiment "Have a nice day," as opposed to "I will watch you like a shark watches a sea lion."