Gemma has driven to the middle of nowhere, forest edition, where an Airstream trailer is parked in a sandy clearing. It's surrounded by all sorts of domestic detritus that suggests the occupant knows he or she is supposed to make a home here, but doesn't have the will or energy. Gemma gets out, pounds on the screen door (which is about to fall off the hinges), and we see the erstwhile Sheriff Unser. He looks about as good as his surroundings. He berates Gemma for knocking so loud, and she says, "I thought you might have up and died on me." "If I did, knocking louder ain't gonna help," he snaps. "I've been known to wake the dead," Gemma says. Then she pushes her way in with a "Jesus, Wayne! You told me you were going to hire somebody to help you out." Unser blusters some, and one look around the trailer -- framed commendations, a fishing trophy on the wall, stacks of detritus everywhere -- suggests he's in a bad way. That Unser's hair is a mess and he's in a stained, holey t-shirt and completely unaware of what day it is only underlines that point. He's gone to pieces since losing his job. He may also be incredibly stoned. Gemma asks how Unser's new meds are, and he says he quit taking them. "Wayne --" Gemma beseeches, and Unser says, "I can't afford them, the coverage is shit, so ... all they do is make me puke and sleep." So I'm wondering if he lost his benefits when the San Joaquin sheriff's department took over, or if Charming PD lacks the kind of effective union that guarantees sterling medical coverage and pensions for retired public servants. Eh, it's all academic. The point here is that Unser's a cold mess -- divorced, dying, despairing. Gemma hands over a giant baggie of pot and says, "I noticed your plants weren't doing so well out there." Unser breaks into sobs and says, "Everything is just kind of dying on me." He cries on Gemma's shoulder as she kisses the top of his head.
Cut to the SAMCRO boys who are not Clay, Opie and Jax, all of whom are cuffed and resting against posts on the side of the road as the police car radios into the station. None of them seem especially concerned about logging a parole violation three hours after release. Tig is more concerned with matters of etiquette: "Bobby? You getting anything for Opie?" "I'm just getting them cash," Bobby Elvis says, either forgetting or dismissing any claims that Precious and his wheezy children might have for support. Happy asks Chibs, "How much you giving him?" "A lot more than you, you cheap-ass bastard," Chibs unhelpfully replies. Happy replies indignantly, "I'm not cheap! Just mindful of excessive spending." Squiggy replies, "Dude, you re-use condoms!" and I hope for everyone's sake that he's engaging in hyperbole. Bobby asks Juice what he's getting Opie, and Juice cheerfully says he's giving both Opie and Lyla ten sessions at "Clear Passages." Cut to every biker looking horrified. Juice further explains that he's part-owner of the herbal, colonic and weed shop in question. Tig opines, "That is so disturbing." "Have you ever seen the contents of a lower colon?" Juice asks. Honestly, given their seasoned felon statuses, I'd be more surprised if anyone there had not.