A short time later, we've finally hit the cafeteria, and after a schticky bit involving Sam's distaste for prison fare, the boys get down to business. Suspect number one in tonight's ghost hunt happens to be one "Mark Moody," a "psycho killer extraordinaire" and fun-loving Libra whose hobbies included Satanism, ritual murder, and dying in jail. Aside from all of that, he also died of heart failure, which is the same affliction that claimed the recent victims, and he kicked it in the old cell block, which as you'll recall was just reopened after thirty years of disuse that began shortly after Moody keeled over in his cell. "What if he was already cremated?" Sam wonders. Dean supposes that if that's the case, then there's some sort of personal item in the old cell block that trapped Moody's spirit there until the wing's renovation released its unquiet ass to wreak havoc in the main jail, and don't you think they should have covered all of this before they got themselves arrested? You know, maybe in the car on the very long drive from California to Arkansas? Oh, whatever. It matters not, for Dean, thoroughly done with his lunch, now slams down his fork to get himself into a little unintentional mischief -- or is it?
As Sam rises to follow Dean out of the cafeteria, he foolishly spins his head back to make sure they didn't leave anything at the table, in the process accidentally ramming his ginormous form into a graying fireplug of a hardcase I might as well just go ahead and name Mad Dog for the recap. Darling, doomed-in-prison Sam attempts to apologize, but Mad Dog just blows a lot of attitude, so El Deano gallantly steps up to defend Darling Sam's honor. "You talkin' to me?" Mad Dog threatens. "Great," Dean mutters to himself, "another guy who's seen Taxi Driver too many times." "Yeah," he continues, lifting his eyes to meet Mad Dog's in a challenge, "I'm talking to you, and trust me: let it go." Mad Dog appears to back down, and Dean turns to Sam to gloat over his superior inmate management skills, but before he's through his first sentence, Mad Dog's returned with one of his henchlings who, unfortunately for Our Intrepid Heroes, is even larger than The Ginormotron's improbably gargantuan cellmate. Li'l Stumpy bravely soldiers on nevertheless because Sam sucks at the hand-to-hand, and is soon kicking the crap out of Mad Dog, who presently finds himself flat on his back clutching at various body parts after El Deano kicks him in the groin and then knees him in the skull once Mad Dog's doubled over in pain from the initial blow. Barging in on all of the fun are two guards, the more prominent of whom is played by a Canadian character actor named Garwin Sanford, who's been in everything you've never seen that ever filmed north of the border in the last twenty years. (And The Accused, but only as one of the reporters in the courthouse scrum, so whatever.) I must admit, it's terrific casting, because he looks like the sort of capital-P Puritan who'd be the hard-ass guard nightmare of every prisoner, ever.