After the break, Mara arrives at Henriksen and Reidy's temporary office in the Little Rock police headquarters and attempts to discuss the many "inconsistencies" she's found in Our Intrepid Heroes' case. For instance, was Henriksen aware that a police detective in Baltimore swears that the boys not only saved her life, but also helped capture a murderer? Was Henriksen further aware that one of the victims of the Milwaukee hostage situation also swears the boys saved her life as well? Henriksen is aware of all that, thank you very much, but as Henriksen doesn't have time to listen to the babblings of crazy people, Henriksen would be most appreciative if Mara took her pretty little face and her wacky little bits of testimony somewhere far away from his temporary office in the Little Rock police headquarters, because the "grownups are trying to get some work done here." Mara, appalled at Henriksen's caddish behavior, clutches her nonexistent pearls and exits.
The Clink. Sam and Randall -- remember him? The guy from the pre-credits sequence? Yeah, neither did I -- mop a bathroom floor. Insert your own reference to the circumstances surrounding Jeffrey Dahmer's most deserved demise here. Or, actually, you can sort of wait until Supernatural inserts that reference for you. After some awkward icebreaking on Sam's part, they strike up a casual enough conversation in which Sam learns that Randall was the primary inmate present the night The Goatee died. Randall's awfully cagey about the details, though, but he does inadvertently let slip that he was a "regular customer" over in the older cell block back in the day, and Sam learns to his barely concealed amazement that Randall was also present the night Mark Moody died over thirty years ago. "It was a heart attack, right?" Sam asks. "Sure," Randall wryly replies. "His heart stopped right after a guard stopped using his head for batting practice." See? Remove "guard" from that sentence and insert "fellow inmate infuriated that Dahmer basically got away with butchering and cannibalizing over twenty-five blacks, Latinos, and Asians," and you've got the story of dear little Jeffy's rather just end. In any event, Randall's not done with the reminiscing: "Next morning I was in his cell, mopping up the blood? What a mess." You know, I think I've been staring at the screen for too long, because I'm starting to pick up this eerie resemblance between Jeff Kober and Jared Padalecki. A casting director could do worse than to toss these two guys into a movie as father and son. I think it's the hair. In any event, Sam's gigantic brain lingers on the mess Moody left behind and, mindful of Dean's earlier assurance that something of Moody's must have tethered his unquiet spirit to the old cell block, leads him rather craftily to inquire, "Exactly how much blood was there?"