Commercials. In the living room of the farmhouse, Cassie, Dean, Sam, and Cassie's mom sit around drinking tea and talking about the truck attack. Cassie says it seemed that no one was driving the truck and that it disappeared suddenly. Sam addresses Cassie's mom: "Mrs. Robinson [which, why that name, really? are we supposed to equate the Mrs. Robinson's free-spirited affair with a younger man with this Mrs. Robinson's love for the black man?], Cassie said your husband saw a truck before he died." Cassie's mom looks crazed and insane. Wonder if she's hiding a secret? Dean talks tough, telling Mrs. Robinson that if she knows something, "now would be a really good time to tell us about it." She says that "Cyrus Dorian died more than forty years ago" and is caught in the lie by Crackerjack Attorney Dean Winchester: "How do you know he died, Mrs. Robinson? The paper said he went missing." Then we launch into the longest and weirdest monologue ever delivered by a soap actress. She tells the story while woodwinds moan in the background. Apparently she was dating both Cyrus Dorian and Cassie's father, Martin, in secret in 1963. She broke up with the racist, who then went crazy when he found out about Mrs. Robinson's star-crossed love for Martin. I'd say you get what you paid for, lady. How's about not dating a racist in the first place? She continues, talking about the rumors of "people of color disappearing into a truck" -- cut to Fat Joe Truck motoring down a road -- "nothing was ever done." Lips are quivering, voices are cracking, and we know something big is coming.The story is that at the last minute Mrs. Robinson and Martin decided to elope rather than get married in the little church outside of town. "The day that we set for the wedding was the day someone set fire to the church" -- cut to an exterior shot of a clapboard church at night, and a blazing branch flying through the air toward it. At this point, my historical sensibilities are so offended that I think I've actually started declaring that the world was created 6,000 years ago. She continues, crying and slobbering a bit, "There was a children's choir practicing in there. They all died." Oh, for the love of underpaid middle school history teachers everywhere, QUIT IT. Sam quietly prods, "Did the attacks stop after that?," setting us up for the big one. One night Cyrus came for Martin in the truck and "beat him something terrible." Cut to shot of Cyrus whaling on Martin with some sort of stick on a foggy road. The scene is visually terrible, and yet still narratively offensive. Martin gets hold of the stick and kills Cyrus. Cut back to the house, where Dean asks Mrs. Robinson why her husband didn't call the cops. She gives him the look I often give my students when they say things like, "I don't need to know how to write," and replies simply, "This was forty years ago. He called on his friends." So Martin and his pals got together, put Cyrus in the truck, and rolled it into the swamp "at the edge of this land." Kathleen Noone is mistaking "deliberate" for "emotionally compelling" in her delivery, but I guess the woman does have a day job playing a "local harridan." Then it comes out that Mayor Whitey knew what had happened to Cyrus, but he didn't do anything about it because he knew what a raging lunatic Cyrus was. Mrs. Robinson laments that "now there's no one left to protect" before Dean reminds her of the daughter sitting next to her.