They're interrupted by the high school equivalent of a process server, who hands a note to "Cameron Baum," saying, "Mr. Harris wants to see you."

Mr. Harris is the school counselor who hangs out at solemn memorials for suicidal high school students and yells at people to come for therapy. Sitting across from Cameron in his office, he says he knows this is difficult for her, but people have been saying she was the last one to talk to Jordon before she killed herself. "Is that true?" he asks her. "I don't know. Are you asking me if people say I was the last person to talk to Jordon? Or are you asking me if I was the last person to talk to her?" Of course, the answer to both questions is "I don't know," isn't it? He asks her what they talked about, and Cameron does a pitch-perfect imitation of Jordon's talking about the "freaking big" paintings, to the point that I thought Cameron was unwisely actually replicating Cameron's voice with her Terminator technology. Harris stares at her, and then looks at a photograph of the painting. "It's freaking big," points out Cameron. Harris then asks her if Jordon mentioned anyone by name who was upsetting her. Cameron's answers: Her parents. The hall monitors. Harris keeps asking "Anyone else?" to the point that Cameron notes he asks it an awful lot. I think we're safely looking at the other silhouette in the painting here. Cameron cocks her head: "Is there anything else you want to tell me?" Harris, bewildered, says he doesn't think he told her anything. Cameron asks if she can go: "I'm done with grief counseling, and I feel much better." Harris dismisses and watches her go. Scouting out a replacement for Jordon, perhaps.

Brian Austin Green paces his tiny cell, C-7. A guard knocks on the door and tells "John Doe" that he's got a visitor. It's Ellison. They sit across from each other. Ellison asks if BAG's manacles are too tight, and then explains it's a common ploy for the shackles to be put on too tight so the interrogating officer can loosen them, thus establishing a connection with the prisoner. It doesn't work if you tell the prisoner, agent! Ellison is like the cop version of that magician who kept going on FOX to expose tricks of the trade. "But we already got a connection," says Ellison. He whips out some photographs, of bar code tattoos and dead people. He talks about the safe at the crime scene, which was emptied by someone who knew the combination. BAG stays silent. "So, we've got you running from the scene of Andrew Good's murder. And we've got you living at, and disappearing from, and most likely returning to, the scene of these three murders." But that's not all! Ellison's got forensic evidence that connects the triple murder to more murders! BAG stares at all the photographs and asks what the forensic evidence that connects them all. He speaks! And, sad to say, David Silver's voice has still not broken. Blood, says Ellison. "Not my blood," says BAG. No, and technically not actual blood, says Ellison: "Some kind of synthetic." That gets BAG's attention. Ellison asks BAG to tell him something he doesn't know. BAG stares at Ellison for a few moments. "We're all gonna die."