In Myrtle Beach, Dr. Fugitive is dead asleep on the yacht when two cops come in and muscle him out. Dr. Fugitive groggily gets to his feet and mumbles that he didn't steal anything. On the dock, the cops question him. Of course, they note that he looks familiar but can't quite place which Convicted Wife Killer Running Around The State Of South Carolina he is. One of the cops runs a check on this week's name, Mike Connolly, through a really cool cop car computer, but comes up with nothing. The cop who stayed on the dock kindly tells Kimble he should look for work or go back home to his family. The cop in the car does a description search and finds Kimble's rap sheet. Dr. Fugitive tells Dock Cop he tried to look for work. Dock Cop tells him they will drop him at a shelter once his partner gets back. Somehow, I don't think that's what his partner has in mind, as he comes running down the docks grabbing for his gun. Dr. Fugitive takes off, and there's a chase. Up one dock, down another. Slo-mo and regular speed mixed together for variety's sake. At this point, I notice that Kimble is wearing stylishly baggy jeans, a hunter green tee-shirt, and a red flannel buttondown. Just give him a baseball cap and he could hide out at frat houses nationwide. Again, this begs the question, how in the world can he afford Abercrombie & Fitch when he's starving? Slave to fashion, I guess. Dr. Fugitive reaches the end of the dock, so he does what any self-respecting fugitive would do -- he waits for the shot to switch to slo-mo and then dives into the water amid a rain of bullets. Underwater, the bullets shimmy next to him, missing him by mere bubbles. Pretty cool effects, and I'm not just talking about the temperature of the water.
Night has fallen, and there's a full-scale search of the marina going on, complete with spotlights, helicopters, yelling, running, and CB radio feedback. Dr. Fugitive hides under a dock, hugging a post thick with barnacles, with only his eyes visible. All I can think of is sharks. The sheriff drawls loud orders and tells them to look under every plank, scour every inch of each boat. An officer says, "If he's here, sir, we'll get him." The sheriff looks at him and shouts, "We bettah!" With all those bright lights in such a small marina, it is inconceivable to me that Dr. Fugitive is able to swim between docks and boats without being seen. Some scuba divers jump the incorrect way off a boat, and we know Dr. Fugitive's order number is about to be called at the lunch counter of justice. Suddenly, Brian Krakow, a.k.a. Zack from Felicity, runs to a phone booth and calls 911 to report spotting Dr. Kimble in town at The Hungry Pelican. He hangs up and goes to another pay phone and reports the same thing. Crafty devil.