Lindsay chases Alan down the hall, carting along some polygraph results. Martin passed with flying colours. Alan doesn't believe her. She tells him Martin is innocent, again. She asks him for a favour, again. Only this time, Alan bites, offering five years and five more probation, and he has to waive parole. Lindsay looks pleased. She doesn't hear me screaming "don't take the deal, the witness is dead" at the television. No, her ears are too damn full of the stupid Melody Of Bad Mistakes. Poor Lindsay -- I actually feel really, really bad for her right now, and I feel even worse for her mousy, pimply-faced client about to do five years of hard time just because he happened to be wearing a green hooded sweatshirt.

Lindsay meets Martin in the client room. He doesn't want to go to jail for five years for something he didn't do. Lindsay assures him it's a good deal. "No," he screams, "the guy who shot that woman is still out there. Don't they care about that?" Obviously not, and Lindsay doesn't care about it either; she doesn't want him in jail for twelve years if doesn't plead. Martin: "But it's not the truth!" Lindsay yells at him to forget about the truth, because that's not how things work around there, especially when she can't win the case. Ah, poor Martin looks like he's about to burst into tears. Lindsay: "Five years, you still have a life left; twelve, and you don't." Martin looks at the ground, but he'll listen to Lindsay, because she's the lawyer and he's just the innocent kid about to be railroaded.