Courtroom next door. Jimmy's standing in front of the witness box with his hands clasped in front of him. He's speaking in that soft "I'm talking about something serious" tone he uses when interviewing witnesses: "You knew he had AIDS for three years, didn't you?" Mr. Keaton did, and kept it quiet too. Jimmy wonders, why tell now? Then Mr. Keaton's ugly twin starts in about how he heard about two men helping another man who was in a car accident. They both did mouth-to-mouth. Turns out the accident victim had AIDS. Now these two Samaritans are at risk -- they have to have AIDS tests for the next few years: "And so I thought, what if something like that happens here? Suppose Wayne had a heart attack, or blacks out, and then suppose someone goes to resuscitate him, wouldn't I be a bit more than liable? I know he has AIDS." Jimmy interjects that his client felt he had a legal obligation to reveal to the entire company that the man contracted AIDS. "And a moral one. I put my trust in these people, and I ask that these people trust me! How can I sit on information that could possibly threaten their lives?" Oh, please -- you could have just as easily spoken to your employee in private and asked him to get a medical-alert bracelet warning anyone that might come into contact with him that he has AIDS, should he fall unconscious for whatever reason. You didn't have to broadcast it to the entire company. That's reprehensible. I don't care if you did go to school with Jimmy. ["I'm not going to go into it here, because I could go on for longer than this entire recap, but there's so much wrong with this storyline that I don't know where to begin. I just wish to God that people who don't know much about AIDS would keep their ignorance, and their oversimplified scripts, to themselves. DEK, I'm looking in your direction. As usual." -- deborah] The plaintiff's lawyer is up: "Did any doctor advise you that Mr. Mayfield might be a health risk?" Negative. Did any medical professional advise him? Again, negative. "But probably because doctors are more afraid of being sued than anybody." The lawyer, who looks like Ron Howard with a beard, asks if Mr. Heinz considered the ramifications of his memo, that The Guy might suffer from discrimination: "Yes. But I weighed that risk against the potentially fatal risk facing the others and I made my decision. I'd also like to say that the company supported me." What. Ever. Blah blah sympathy, resentment, and perceived discrimination. "The employees at Stroud like him. And following my disclosure, no one came to me asking that he be let go." Oh, aren't we tolerant. Not. Maybe they didn't come forward because they're not the boss. They can't fire people. Well, the lawyer's convinced. Again, I'm not.
The Firm. Jimmy and Peter are triumphantly returning from court. Lucy inquires how it went. "He totally stoned them! They're now willing to take one-twenty-five." Lucy asks if the jury's still out, only to have Jimmy answer that they go back at five for closing arguments. Which he has to get to work on, and in the spirit of boys' club togetherness, he drags Peter into the boardroom with him. They re-live the testimony, like a play-by-play: how 'bout when I did this, what about when I said that, did you see his face: "See it!" Jimmy exalts, "I could hear it when it hit the floor." Then Peter's true colours come shining through, and this is verbatim: "They are so cocky. But that's the way they are, right, Jimmy? They get all this special treatment, you know they got all those special laws passed. They can even get married --" Now it's Jimmy's jaw hitting the floor as he watches his friend essentially reveal himself as a bigot. Not even Jimmy's massive stink-eye can shut this asshole up. On and on with the special-treatment bit, he even throws in the word "fags," and as the music of moral quandary swells in the background, Jimmy turns to face Peter: "I ever tell you my mother was gay, Peter?" Jackass thinks Jimmy's joking. "No, it's true. Maybe I didn't mention it because I didn't think it was such a big deal. That it wouldn't matter to my friends." Turncoat's colours change again, reciting the party line of "tolerance": "Aww, Jimmy, to each his own. Come on, you know me. I got no problem with people living the way they want. You know --" Jimmy responds, blankly, "The special treatment." The lawyer gives his client a quick look up and down and then begs off talking any further: "Well, I better work on my closing." Peter wonders if Jimmy knows what he's going to say. We fade to black with Jimmy saying he has an idea. Something along the lines of, "Yeah, my client's an asshole, how can I manipulate this situation to nail him to the wall," I'd hope.