The door to Jed's office opens and Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, and a bunch of other guys file out. Leo calls C.J. in. Jed asks if they're controlling media access to Jai Yung Ahn. C.J. says they are, and the reporters believe they can't ask questions because the North Koreans won't allow it: "So...he's being allowed back in the building?" Jed: "Leo tells me you have a strong view on this?" C.J.: "Yes, sir. For one thing, sending him back would seem to be illegal." Leo: "Our hand's not legally forced unless he tells anyone." Great! Sort of how the Shareef thing would have worked out great so long as nobody squawked about it. There's an approach to life/ politics/ morals/ ethics that allows you to get up every day and look yourself right in the eye. C.J. calmly says, "He's told us. He's asked the President of the United States for asylum. Are we saying he'd have been better off asking some cab driver?" Apparently so. Jed says that C. J. knows the rationale for sending him back. Just in case the viewer's fallen asleep, though, Leo explains, "So the Iranians don't wake up one morning and decide, 'Hey, it's a good day to nuke Israel.'" Frink: "Uh-huh...."

C.J. reminds Jed that seven North Korean nuclear scientists defected through China last year: "We helped pay for it. Are we saying that if this kid were more valuable to us, we'd accept him?" Jed wonders if that's such an unreasonable distinction: "But this isn't your real argument." C.J. says that if it ever gets out, having sent him back will be disastrous media-wise. Jed says that's not her real argument either. C.J. looks at him and admits, "No, sir, it's not. This young man's asking for freedom. It's what this country was built on. Everybody's from somewhere else, some place less free." My living room is filled with the sound of derisive snorting and choking. Maybe she'd like to run that notion by Charlie sometime. Or those pesky "Indians in the Lobby." Not everybody is from someplace else, and not every other place is less free. Sweet fancy Moses, there aren't enough opticians in the world to grind the prescription you'd need for myopia this severe. That's right up there with "We close them, the terrorists win" for sheer stupidity. Jed looks ever so slightly chastened. C.J. says, "That's my argument." Jed thanks them and they leave. I squeeze my head into a little ball.