"If I hear the music, I'm gonna dance." -- Greggs. I support dancing and all, but please -- no Ani DiFranco.
Prison. In the warden's office, an Officer Reynolds is reporting that the toxicology reports are coming back positive for strychnine -- 10 or 12%. The warden, distressed, asks whether that's typical, and Reynolds says he's seen street packages cut "with all kind of chemicals." Dealers do it to give a little kick to a weak product. Another officer next to him confirms that, saying that too much rat poison, for instance, will cause "people falling out," as we saw. The warden huffs that it would be nice to have some answers for the reporters, who are asking how the drugs got in, what the prison brass is doing about it -- "the usual." Reynolds dismissively says that it got in the same way everything gets in. Warden: "If you can't win the war on drugs in a prison, where the hell you gonna win it? I ask you!" A guy on the end in a suit -- I'm going to assume he's a lawyer -- says that if it were just one or two guys OD-ing, "it would fade." Instead, they're dealing with "five in one night, and eight more in the infirmary": "We need to show the flag on this." Reynolds tells the warden that they can make a case based on reports from informants -- and that the warden will have many volunteers if he starts offering to shave time off guys' sentences. Whether they match their eagerness with accuracy is a concern for someone else, I guess.