Jail. Martin sits and stares off into the distance. Scully and Doggett approachth. She asks what he'd like to talk to them about. "You're his partner?" Martin asks Scully, dully. Doggett is, still, or again, disgusted, and reminds Martin that he meet Scully yesterday. Wednesday. "Don't you remember?" Scully asks. She wonders what the last thing he remembers is. "Getting shot by my father-in-law," he replies. Doggett snipes at Martin to stop wasting their time. Martin wonders if he might be having premonitions of the future. Scully sighs and rolls her eyes. Same shit, different day, right Dana? She sits next to Martin and asks him what he remembers, prior to the shooting. All that he can remember is staying at the Strand Motel in DC for a sentencing hearing. Scully exposits that that was three days ago. She asks if he remembers anything else between now and then. Like, for example, the bloody murder of his poor dead wife? No. Doggett gets right in Martin's face, and tells him that while he'll listen to whatever Martin has to say, he will not be lied to. Martin swears he isn't lying. He very slowly tells them that he did not kill Vicky, his poor dead wife. Scully asks the obvious question, which is how he can be so sure, if he can't remember anything?
Back in his cell, Martin stares off into the distance. He has...well, for lack of a better word, let's call it a vision of a woman, screaming, glass breaking, and blood dripping off a large knife. Except, in reverse. You know, as though film was being rewound. You get it. He sighs, and rubs his forehead, and leans against the wall. He stares at his old friend, the spider, crawling on its web, snatches it, and stamps on it and kills it.
Later, Martin's daughters and their nanny come to pay him a visit. The girls seem shell-shocked, although the nanny tells him that they're holding up pretty well. Martin explains to his daughters that he's coming home very, very soon, despite what their grandfather might tell them. He embraces them, and has another vision, this time more protracted. Beads falling on the floor, a woman screaming, glass breaking, someone falling through a glass coffee table. All, still, in reverse. As though time were moving backward. How very odd. Martin comes out of his reverie and asks Trina, the nanny, to bring him something from the girls' room.
Conehead arrives, with that "something" in hand -- a pink and white stuffed bear. Martin rips it open and removes a small camera: his nanny-cam. "Why didn't you mention this to me before the bail hearing?" Conehead asks. "I hadn't met you before the bail hearing," Martin says, matter-of-factly. Conehead cocks her eyebrow and makes a mental note to prepare an insanity defense. Martin explains that the tape might contain exculpatory evidence. Conehead says that if it doesn't, she still has to share it with the prosecutor. It's part of her duty, as an officer of the court, to share all evidence. Exculpatory or not. All evidence. It's her duty. As an officer of the court. As he ought to know. Because he's also an office of the court. Ahem. Martin poo-poos all that, and whips through the tape. Unfortunately, the only person on the tape, other than the police and his wife, is him. Conehead has highly sculpted brows. Martin is flummoxed by this turn of events. I am not, having watched TV regularly for the past twenty-five years.