Anywhere But Here. Veronica asks if the "sports guys" can help her out: she thinks she's heard Myles's name before, but she's pretty sure he's not a musician or an actor. Cap Doofus takes that and runs, saying that Carnell was known as "Matrix" Myles, and was drafted by the Bengals. I guess that nickname foretold that things would go downhill for him. Cap Doofus goes on to tell us what we saw in the second article, which is that Myles blew out his knee the first day of training camp and never played again. N-NW asks Veronica how, then, he could have jumped gazelle-like over the fence. Veronica looks pleased with herself, and I guess between taking credit for a revelation she totally didn't have and using said revelation to tamper with a criminal trial, she has put in a pretty full morning's work.
Sheriff's Office Of Unimpeachable Security. Keith calls Sacks in and says he's not finding the list of the staff's email addresses. Well, if one of them isn't email@example.com, I'll be extremely surprised. Sacks says he put it in the flap, and that's all he knows. He walks away as Keith wonders if losing the election might be the best thing that's ever happened to him.
Anywhere But Here. C of I is reiterating what they've just learned -- that McKinnon's father is a sports agent -- and Veronica says that that might be how Myles got involved. And from here, everything about this plot is ridiculous. Up until now, the jury could reasonably have been said to be analyzing the credibility of the witnesses and evidence presented during the trial, but now they're basically conducting their own private investigation, which is grossly inappropriate and grounds for an immediate mistrial. Since they would all know this from the judge's charge, it's preposterous that none of them raised an objection. Even more ludicrous is that C of I and others wouldn't tell the judge what happened so that they could obtain a mistrial and be able to go home or to Bangalore or wherever the hell their next stop in life is. I mean, if they're going to abuse the justice system, they might as well do so for their own ends. I realize this is supposed to be a Twelve Angry Men homage, but it doesn't work for a number of reasons, the most important to me being the standard of proof in criminal trials. In the movie, all the holdout juror had to do was convince the others that a reasonable doubt of the boy's guilt existed, which was easy enough to do by pointing out instances where the evidence presented was faulty. Here, though, Veronica and the holdouts have to convince the others that the boys are guilty beyond a reasonable doubt when the evidence presented obviously doesn't support that conclusion. Maybe the idea was to switch things up so as not to copy the original too closely, but if that's the case, the decision was ill-advised. I understand that the ultimate point is to put Veronica generally back on the side of the have-nots, but this plotline goes beyond minor contrivances and into pure fantasy, and about a subject that most viewers are actually familiar with, unlike, say, the REIT scheme. And...it's still not like that's the worst thing in the world to happen once in a while, but the plotline also suffers from being kind of badly-paced and boring. In the movie, the stakes were much higher because a kid's life was in question. But maybe they wanted to get some courtroom-related time in, because it's not like there are any big upcoming trials happening in Neptune or anything.