Mrs. Salvador has the floor, and maintains that her husband goes into her purse and steals her money. Cut to Mr. Salvador, in a separate room, who says she goes to Macy's and buys shoes -- "six pairs in a day, completely identical." Taking the money is all Mr. Salvador can do, as he puts it, "to stop the madness." So he puts it away. "In socks," says the missus, as we segue back to her. He takes the money, the credit card, and shoves them in socks, which he then wears around to taunt her. Sounds to me like he's the nutty one. She says that she pays all the bills, that she's the one who manages all the money, as the camera whooshes past her to focus on Mr. Salvador's face, turning slowly to look at his wife.
An emboldened Lyla is explaining to the board that her job in CPEC is "to catch what I can't see." She catches ghosts. Mental illness, you see, is not visible; Lyla doesn't have the luxury of MRIs or x-rays or blood work or DNA samples to help her "predict a human being's behavior from one minute to the next." Until someone invents the machine, says Lyla, that can help her, among other things, get "inside the eardrum of a someone who is receiving homicidal instructions from a toaster oven," she will continue to make decisions based largely on her gut instinct. She tells the board that if they want to judge her, they should do it based on the man she saw on that day in the hospital; a man, according to her professional estimation, who "was not that sick." If presented with the same circumstances again, she would make the same call, and if that's all, gentleman, Lyla has work to do so she'll be leaving, thank you very much. Girlfriend got it going on, and Derrick looks smug and admiring. As the board has no response to Lyla's stirring defense, she gets up and leaves (through a double door with a very cool "EXIT" printed across it), as they exchange a few "well, she really told us, didn't she" glances. Lyla walks down the hall, teary and hyperventilating, as Neil comes racing up. He says he tried to call, he couldn't find her, he came up but she'd already gone in. He asks her how the review went, and she collapses into his arms, crying, as he says, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She apologizes as well, and it's one big sorryfest, and we all know that everything is going to be just fine. He kisses her forehead and they walk away down the hall, his arm draped protectively over her shoulder.