Abe approaches Mr. Salvador to tell him that they've reached an impasse. Mr. Salvador, removing his jacket, says he understands; Abe says they'd like to recommend an outpatient program, and Mr. Salvador, now removing his tie, understands this as well. As the shirt starts to come off, Abe looks increasingly bewildered and Mr. Salvador remarks that he thinks a butterfly specialist could really help him with his stroke. Mr. Salvador goes for his belt, shucks his shoes, drops trou and starts talking about the "tie off your pant leg flotation" thing, taking us back to a locker room of yore that has somehow become lodged in Mr. Salvador's evidently shaky mind. Gotcha, Abe -- he's the crazy one! Abe mentions Mrs. Salvador; Mr. Salvador seems genuinely taken aback and tells Abe, "I'm not getting married till I get out of college." Mr. Salvador should speak up more often -- sounds like he's got quite a story to tell. A newly-young Mr. Salvador finishes undressing, hands his glasses to Abe, asks if the water's cold, and toddles offscreen. Abe stands there, holding Mr. Salvador's glasses and jacket, looking like a big doofus.
Conferring with Rickle, his parents, and Lawboy, Bobby says that Rickle understands the nature of the charges and can aid in his own defense, but that he may not be able to appreciate the wrongfulness of his deeds. Rickle senior worries that his son "will sit in court, a quiet, drugged, emotionless man, and they will see a cold, uncaring murderer." Bobby assures them that the DA won't discount the mental illness, but that they'll cast it as an act of revenge for being snubbed by the girl from the bookstore. He stresses that they must discount that claim. When Mrs. Rickle wonders if they can do that, Bobby makes a shameless plug for his services, saying that they need just the right person to help argue NGRI. And who might that be? "You," says the lawyer, rapping his pen on the table. Bingo, says Bobby. Rickle names a couple of hospitals he'd like to go to while awaiting trial, operating under the sadly misguided assumption that he'll get treated and be allowed to leave in "a year or two." Displaying mastery of understatement, Bobby says, "Could be longer, Wendall. What happened at Times Square was a big deal." Okay, I gotcha, says Rickle -- maybe it'll be more like five years, and then the bathos takes over, as Rickle starts hoping plaintively that he'll be allowed to go swimming and take walks, his mother gets upset, his father pleads with him to focus on the trial, and Lawboy looks out of his depth. As everyone (sans Rickle) leaves the hospital ward, Lawboy gets flustered because he can't find his pen (I'll be generous and call this an "homage to" the almost-identical scene in Silence of the Lambs).