Getting coffee from a street vendor, Bobby explains to Assistant DA Strickler that schizophrenia doesn't distinguish between the bright and the not-bright and that just because Rickle is a smart guy doesn't mean he's not crazy. Got that? Strickler maintains he knew where he was and what he was doing, and that he was wandering around with a loaded nine-millimeter, which suggests premeditation to her (nothing gets past our Ms. Strickler). She says she knows Bobby can argue both sides, and asks him to be her expert witness. Bobby suggests she prosecute the guy who sold Rickle the gun (perhaps she can get in bed with the Federal Government) when a cab suddenly skids to halt, narrowly missing Bobby and Strickler, who goes off on the driver and showcases the hard-as-nails determination that undoubtedly got her where she is today. She's a no-nonsense kind of gal -- bet she's wearing Easy Spirits. Completing the stereotype, Strickler attributes her outburst to "six months of not getting any." Yuck, Ms. Strickler; that's one piece of information we really didn't need. "You too?" says Bobby, giving us yet another nugget of insight that we could happily have lived without. Bobby and Strickler enter the hospital, and Strickler reveals that Rickle had a run-in with a woman in a bookstore shortly before the Times Square debacle -- Strickler's got a statement from the woman and thinks the incident provides a perfectly rational motive for the shooting. She feels that Rickle is "using his mental illness as a shield, Bobby. If he knows it was wrong, he's responsible." Bobby says that's a big "if" and that if the DA is after a poster child for the death penalty because Rickle killed a cop, they've got the wrong guy. Bobby's involvement with the defense suddenly dawns on Strickler, and she confirms that she's too late to convert Bobby to her side.