Back at the hospital, Lyla confers with Abe about Mrs. Salvador -- she's seventy-two years old, she says that voices are telling her to kill her husband. Abe thinks it could be organic, or it could be major depression with psychotic features. And the husband? Abe replies, "He says he hardly knows her anymore, he's living in a nightmare, but still he's not willing to leave her here overnight unless he can stay too." As Mrs. Salvador clutches some knitting needles she smuggled in with the scissors, Lyla, perhaps atoning for past transgressions, says that he can stay overnight. Abe suddenly notices the knitting needles and rushes off to deal, while Lyla goes ballistic on the security guards for letting a little old lady with a weapon past them.
Lady Judge speaks directly to Rickle, who stands up and starts babbling to the court. Lawboy pulls him down into his chair, and the judge asks Rickle if he thinks he needs medication. No way, says Rickle, "I'm a hundred percent." When the judge asks Rickle why he disagrees with Bobby's recommendation to dose, he explains that the drugs "wham-zap my power" and "cut off my communication to Mount Olympus," among other things, including a swollen tongue and constipation. Bobby kindly volunteers that at least the final problem is a common side effect of the medication; adjustments can be made. High-fiber diet? The judge asks if Rickle thinks he has special powers, but he says that he's just like the judge (except for the schizophrenia and shooting five people in Times Square part). He goes on to testify that the drugs are "no good," that the "days are haze and cloudy skies, and I can't see anything. I can't see. That's the important thing." "Medicate over objection," rules the judge, unmoved by Rickle's almost melodic monologue. Rickle looks afraid, Mrs. Rickle looks defeated, and Bobby pats her on the shoulder, telling her that it's really for the best.
A patient stands in front of the wall-mounted television, arms apart with one hand on either side of the screen, mesmerized by a cartoon. Lyla gets a phone call, but is distracted by the noise from the TV; the patient is now changing the channels between the cartoon, a soccer game, a rap video, monster truck footage -- basically, Oliver Stone's vision of an insane person's mind. Lyla knocks on the glass and asks him to turn down the television set, so of course he turns it up, just as good old Ernie Anastos introduces a news story about Rickle and the shootings. A picture of Rickle completely disengages Lyla from the phone, and she hangs up, distracted. As Lyla watches, Ernie morphs into Rickle, who continues reporting and then says, "I want my money back, Lyla." Channel switches to rap video. Back to Rickle: "I want my money back. Lyla, I want my money back." Ernie slowly reappears, and starts blathering about how the mentally ill live among us -- back to the rap video -- and when they snap, we ask ourselves, "Was there no one who saw it coming?" Huh, Dr. Lyla Garrity? Who might that person have been, Dr. Lyla Garrity? Direct address by television is such a stupid and hackneyed plot device -- Ernie Anastos should be ashamed of himself. "Anyone, anywhere is a target," chirps Ernie, displaying the exaggeration so common to television newscasters -- "A woman stubs her toe in Africa; could your family be next?" At this point, Lyla's acid kicks in, and the TV-glued patient turns, makes a gun with his thumb and index finger, and twirls about, pointing at various bystanders. Locking on Lyla, the flesh gun becomes a real gun (now that's nifty), and the patient fires as Lyla flinches. Scissors and needles and guns, oh my! Mental ward or weapons mart?