The Practice
The Deal

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Too Many Plots 'R' Us

William Hinks's House. It's a SWAT team scene. Helen has Detective Mike and a million cops surrounding the house, ready to pounce. Oh, she's so Jodie Foster in The Silence of the Lambs. Oh, wait, she's not. Mike asks if Helen "really want[s] to do this," and she replies it's a part of the "favour bank." In they go. They bust down the door, ram themselves into the kitchen, scream at William to get on the ground, slap on the handcuffs, and then arrest him for criminal assault. "I didn't do anything," Hinks says with his face smashed into the linoleum. Helen steps forward: "Yeah, you did, Mr. Hinks. A threat constitutes criminal assault." She bends down to hover over him: "For example, if I were to say to you 'if you ever go near Lindsay Dole again, I will have you shot and killed by a police officer,' or something like that, that would be an assault." She stands up: "But I would never say that." And with a wave of Helen's wand, they drag poor Willie from his home and we fade out to commercials.

The Firm. Scott is in Bobby's office, whining. He doesn't like the other lawyers. He doesn't think they're too good. He wants the Emperor there. Bobby notices Scott's level of stress: "You don't seem to be doing too well." Shockingly. Is he taking his medication? Yes, he is. But that doesn't solve everything, m'lord: "If they gave me my life back in a pill, I'd swallow it!" Okay, I remember thinking last year -- or complaining, I'm not sure which -- that it might be nice to have a storyline continue all through the season, but, you know what? The Scott Wallace Saga is so not that storyline. Bobby then suggests Scott just "get away from it all" and tells him to take that trip to Fiji. A limbo and a strawberry margarita won't solve everyone's problems, Bobby.

Courthouse. Eugene is attempting to convince Francis to take the deal. He's not buying it. In fact, he thinks he wants to go to trial, he thinks he's got a pretty good case, he might not even take the plea. "What?" Bobby screams. Francis continues, "You said it yourself. They've got no case." Oh, blessed Mary, I hear them, I hear the angels singing! Am I in heaven, or am in hell? Bobby holds his hands up like they're supporting an imaginary wall. He's Marcel Freaking Marceau. Francis smirks, "They ain't going to make it. I got a feeling." Wow. He's one cold-hearted bastard. The Emperor is really getting angry: "This is the best deal we're ever going to get!" Francis snipes, "We? You going to do the time, Counselor?" Bobby sits down at the table. The music catches every glint in his ice-blue eyes. He tries to convince Francis to sign the plea agreement, again. Francis refuses, again, because "the little princess" has had "seven good years," wait for it, "and that's better than I ever had." Now there's karma for you. "No deal." Bobby whispers, "You're letting her die." Francis stands his ground: "I said no deal."

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The Practice

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