Meanwhile, Marilyn Garbanza is walking down the street, looking beautiful, defying Eli Gold, just having a normal Marilyn Garbanza day, when a posse of black vans pull up next to her and a bunch of guys instruct her to get in. They’re from the “Office of Public Integrity,” which is apparently a thing, and whether they’re part of the DOJ or not, they are 100% creepy.
And for some crazy reason, Marilyn actually follows their orders instead of running the hell away. Inside the imposing black van, the Chief Creep threatens her with jail time if she doesn’t give up what she knows about Peter Florrick’s election fraud. And either the jail threat works, or Marilyn is just fed up with the political games of Eli and Peter, because she soon returns to the black van—seriously, these guys must have real offices somewhere, right? — and turns over the damning stuffed ballot box video.
After investigating all the members of Florrick-Agos that they’ve ever talked to, Bishop and Lester do determine that they haven’t actually ratted them out to the DOJ. Duh. Although during their amusingly giggly interview with Robyn, for a second I have a brief daydream of Robyn’s possible double lives, and it is glorious. Man, I love her.
The trouble, in fact, leads down to Alicia’s phone, where she’s left a few voicemails for herself, and talked to Cary about the case over it, the only times she’s communicated the essential facts about the case that the DEA has picked up. Tapping by the DEA is old hat to Bishop, and he has his people deliver burners to the Florrick-Agos office. Meanwhile, in brightly lit government cubicles, two nerds look at each other and say, “They think we’re the DEA,” and share a good chuckle.
It’s the NSA nerds! Remember the NSA nerds? The NSA nerds sorta become my favorite this episode.
So since it’s in fact the NSA that’s tapping their lines and not technically the DEA, the DEA denies wiretapping in court, which Judge Kluger stands by, and it looks, at least for a second, like things are not going Cary and Alicia’s way. Until, that is, the federal prosecutor suddenly steps down, not because he’s recusing himself from the case, but because he’s, like, resigning from being a federal lawyer. Like, he just found out about some crappy stuff happening in his office and he’s quitting. Presumably. This raises a few more flags.