Archive

“The Good Wife” recap (5.15): Terror in the Courtroom

We begin with the noise inside a young man’s head.

The young man is Jeffrey Grant, played by Hunter Parrish. Remember him? Way back in November, we witnessed him being pulled over by the cops for a DUI, and eventually getting charged with the murder of a fellow female college student, Dani Littlejohn. Upon initial interviews, Kalinda had deemed him guilty, but Will steadfastly stood by innocence, believing Jeffrey’s own claims. The case had been left unresolved at the end of that episode. DNA under Dani’s nails ended up matching Jeffrey’s exactly, landing him in the slammer to await trial.

The trial has arrived this week, and Will is charging forward with typical Will swagger, provoking the judge and opposing counsel. His strategy for the case is focusing on “touch DNA,” the idea that Dani and Jeffrey could have touched similar objects on campus that day and swapped DNA that way.

Jeffrey, however, is not so full of swagger. He looks around the courtroom with glassy eyes, sporting a shiner on his left eye from apparent tough times in jail. Tense orchestral music plays in his head, rendering everything around him muted and slightly out of focus, until Will slaps him on the shoulder.

“I think I’m guilty,” he says.

This seems like a funny thing to say. You would believe that a person either knows they’re guilty or not. Unless they have developed some distorted view of the past and maybe the present, where they can’t discern what’s real and not real. Jeffrey says it soberly, staring straight ahead. I think I’m guilty. But Will doesn’t even seem to fully hear him. Because Will is on a mission. He is staying the course, the course of Jeff being an upstanding young man railroaded by the police. He assures his client that everything is going to be fine.

We begin with Alicia smiling.

She’s leaning against a wall in the Florrick Agos headquarters, looking at the hustle and bustle she and Cary have created, with a rare smile of satisfaction and some type of peace on her face. She thanks Cary for talking her into all of this. She is happy.

Since they’re sharing A Moment, Cary decides to come clean to Alicia with this piece of information: “I’m seeing Kalinda.” Oh! OK, then. That is happening. It’s good to have this cleared up, since we haven’t seen any other scenes of them being together other than that sex stuff two episodes ago, but Kalinda has had a lot of random sex stuff this season, so, who knew? He just wanted to let Alicia know so that it wasn’t a surprise, and to assure her that he wasn’t divulging any information about their firm.

Alicia has an indiscernible look on her face, her mouth slightly ajar, her eyes doing their thinking-something-over darts back and forth. Cary gives her a confused look, says she seems concerned. “No, it’s just-” Alicia starts. “When you say you’re seeing her…” Cary raises his eyebrows. “I just thought she was gay.” And inside all of our Kalicia heads, we believe this, of course, to actually mean: I just thought she was in love with ME.

Cary clarifies for her that no, Kalinda is “bi…or something.” Alicia quickly nods and moves on. In a way, Alicia’s confusion about Kalinda’s sexuality seems confusing, as there was one point in time where Alicia actually knew Kalinda quite well. At the very least, she knew that Kalinda was previously married to a man. Maybe she believed that Kalinda was one of those who “turn gay” after leaving a man? Because, you know, you have to be one thing or the other?

But in any case, anytime the word “bi” is said out loud on television, an angel gets its wings. And the “or something” is just so great, signifying that Cary doesn’t really know either, because obvs Kalinda hasn’t discussed it with him, but more importantly, he doesn’t really care. Hear, hear to Kalinda continuing to be the fiercest label-free woman on TV.

This discussion of Kalinda’s sexuality is sadly broken up by the reemergence of Public Integrity guy, Nelson Dubeck, who, to be honest, I’m surprised hasn’t shown up already. This episode had been advertised as a game changer, and all the evidence that’s been building over the last few episodes has been obviously pointing to this game changer being about Governor Big going down, the election fraud, the video clip implicating Will and Alicia and probably a boatload of other people. And I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, because to be frank, I hate when the drama revolves around Peter. He doesn’t deserve it.

It turns out that I’m wrong, though. Soon, we’ll find out that this isn’t really what this episode is about at all.

Dubeck encourages Alicia to give a voluntary deposition about the ballot box to help clear herself, especially since there’s another lawyer who’s willing to speak first, one by the name of Will Gardner. Alicia’s stone set face gives way slightly. She says that she highly doubts it. As you should, Alicia. As you should. She returns to giving Dubeck her finest “See you in hell, creton,” glare, and then hires Cary as her lawyer.

We begin with Diane’s doubt.

She enters the LG conference room, where Will and Kalinda and eight other associates have just been hashing out the Jeffrey Grant case. Numerous touch DNA plotlines have fallen through, and Will is going back to the beginning, making sure they haven’t missed anything. Diane asks Kalinda what she thinks; Kalinda, sensing the tension in the room, awkwardly avoids giving any real answers. Diane seems to be warning Will to take off his shield of instincts and emotion and put his big lawyer pants back on, because this case seems a little shaky to her. He assures her that he’s being smart. She lets it go, and they make jokes as they leave the room, letting us know that things are still OK between them, that Lockhart Gardner is still a team, that the hull of this ship has not been fractured.

It appears that Jeffrey’s parents are also a little skittish about this trial, and have called Alicia to get a second opinion. She not only doesn’t give her second opinion, but goes to court to tell Will in person that the parents are doubting. Because that’s what she would want someone to do for her. Will retains his Angry and Skeptical Face when he first sees her, but when she seems genuine about just wanting to help him, he relaxes a bit. And then Alicia is practically playful as she leaves, laughing, complimenting him about being the better lawyer. He even cracks a toothy smile too, an un-mean, un-sarcastic smile, and when was the last time he used one of these smiles with Alicia? He stares wistfully at her shadow after she flounces away. It is the happiest Alicia and Will scene in months.

So many things jump out at me on the second, third viewing of this episode. But on the first viewing, still, I had no idea what was coming.

Later, Will and Kalinda share a drink at a restaurant so dimly lit that we can just barely make out the sparkle of her eyes, the shine of her lips. After telling Will that she thinks Jeffrey did it, and he once again professing that they can prove he didn’t, she moves on to why she actually wanted to talk with Will in a dark restaurant over hard alcohol. She wants to leave, she says. She doesn’t want to do this for the rest of her life.

Will barely flinches; looks her over. You do this every few months, he says. She says it’s real this time. He’s still unbelieving. Because as he explains, she and him, they’re the same type of people. A normal life is OK for other folks, but not them. She’d miss it too much, the hunt, that feeling when she figures something out. And anyway, he would miss her.

While I rarely agree with Will these days, everything he says here is accurate. There are two things that are true about Kalinda: she is full of surprises, and then she isn’t. Kalinda thrives when she’s working. She wouldn’t make sense doing anything else. But then again, Kalinda has been waffling around these days without any true purpose, and it’s not her fault if she’s restless. Stop making her so restless, Good Wife writers.

Will does ask one interesting thing, though-if she’s leaving because of Alicia, because Alicia left. She hesitates before answering, and then says no. But the hesitation that was there! The fact that Will even asked! Maybe we never see Kalinda and Alicia together in a scene ever again, but the pulse between them will survive forever. Everyone can feel it.

Speaking of Alicia, when she does indeed give her voluntary deposition to Mr. Dubeck, she is in full Warrior Princess Mode, pwning Mr. Dubeck like a goddamn boss. It is the satisfying can of whoop ass we’ve wanted to pour over this guy’s head for weeks. He tries to shake her at one point by asking if she and Will were lovers, but this only makes her stronger, angrier. Her eyes are dark sockets of fiery coal. He only actually shakes her when he reveals multiple surveillance videos of the ballot box full of Peter Florrick votes being moved on election night, different angles she’s never seen before, each video stacking up evidence against her husband. But she, Alicia, is still not taking your shit, Dubeck, and her face, good god, can we give the woman an Emmy already? I mean, like, another one?

At the courthouse, Will believes Kalinda has scrounged up a promising lead, about Jeffrey and Dani being treated by the same paramedic on the day of her murder. Will congratulates Kalinda on the job well done, and approaches the judge about entering in the new evidence. He also tells Jeffrey that he’ll do something about how he’s being treated in holding, as he has shown up at court today with another cut on his cheek. Even though Jeff has protested that they’ll put him in solitary and that’s the worst thing that could happen, Will still says it’ll be better than this.

It’s at this point, when Will is up at the judge’s bench with opposing counsel, discussing the newest developments, that Jeffrey’s eyes start to look especially desperate, distant, confused. He glances at the cop standing next to him. He looks at the jury. He twists to look around to the doors of the courtroom. Tense music has started to play in his head again-or is it in our heads?-drowning out everything else, and we start to really, truly understand that something isn’t right with him. Is he going to try to bolt? His eyes are a watery mess, his face both vulnerable and dark. A tear drips down his cheek.

And then his eyes fall to the cop again. They focus on the gun shining in his holster, a mere arm’s width away.

Diane is in a courtroom a few doors down, arguing against a DUI of a businessman. We are staring at the back of her beautiful neck when we hear the first shot.

The gaps of time that fill the spaces between the following shots are random, unplanned, disorienting, haphazard. Just when you think they’ve stopped, another one bursts out, shattering glass, shattering nerves.

Hasn’t someone tackled him by now? What is going on? Why are there so many shots? Why?

Kalinda is in the hall, dials 911. Diane remains frozen for a few minutes, her knees locked, as the cop in her own courtroom flashes by her, as everyone else ducks under their benches, as a few terrified cries peel out from a distant din.

And then Diane moves, and she and Kalinda collide in the hall, people fleeing and streaming past in a sea around them. Kalinda tells Diane to wait, and pushes through the crowd to Will’s courtroom, against cops’ protests. We don’t know if there’s more than one shooter, they tell her. The last shot was mere seconds ago. We don’t know if there’s more coming. A frantic man bursts out of the room, barely missing a bullet. But Kalinda is focused on shoes.

Her eyes scan past the door of the courtroom to the floor. She sees a pair of men’s brown leather shoes she recognizes, one lying alone in the aisle in front of a smattering of blood. She pushes past the cops and walks in alone, slowly, upright.

The only thing she hears now is a repetitive clicking. Jeffrey Grant sits against the judge’s bench, the gun held to his chin, futilely attempting to empty a chamber that is now bulletless into his muddled head, over and over and over.

Kalinda steps towards the shoe, the trail of red, and when she finally turns the corner, the last witness who was on the stand when the trial was just a trial is now holding his own bloodied hand against Will’s ruined neck, his drenched chest.

Diane and Kalinda rush to the emergency room, and as so often happens in emergency rooms, can’t get immediate answers. Diane thinks of all the people she needs to call-his family, his sisters. Alicia.

They peer into a trauma room where they believe Will might be, but then Kalinda starts staring down the hall at some curtained partitions. The curtains are still, bereft of any hospital staff or beeping monitors. But a cop walks out of one. Kalinda starts inching down the hall, Diane padding softly behind. And then in a gap between two curtains, we see a man’s feet-one housed in a leather shoe, the other clad only in a bare sock. Still. Quiet. Diane weeps, “No.” Kalinda moves next to the bed, pulls off the sheet that has been draped over the body.

And then Kalinda Sharma cries like we have never seen her cry before.

Will Gardner is dead.

Alicia has not been picking up her phone because she’s at the Chicago Correspondence Dinner, uncomfortably gulping wine at the front table while the city’s worst comedian makes excessive and crude marijuana jokes. After Diane doesn’t have any luck with Alicia’s cell phone, Kalinda starts calling Eli. Eventually, out of annoyance, he picks up. His usual irritated Eli tone swiftly turns to a quiet, humble shock.

Yes, he says, of course, he’ll get Alicia. He walks gently to her seat, tells her she has to take this call, with a voice and a face that forces Alicia to quickly get over her incredulity at being interrupted now. He hands her the phone like he’s handing off a bomb, and steps away.

Alicia, worried now, puts the phone to her cheek and says, “Hello?”

And the screen fades to black.

The Kings released a letter to their fans immediately following last night’s episode, further explaining this unimaginable, devastating decision. Josh Charles, who plays Will, apparently let them know a year ago that he was planning on leaving the show. They’ve been thinking hard about how to carry him off into the sunset ever since. Depending on who you are, this bit of news might make you feel better or worse. For me, it made me feel better. But for others, the fact that the Kings chose the death route when faced with this decision made it worse, because it seems like EVERYONE chooses the death route these days.

While perusing the Internets’ opinions about it all, I’ve seen, and experienced myself, a variety of reactions to the death of Will Gardner. A lot of Willicia shippers on Tumblr immediately declared they would never watch the show again. Which is, of course, their choice. Obviously sensing that this would be a reaction from many viewers, CBS did pack in a walloping “Rest of Season Five” preview at the end of this episode as if to say, “Keep watching, please!” And it did indeed promise outstanding-looking developments with the rest of the cast. But still, those developments are a little hard to swallow when the death of the most important character of the show other than Alicia is still stuck in our throats.

Some critics called it jumping the shark, that it was too dramatic and out of nowhere, that so many shows are using death as ratings ploys, that as a population we’re beginning to experience death fatigue. As a lesbian who watches TV and movies, believe me, I understand death fatigue. Especially in a world where Shonda Rhimes exists, I’ve come to experience traumatic TV events like this with a slightly cynical side-eye.

But I think The Good Wife is different. This episode was different. This shit just doesn’t HAPPEN on The Good Wife, and I doubt it ever will again. It wasn’t overly advertised any differently than other big episodes have been (although the Internet, unfortunately, did do a great job of spoiling it for many people). It literally was a shock to the system, a shock I never saw coming. I can’t remember the last time a TV show made me so speechless, and I watch a lot of TV.

There were parts of the Kings’ letter that seem hard as a fan to take-the part about Will’s death advancing other characters’ trajectories, especially Alicia’s, for instance. Because any reasoning behind a death that involves pumping up other characters’ lives seems infuriating. You can’t kill a beloved character just so you can make another character more interesting. That’s a betrayal of the meaning and power of story. But this was a decision the Kings were forced into, and their explanations about any other ending for Will not making sense rang true to me. We sometimes have to take a step back and realize that writers have to look at their plotlines objectively, so that their talking about how a death will affect the overall plotlines moving forward isn’t heartless; it’s just their job.

But the part that made me really feel OK, or as OK as I can be about Will’s death is when the Kings said this. “Finally, we chose the tragic route for Will’s send-off for personal reasons. We’ve all experienced the sudden death of a loved one in our lives. It’s terrifying how a perfectly normal and sunny day can suddenly explode with tragedy. Television, in our opinion, doesn’t deal with this enough: the irredeemability of death.”

Maybe you haven’t experienced an unexpected death in your life. I’ve only experienced one. But when it happens, it happens like this. It is absolutely out of nowhere. It makes no sense, and probably never will. It is hard to comprehend. The shock seems to paralyze your system, like you ate something you weren’t supposed to and your body will never be able to properly digest it, and you just have this foreign, alien thing inside of you now that makes everything seem Not Right, Not OK. There is no moral at the end of this story. It was a random act of violence by a troubled young man. Will did not get to give a teary, pain-wracked final speech. He is just gone, like so many people, every day, are just gone.

The Kings also say this: “We’ve always taken as a guiding principle of this show that drama isn’t in the event; it’s in the aftermath of the event.” This is a wise statement that they have always followed through on. Even if we can’t conceive of it now, The Good Wife will continue to be a fantastic show, even if it never feels exactly the same.

Will Gardner’s death doesn’t make sense. But it was written honestly, and it made us feel. We can’t ask much more from writers than that.

Lesbian Apparel and Accessories Gay All Day sweatshirt -- AE exclusive

Related Articles

Leave a Reply

Back to top button