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“Jessica Jones” recap (1.06): There’s no place like home

Previously on Jessica Jones: We flashback to Jessica’s almost superhero career. Trish has a hot flash with Simpson. And Jessica flashes Kilgrave an almost smile—but for the right reasons.

Here’s the thing: Kilgrave’s power can’t be explained, so it also can’t be believed. We watch as he gets a table of high-rollers to fold after going all-in. We watch as he gets one of the high-rollers to bash his own brain in against a post. We just don’t know how he does any of it, nor do Jessica or the trying to stay clean-and-sober Malcolm.

There’s a suspicious knock at Jess’s door, but don’t worry—it’s just Luke. This time, he has come looking a little worse for wear—or, at least, his shirt does—to hire Jess to find someone. It’s the brother of a woman Luke has made a promise to for some mysterious reason. The kid owes a loan shark so, you know, same old story. Jess reluctantly takes the case.

He leaves and Jessica’s cell rings. Yeah, it’s that kind of night. She answers with an, “If this is a booty call, I like your chances.” It’s Hogarth on the other end. Look, I’m clearly a Trishica shipper, but I’ll take a little Jeri/Jessica action on the side any day.

Jeri has called from the back of her Town Car, while absent-mindedly stroking a sleeping Pam’s hair, to say Hope has been beat up in prison and is in the infirmary. I feel so many conflicting things about Jeri, obviously. She’s manipulative and ruthless, and smart and disarmingly sincere—at least when it comes to Pam. Like, here she is, delivering this terrible news about Hope while simultaneously seeking dirt on her soon-to-be ex-wife, yet also in the midst of this tender moment with her sleeping girlfriend.

And it works, and is down-right necessary, because, without these glimpses of this side of Jeri, we’d probably just hate her.

The next day Jessica goes to pay a visit to Hope, who Jeri says is getting both expensive and exasperating, to see what’s up. She strong-arms—quite literally—Hope’s attacker who tells her Hope paid for her own beat-down. And then the Latina Big Boo complains to Jess about messing with her digits because she has “ladies to satisfy.”

Yes, I know, lesbian prison jokes are a tired trope. But, yes, I still giggled.

So Jessica goes to see Hope and ask her why the hell she is paying people to kick her ass. To be fair, it’s a perfectly valid question. But then here comes the pathos for a sucker punch to the gut. You see, Hope is pregnant. And she purchased a beat-down to get rid of it.

She can’t wait the two months for a prison doctor to see her. She can’t wait another second while this thing, this product of repeated rapes, grows inside of her. It’s a perfectly valid response to such a despicable violation. Jessica instantly understands.

So here you have it. A show on American television that deals head-on with the results of rape, yet also manages to not show said rape. It, and this year’s Mad Max: Fury Road, are proof positive that pop culture can tackle the very real issue of sexual violence without showing and therefore somehow glorifying the violence itself. You don’t need to show me the act to prove its awfulness; just accurately show what it does to women and how they survive afterward. It’s that simple.

Jessica goes off to look into her other case for Luke. On her way her alarm goes off—it’s Kilgrave appeasement time. He, meanwhile, it browsing expensive properties on Zillow and telling entire cafes to shut up. So charming that one, can’t imagine why he’d need mind control to get his way.

Jess runs into Luke at the missing guy’s apartment. She hits the “holy grail” of detective work in the trash can and plots a scheme to lure him out with the fake prize of an Xbox One. On the way out they run into the loan shark the missing guy owes money to, and strike up a business arrangement. They’ll find him, Jessica collects a reduced 5% fee and nobody gets their heads bashed in.

So then these two ride off into the New York City sunset together—with helmets, because safety—on Luke’s Harley and they lived happily ever after. Show over.

Back at her place, Jess calls Jeri for an update on Hope’s status. But she gets Pam, who she is rude to because she is rude to everyone. Jeri, however, does not take this affront to her girlfriend/secretary kindly. And she lets slip that Pam has been waiting for her divorce “with the patience of a saint.” Also, that Pam is the “one who I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Well, either she let it slip or she let it slip on purpose. She is Jeri Hogarth, after all. And then she whips out a Tiffany ring box. So, yes, she let that slip on purpose. So, wait, was that a proposal? A proposal while she is still very much married?

Pam, who it should be noted is nobody’s fool or second banana, is touched and maybe even swoons a little. But then she straightens up and stiffens her spine. Because she certainly hasn’t forgotten that Jeri is still married. So she says, “First, the divorce.” I like Pam, I like her a lot.

Luke shows back up at Jessica’s doorstep. Having learned about what Kilgrave did from Malcolm earlier, he is there to tell Jessica how much more he understands her now and can fix things. Aw, well-meaning men and their best intentions of fixing things. Jessica opens the door and shakes her head. Some things, no matter how good the intentions, cannot be fixed by anyone else. And that’s just life.

Poor Jess must bear her guilty feelings that she is a “piece of shit” herself and fix it herself. I mean, sure, it doesn’t hurt to hear other people say it. Or kiss those other people who say it. Or to do other stuff with those people who say it.

Their post-coital morning snuggles are interrupted by a call by someone pretending to be the missing guy and seeking to claim the Xbox prize. Yep, the promise of free shit works every time.

While they’re getting ready to investigate, I notice the print on Jessica’s wall. It’s from early 20th Century Expressionism painter Egon Schiele known for his often erotic and unconventional portraits of women. Interesting choice, Jessica. Also, nice name drop of famed corporate raider Carl Icahn earlier. She may not wear a costume, but this girl has got layers, I tell you.

Of course, Jess probably doesn’t need too many additional layers. There’s the P.I. layer. And the superhero layer. And the sexual assault/mind control survivor layer. Also, the sending selfies to her abuser/stalker to help protect an innocent man layer. Oh, and, of course, the “So the thing is, I killed your wife while under the control of my abuser/stalker who happens to be a psychopath with superpowers” layer.

She gets reminded of the latter when Luke admits the woman whose brother he has hired her to find isn’t really a friend. She just has information that will help prove that his wife’s death wasn’t an accident. He tells her about something his wife hid, that he went looking for but couldn’t find afterward. We know this because Jess found it, with Kilgrave right before he ordered her to kill Luke’s wife.

It was a box, with a flash drive in it. One singular flash drive. And that’s all we know for now except Jessica is now in an absolute panic that whatever this woman says she knows about Luke’s wife’s accident will expose her. See what I was saying about too many layers? So now it’s a race to get to the missing guy first to find out what the woman knows.

Of course, it’s hard to win a race if you’re sitting on the back of the motorcycle of the person you’re racing against. Luke and Jessica follow the now disgruntled non-prize winner to a warehouse. There they find a whole bunch of pot plants, two very barky Rottweillers and the missing guy. He wasn’t missing at all, just trying to become a weedtrepreneur.

But then the loan shark and his thugs find them and a fight breaks out and Luke is back (having not hurt the dogs, which only endears him to me further) and lots of fresh bud and bodies go flying. Jessica manages to scramble out with the non-missing guy, leaving a still slugging it out Luke behind. She delivers him to his sister who hands over a file. But before she can read it a pissed off Luke arrives.

Jessica tries to tell him whatever he finds won’t make things better, or easier, or make seem like the good person she really is deep down. But what he finds is evidence that the bus driver at the accident scene was drunk and the city covered it up. So she’s off the hook still, but man is that bus driver, who is still driving that same route, about to have a really, really, really pissed off rider on board.

While all this is happening, Kilgrave is off on his own strange mission. He appears to have completed his dream home search and arrived on a house that isn’t actually for sale. But he shows up with a bag full of cash—containing more than twice what the house is worth—and offers to buy it from the current owners. I say offers because he does not force him to sell, he actually asks. It’s all very strange and, therefore, even more troubling.

But back at the bus, Luke introduces the driver to the front windshield. Jessica arrives in time to slow him down, but his single-minded determination to kill who he thinks killed his wife is stronger than her. So she does the only thing she can to keep him from becoming a killer: she confesses.

It goes, well, poorly. Luke, understandably, does not take this news well. He feels betrayed. He feels furious. He feels like calling Jessica a piece of shit. It’s all pretty terrible and everyone leaves feeling so much worse about themselves, the world and possibly the universe. So, needless to say, I think Luke just did a hard swipe left on Jessica forever.

Back at the prison infirmary, Hope is dealing with the effects of her abortion pill under the watchful eye of Jeri. Though it would be more accurate to call her watchful and scheming. She tells a nurse to deliver the fetal remains to an address and keep the fact private. This is such a terrible, terrible idea. Oh, Jeri, and I was rooting for you. We were all rooting for you. How dare you.

Now in her apartment, Jessica self-soothes with a bottle of booze and her street name mantras. Birch Street. Higgins Drive. Cobalt Lane. And the camera brings us back to Kilgrave who has completed his escrow in record time. As he creepily surveys his new purchase, he finds some notches on a doorframe. And when he peels back the wallpaper we see they’re a height chart—a height chart for young Jessica Jones.

Yep, Kilgrave has bought her family home—the one on Higgins Drive off of Birch Street near Cobalt Lane. Yep, you’re right. That’s every kind of fucked up.

Find more from Dorothy Snarker visit dorothysurrenders.com or @dorothysnarker.

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