Let’s check back in with the newly-perforated Harris Ryland, who is lying on his back bleeding-out courtesy of a gunshot wound administered by Ann Ewing at the end of last week’s episode.
Harris is found by his mom, who yells for Emma to call 911, and is whisked away to an area hospital where he is listed as being in critical condition. His would-be killer Annie tries to wash away the murder germs in a Southfork bathroom, but is interrupted by her husband Bobby, who sees the gun. Moments later the Five-O (who should probably have Murphy Road permanently uploaded into their GPS by now) show up, looking for their suspect. Despite Annie’s dumbfounding efforts to get popped (“Harris is still alive?” she asks in full audience of law enforcement officials. You don’t have to be Becky Sutter after a Law & Order marathon to not yell at the screen STFU, woman!!!), Bobby cops to the shooting- reasoning that Annie will never have a chance of reconciling with Emma if it got out that she capped her beloved daddy- and is taken into custody. After posting his $1 million bail, he shares a drink with his big bro J. R., who promises that no Ewing will ever have to go to prison.
Elsewhere the Anti-Pam has taken to Googling Tommy Sutter’s name, fearing that his body will turn up with her bullet lodged inside; along with the blood splatter found at her condo, it’s a sure ticket to Gatesville. Her father’s major-domo Frank tells her to chill, as without the body the cops have nothing. Cue John Ross, in his post-coital uniform of wifebeater and boxers, walking into the room with a douchey asspat for Pamela and a breakfast order for Frank. “You look like the butler,” he says innocently but the damage is done. Frank calls up J. R. and tells him where to find Tommy’s body and finds the time to add that his son is banging his archenemy’s daughter.
Of course, this doesn’t sit well with J. R. who dresses Junior down at their next meeting. Son tells father that he has a deal with Pamela that will get him control of Ewing Energies. But J. R. continues to remain true to the Ewing-Barnes feud telling Junior that any machinations on their part must end with the zero-sum of anyone with the surname Barnes utterly destroyed. And for some stupid reason he tells Junior about his scheme to lay blame for Tommy Sutter’s body with Pamela. John Ross has Sue Ellen come to his office where he asks to get in touch with Cliff Barnes. Sue Ellen susses out that her son is trying to end-run against J. R. on behalf of the Anti-Pam and offers a bit of hard-earned advice: if you choose to be at cross-purposes against J. R. Ewing, expect some payback. . .and there’s a long list of wrecked lives clutching receipts (hers included) to prove it. In the end she still gives him Cliff’s digits. Cliff meets with his hated rival’s son and is seems bored by John Ross’ revelations (J.R.’s trying to destroy me? Yawn. . . it’s what we do) and calls their meeting short but not before Fredo lets him know that if J. R. brings him down it will be Cliff’s own fault for neglecting Pamela.
Brian, the foreman for Ewing Energies, has been trying to sabotage the drilling at the Henderson well per John Ross’ orders. Elena’s brother Drew calls him out and fires him. Chris catches Brian speaking conspiratorially with Junior and knows that nothing cool can come from that. John Ross puts his private dick on Drew’s tail (let’s be adults here) and finds out that Drew may be into some shady business or is a Smokey and the Bandit reenactor.
Lew Rosen, the hardest working lawyer in Dallas, tells Bobby that he must recuse himself from defending him in Ryland’s attempted murder case since he was around that one time that his client threatened the victim’s life. But no worries, he’s talked to the best attorney in Texas (I was sitting on my couch begging for a Jim Adler commercial to cut in) and he has agreed to take up his case, especially after seeing the crazy retainer that Lew must be pulling down getting the Ewings in and out of trouble. After some soul-searching Annie comes clean and admits to shooting Ryland who, from his hospital bed with his creepazoid mom, fingers Bobby as the culprit and hints at revealing some really mind-blowing news.
J. R. makes good on his promise to Frank: Tommy’s body appears and the murder weapon found shortly afterward. Rebecca is now, in the words of dearly-departed comedian Robin Harris, sweating like a one-legged runaway slave. It won’t be long until she is cooling her heels in the county jail for a murder rap. Frank is nowhere to be found (surprise!), so she solicits help from her last resort. That night, Dallas’ Finest put two-and-two together after using cutting edge forensic technology and end up at the door of Frank Ashkani (way to pull the Silence of the Lambs switcheroo, writers). Turns out Cliff kept a gun with Frank’s prints, and went into action when his baby girl was cornered. Still, Barnes is still saddened by the betrayal of his adopted son that he plucked from the mean alleys of Pakistan. He promises Frank that he will take care of his family if he does one more thing for him. . .
The next day during his arraignment, Frank absolves the Anti-Pam of any part of Tommy’s murder, and, while he’s at it, admits to killing Tommy’s sister Becky when she got too nosy, being the second shooter at Dealey Plaza, and drinking milk from the carton. Chris Ewing, his last hopes of seizing custody of his unborn twins with Pamela going up in smoke, loudly proclaims that Frank’s confession is full of lies. As Christopher is being ejected for contempt of court, Frank slips himself a tablet and saves the taxpayers of the State of Texas some prison bedspace as he writhes on the courtroom floor. . .
In the words of the late twentieth-century philosopher Ric Flair: WOOO!!! Looks like the Barnes family is back to stay in a big way this week, and it doesn’t look good for our boy John Ross if and when J. R. finds out Fredo had to go and eff up a good plan. And what the heck is Harris Ryland going to reveal? And is Derrick the sheriff’s first or last name? Guess we’ll find out soon, but for now let’s grab our Mapscos and find out where we went this week in Dallas:
*John Ross and Cliff met up at the empty Gexa Energy Pavilion, or the Superpages.com Center, or the Smirnoff Music Centre or the Starplex Amphitheatre or the Nehi Peach Hoot ‘n’ Holler Emporium (seriously, pick a name and stick with it). Time for a cool story, bros: my first show at Starplex was Phil Collins back in ’89. I had a lawn ticket waaaay back against the wall (it was free so no complaints) and I could smell the unmistakable scent of marijuana wafting through the autumn air. Even fifteen-year-old me knew that not even weed would not reveal the hidden mysteries of “Sussudio”.
What did y’all see?
