Nick may be a man of few words, but it's not often you'll see someone else speaking for him. Lafferty takes over in the courtroom and Nick is too stunned to protest. Or maybe it's Judge Damsen's floppy dreadlocks that have him momentarily confused. Pretty soon, Nick and Vic are on the case of young Ronnie Wagner, who's done something so awful that there's not much you can do with him except stare in revulsion, fiddle with your pencil and ponder the absurdity of a system that tries such a child in adult court by default (see notes at right), and absolves itself of responsibility for neglecting him when he needed it most. This story is based on a real case, and I don't know anything about that outcome, but in Ronnie's case I have to wonder what happened to the expert psychologist who could have told the court that there never was a 7-year-old who wasn't “amenable to treatment”. I have to wonder whether, had the case gone to trial, a jury would really send him to the electric chair or even to jail for 35 years. I truly hope not.

And never mind the state of the legal system – what's with the education system when a teacher can tell her kids that the rotation of a planet affects the passage of time, and when "field trip" means "theme park"?

When I was Ronnie's age, we went on field trips to museums, lighthouses, medieval castle ruins and 400-year-old historical homes with hand-painted Chinese wallpaper in the bedrooms and llamas in the garden. We could not take our mothers and we had worksheets to fill out. Always those damn worksheets. When did Mary Queen of Scots stay at the lodge? Who designed the altarpiece in the chapel? In what year were the stables built? Describe the tapestry in the Long Dining Room. (They were very good for us, I'm sure, those worksheets, but to this day I have a phobia about filling in forms.) We never once went to a theme park. Never! Calculate the force-vector component applied parallel to the plane of spiral tracks inclined at 30 degrees to the horizontal, by a rollercoaster weighing 2000 kg at an instantaneous radial velocity of 156 km/hour. Kind of kills the fun, doesn't it. I bet Ronnie never had to fill out a worksheet.

When I was Ronnie's age, we learned things like the French pluperfect, the atomic number of magnesium and how to calculate the volume of a rectangular prism. Important stuff. We didn't waste time on learning how to be fine upstanding members of society. No one ever told us that “Society can be judged by the way it treats its weakest members.” Then again, maybe that's what we needed to learn, because we grew up to become lawyers and politicians and judges who decided it might be a useful idea to put children on death row (again see notes at right). Society doesn't get it (and it is being judged). Lafferty gets it, but he barely has time to smack the judge in the head with a copy of The Butcher Boy before grabbing a four-dollar steamed milk drink and moving on to his other 23 cases.

So Nick loses this one, and he's not really sure he minds. He's just doing his job, and even though there's no way he's going to say sorry to an underage monster, he sort of gets it, in the end. Laurie gets it, too, but she doesn't want a shoulder to cry on (not that Nick's offering). Even before she confesses her mistake, you get the feeling Nick knew all along – ah, the benefits of having the script in advance. No wonder he prevaricated over having coffee with Lulu, parked his car exactly there and then waited five minutes for iced tea or something to come along.

Sure enough, it comes along. Hold that thought.

Over at Fallin & Straka, they're having a little trouble picking up rich clients – okay, Wallace is nouveau rich but his mom dresses him funny. Nick's unimpressed because he knows his dad will be unimpressed, and because there are no Gretchens to answer the phone. (“What the hell does Caldwell need three Gretchens for? You couldn't even poach one?”) Finally they get a shot at Jerry Stevens but unfortunately he prefers to go after distressed assets and Nick got his hair cut last week. Nick rubs the back of his neck in despair, flicks ahead to the cemetery scene and realises with some relief that he won't have to put up with this for much longer.

With new sets, soaring Nick Fix, office humour and angst aplenty, what need have we of boxer shorts and pillow talk? Speaking for myself, I have need. As for Nick – he needs R&R and who better to provide it than the idiot who smashed up his BMW. He hesitates on her doorstep only long enough to calculate that he is in fact in credit with his nice Nick stars and can therefore justify earning a few naughty ones. Kim has so many attractions – sweet smile, great body, hospitable nature, ambitious career plans, sensible name, does not want his baby, will not sue him for sexual harassment, and removes her socks (eventually) on command. She has a kid, which could be a problem, and she also has floral pillows, but no one's perfect. The point is, she knows what to do with him and he knows what to do with her, even if she did think he was a jerk, but he's used to that.

She quickly comes to her senses upon finding out about the coke, the arrest, the deal, the probation, the probation violations, the double homicide, the assault, the dead stripper, more coke, another arrest, the parking ticket and a few other things I probably forgot. Well, what woman wouldn't reconsider dating a Fallin after all that, even one oozing sex appeal so elemental it requires its own atomic number on the periodic table. And since she's standing there in his broom closet creaking in her leather and with more hardware dangling off her person than a Borg subunit, and still a little put out that he had his way with her feet, Nick decides he'd better acquiesce without protest.

Doesn't take long for Kim to soften her resolve and before you can say resistance is futile (because, you know, I had to say it) they're again having iced tea or something and discussing dismembered body parts. Big oops, to start talking about your defining childhood experiences if you're trying to keep things strictly sex.

Kim blames her 'slip' on stress. Lulu, who tried to convince herself of the same thing only a few weeks ago, knows at once that the cause of Kim's slippage (so to speak) is Nick Fallin. You could be wedged into a pew in Judge Damsen's courtroom with her restraining order superglued to your forehead and Nick Fallin would still make you slip. That's just the way it is for women living in Pittsburgh (or visiting Pittsburgh from New York).

Nick's hoping Kim's going to slip just one more time before the credits roll, but she's in the middle of Go Fish with her kid. Later in their relationship Nick's planning to suggest a game of Twister, but now is not the time. Yes, the kid could be a problem. Not that Nick doesn't get along well with children these days, but maybe he doesn't want to be spending too much time in a household where there's week-old mashed banana wedged into the faucets, stegosaurus spines underfoot and unidentified dribble on the toilet seat every morning. The man has standards.

As do I. This one makes the grade. Required viewing on the Guardian syllabus. (There will be a test.)

Back to episode list

* Is sympathetic to Laurie after she confesses her mistake, but does his job anyway.

* Congratulates James and Jake on landing Jerry Stevens.

* Asks Kim to dinner and appears to mean it.

* Shows some sympathy towards Ronnie at the end, and spends time with him.

The death penalty.

Nick has been to a theme park and has apparently been on a rollercoaster. Maybe he knows how to unwind after all.

After the bingle and while still in the parking lot, Nick puts on his indicator as he drives off.

Nick's new firm was supposed to have offices in a loft. I guess that deal fell through.

Nick may have a foot fetish. The jury's still out on that one.

KEY

Nick Fix Percentage of screentime allocated to Nick.

NWO (Nick Walks Out / Nick Walks Off) The number of times Nick leaves the room without first ending the conversation in a socially acceptable manner.

Indicates hot stuff (generally, Nick engaging in amorous activities or taking off his shirt).