Matlock returned this week from its brief, basketball-related hiatus with a classic episode in the “new Matlock” style, containing the three components I enjoy most about this show: (1) A tricky case that mirrors Matty’s larger mission and/or personal problems; (2) Matty bringing her special skills to that case by seeing clues that others miss and using her “aw shucks” charm to elicit useful information; (3) a sucker punch ending.
I’m eager to dig into that ending. But since it works as well as it does because of the way this episode’s story is told, let’s go down the checklist in order, one by one.
We’ll start with the case, courtesy of Olympia’s old law school chum, the public defender Amina Sloane (Azie Tesfai). Amina has been admiring from afar Olympia’s recent recommitment to social justice — and, more importantly, all the Hail Mary wins Olympia’s team is pulling off. Amina wonders if Olympia can pass some of that mojo along to Isabel Sanchez (Blanca Araceli), who has a difficult problem. Isabel has felt deeply guilty for the past 21 years, ever since she served on a jury that sent a man to prison for a murder Isabel is sure he didn’t commit.
The man is Eugene Molina (Del Zamora), a former doorman. Gene was convicted of killing a cranky tenant, Linda Gallo, although the evidence against him was weak. He had no real motive, left no DNA in the victim’s apartment, and the chief witness’s description of the perpetrator didn’t match Gene. But the cops said he did it, and the foreman on Isabel’s jury grew so frustrated with her unwillingness to vote guilty that he bullied her into submission.
What does this have to do with Matty? Well, her first reaction to Isabel’s story is to blame the juror, not the jury. She can’t imagine how any person would let herself get steamrolled into becoming an accessory to injustice. She certainly can’t forgive that person for staying silent for over 20 years, hoping the appeals process would straighten everything out. This is Matty in absolutist mode, as we have so frequently seen her. No excuses allowed.
But Isabel has a good excuse. Later in the episode, when Matty and Isabel are alone together, the juror explains what it was like to be a woman of color — and an immigrant to boot — trying to be heard over the braying of an overconfident white man. And Matty suddenly gets it. The epiphany changes the way she thinks about Isabel. It even changes her sour feelings towards Emmalyn Belvin, the Jacobson-Moore/Wellbrexa whistleblower, who Matty thinks should’ve come forward sooner. (I’ll return further down to Mrs. B, her cute puppy Barry Manilow, and the way Matty mistreats both of them.)
This brings us to the second component of a good Matlock episode: Matty’s engagement. As I’ve written repeatedly in my past few reviews, the worst thing about Matty’s disillusionment with Olympia has been the way she has become more checked-out at work. It was no fun to see her stumble along in the three-episode Slamm’d arc. Thank goodness her contributions are more vital in this case.
First, she softens up Gene, who is so resigned to spending the rest of his life working in the prison library that he’s reluctant to help. Matty validates his feelings of hopelessness, just enough to get him to answer a few questions. With the details Gene provides, the team is able to follow a trail that leads to an alternate suspect, who Matty then tricks into giving up his DNA. That DNA isn’t a match to the crime scene samples, but retesting those old samples does ping someone else in the database: a convicted felon who died in prison and who once worked as a caterer at the victim’s apartment. Case closed.
More and more, I’ve been pondering the question of whether the lawyers in Matlock are good at lawyering; and I have to admit, on that front, this case is hard to assess. Olympia comes up with a longshot way around the fact that Gene has exhausted his appeals. She has Isabel sue the jury foreman, Dale Foster (Bruce Robert Cole), for inflicting emotional distress. She then waits for the foreman’s lawyer to argue that Isabel was unreasonably obstinate 21 years ago, given that the defendant was clearly guilty — which gives Olympia the opportunity to say that the only way to prove this claim is to reopen the case.
Does the law actually allow for this? The logic seems thin to me. On the other hand, the case against Gene had so many obvious holes that it’s surprising none of his previous appeals worked. In a roundabout way, this brings us back to how this particular case-of-the-week reflects what’s happening elsewhere in the show — and how the writers both foreshadow and distract us from the surprise they’re about to spring.
The core idea of this story is that the justice system defaults repeatedly to favoring the voices of authority: the police (who didn’t investigate thoroughly), the foreman (who took the word of the police), and so on. Olympia uses this idea to her advantage to get her friendly ADA nemesis, Andrew Park, to test her DNA samples over the objections of his superiors. She knows Andrew, too, has been overlooked and ignored in his career, and she appeals to his long-buried outrage.
To pay Andrew back for that courage, Olympia does a press conference with him after the case resolves in their favor, winning the kind of glowing media coverage that’ll make it hard for their respective bosses to fire them. This win comes just in time for Olympia, whose success in the Slamm’d case irked Jacobson-Moore’s partner board — given that helping corporations do evil stuff is the firm’s most lucrative business. The guts Olympia shows in the face of that opposition is what Matty used to admire in her before Matty became convinced that the younger Olympia sold her soul to Wellbrexa.
Matty finally gets back to being chummy with Olympia again in this episode, for a couple of reasons. Isabel’s story helps. Edwin also uncovers evidence that proves Olympia was arguing a case in court at the time the Wellbrexa documents went missing. Olympia, apparently, was not responsible. Matty is so relieved. Until…
Ah, yes, the ending. Where to begin? The sucker punch is so strong. The episode’s final scene sees Matty getting off the bus at the end of the day as usual, then heading to her chauffeured car as usual … before finding Olympia standing in her way with a question to ask: “Who the hell are you, Madeline Matlock?”
This twist comes with a whole Matlock-style flashback montage, showing how Olympia figured out Matty’s deception across several episodes before getting the final piece of the puzzle — the chauffeured car — from Amina, who had the Kingstons’ license plate traced, then passed the info to Olympia under the code-name “The Johnson Case.”
As cool as that final moment is (in a “heart dropping into the stomach” way), I also liked how it connects to an earlier montage in the episode when Olympia and Matty looked back together on how they forged their bond of friendship. Apparently, even then Olympia was suspicious of Matty. In retrospect, seeing that moment more from Olympia’s perspective than Matty’s, every glowing word she says about Matlock carries a sting of accusation.
I’m reminded here of Matlock’s early episodes when Matty impressed Olympia by arguing for the value of her unique voice — while also irking Olympia for expecting her boss to be deferential to a folksy old white lady. This whole season has explored the question of whose voices get listened to. From the start, Matty has positioned herself as a quiet underdog, and yet, given how she has aggressively bullied family members and co-workers, Matty has rarely checked her privilege. I think Olympia’s about to do it for her.
Hot Doggin’
• The last episode before the hiatus ended with Matty about to rendezvous with Emmalyn Belvin. I was disappointed with how that cliffhanger played out. Rather than revealing herself, Matty calls Mrs. B on a phone with a voice modulator, beginning an episode-long cat-and-mouse game that includes Matty threatening to harm the dog, Barry Manilow. (Not cool!) Matty does soften her ill opinion of Mrs. B after talking with Isabel. Nevertheless, this whole subplot feels needlessly cruel, given that it’s ultimately about one piece of information: that Jacobson-Moore had a fire drill the day the Wellbrexa documents disappeared, rendering the keycard-tracing inaccurate.