Table Read - ROOMS OF EXPERIENCE - Act 1

Episode Date: January 13, 2026

Rooms of Experience, Act 1By Steffany SommersStarring Patty McCormack as Ada Wellsand Dan Lauria as DA Harvey DavisThe call comes in at night.An elderly woman.A dead son.A tank of helium left in plain sight.Ada Wells doesn’t deny it.She wanted his last day to be peaceful.Enter Dana Jeffries, razor-sharp, undefeated, and hungry to prove herself.Her boss, Harvey Davis, assigns the case for one reason: optics.Defense attorney Alexis Martinez pushes back hard.Detective Curtis starts questioning his own conclusions.Gina Gordon protects Ada like family.Carter becomes another pressure point inside the machine.Rebecca is caught in the ripple effect.Then Alexis shows Dana the home movies.The real story.The years no one saw.The cost no one counted.By the end of Act One, Dana walks out of Ada’s house shaken.No longer sure the law and justice are the same thing.Starring Academy Award nominee Patty McCormack (The Bad Seed) as Ada Wellswith Dan Lauria (The Wonder Years) as DA Harvey DavisCraig Parker (The Lord of the Rings) as Detective CurtisNicholas Gonzalez (The Good Doctor) as CarterNora Zehetner (Heroes, Everwood) as RebeccaAlyshia Ochse as Dana JeffriesCandice Coke as Alexis MartinezEileen Grubba as Gina GordonAlain Uy as Ethanand narrated by Sarah ElmalehTable Read is executive produced by Jack Levy, Mark Knell, and Sean Sharma. A Manifest Media production.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Taylor Reed, Rooms of Experience. Now let's do it with a little. Pretend like you're excited that you're here. Wow. Here we go. One, two, three. Table, read, rooms of experience. Rooms of Experience by Stephanie Summers. Fade in.

Exterior Children's Hospital Day. Flashback eight years prior. People stride in and out through the automatic doors of the brightly colored building on a sunny spring day. graceful willows line the walk. Dana, 30, attractive, long hair tied back and a loose, messy braid, dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, walks a few feet out of the doors, stops mid-step, her face tight with stress. People stream past her, around her. A nurse pushes a wheelchair with a woman and her newborn towards a car waiting at the curb.

A man beams alongside. As they pass Dana, a tiny pink and blue hat falls on the grass. ground in front of her. Her gaze lands on the hat. She breathes heavy. Something weighs on her. Then walks faster toward the parking lot, the hat left abandoned on the cement. Exterior parking lot day. Dana reaches her car, grabs the door handle. A sob almost escapes her lips, but she fights it back, wrenches the door open, gets in the driver's seat. Fade 2. Interior Dana's car. Moving. Present day. Dana impeccably dressed, expertly made up, hair in a tight bun, drives down a crowded city street,

wiper blades thump away rain from her windshield. Turns into a parking garage, deftly parks in her spot, exits the car, a chirp of the alarm, her heels click on a cement, her actions smooth and controlled. Interior Office of the District Attorney, Day. Dana enters from the street, drops a wet umbrella and a stand by the door, heads down the hall. Interior Dana's office, day. Dana opens the door which reads Dana Jeffreys' assistant district attorney, homicide. Hangs her purse on a coat rack in the corner, takes a seat at her desk, grabs mail from her inbox,

sifts through the mail, gets to a baby blue envelope, stops. Stares at it, runs her finger over the handwriting on the front, contemplates the letter opener on her desk. Her desk phone rings, startles her. She opens a bottom desk drawer, throws the envelope on top of several other envelopes in the same color with the same handwriting, reaches for the phone. Exterior Ada's backyard, night.

Ada, elderly, close to 90, but trim and well put together, stands on the lawn in the dark, illuminated by a small shaft of light from a bulb above the sliding glass door to the house. She holds a yellow balloon gently to her chest. There is the rumble of thunder in the distance. She closes her eyes and opens her arms, lets the balloon float up into the night sky.

Opens her eyes and looks up, watches the balloon disappear, then turns and goes inside. Drops of rain fall on the cement. Exterior residential street, night. Drops of rain beat against the asphalt, reflect the streetlights. The click of a phone being answered. 9-1-1. Silence. Hello? I, uh...

My son is dead. The wail of a siren heard in the distance. Exterior ate his house night. A coroner's van approaches, stops in front. An ambulance and two police cars, lights flashing, are already on the scene. This is a well-kept with older middle-class suburban neighborhood. All of the homes appear to have been renovated or upgraded except for this one. It appears frozen in time.

The front door is open, lights ablaze against the night sky, officers move about. Neighbors peer out their windows. Some step out on porches to see what's going on. Interior Aida's house, bedroom, night. The body of a man, Teddy, 60s, dressed in pajamas, lies dead on the bed in a sparsely furnished room. Nothing in the room looks out of order or unusual,

except that every inch of wall space is tacked with abstract drawings. There's a folded cloth and a length of plastic tubing on a nightstand. A tank of helium stands next to it. CSI-1 takes pictures, while CSI-2 catalogs evidence. Detective Curtis, 50s. Pokes his head in, looks at the drawings. Quite the art collection. How's it going?

Just finishing up. The detective nods. Interior Ada's living room, night. All the furniture is 50 or 60 years old, with the exception of a laptop computer on a small desk in the corner. The walls are covered in shelves filled with hundreds, of neatly arranged books. Detective Curtis enters from the hall, surveys the room.

Steps over to the books, pulls out a title. Yoga for Healthy, Aging, and Longevity. Scoffs, places it back on the shelf. Notices an upright piano, crosses to it, tinkles a few keys, walks into the kitchen. Interior Ada's kitchen, night. Ada sits at the table with a uniformed officer. Another officer stands in the background. Ada still wears daytime clothes.

Her hands are folded in her lap. She stares straight ahead. Detective Curtis takes a seat next to her. There is mail on the table. He picks up an envelope, looks at the name. Mrs. Wells? Yes. Are you the owner of this home?

She nods. Mrs. Wells, can you tell me who else lives here with you? Just my son. And is that your son in the bedroom? Uh-huh. Has anyone else been in your home this evening that you're aware of? No. Mrs. Wells, there's a tank of helium in your son's bedroom.

Do you know anything about that? She still does not look at the detective. We have it for the balloons. Teddy likes to let them go outside. The yellow ones are his favorite. He thinks it's like the sunrise. Detective Curtis and the seated officer exchange glances. Mrs. Wells, do you have any family in the area?

Is there anyone we could call for you? She finally looks straight at him, takes in his face for a moment before she answers. They're gone. Everyone is gone. It's just Teddy and me. Has been for years. For as long as I can remember, really.

Hey, uh, excuse me for a moment, man. He stands up, motions to the standing officer. They walk out of the kitchen into the hallway. Interior Aida's front hallway, continuous. Detective Curtis and the officer stand by the open front door. Hold on. Possibly. What do we know about this son?

The CSIs enter from the bedroom. CSI one exits out the front door. We're done. You can sit in the wagon. Suicide. Probably. Those sides of a struggle, the tank of helium, popular with the final exit crowd. The artwork is a bit curious, though.

A mental illness, maybe. Mom appears to have dementia. Could run in the family. Maybe taking care of her was just too much of a burden. Surprised it wasn't murder-suicide. CSI-2 shrugs, steps aside for the coroner to enter. Ready for me? Yeah, back this way.

The officer leads the coroner away. Detective Curtis pulls a piece of gum from his pocket, steps out the front door. Exterior aides house, porch, continuous. Detective Curtis notices some commotion as Gina, 50s, hurries up the walk. She's obviously been woken up in the middle of the night. Officer, too, is close behind her as she heads towards Detective Curtis. Ma'am, ma'am, you cannot be here. This is a potential crime scene.

I'm going to have to ask you to leave immediately. She looks back at the officer. Crime scene? Oh, my God. What happened? Are Ada and Teddy all right? He indicates to the officer he will handle this, pulls out his notepad. A detective Curtis, ma'am.

Are you family? No, I'm their neighbor. And what is your name, please? Gina, Gina Gordon. Where's Ada? Ada, that's Mrs. Wells, the elderly female occupant of this residence. Yes, is she all right. She is all right. She's inside. Gina Calm somewhat, is more willing to talk. What did the officer mean by crime scene then?

How long have you known Mrs. Wells? Since I was a little girl, I grew up in the house across the street. And where do you live now? Still there. I mean, I left and then I moved back after my divorce to take care of my parents before they died. My mother used to check in on her and now I do. So Mrs. Wells has been ill for some time? Ill? What do you mean? Ada's not ill. Then why was her son taking care of her?

What? No. Teddy's not taking care of Ada. Ada takes care of him. She has his whole life. He has autism. The drawings, right, autism. Do you think that would have led him to commit suicide? No. Teddy wouldn't commit suicide. He can't even talk. Oh, my God.

Where's Ada? Pushes past him, runs into the house. Interior Ada's kitchen. Night. Gina rushes in, sees Ada at the table, kneels down in front of her, takes her hands. Detective Curtis follows, stands in the doorway. Ada.

Ada, honey, what happened? Are you all right? Teddy. We're going to need to take Mrs. Wells to the station. Gina stands up as if to shield her. Now? In the middle of the night. What is wrong with you?

She's 89 years old. The coroner wheels the body past the kitchen towards the front door. Ada does not react. There's complete silence except for the wheels of the gurney squeaking on the floor. It looks like we have a few more questions for Mrs. Wells. Exterior Ada's house, night. Detective Curtis escorts Ada down the walkway towards an unmarked car. Gina, close behind, punches buttons on a cell phone.

Ada, it's going to be okay. I'm calling a friend of mine. She's a lawyer. We'll meet you at the station. Do not answer any more questions until we get there. The detective assists Ada into the backseat of the car, shuts the door. Gina yells at him, phone pressed to her ear. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I'm just doing my job, ma'am.

He gets into the driver's seat, shuts the door. Interior Police Station, interview room, night. Ada sits at a table, coughs into a handkerchief. Detective Curtis stands nearby. Would you like some water, Mrs. Wells? She nods. He pours a glass of water from a pitcher, hands it to her. Thank you.

You're welcome. You've taken care of your son for a long time, haven't you? Yes. It must have been very difficult for you all alone like that. She opens her mouth to respond, remembers. Gina said I should wait until the lawyer gets here. He takes a seat next to her.

Yeah, sure, sure. But you don't have to say anything. You're not under arrest. We're just trying to understand what happened tonight. The sooner we can sort it out, the sooner we can all go home. She speaks plainly, almost monotone, still in shock. I'm not senile. He casually reaches up a hand, indicates to start recording.

No. Of course not. No one thinks that. I didn't lose my mind. I knew what I was doing. You mean when you killed your son? I wanted his last day to be with me at home. Peaceful. Anyone would want that.

Where did you get the helium? The party store delivers it. We get a tank every other week or so. Teddy loves his balloons. And how did you know to use Helium to kill your son? I read about it on the internet. It said it would be fast and painless. I didn't want him to suffer.

And were you trying to make it look like suicide? A knock on the door. Detective Curtis rises to answer it, steps halfway out into the hallway. A uniformed officer whispers something to him. Detective Curtis leans back in. Excuse me for a moment, ma'am. The door clicks behind him. Interior Detective Curtis's cubicle, night.

Alexis, early 50s, a force to be reckoned with. Energy radiates from her even at this hour. Stands next to Gina. Detective Curtis approaches, smiles when he sees Alexis. Ah, Alexis Martinez. Counsel for Mrs. Wells, I presume. Does she need representation? Well, she did just confess.

In that case, I'd like to know why my client was being questioned without me. Well, she wasn't under arrest. We were just having friendly chat. Four o'clock in the morning. I'm taking her home. Oh, I'm afraid I can't let you do that. Why not? I thought you said she wasn't under arrest.

She wasn't when we were talking, but now that she's confessed to murder, I simply can't let her walk out of here. Yes, heaven forbid an 89-year-old woman with no passport and no car who's barely stepped foot outside of her home in six decades should be out roaming the streets. Thank God you boys are keeping us safe

from the likes of Ada Wells. She looks around. Several cops mill about not doing much of anything except eating and drinking coffee. I would have confessed too to get the hell out of here. I'm taking her home. She's not a danger to you or anyone else. We'll be back in the morning.

9 a.m. 11. She can't go home. It's an active crime scene. Gina steps forward. She can stay with me. See? They're all settled.

And I am holding you responsible, Ms. Martinez. I think I can handle it. Now please release my client. He walks away, smiles as he hears Alexis call out. Friendly chat my ass Exterior Gina's house night Gina's car pulls into the driveway She exits, helps Ada

Ada looks across the street at her own house Until Gina gently ushers her inside Interior Gina's dining room, day Alexis and Ada sit at the table Gina sets out mugs, pours coffee Gina told me a little of your story On the way to the station last night Taking care of your son by yourself

And barely leaving the house for all those years I can't even imagine That kind of isolation, the effects on the psyche. You're an incredible woman, Ada. She takes a drink. Thanks. I'm not certain which way the DA is going to go with this, but based on your... Please forgive me, advanced age and the circumstances,

I really can't see them pushing to prosecute this. So we'll talk to the nice officers and get you released on your own recognizance until we can get the charges dismissed. I don't want you to worry. Everything will be taken care of. I want to have a trial. Why would you want to do that?

Teddy was smart and beautiful and gifted, but he couldn't take care of himself. I didn't want anyone to think after all those years I finally just snapped. That's not what happened. It's important to me that people know he was my son, and I loved him. Alexis tries to think of an argument. Okay, Ada. I promise you'll get to tell your story,

but you should know this is the kind of case people like to use as a soapbox. If we go to trial, it could be very difficult for you. I'm not worried about difficult. Alexis nods, gives Ada's hand to squeeze. Interior Dana's office, stay. Dana types on her laptop at her desk. Her assistant pokes her head in.

Harvey is asking for you. Dana pulls out a compact from the top drawer of her desk, unnecessarily checks her appearance. Not a hair is out of place. Interior District Attorney Harvey Davis's office, day. The inner door is open. Dana knocks lightly. You wanted to see me, sir?

Harvey, mid-60s, all business, exudes authority, weighs Dana in. Dana, come in, have a seat. She purchased lightly on the edge of the chair across from him. How's homicide treating you? Well, it's very well, actually. I enjoy the challenge. Good, good.

He peers intently at her. She shifts slightly in her seat. Nice job on the Hanson case. Thank you, sir. I appreciate that. Two for two in this department. Not bad. You're already earning a formidable reputation.

Thank you. Think you ready for something a little more high profile? She sits up even straighter, if that's possible. Absolutely. He pulls out a file from a... desk drawer, drops it with a thud on the desk in front of her. Glad to hear that because I'm giving you the Wells case. Carter will second chair.

The Wells case? I thought that was going through elder abuse. Not anymore. The case is gaining ground since the disability rights group got wind of it. She flips through the file, takes out a picture of Ada, holds it up, studies it. Disability rights? How so? The son had autism, so they're calling it open season on a disabled,

accusing society and the justice system of devaluing people who are differently abled. It's looking to get political. Too many photo ops not to. Turns his computer screen for Dana to see. Close on screen. Article headline reads, Disability Rights Forefront of Murder Case. It's only my third homicide. and I don't have any political aspirations.

With all due respect, sir, why would you choose me? A female prosecutor sits better on this one? The defendant's 89 years old. We don't want to look completely heartless. We're already up against this sympathy boat. Kendra's tied up with the Carruthers case and Lauren's about to go out on maternity leave. That leaves you.

You look good. You speak well. Just be sure to brush up on your sound bites. So, I'm getting the case by default, not because I'm the most qualified. He shrugs as an admission. There's always a chance it won't be a win for you. But relax, it'll be fine. At least you have a confession.

Alexis breezes in, waves a document in the air. Speaking of confessions, Harvey throws his hands up. Counselor, do come in. Alexis brush his imaginary lint off his jacket. He tolerates it. Harvey, always a pleasure. I can hardly believe I left all this behind. Dana, meet Alexis Martinez, opposing counsel and former ADA.

Sadly, she defected long before you arrived. Not fast enough. Pleasure. She offers her hand to Dana. They shake, then she immediately hands Dana the document. Motion to suppress your confession. Harvey and Dana speak simultaneously. On what grounds?

Alexis ignores Dana, speaks directly to Harvey. A frail elderly lady who wasn't properly Mirandized being questioned without a lawyer in the middle of the night? Come on. She wasn't under arrest at the time, as I understand it. Seriously, I can't believe you even filed this in the first place. A murder charge? And to place her in custody, I know you were ruthless, but this is over the top even for you. We represent the people, Alexis.

you know that. They talk, we have to listen. Murder is murder, no matter who commits it. Oh, please. Save it for the reporters. That's not true, and you know it. She whirls around to Dana. At any rate, there's something I'd like you to see. Are you free for a bit?

Dana looks at Harvey. Who shrugs? Despite outward appearances, she's relatively harmless. Nice to see you too, Harvey. She strides out, does not wait for David. Dana, who grabs the file off the desk, scrambles after her. Exterior Aida's house, Day. Alexis and Dana pull up in separate cars. Yellow crime scene tape hangs limply from one side of the front door frame.

Alexis strides up the walk without looking back at Dana, pulls out a key, unlocks the door, enters. Dana follows. Interior Aida's front hallway, day. The house is dark. Alexis moves towards the living room. This way. Interior living room, continuous. An old movie projector sits on a small table between two upholstered chairs. A screen is pulled down over the fireplace.

Alexis crosses to the sliding glass door, flings open the curtains, light floods in. Dana blinks to adjust her eyes. Alexis, is that you? Sorry, I locked the door behind me. I wasn't sure how long I'd be, and there were reporters nosing around here this morning. She emerges from the bedroom hallway with a stack of clothing. Dana spins around. Excuse me.

Who are you? Dana, Gina. Gina, this is the prosecutor who's trying to convict Ada of murder. Gina narrows her eyes, takes a step towards Dana. This is a crime scene. You can't be in here. So I've heard. I came over to grab a few of Ada's things.

For when she's released, tomorrow. Okay. I'll see you at the courthouse in the morning. Okay. She leaves with a parting glance at Dana. Alexis crosses to one of the bookshelves, pulls out several volumes. Dr. Atkins' age-defying diet, how to live longer and feel better, neuroendocrine theory of aging, life extension, meditation is medicine, reversing human aging. She steps up to Dana, dumps the books in her arms.

What is all this? She struggles to keep the books from slipping, looks around for somewhere to put them down, then gives up, sets them on the floor just before they fall. Ada Wells' attempt to outlive her son. The kitchen is full of supplements. DHEA, CO-Ten, Resveratrol, stuff I can't even pronounce. She's not a murderer, Dana.

Look around this house. Books, vitamins, exercise equipment. She did everything she could to make sure she would always be here to take care of him. Teddy lived his whole life here. This is all he ever knew. She closes the curtains partway, turns on the projector. Black, scratchy lines snake across the screen. The film is very old.

Home movies of Teddy as a child appear. She recorded some of this because she thought it might be useful one day. She hoped there would finally be a doctor who could properly diagnose Teddy and help him. Insert, grainy footage shows five-year-old Teddy in various stages of distress. Hitting his head against the wall, screaming uncontrollably, lining up objects, clapping his arms, hitting his ears. A young Ada is seen in some of the shots. Through it all, she remains calm, does her best to soothe her son.

Back to scene. Alexis stays silent for a moment while Dana watches the film. Can you imagine trying to cope with this all alone? All but cut off from the rest of society? Trying desperately to help your child when no one else could tell you what was wrong with him, telling you instead that your best hope was to just lock him away? After all those years on her own, how would she know who to call or where to go for help? Dana remains fixed on the screen.

She barely even recognizes the outside world anymore. Do you have any idea of the unrelenting stress she must have experienced every single day of her life? Close on movie screen, young Ada holds little Teddy tightly. Rocks him as silent tears streamed down her face. Drop the charges. She's been through enough. Prosecuting this woman does not serve anyone. Dana's eyes don't leave the screen.

The media is already all over this. People will want justice. Justice? Put yourself where she's been for even a moment. Imagine this was your life. Imagine he was your child. Think of all the heartbreak, the struggling, the guilt she must have felt.

Where's the justice in that? Dana flips off the projector, faces her. We're not in court, Mrs. Martinez. Save your argument for the jury. She could have walked away. She didn't have to kill him. Then make a deal. No.

No deals. She had a choice. There's always a choice. You're not a mother, are you? Turns the projector back on. Why don't you watch a little longer and then tell me what her choice was? I'll be expecting your call. Her heels click on the way out.

Dana watches the screen, then looks around the house, takes it all in. Fumbles to turn off the projector, rushes out of the house. Exterior Aida's house, continuous. Dana stumbles down the front steps, blinks in the bright sun, takes deep breaths of air. Directly across the street, Gina holds a garden hose,

waters her front lawn. Dana sees her, immediately collects herself, walks quickly to her car. She grabs her door handle, pulls her hand back. The car drips with water. She looks over at Gina,

who shrugs slightly and turns away. Interior Dana's house, foyer, day. Dana enters through the front door, hangs her purse and keys on a wall hook. Her cell buzzes with an incoming call. She looks at the screen. It reads, mom's cell. She disconnects the call.

Let's out a deep exhale. Interior Dana's living room, continuous. Dana's boyfriend, Ethan, mid-30s, looks like he would immediately be your best friend, as relaxed and easygoing as Dana is controlled, watches ESPN on a split-screen TV, a laptop open next to him. He looks up as Dana comes in.

Hey, babe. You're home early. What a nice surprise? Looks like you're in the middle of an article. Don't let me interrupt. Gives him a quick kiss, ready to head off. But he grabs her, pulls her in his lap. You're a very welcome interruption.

Kisses her longer, slower. They break apart. She looks as though she wants to say something. Everything okay? Yeah, yeah, fine. I just got some case stuff in my head and I need to work it out. I'm going to go change for a run. She disappears down the hallway towards the bedroom.

Do you want to go out after, or I can order in? In. In would be better. Chinese, maybe Greek? There's that new place that opened up downtown. I grabbed the menu the other day. It should be around here somewhere. He rummages through a basket under the coffee table.

You decide. Or would you rather do sushi, unless you had it for lunch? Dana emerges from the hallway in running clothes, gym shoes in hand. You know, anything is for? Fine. I'll be back later. Just go ahead and order if you get hungry. I'll wait for you. It tastes better when you're here.

She gives a little laugh. Shakes her head, moves towards the front door. Halfway there, she stops, turns back around. You're probably better than I deserve. You know? I love you, too. Have a good run. She blows him a kiss.

Exterior City Street, moving, day. Dana runs, drenched and sweat. and near exhaustion. Rounding a corner, she enters a crowded park, turns on the speed, gives it everything she has. A soccer ball rolls into her path. She swerves to avoid it, missteps, falls to the dirt. A boy, 10, has a prosthetic leg, runs over to claim the ball. Sorry, lady, are you okay? She nods, hands the boy the ball, watches him run off. His prosthesis doesn't hinder him at all. Interior Dana's home office, night. Dana sits at her desk with a glass of wine, types on a laptop. Close on Dana's screen as she types in autism. The screen instantly

fills with thousands of results. She clears it and types in Down syndrome. The top bar of the results shows pictures of children and adults with a disorder. Dana stares at the screen, absently choose a fingernail, sound of footsteps in the hall. Hey babe, do you want to watch something? She looks towards the door, her hand hovering to close the laptop if necessary, calls out, Yeah, that sounds nice. I'll be there right there. Ethan sticks his head in. She keeps her hand over the screen. Do you want some popcorn? Uh, sure.

Two minutes. Don't make me come back and get you. You worked long enough today. I promise. He leaves. She looks back at the screen, clicks it off, finishes her wine. Interior courtroom, Day. Ada, dressed in jailhouse clothes, stands with Alexis at the defense table. Dana across from them, the judge at the bench. Ada looks drawn, coughs intermittently. Gina sits behind the defense table.

The court has recorded the defendant's plea of not guilty. I assume Ms. Jeffries, you have feelings about bail. Will the state request remand, Your Honor. Your Honor, as Ms. Wells is neither a danger to herself nor to society and has limited means, we ask that she be released on her own recognizance. Remand is completely unwarranted, not to mention punitive on the part of the state. Your Honor, the day. defended did take the life of her own child. The people are concerned Mrs. Wells may be suicidal

and requests were manned for her own safety. While your concern is touching, Counselor, I'm not certain we need to keep Mrs. Wells locked up at this point. Is there a third party willing to take custody? Yes, Your Honor. A longtime neighbor and friend, Gina Gordon. Is Mrs. Gordon present? Yes, Your Honor, she's right here. She turns around to indicate Gina, who stands up. Ms. Gordon, Do you promise to return the defendant to court when necessary and assure compliance with any other conditions set? Yes, Your Honor. Very well. The defendant is released to the custody of Ms. Gordon.

The judge consults her court calendar. Preliminary hearing is set for Monday, May 11th, 9 a.m. Court is adjourned. The judge wraps the gavel. Gina comes around to the defense table, gives Ada a hug. Exterior Ada's house, day. Ada stands in her driveway, wears a black. dress very dated, gazes at her front door.

Insert, flashback, 1960. Young Ada walks up the porch steps, carries Teddy as a newborn. Are you ready to see your new home, Teddy? Back to scene. Gina crosses the street from her house, comes up behind Ada, touches her gently on the arm. Ada, are you ready? Ada turns to her.

He was a good boy. I loved him more than anything. anything. I know. She leads her to the car. Exterior cemetery, Day. Ada looks down at Teddy's grave. Next to it, a tombstone bears Ada's name

and birth date. Gina and Alexis stand a few feet behind. A pastor speaks briefly with Ada, then walks away. She turns to Alexis and Gina. Would you mind terribly if I took a moment alone? Of course not.

She gives Ada a hug. Take all the time. time you need will be in the car. Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you. Both of you. You've been so kind. Gina and Alexis walk towards the car. I'm worried about her, Alexis. She seems so lost. And she's so thin now. She was always slight, but I think she's dropped 10 pounds in the last couple weeks. She hardly eats a thing. Without Teddy to take care of, she hardly knows what to do with herself. Thank you for taking her case.

Are you kidding? I would have taken it even if we weren't friends. You really care about her, don't you? My mom used to always talk about Ada, how much she admired her for keeping Teddy at home. My uncle had cerebral palsy, and my grandparents placed him in an institution. So I think that really struck a court with Mom.

The attitude towards people with disabilities was so different back then. Ada was kind of a pioneer, I guess. What's going to happen to her, Alexis? I don't know. I find it hard to imagine a jury would put an 89-year-old woman in prison, given her circumstances. But you never can tell. This case has a lot of potential to stir up a lot of emotion. Prosecutions certainly seem to be gunning for her for some reason.

Thankfully, her house has been cleared, so at least she can go back home. Without warning, Ada crumbles to the ground. Oh, Ada! They run to Ada, kneel down on the ground next to her. Alexis checks for a pulse. Ada, can you hear me? Gina, call 911. Ada opens her eyes, reaches out of hand.

No, I'm all right. The heat just got to me. I just need to lie down for a while. Please, please, I'm fine. I just, I want to go home. Alexis helps her sit up, checks her pulse again. Gina runs to the car, dashes back with a bottle of water, hands it to Alexis. Here.

Alexis helps Ada take a sip of water. Better? Ada nods. Okay, let's get you to your feet. Slowly now. They hoist Ada to her feet, walk her to the car, help her into the back seat. Gina shuts the door, turns to Alexis with a worried look. Alexis, you have got to get the prosecutor to make a deep.

It is not up for this. I know. I'll talk to her again. Interior Dana's office, Day. Dana holds her desk phone to her ear. A mail clerk enters, sets mail down in front of her. A familiar blue envelope is on top. Dana sees the envelope and tenses. Nod's a curt thank you to the mail clerk.

Yes, thank you for your comments. I understand. Just... No, thank you. Thank you very much. She hangs up. The phone rings again almost immediately. She groans. that's it go to her voicemail,

throws the envelope in the desk drawer with all the others. She flips open the file in front of her, extracts a picture of Ada, studies it. Alexis appears in the doorway. Good afternoon. Mind if I come in? Dana places the picture face down on her desktop, indicates the chair across from her.

Alexis takes a seat on the corner of the desk. I'd like to ask you to reconsider a deal. My client collapsed today at her son's funeral. She's in no shape for a trial. Dana's phone rings. She ignores it. I'm sorry to hear that. She complete guilty.

Avoid a trial that way. Alexis just looks at her. Okay, then. Are you asking for a postponement? No, Dana. I'm asking for a little compassion. The phone rings again. Do you need to answer that?

Dana picks up their receiver, sets it down with more force than necessary. Compassion? The same compassion she showed her son. Sure, sure. Let me just figure out how I'm going to square without her way with dozens of disability rights groups who won't leave me alone. Ah.

She studies Dana, who automatically smooths her hair even though it's perfect. Was there something else? It goes deeper than just winning this case, doesn't it? I recognize it. That need for approval. I'm sorry. What does that mean? Alexis picks up a framed photo from Dana's desk.

Looks at it, sets it back down. This office won't help with that. Harvey has a way of making you feel like you're not quite measuring up. And before you know it, you've become someone you didn't want to be. I remember when this was my office. I was a lot like you then. Dana straightens the photo to her liking. Not to be rude, but I don't think you know me well enough to make that comparison.

Alexis walks around the office and specs Dana's degree. I was the only one of my family who went to college, let alone law school. My friends from the neighborhood accused me of thinking I was better than them. When I changed my name from Alejandra, they said, I'd always be from the barrio no matter what. Turns to face, Dana. I was the only Mexican girl in my graduating class. Me, a scrappy, foul-mouthed kid from the streets of East L.A., graduating Summa Cum Loud from Stanford Law. I had a lot of doubts of where I fit in, but I always knew what I wanted to do.

And what was that? Alexis steps closer to her. Escape my past. I poured myself into my work. I thought if I could only work hard enough, long enough, 16, 18-hour days, win every case, then I'd be good enough, worthy enough. My past wouldn't matter.

But I learned the past always matters, Dana. You can't really go forward until you take a look back. In law and in life. Dana's phone rings. I'll be sure to remember that. Thanks for the advice. Alexis moves to the door, turns back around. Oh, by the way, we'll be arguing substantial capacity.

Under the circumstances, Ada couldn't appreciate the consequences of her actions. After the jury hears her tragic story, I'm sure they'll agree. Nice chatting with you, Dana. Don't let this office or Harvey eat you up. She leaves. Dana chews a nail, stares out the door. Harvey strolls in. Dana quickly pulls our hand away from her mouth.

Was that Alexis Martinez I saw leaving? Yes. And she didn't say hello. I'm hurt. What did the esteem Miss Martinez want? To rattle me? Harvey, I'm concerned about the strength of this case. The confession is out, and as of now, we only have two witnesses. Do they both say she's guilty?

Yes, and I'm still waiting to hear back from the message. medical examiner and the psychiatrist. Then that's all you need. Don't let Alexis get to you. She's a sharp lawyer. I should know, I taught her. But this case will likely be open and shut. Well, she's arguing capacity.

Maybe we should offer a deal. He removes a cigar from a suit jacket pocket, goes through the process of cutting and lighting it as he speaks. Dana, do you know why I promoted you? I assumed. it was because I'm a hard worker who does a good job. Because you're black or white. There's no middle ground with you, no shades of gray.

Someone's either right or they're wrong, guilty or innocent. No deal, Dana. That's what they call you. Did you know that? Puffs on the cigar to light it. You don't allow yourself to feel any empathy for the criminal, and that's what makes you a great prosecutor. You have the absolute courage of your convictions.

You never waver, so the jury never does. It's why you're sitting in this office, and it's why you're trying this case. Don't go getting soft on me now, Dana. I'd hate to find out I was wrong about you. He blows a puff of smoke, exits. Dana retrieves a bottle from a desk drawer, sprays a room freshener in the air,

then leans back in her chair, stairs at the ceiling. The phone rings again. Dana exhales loudly. End of Act 1. So let's take 10. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And then we'll re-combin and do two.

Two. Everybody, this is fantastic. You happy? Yeah.