Damn it, I nearly cried when they cracked out John Lee Hooker's I Cover the Waterfront after the opening credits, and nothing sad had happened yet (I was just pretty sure I knew what was gonna happen and the song DID NOT help). It's a lovely, quiet episode, and not very dramatic at all, mostly absorbed in the plain, practical elements of preparing for a funeral, and the departmental politics around burying one of your own. It's Meldrick Lewis' episode really, and it's wonderfully understated in that way; his crusade strangely detached, himself engaged fullforce but the emotion just hanging back, trying not to interfere. If this was your regular cliche program, that crusade would bear fruit at episode's end, and there'd be a triumphant catharsis in knowing that Lewis was right after all, that he knew his partner and stuck by him when everyone else was ready to presume the worst. But this is not your regular cliche program, and Lewis is in denial, and there is no triumphant catharsis in finally being forced to face an irrefutable, painful truth. Hell yes I cried when Meldrick broke down at last in Stan's arms. But the episode went for another ten minutes after that, and I got myself together again. And then there was the end. And Frank. And I just felt numb and terrible FOR HOURS afterwards, so unfathomably sad for absolutely everyone and for absolutely every imaginable reason. This one stuck with me for ages, and it's all that last moment's fault. Well, that, and everything else. Everything.