Alan Shore stepped into the office. "I hear we have a murder case." "Alan," said Shirley Schmidt, "Just the person I needed. This is Jamal Jefferson. He allegedly shot a cop."

"Okay," said Alan. "Why does this interest me?" He looked at Jamal, who sat all closed up, staring at his feet. "What happened?" he asked.

"I shot him," said Jamal.

"Then we're going to lose," Alan said.

"—but it was self defense."

"Tell me more," said Alan.

"I was eating nuts, out of this brown bag, and the cop runs up and starts yelling at me to drop it, pointing his gun at me. I drop the damn nuts, y'know? He shouts 'til I get on my knees, but his gun's out and in my face and he's yelling at me to lie down." He paused. "I thought he was about to kill me, and I'd be one more black man killed by a cop who goes free."

"Tell him what happened next," said Shirley.

"I didn't want to die. I grabbed the gun, and next thing it goes off. And that's it."

"It's a long shot," said Alan. "But we have a case."

"Denny Crane," said Denny Crane.