Perry Mason hits a crossroads (and the bottle)

Perry Mason’s virtuous, oft-naive belief in the law has led him to a precarious precipice. Despite his indignation, a lawyer’s job isn’t always to prove a client’s innocence. Sometimes, it’s just to prove they may not be guilty, something he’d know if he spent more than an afternoon studying for the bar. At this stage in the Gallardos’ case, Perry, Della, and Paul are about to take a long walk off a short pier, with Paul literally bringing the murder weapon to the edge of his own pier in the show’s sumptuous opening shot. Moments later, he’s out with Clara, putting into words the dilemma at the episode’s core: “What’s worse, knowing your client pulled the trigger or not being prepared when the other side pulls there’s?”

Like Paul on the pier, characters frequently take in the sites in “Chapter Twelve,” whether they be a Palm Springs sunset or one of Los Angeles’ many mountain vistas. There’s a warmth to these panoramas, a comfort in the blue-sky promise of tomorrow many ascribe to California. L.A. sings the siren song of a better tomorrow, built up from the wild west in their lifetimes rather than a lineage that leads back to the Revolutionary War. At least, that’s how Ms. Ginny Aimes sees it. “You know what I like most about this town?” she asks. “No one tells you what was, only what can be.” Ginny and Perry’s impromptu horseback meeting is a sharp counter to Perry’s talk with the judge last week. Ginny, a teacher who presumably helps students discover what can be, is an inverse of the judge, who tells Perry what was. But “what can be” is still controlled by those who make the rulebook.

Fresh from cutting a man’s cheek off, Lydell prepares a media campaign against Mason, bringing in the radio Tucker Carlson we heard Paul’s brother listening to last week. (Though, upon closer inspection, he’s clearly more of a Limbaugh.) They’re going to shine a light so bright that it burns Mason to the ground, and Paul’s already feeling the heat as the trial has made him a pariah at home.

Thankfully, Della remains blissfully unaware of this just yet. After daydreaming about Emily Dodson’s suicide, she and Anita take a trip to Palm Springs, where they share a passionate kiss before another beautiful SoCal sunset. This also reminds me of Aimes’ words (“what was” is Dodson, “what can be” is Anita). Additionally, like Perry’s relationship with Ms. Aimes, which has been slowly building since the premiere, the show’s patience with Della’s romance has paid off, carefully revealing new shades of the characters every week.

Less can be said for Holcomb. The sole-surviving owner of a sinking casino boat, the man doesn’t even have a baked potato, and the lack of starch pushes him into unexpected territory: police work. There’s some charm to Holcomb terrorizing Goldstein’s warehouse and effectively doing his job on behalf of his nebulously legal gaming ship in international waters. He does get results, though, running into the man Lydell mutilated. The cheekless man was running cargo from McCutcheon ships to the Morrocan. However, proving he was once a detective, Holcomb notes there’s no practical reason to ship vegetables to California. As Holcomb says, they’re lousy with produce. Something’s not adding up here.

From one conspiracy to another. Paul and Della return from their weekends on opposite ends of the spectrum. After her weekend with Anita, Della’s never looked healthier—everyone can use some time away from Perry. Even that secretary had a productive weekend: Noreen Lawson’s brother is an L.A. city councilman whose district plays home to Brooks’ empty stadium. She was a good hire. Meanwhile, Paul has the unfortunate duty of informing Perry that the Gallardos are guilty. He found the murder weapon 100 yards from the Gallardos’ beds. They shot him.

The business may be struggling, but Della still deserves a raise. As Paul puts the pistol on the table, Della scoops up the piece and secures it away in one of E.B.’s hiding spots. More than Perry, Della understands a lawyer’s job isn’t always as cut and dry as Perry makes it seem. After all, truth and justice can’t be served unless both sides have a fair shake, and Della is happy to leave the gun in the grey until they have more information. However, this is definitely not the last time we’ll mention the hidden gun in Perry’s office. What did Checkov say, if Della hides a gun in episode four, it must go off by episode seven?

When Perry and Paul confront the Gallardos, Mateo takes the fall for shooting Brooks, which throws the case into disarray. Perry wants to quit the case over the revelation because he can’t defend a guilty man. The truth his is only weapon, and right now, the truth puts the Gallardos behind bars. Perry’s on the outs, though. Della recognizes that they are obligated to their clients—guilty or innocent, they have to do their best. Even Paul’s ready to defend them, mainly because the story doesn’t add up. He’s an investigator, right? So investigate, as Clara reminds him.

Perry’s not getting an easy out. His plan to work out a plea with Burger and Milligan goes belly up, so it’s beers and BBQ with Pete as a backup. That’s when, in another healthy, well-thought-out decision, Perry breaks into Lydell’s stables and steals a prize horse. Perry’s losing it here, resorting to the same self-sabotaging, drunken nonsense he exhibited when we first met him in season one. Even Pete’s matured into just-trying-to-keep-my-fucking-job mode. Perry has become untethered from himself, his family, and the city. Suddenly those open skies have gone dark.

The show knows it, too. The very next scene sees Della heading to Camilla Nygaard (Hope Davis), who does an excellent job of making the problems between Della and Perry clear as day. Della describes Perry as “instinctive.” Camilla knows she’s covering for him. Is that just a nice way of saying he gets to be impulsive and run roughshod? She pinpoints Della’s frustration, but she admits that he’s the best chance to her dream: her own firm with her name on the door. Like Della, Camilla lives in the grey, telling Della that she shouldn’t waver. “We do what we have to to become who we are.” If she wants her name on the door, Della needs Perry.

Camilla has Perry dead to rights as he proves her description accurate when he picks his son up from school and decks another parent who calls him “Maggot Mason.” Then, off to the movies to get drunk and turn down sex workers. (“I’ll give you 50 cents not to do that.”)

But the work has to continue, and our team finds strength in love. Perry closes out the evening with a late-night visit from Ginny, sealing the deal on their romance. Clara inspires Paul to investigate, so he talks to the “rat fuck” gun dealer, who spills for some food and beer: The Gallardos rented the same pistol daily to shoot bottles in the woods. They were practicing, Paul assumes. However, as the episode comes to a close, Sophia Gallardo follows a map Rafael drew her to a bag of money. Is this Brooks’ money? Were they paid off? Mason stories often create impossible circumstances for the lawyer to sift through, and then ta-da, an explanation. If that’s the intention of “Chapter Twelve,” then Perry’s got his work cut out for him.

Stray observations

• Title Card Corner: I mentioned it up top, but the shot of Chris Chalk walking through the chyron on the pier was beautiful. And like last week, it offered a little visual metaphor for how Paul investigates, slipping around the cracks of society.
• Much like how slow-burn Della’s romance is paying off, so are Perry and Ginny. Their connection came at such a low point for Perry, so it felt like a good time to remind him that not everything is as easily explained as he’d like it to be.
• In general, the show’s steady build has paid off. As the show moves away from subverting Perry Mason, it enters a zone where it can just be itself. I think that’s evident in the care with which it’s been handling its subplots. Nothing feels rushed; it’s organic and engaging.
• Speaking of slow builds: We got our second taste of the conservative rabble-rouser this week. We’ll see more throughout the season, and it’s a nice bit of world-building. This season is giving us so many different sides of the city.
• Terence Blanchard’s brassy-as-all-hell score continues to give the goods. The show’s spectacularly produced, but the score is the heartbeat of everything. Like those beams of light cracking through every blind and staircase, there’s hope in the score that drives the plot and characters forward.