A young woman has an argument in a crowded café. She shouts at her companion, I won't go BACK there!", pulls a gun and shatters a window. She tells Seretta and Logan that, well, Sister Bettina molested her in the shower at the Half Way House.
The investigation turns sometimes amusing. "Sister B" turns out to be a thirtyish, feisty woman with fluffy hair the color of autumn leaves. She's dressed in an ordinary sweater and skirt. Logan peers at her curiously and asks with some awkwardness, "Are you really, erm --" Sister B says yes, she's a nun. "I suppose I should call you 'Sister.'" "Call me anything you want." The plot is a little hard to sketch out because it's tangled but, suffice it to say, Sister B had nothing to do with any molestation. The same can't be said for Bill Macy as the Supervisor who has been plowing at least one of the girls by threatening to send her back out on the streets and be killed on 42nd Street if she doesn't become his sex slave.
In my objective and expert opinion, all this filthy nonsense is the fault of the nuns. Bill Macy, a normal guy, can hardly be blamed for wanting to work his way through the horde of teen-aged girls under his command, prompted as he is by his glands. How is it HIS fault? On the other hand, these nuns are getting far too uppity if you ask me. When I was a child, they used to make us kneel on the hard floor and if anyone complained, the nuns would sneer over us, flapping their black habits, and tell us that prisoners of war were tortured by having to kneel on wooden sticks! And then there was Sister Patrick Mary, so cynical that she wouldn't believe a single lie you told her. Whew! Well, anyway, this episode is as good as any that the series produced in its early years. It carries a moral lesson too: stay out of half-way houses if you can.
The investigation turns sometimes amusing. "Sister B" turns out to be a thirtyish, feisty woman with fluffy hair the color of autumn leaves. She's dressed in an ordinary sweater and skirt. Logan peers at her curiously and asks with some awkwardness, "Are you really, erm --" Sister B says yes, she's a nun. "I suppose I should call you 'Sister.'" "Call me anything you want." The plot is a little hard to sketch out because it's tangled but, suffice it to say, Sister B had nothing to do with any molestation. The same can't be said for Bill Macy as the Supervisor who has been plowing at least one of the girls by threatening to send her back out on the streets and be killed on 42nd Street if she doesn't become his sex slave.
In my objective and expert opinion, all this filthy nonsense is the fault of the nuns. Bill Macy, a normal guy, can hardly be blamed for wanting to work his way through the horde of teen-aged girls under his command, prompted as he is by his glands. How is it HIS fault? On the other hand, these nuns are getting far too uppity if you ask me. When I was a child, they used to make us kneel on the hard floor and if anyone complained, the nuns would sneer over us, flapping their black habits, and tell us that prisoners of war were tortured by having to kneel on wooden sticks! And then there was Sister Patrick Mary, so cynical that she wouldn't believe a single lie you told her. Whew! Well, anyway, this episode is as good as any that the series produced in its early years. It carries a moral lesson too: stay out of half-way houses if you can.