Blinded By the Light
Updated 2009-10-12 10:00:30
Many thanks to Mindy for covering the recaplet while I was too busy contemplating giving up on NFL football for good. Previously on Dexter : Didja hear that Dex has gone all domesticated? Because he has. Three kids and a wife and a minivan and ... okay, scratch that minivan, as it got totaled in the car wreck. But the kids are still there, three little constant reminders of how uncool he's become. Oh, also: Lundy and Deb had a workplace romance, while Angel and LaGuerta currently do.
We open on what I totally thought was a dream sequence but is not: Dexter regarding everyone at a neighborhood backyard BBQ. While Dexter's voice-over blah-blahs about the primal nature of man and how BBQs are remnants of the times when the men would have to communally take down great beasts to feed their families (zzzzzzz...), we're reminded that we'll be revisiting a theme this week. And that theme is "Dexter will never fit in with the rest of the world, never ever ever ever." I won't bore you guys with going through every instance in the show where this concept has been displayed inconsistently, so I say we just go with it: This week, Dexter is an incurable social misfit unable to do anything but barely fake it.
Dexter pours out some conspicuously red daiquiris (because: BLOOD), then offers the kids some sodas. Only Astor is still firmly entrenched in the Bitchiful Tweens and thus hates everything, and her buddy Jesse the Unconvincing Stoner decides he'd rather play his drumsticks on Dexter's drink-serving tray. And again, in the interests of getting the obvious out of the way early: We all wish Dex would just chuck the Code and murder Jesse just because he's annoying. Consider that a given even when I'm not mentioning it.
Rita pulls Dex aside and totally busts him for lying about his concussion last week. She called the doctor to check up on him and everything. I can't tell whether this is just a natural extension of Rita, Needy Single Mom, or if the writers are going overboard with how much of a drag it is to have a wife and kids. Bottom line is that, in keeping with doctor's orders, Rita will be driving Dexter everywhere for the next week or so. Dex tries to object, but Rita goes further: "The past few weeks you have not been the most present father and husband." Dexter's VO rationalizes it for him: Play nice with the carpool and there will be more slack on that ball-n-chain for when he wants to get some killin' done.
The party's hosts come by and the husband starts bitching about a neighborhood vandal who got their birdbath, among other neighborhood landmarks. Another neighbor, Andy, happens by and notes the vandal knocked the seahorse off his mailbox. Jesse the Unconvincing Stoner -- who is Andy's son -- whines that he hated that seahorse anyway, even though his deceased mother picked it out. Andy then proceeds to super-soaker random party guests while the neighbors indulge him for being half an orphan. There's talk of a neighborhood watch, and then Andy jokes that the trouble didn't start until Dexter moved in. Dex, currently incapable of not looking incredibly suspicious at all times, doesn't recognize the joke until Andy has to spell it out for him. You know what that means: Another minute and a half of Dex's VO pontificating about how impossible it is to fit in.
Elsewhere, our fine BBQ host playfully pushes Cody into the (insanely luxurious) pool, to chuckling all around. But when Dexter sees it and tries to do the same to Astor, she's mortified, as is Rita. You guys, this is gonna be a sad hour for Dexter.
In happier, more well-adjusted news (or so the editing would have us believe), we see Trinity has decided to go forward with his second murder. The mother he was stalking all last episode is crying terrified tears as she drives down an isolated alleyway. Trinity's in the seat behind her, dressed in all black like he's a cat burglar. He has her pull into a warehouse parking lot, then directs her inside and up the stairs, at knifepoint. The woman's badly freaking out, while Trinity stays icily calm as he positions her towards the ledge overlooking the parking lot. "It's time for you to jump," he says. He's not even touching her, and he won't push her when she ultimately (after he makes threats against her husband and children) begs him to. "That's not how it works," he says, stone-faced. So the woman, trembling and despondent, steps to the ledge and lets go. Back down on the ground, Trinity sees her dead body and whimpers, "Mommy?" Then he pulls a vial of something or other out of his pocket and spreads it with his un-gloved fingertip along the pavement. That's two killings that rate a 10 out of 10 on the creepy-crawly scale.
The next morning, Dexter emerges from his house to get his paper, only to see the vandal has spraypainted a grimacing smiley face on his front gate. Immediately, Ghost Harry is there to prey on Dexter's doubtful feelings: This is just like 11th grade, when the school kids TP'd their yard. Harry made Dexter clean it up then, so as not to arouse suspicion. So the pattern remains the same: Nobody liked Dexter, and he has to work hard to cover up so he won't give himself away. "I know you're under a lot of pressure," Harry allows (a perturbed Dexter snorts his agreement), but that's no excuse to slip up. Dexter notes a can of spray paint left on his lawn. He grabs it and VOs that it looks like somebody else slipped up this time.
Anton and Deb's place. Anton noodles around on his guitar while Deb scowls at him for not making a fresh pot of coffee. Oh, it begins. Anton gets "good news" in his email: a local hotel wants to book his band for the whole month. That means no going out on tour -- he'll be home every night. Deb could not be less obviously disappointed at this news, not that Anton seems to pick up on it much.
The carpool of Dexter's discontent. Rita sings "Karma Chamaleon" to Harrison while Dexter squirms uncomfortably in the passenger seat. Oh, I'm sorry, since when does being a deeply disturbed social misfit preclude one from enjoying the shit out of Culture Club? Dex's VO frantically tries to figure out a way for his Week of Playing Nice to end as quickly as possible. He eventually bargains it down to four and a half more days. "I'm never gonna make it," he internally grouses.
At the station, Angel and LaGuerta run down their Vacation Murders suspect, Johnny Rose. Thus far, they've got nothing on him. LaGuerta gives out the new marching orders, then tells Deb if she doesn't get anywhere on the Lisa Bell case soon, she's gonna get put on Vacation Murder duty too. That's the one with all the political pressure. Meanwhile, Quinn spots Dexter getting off the elevator and makes a beeline. Seems the mission for Quinn is still to buy Dexter's silence (Dex saw him pocket that crime-scene cash last week), this time with a pair of Dolphins tickets. And, since apparently murderous sociopaths are second only to gay dudes in terms of getting snooty about team sports, Dexter turns right around and hands the tickets off to Masuka. Though Dexter does kindly turn down Masuka's offer of "Who do I have to fuck to get those kind of tickets." Once again, Dexter keeping the universe at a distance.
Meanwhile, Angel's got a report of a female body in a warehouse parking lot, looks like a suicide. And despite Quinn's most obnoxious efforts to refuse on her behalf, Deb jumps on the case once Dexter notes to her that it sounds like Lundy's prediction of a second Trinity murder has come true. Dex goes to grab his keys, but Deb says Rita's already told her about the no-driving thing, so he's coming with her and Quinn. And in what might be my favorite Quinn moment so far, he pulls up in front with testosto-rap blaring and tells Dexter to climb in the back: "You'll be right on the subwoofer; you can feel the bass in your spine!" Oh, Quinn, you are a type.
At the crime scene, Dexter photographs the victim while his VO admires Trinity's work, which is much different than his. Some of it seems obvious (and in keeping with the season's and series' themes): Trinity leaves his victims for everyone to see, fearless of getting caught because, hey, he's managed to leave virtually no trail so far. Anyway, Masuka snarks that the cause of death was "gravity," while Quinn impatiently tries to bag this as a suicide. Too bad for him, then, that "Special Agent Grandpa," aka Lundy just showed up. And wearing quite the Panama Jack hat, to boot. As is his usual way, Lundy ambles up unassumingly, before a) totally freezing Quinn out, b) unnerving Dexter with barely more than a glance, c) flattering Masuka and thus ensuring his further slavish devotion, and d) pulling Debra aside and admitting that, while Trinity was his primary motivation in returning to Miami, he's glad to be here and near Deb. This man is a stone-cold killer on all fronts. He even manages to -- after Deb apologizes for "being a douche" the other night -- make the word "douche" sound quaint. Debra digs her heels in with Quinn, insisting it could be a homicide, just like Lundy says it might be.
And completing the trifecta of illuminating styles of driving music, Masuka drops off Dexter in his tricked out 4x4, jamming to twangy country the whole way. That...kind of fits, yeah. Dexter turns around and begins the walk up to his front door like he's on his way to a tax audit. I'm starting to suspect Dexter might not be enjoying having a family, you guys. Before he gets halfway up the walk, a bright light accosts him; seems the neighbors installed a flood light. Better to keep their stone birdbaths unmolested. It's just one more thing to sour Dex on life in the 'burbs. And inside waits yet one more: a neighborhood watch meeting has broken out in his living room.
Dexter awkwardly greets the gathered neighbors and listens to the cop they brought down as he advises everybody to be familiar with each other's schedules so they'll know when something's amiss. Okay, before we go on: I get that this is all thematically representative of the suffocating constrictions of Dexter's family life, but in practical terms, I'm not sure how this neighborhood watch thing cramps Dexter's serial killing all that much. He never kills anywhere near home -- hell, he doesn't even keep his slides there. Beyond maybe paying too much attention to what time he gets home from work, I don't know that this makes him any more of a risk to get caught. Again, I get that more attention of any kind is bad for Dexter. But the fact remains, the man lives by an actual CODE -- he doesn't shit where he eats. So for this episode to go the long way around to present Dexter with a situation where he'd need to dip into his double life to take care of a petty spray-painter seems to be both a stretch and a cheat.
The cop hands out head-mounted flashlights and whistles to the dads, while we see Astor giggling over Jesse. Andy somewhat sheepishly mentions to Dexter that the neighborhood association is going to require him to cover up the graffiti on his gate, which to me is a much more murder-inducing offense than the actual vandalism. BBQ Dad is all proud as he asks Dexter how he liked the security lights he installed. He angled them to shine on Dex's yard, you know, just to be neighborly. They bemoan the further exploits of the vandal -- he's moved on to breaking into guest houses now! Next he'll be stealing their women, which gives Dexter a chance to be all awkward and out of place. He doesn't even understand misogyny, you guys! How can he be expected to properly grill with the guys? They divvy up nights for patrol, and Andy (important!) says he has poker on Wednesdays.
Dexter takes a gander across the room and notices spraypaint on Jesse's shoes. Astor is busy hanging on every squeaky-voiced-teen work this poseur says (if you're interested, he's bitching about how his dad losing his job meant no University of Miami for Jesse). When Dexter brings around the neighborhood watch clipboard, Jesse brushes it off as "lame." "So lame," Astor echoes. Man, okay, I know we have Trinity and all, but can the other season-long arc be Dexter struggling not to murder Astor for being a perfect tween brat? Not even Lundy would lock him up for that one. Dexter grabs Jesse's soda can to check for prints later. Then he embarrasses the hell out of Astor by telling her she's up past her bedtime. Rita scolds him for treating Astor like a little girl, while I secretly wish Dexter did that on purpose.
The next day, Dexter tries to stain over the spraypainted face on his gate. He's rudely interrupted by Harry -- who still has that damned rosy glow -- who continues to drop unsubtle metaphors about how Dexter can try and try to cover up that spraypaint/his being a murderer, but it will always bleed through. He also reminds Dexter that this problem he has with Astor is symptomatic of his pathology. He's always been fine with kids, but he doesn't get adults. Thanks, Harry, you're a breath of fresh air and bluntly underlined plot points, as always.
On a happier note, Rita's drive-time selection today is Bananarama. "It's a cruel summer," Dexter deadpans. At work, Dexter matches the prints on Jesse's Diet Pepsi with the prints on the spray paint. Looks like Dexter's going to have to ... not kill Jesse, because no matter how annoying he's been, we know Dexter has that code and all. Maybe he'll just wrap him up in clear plastic and scold him.
Meanwhile, Quinn tells Debra the suicide victim was married with two kids. That fits Lundy's theory, so Deb is now officially convinced he's right. Quinn's more skeptical -- Lundy's whole life is serial killers, so of course he thinks this crime fits that pattern. "I think he's a little smarter than that," Deb smirks. Obviously she does, says Quinn, if she's going through 30-year-old murder files. "Oh yeah?" says Deb, "So are you." Good to know petty, immature Deb is still in there. Kind of sad (but not surprised) to know Lundy kind of brings it out of her.
LaGuerta returns with Johnny Rose's juvie records, but it's mostly nothing. She and Angel decide to follow up on the unlikely chance that Johnny took back up with the girl who testified against him for shoplifting. LaGuerta offers to drive out there with him. As they make it past the bullpen, LaGuerta mumbles whether that seemed inconspicuous enough. Angel suggests they grab a bite to eat along the way ... some place where they can get room service.
Meanwhile, Quinn continues to bitch to Deb about the suicide case, while Deb continues to try to sell him on Lundy's pattern theory. "This is Miami, Deb," Quinn says, condescendingly. "People die." Deb: "And some of them by murder!" Some of them? Somebody's giving Miami the benefit of the doubt. Speaking of benefit of the doubt, I'll give it to Deb when I assume that when Anton shows up unexpectedly and she bites his head off about the "fuckload" of work she has to do, it's got more to do with being annoyed at Quinn than it does with looking for reasons to be angry at Anton. He manages to use that sweet face of his to get her to back down off the anger ledge and grab a (working) lunch with him.
And since this is the week of everybody invading Dexter's space, Deb and Anton decide to have lunch at his table. And they're soon joined by Lundy. Wait, so in the span of seven seconds, Dexter's solo lunch became a table for five, with himself, Deb, Anton, Lundy, and Awkwardo the Ghost of Deb and Lundy's Romantic Past? Much as Dexter's misanthropic whining has bugged me this week, this I'll grant is annoying. Lundy and Anton introduce themselves as Deb spazzily and bluntly tells Lundy that Anton is her "lover." Lundy -- you'll be shocked to hear -- is aloof. Dexter escapes, and Deb and Lundy are left to talk shop while Anton and Awkwardo split an order of onion rings. Deb's working over the file on Trinity's suicide-murder from 30 years ago -- the family never bought it as a suicide.
LaGuerta and Angel cutely amble to the address of Johnny Rose's girlfriend, Nikki Walt, all the while chatting lightly about their afternoon of room service and sex on the taxpayers' dime. Nobody's home when they knock, but as they go to leave, they see a pair of ne'er-do-wells heading towards the stairs. Angel, in an act of tactical brilliance , yells to them all "Hey, it's the police, in case you were wondering!" And Johnny and Nikki immediately pull out their guns and start shooting. LaGuerta and Angel manage not to get shot, but they're not able to maintain pursuit (or get a solid bead on the getaway car).
That night, Dexter waits in the shadows of the cul-de-sac as Andy leaves for his poker night. His VO is all, "Rita thinks I'm on neighborhood watch duty, but she's a castrating shrew so ..." No, fine, but the VO is some lame play on "watch" and I don't feel like giving him the positive reinforcement right now. As soon as Andy pulls away, Jesse's out the front door with drum sticks in hand. Dex VOs about how this feels very much like The Hunt, only it's not really, because he's not going to kill Jesse. Then I ask again: what is he doing this for? If he's not killing to sate his Dark Passenger, and he's not going on the offensive in order to maintain his secret life (as has been the case the only other times Dexter has gone extracurricular like this), what possible reason could he have for going after Jesse? To improve the lives of his neighbors? Not sure if you've noticed, but the episode has taken great pains to emphasize that Dexter can't relate to and doesn't much like his neighbors. Because Jesse irritates him? Haven't we been drowning in a sea of reminders that Dexter is a sociopath and doesn't feel anything about anybody? The general weakness of this storyline is making it very obvious that Dexter's running in place while Lundy and Deb get the Trinity storyline to the point where Dexter can hop on.
Anyway, so Dexter pulls a ski mask down over his face and starts briskly walking right behind Jesse. But before he can grab and "scare" the kid, out come the Neighborhood Watch with their gay-ass head flashlights. Shit, y'all, there's like eight of you? What was the point of making a schedule if you're ALL gonna watch the neighborhood at once? Jesse freaks and runs away, while the villagers chase Dexter through a few backyards ("It's watch and report, asshole, not watch and chase!") before he's able to evade them. Yet another reason this was a dumb idea: It risks getting caught by the neighbors for something that has almost zero benefit to him. Gah, whatever, I'll stop.
The next morning, BBQ Dad stops by to show Dexter and Rita the latest work of the vandal: He released the emergency brake on a parked car and rolled it on down the street, where it crashed up onto BBQ Dad's lawn. And on top of Cody's bike. "What if he'd been out here playing?" Rita asks, scandalized. In...the middle of the night? I'd place the blame for that one squarely on you, Rita.
Back at the warehouse, the gang gathers to watch as Masuka throws dummy jumpers off the ledge, the better to glean...well some kind of forensic knowledge. Sometimes it's just cool to watch Masuka throw stuffed lady dummies out a window. Just one more weird impulse to get out of his system safely. Somehow, this exercise proves that the woman jumped rather than getting pushed. Also of note: Masuka tries to scalp the Dolphins tickets Dexter re-gifted, but Quinn angrily grabs them back. Even weirder? Masuka actually ends up giving Deb a good talk about Lundy and Anton, telling her that the fact that it feels weird to have Lundy back around is pretty normal and to be expected. Not that I think it'll take, but a yeoman's effort, and Deb is pleasantly surprised.
Down on the ground, Lundy talks Trinity with Dexter. The sequence of his kills and victims are this: 1) Young woman in a bathtub; 2) a mother falling to her death; and 3) a man getting bludgeoned. Lundy's mapped out 15 cycles, but now that they've uncovered the 30-year time span, he's sure there are more. Dexter can't contain his admiration and says how "impressive" it all is. "...In a very evil way," he amends. "Why do you think he's so successful," he then asks, practically pulling out a notepad and pen. Lundy attributes it to his lone-wolf status, and Dexter wistfully contemplates that and all it implies about his own life. Because he's BURDENED. By having a FAMILY. In case you've been in a COMA. Taking a bit of a turn, however, Lundy says the solitary, obsessive nature of Trinity could just as well apply to himself as well. Maybe that's why he's suited to track the guy. He's a hunter, same as Trinity. "I'm sure you can't relate," he says to Dexter, in that way he has where you wonder if he's not laying down these provocative lines on purpose. Lundy's also intrigued that Trinity's returned to Miami. "He's come home," says Dexter. Lundy's not sure if "home" applies. "People like us," he says, "don't really belong anywhere." Oh, go tell it to Harry.
At home with Trinity and Family. The house (or apartment, or hotel room, you can't tell) is completely dark except for a small light in the corner of the room. Trinity's set out a bottle (scotch?) and two glasses. Also a rather flowery and decorative urn and a framed photo, let's just take the Freudian shortcut and assume it's his mother. Into the rather flowery and decorative urn, he dumps the contents of that vial, and so we see that he had spread a finger full of his mother's ashes on the ground next to his victim. If that was a part of her end-of-life wishes, I think we can safely blame the entire litany of Trinity killings on a lack of Death Panel consultations, right? Feel free to use that observation around Washington, Rahm. So Trinity pours a glass of water and a glass of whiskey, then pushes the latter over to Mother's side of the table. "Drink up," he says, somberly. "You're next."
The next day, Quinn and Christine pedeconference through the station, she plugging him for info on the Vacation Murders case, he stonewalling. He tells her in light of his bosses getting shot at, if she puts any negative spin on the PD in her article, she ain't gettin' none tonight. He also gives up nothing on the bathtub murder and warehouse jumper, though there's no threat of withholding The Mighty Quinn (sorry) attached to those.
Deb's at her desk, arguing with Masuka against the test results saying Tarla Grant jumped. Quinn chimes in that autopsy results came back and reported a just-discovered tumor. Maybe she was "taking the easy way out"? Deb won't buy it and cites the lack of suicide note. Quinn -- less harsh about it now -- says not everyone leaves a note.
Meanwhile, LaGuerta is quietly freaking to Angel about getting debriefed for their shooing incident. So freaked that she opted to wear her purple jacket and skirt in a shade of Lenten violet rather than Screaming Ruby Blue. She tells him they need to get their story straight about why they left the precinct at 12:30 and arrived at Nikki's apartment at 3:30. Angel coolly says they grabbed a bite to eat, then got a flat tire. Works for LaGuerta, though I'll be sure to let you know whenever she breathes again. LaGuerta then heads to Deb's desk and lets her know they're closing the Tarla Grant case, Lundy be damned. Deb protests, but LaGuerta's adamant: She can follow up on her own time if she wishes, but between the Vacation Murders and Lisa Bell, her plate is awfully full.
Dexter walks into work on the phone with Rita (um...who just drove him to work, then?), who's telling him that Cody cut his foot on glass from the car that crashed up on the lawn. He's fine, but this is just another reason (well, "reason") for Dexter to go after Jesse, I guess. When he gets off the phone, Quinn's already made a beeline to Dex's office. He wants to know WTF about the Dolphins tickets. He's been going out of his way to make friends, but Dexter keeps throwing it back in his face. Weary of this whole dance, Dexter tells it straight: "I don't care if you're a dirty cop." And while this should placate Quinn, it instead sets him off on a localized rant about how hard he works and how little he gets paid and he puts his life on the line and that money would've ended up in the pocket of some fatass evidence clerk anyway and don't you DARE call him a dirty cop. Dexter naturally doesn't need this noise. He takes it all back and simply reassures Quinn that he had no interest in ratting him out. "Just keep my sister out of it, okay?" Quinn looks at Dexter with some curiosity but also some contempt: "You don't understand any of this, do you?" (DO YOU THINK HE MEANS ABOUT BEING A SOCIOPATH BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT IT SOUNDS LIKE HE MEANS BUT OH WAIT HE MEANS SOMETHING ELSE.) "You can't, 'cause you're not a cop. You're not one of us." Damn, Quinn, way to be a dick now that you don't have to kiss his ass anymore.
Later, Deb drops Dexter off at home and notices his extreme reluctance to exit the car. "They're always there," he says of Rita and the kids. Deb can kind of hear that these days, with her feeling awfully cramped due to Anton actually being home all the time now. "And now Lundy shows up," she adds. Dex asks if that's good or bad. Deb's got no fucking clue. She then fails to stifle a giggle. "We're complaining because people want to be with us? How lame is that?" Self-awareness, Deb! Keep it up. She asks him if he thinks Tarla Grant killed herself; he doesn't. What would make her jump freely without getting pushed, then? Dexter: "Fear is a powerful motivator." If it sounds like he's saying that more admiringly than he should be, you're right. Deb finally sends him inside.
Rita greets Dexter with a smile and points him toward Cody, who's taken up refuge in the fort he's built in the living room. As per Harry's observation, Dexter's great at making Cody feel better about his hurt foot. It's Astor who Dex has the problem relating to, as his voice-over makes clear. She's in a mood about something or other. Dexter musters up the courage to approach the scowling beast. He apologizes for being weird lately -- he knows she's not a kid anymore. "Sometimes I'm just...dumb." Astor continues to stare at her cheep teen magazine ( magazine ?) for a moment, as Dex starts to walk away. Finally willing to be human once again, Astor tells Dex it's okay. "You can be dumb." Okay, that was kind of sweet.
That night, LaGuerta and Angel take the elevator alone. Exhausted and still rattled from the shootout, she kind of collapses into his shoulder for a moment, before checking herself and pulling back away. "It's funny," she notes, "a few months ago after a shootout like this, if people saw me leaning against you, they wouldn't think twice." They still won't, Angel assures her. "I think twice," LaGuerta says, afraid people will misinterpret. Angel pulls her back close and says, "Let them misinterpret." He kisses her sweetly and tells her he needs this as much as she does.
Meanwhile, Quinn must've gotten out of work early, because he's already in bed with Christine. Of course, he's too busy fuming about Dexter to enjoy the topless massage she's giving him. He dismisses Dex as a "lab geek," then Christine probes further. Verbally , sickos. In his weakened state, Quinn totally starts blabbing about his day spent throwing dummies out of windows, all because of Lundy's theory about a serial killer. Christine rolls Quinn over and proceeds to reward him for giving her her next big story.
At the hotel bar, Lundy catches Deb up on the history of his Trinity investigation. He's tracked Trinity from Raleigh, through Louisville, San Francisco, Detroit, Richmond -- never the same place twice, until now. Lundy orders them another couple of drinks as Deb needles him for not being able to relax in retirement. "This is how I relax," Lundy says. "I thought I was bad," Deb smirks. "You are," says Lundy. "You're exactly the same as me. Only in a much prettier package." Deb smiles and asks if he's flirting with her. Deb then gets a text from Anton, and she confirms with him that she's "working late." So Anton calls her a second later, asking if she wants him to order takeout, but she again blows him off. Look, it's Anton's own fault for not being an old cop who reminds Deb of her Dad in creepy ways none of us want to talk about.
Back in the 'burbs, Dexter's broken into Jesse's garage, while in the background we hear a car window shatter and the alarm goes off. So with Jesse out vandalizing, Dexter thinks this is the perfect opportunity to sneak into the kid's room and lie in wait, then "scare the shit out of [him]." One problem: Jesse's asleep in his bedroom. Huh-WUHHH?? Yes, you will be shocked to know that Jesse was a red herring all along. So who's the vandal? Yes, I know you're way ahead of me (and the show), but humor me, will you? Dexter hears a noise downstairs and peeks down to see Andy walking in, blunt instrument in hand.
So Dexter pulls down his mask, flicks on his head lamp (I'm not even gonna go into how stupid it was to use the Neighborhood Watch-issued equipment to carry out this assault, except to once again say that the risk Dexter is incurring (which is great) so far outweighs the reward (which is almost nothing)). Dex follows Andy into the garage, turns the light off, and does his best to disguise his voice as he harasses Andy. The flashlight shining in Andy's face means he can't get a look at Dexter at all, even to see the mask. "If you so much as touch another window, I will come back here, and I will leave with your head in a bag. I already have the bag." Andy looks duly frightened into submission ... until he's not. "Fuck you!" he yells, and swings at Dex's head with the wrench. As they struggle, Andy Explains It All for Dexter, us. He lost his job, his wife died, his son hates him, the banks' gonna take his house, and his neighbors are rich asshole with jobs, houses, wives, and kids who don't carry douche drumsticks everywhere. Add about 27 "fuck"s and you've pretty much got it. Andy lunges at Dexter, but Dex gets the upper hand and puts him against the wall, where he makes a threat that lands: Keep up the vandalism, and I'll come back and kill Jesse. Andy backs down at that one real damn quick. "All that other stuff is over," Dexter demands. He makes Andy say it.
Dexter's VO: "The bad news for Andy is that he's lost his house. The good news for me is he'll be out of the neighborhood." The VO continues, justifying such a pitiless statement with the same blah-blah about how Dex doesn't fit into this suburban world. I kind of wish they'd just let that statement hang there. It's appropriately unfeeling and gets more across about Dexter's emotional state (or lack thereof) than all this tedious philosophizing.
As he heads back up the walkway to his house, the neighbor's security light flashes on, shining accusingly right in Dexter's face. It also illuminates Dexter's gate, where the grimacing face had indeed bled through the paint. Harry shows up to shove a little "I told you so" in Dex's face. Getting angry, Dexter goes and grabs a rake, steps up to the light, and smashes it out. In full view of his loving wife. That's gonna be a conversation.
Joe R still kind of hopes Jesse turns out to be someone Dexter can kill. He can be reached for comment at joseph.reid21@gmail.com .