Matlock

Previously on Matlock...

I'm Madeline Matlock. I'm a lawyer,

like the old TV show.

Why do you want to work at my firm?

I woke up at 75 years old without a husband or money,

and a 12-year-old kid to raise.

I need this job more than you can possibly imagine.

Meet me in the conference room

and bring the new lawyer with you.

Well, you see, there's this funny thing that happens

when women age.

People assume I'm a harmless old lady,

and that's how I'm gonna trick them.

Good evening, Mrs. Kingston. There she is.

Well, you'd have been a lot less cheery

if you knew how I talked about you at work.

Gambling, cheating,

not to mention dead.

Grammy! Alfie.

Was I right-- perfect name? Reminds us of Mom?

I had a daughter, and she died

after a long battle with drugs.

The law firm Jacobson Moore hid documents

that could have taken opioids off the market

ten years earlier.

Think of how many lives that could have saved.

Including our daughter's.

So I'm gonna figure out

who knew what when, and then

I'm gonna put them in jail.

Alfie? Alfie?!

He's not in the office?

Or the kitchen or the guest room.

Did you check his bathroom?

Of course I checked his bathroom, and his closet.

The bed is made. I know.

And it wasn't slept in last night.

And you said you didn't tuck him in?

No. He wanted to finish his homework,

and I was tired. I... Okay, call his phone again.

Ugh, voice mail.

Alfie, it's Grandpa. Are you in the house?

Uh, are you outside? Where are you?

I found him, Edwin.

I found him.

I went back to my office.

He's asleep on the floor behind the couch.

Oh.

Oh. I'm sorry.

When I saw the bed wasn't slept in, I panicked, because,

I know. you know, all those times

that we'd go to Ellie's room,

the bed would be made, she'd be

I know. I know. missing. I s... I'm sorry.

Okay. Okay.

Whew.

Alfie.

Alfie, sweetie.

You fell asleep in my office.

Because I found something. Really?

Yeah. It took a long time

for me to download the Wellbrexa pharma case files

to my laptop and print them.

Alfie, honey, you can't sleep down here.

Okay? I know, I know.

But look, Grammy, four redacted documents.

What if these are the hidden documents

that the redditor talked about?

Could be. I need to get ahold of the originals.

Here's the locator number for the files.

Do you know where they're kept?

In the documents room. It's two floors down.

And can you get in there? Alfie, have you finished your homework?

No, but it's fine.

I'll tell Mr. Glenn I was feeling sick.

Why don't you go upstairs and get ready for school.

Okay, darling? This could be it.

I know.

I'll talk to him. It won't happen again.

This is all he thinks about. This is all he cares about.

Because opioids killed his mother

and he wants the truth to come out.

He is a kid. What he wants,

what's best for him-- two different things.

This is the second time this week

he hasn't done his homework.

And all of a sudden it's fine for him

to lie to the teachers about that.

Just like he's lying to his friends

about why he moved here in the first place.

This is too much, Madeline. You're right.

I'll use him less.

Okay, no more this week.

Let him catch up on life.

So, how will you get into the documents room?

Easy peasy.

You focus on school. I've got this.

But what if you need tech support?

I'm pretty tech savvy by now.

I've got this google machine right here

on my devil box.

Ollie, baby, it's Dad.

I know you've been nervous about your test,

but don't forget you're two and a half time...

So you meant to play Olympia's dead father's voice mail?

Don't be smart, you. And yes, I did.

It's called exposure therapy.

You hear things enough, you feel less bad.

And I don't want to feel bad

that I've taken Olympia's computer,

because she's made it crystal clear

that we are not friends.

Morning, Matty.

I was just looking for you. How was your night?

Epic battle over homework resulting in tears.

Mine, not my grandson's.

How did you get him to finish?

I could use some pointers.

Olympia, I've worked here long enough to know that

you don't do small talk, so,

either I'm dying and you're holding the test results

or you need a favor.

This afternoon we have the Walton mediation.

You up to date on it?

Sandy Walton died or respiratory failure

from Legionella.

We're arguing that the building is at fault.

And you were talking to Matty. Got it.

Sandy was our client until she passed.

Now her husband Robert represents her interest.

He's an artist, a little eccentric,

and very anxious.

About the case? About everything.

Robert needs some hand-holding.

I don't want to be indelicate here,

but since you both recently lost a spouse...

Did Robert catch Sandy underneath a hooker

wearing a flapper dress too?

I'm just kidding you.

Sure, whatever you need, I'm here.

Thank you.

But since we're talking favors,

would you mind if I get a peek at the original Walton files?

And yeah, I could get a link, but--

not to get too personal-- I went to my doctor

and she said I have acute presbyopia.

Makes my vision blurry. And then she said

less screens, which is sort of like saying

"less air."

Like you said-- not a fan of small talk.

Do you need my signature to get in the documents room?

All right. Teach me your ways, Betty White.

According to my therapist, I have to accept

that Olympia's just not that into me.

But for whatever reason, she is that into you,

so what is the secret sauce?

Secret sauce? Yes.

Oh, well, right. Well, Sarah...

Um, if I'm totally honest,

y-you're a smidge intense.

Actually, would you mind backing up an inch or two?

Well, of course I'm intense.

This job is everything to me.

Maybe that's the problem, darling.

Ask your therapist about balance, okay?

I'll be right back.

Balance?

Elijah, wait up.

I got your text. Let's talk.

But first, is it personal or professional?

There's nothing personal anymore, right? Per you.

It's about the Walton case.

You're gonna have to drop it.

I'm not abandoning a widowed man

whose case I've been working on for 18 months.

It's a conflict of interest.

We represent Foundate Financials,

and they just bought a large real estate portfolio.

Your client lives in one of the buildings.

And his wife died because of inexcusable neglect.

Allegedly.

Foundate pays us ten million annually.

Refer your client elsewhere.

I don't know. If Olympia dumps Walton,

it sends a bad message to our smaller clients

about loyalty.

Exactly. And I signed my client first.

Firm rules.

Eh. Rules are only rules

until the boss up and changes 'em.

How do you think Senior gets away with

those ridiculous pants?

He must have won a big case.

He plays golf when he snuffs out someone's soul.

Think they'd consider a firewall?

Where the firm represents both sides

but they don't interact.

No, it's a legal land mine.

Which we, as skilled litigators, can navigate.

I can get my client to agree to a firewall.