"This kid calls. I go to this house on the Upper West Side. This nice doctor opens the door, doesn't know anything about it. Gives me a cup of tea. I drink it and wake up the next day, stark raving mad!" the man tells them.

The cell door opens and Martin walks in.

"Oh, I recognize you. You're that policeman that came by the house back in the day."

Malcolm stumbles backwards in Neal's grasp. He squeezes his eyes shut, then looks around wildly.

"I'm still in there..." he murmurs.