MobLand’s best scene yet ends with a murder. On this show, that’s not unusual. What’s different is that for a moment there, it didn’t seem like it would. 

Posing as an Uber driver, Kevin Harrigan picked up ex-prison guard Alan Rusby (an excellent Nigel Lindsay) and entered his home under false pretenses. (He says he’s suffering the after-effects of a prostate operation; what a smart, vulnerable touch by the script.) But when it comes down to it, he can’t bring himself to execute this man, who raped him repeatedly, along with god knows how many other boys. And that’s because, frankly, the man does not behave like a MobLand character. 

Instead of freaking out or going for a knife, Rusby says, with what reads to me like total honesty, that this has happened to him before. He encountered another of his victims on a church trip to Rome, and the two had a heart to hear that the younger man told him was “therapeutic.” Rusby says his memories are fading, and that while he understands he was “a bit of a bully” back in the day, he can’t imagine committing rape; he even asks Kevin, apologizing as he does so, if he might be imagining things. Nevertheless, he apologizes with sincerity for any harm he caused Kevin, whom he recognizes as a soul in torment — similar to himself when his wife first fell ill, which is when he found God and changed himself for the better.

Kevin does something hugely disarming then: He doesn’t pull the trigger of the silenced gun he’s got pointing at Rusby’s house. Still sitting in the man’s own kitchen, he breaks down crying and orders him out, begging him to “just fuckin’ leave me alone.” He’s invaded Rusby’s home, but Rusby invaded his mind decades ago and never left. To Kevin, it’s the screw who’s been stalking him, not the other way around.

What unfolds next is fascinating. Rusby retreats to the staircase up to his house’s second floor. (It’s actually his sister’s house; he sold his own place and moved in to defray the costs of his wife’s treatment, but his sister has since died. Another deftly humanizing detail.) You can see him standing behind Kevin, realizing the younger man is crying. Will he transform into the sadistic guard of Kevin’s flashbacks? Will he go for a weapon?

No. He simply returns to the kitchen and sits down to comfort Kevin. He picked up on the fact that it was bringing up his own children that prevented Kevin from pulling the trigger, and asks Kevin if he has kids himself.

So Kevin shoots him in the head. I think that pretty much settles the issue of whether or not Eddie Harrigan is really his son at all. 

The thing that’s been confusing me is why, if this is so, Maeve has taken such a shine to Eddie. I mean, that’s putting it mildly: Her interest in him, if her hand on his thigh at dinner in this episode is to be judged, is incestuous. We know that she hates Conrad’s illegitimate daughter Seraphina, so why should Eddie be any different?

Unless, that is, Maeve has already given up on her husband. Unless she’s looking for a new Harrigan to take the reins. Unless she’s put all her chips down on Eddie being the man to do it, hence her constant undermining of Harry and needling of Kevin. Unless she’s decided to curry favor with Eddie the same way she did with his real father, Conrad himself.

Weirdly, this seems to be the one topic that doesn’t get hashed out during the family’s disastrous dinner with Alice, Jan’s friend/secret undercover cop. From a legal perspective, the meal was always going to be a catastrophe for the Harrigans: Brought more or less up to speed on the kind of man she is now working for, Alice has been dispatched by her boss Tattersall to secure DNA evidence they can plant on the body of the cops Richie Stevenson killed with Tattersall’s full approval. As long as she gets out alive, Conrad is doomed — and Harry lets her get out alive, even though he knows who and what she is. It would seem Richie’s suspicions are correct, and Harry, a smart guy worthy of respect even from Richie, can see that the Harrigans’ days are numbered with both Maeve and Conrad running wild.

But there are revelations galore regardless. Conrad knows all about Maeve’s involvement in the hit on Brendan and Seraphina, the discovery of Archie’s body, et cetera — and he found it all out from Eddie, Maeve’s carefully courted confidant. Maeve admits that she tried to have Seraphina killed — right to Seraphina, no less — and then nearly gets in a bottle-and-knife fight with her own husband, whom she says has lost the mandate of heaven and can no longer run the family.

Perhaps fortunately for the Harrigans, the one thing that can unify them takes place: The cops raid the house, dragging Conrad and Maeve away. The two of them sing defiantly as they’re hauled away by British cops, and you definitely get the sense this ain’t their first rodeo in that regard. 

But just as interesting as Conrad and Maeve’s newly rekindled solidarity is that of Harry and Gina, his semi-estranged daughter. It seems like she steered clear of dinner on his say-so, and that he told her to do so for a few reasons. For one thing, he could tell Alice was undercover. For another, he wanted to spare her the scary consequences of another guns-drawn police raid. 

But finally, and most importantly, I think Harry Da Souza has decided to defect. When he figures out that the family’s lawyer, O’Hara, is the Stevenson rat in the organization, all he asks is to meet her later on. (He’s got a similar rendezvous scheduled with mysterious shot-caller Kat MacAllister for the next day.) Why wouldn’t he alert Conrad immediately…unless he’s hoping O’Hara can bring him into the Stevenson fold along with her?

And she’s not the only traitor to worry about. While Kev is out on his quest for revenge, his wife(ish?), Bella, is continuing to pursue her ill-advised corruption swindle with her posh dad, the British Home Secretary, and some dubious continental and levantine business associates. What she doesn’t know is that her partner is wearing a wire, though for whom is unclear. I can’t imagine anyone in the Harrigan organization will be happy to find this out, though.

Clearly, this is a jam-packed episode full of important developments across a number of storylines. That’s as it should be, since there’s only one hour to go in the season. But the most important development is that of MobLand as a show. Without sacrificing any of the fun performances or tense, often bloody British/Irish gangster thriller shenanigans, the scene between Kevin and his abuser, with all its unexpected twists and turns, proves that MobLand can do more than simply be a really entertaining show about a tough guy and the tough guys and tough gals around him. 

If you’ll permit one last bit of TV-critic musing, I’ll say this: I’ve seen shows go from “yeah, it’s pretty good” — or even “yeesh, it’s not that good” — to “whoa, something’s going on here” before. Usually the real quantum leap in quality occurs around the Season 2 premiere, but there tend to be glimpses of a better show beneath the surface of the existing one in the final quarter or so of the debut season. That’s what we’re experiencing with MobLand right now, and that’s a great sign, for the season finale and beyond.

Sean T. Collins (@theseantcollins) writes about TV for Rolling Stone, Vulture, The New York Times, and anyplace that will have him, really. He and his family live on Long Island.