The episode that tries to humanize Carrington Lane while shaking its own foundations — and makes Dina even more suspicious in the murder of Lloyd Walton

Since critics have already torn apart Kim Kardashian’s (lack of) artistic ability, it was natural to expect that two episodes with almost no screen time from her could help correct the show’s course. But All’s Fair is All’s Fair, and coherence has never been its goal. Since I’ve named this series my guilty pleasure precisely because of its inconsistencies, here I am again with the recap — and with my parallel obsession: who killed Lloyd Walton, the son of Conrad Walton, a man from Dina Stansidh’s past?

The internet insists Emerald or her children are responsible, and their alibi is indeed quite confusing… but I remain convinced that the killer is Dina. And let me explain why.

Dina has more than enough motive: she legally fought the father of Emerald’s attacker, he lost everything, and he was thirsty for revenge (the exact same plot as Malice, on Prime Video). She was the one who encouraged Emerald to start dating again, opening the door for Allura and Liberty to become involuntary accomplices. Even more unsettling: Dina is always the first to propose a “reason” to justify Emerald’s assault and the first to shut down any police attempt to investigate. And now, with Doug at death’s door, she is emotionally fragile enough to have acted out of desperation. My bet remains on her — and this episode only reinforces it.

Carrington Lane: Who is she, really?

The episode “This Is Me Trying,” named after the Taylor Swift song (and I doubt Swift is thrilled about being associated with the Kardashian universe), takes on the thankless mission of humanizing the detestable Carrington Lane. And Sarah Paulson, as always, delivers everything.

We open with Carr at her purest: unpleasant, impatient, judgmental, running a red light with her 12-year-old daughter in the car. Up to this point, the expanded villain works perfectly. But the episode decides to resurrect her past: domestic life, ex-husband, emotional void, and fragilities.

It’s Amabel’s (Ami’s) birthday, and Carr is rattled because her daughter has no friends her age — a direct echo of her own story of exclusion. Remember: in the pilot, she was cut out of Liberty and Allura’s plan to open a law firm together, fueling the resentment that guides half her actions.

From the car, Carr sees her daughter mirroring the loneliness she once lived, and that — surprisingly — disarms her. To make things worse, Ami says she misses “Uncle Sebastian.” Carr explains that she distanced herself from him after he married someone struggling with addiction, but what she frames as good judgment sounds more like cruelty.

The emotional collapse begins with iPhone Memories

In the middle of an arbitration meeting, Carr’s iPhone Memories flashes a photo of her with Ami’s father — yes, “Uncle Sebastian.” She bursts into tears, gets infantilized by an insensitive client, and tries to recover her aggressive posture, but she’s clearly shaken. That’s when Alberta Dome (Lorraine Toussaint) steps in.

Alberta, another attorney in the arbitration, surprises Carr by offering help — a friend? Wow. The vulnerable version of Carr admits her loneliness and reveals that Ami’s father was once a great friend, making it obvious that she misses him.

Soon after, in a meeting with the irresistible and chronically seductive Chase, Carr almost falls for his charm. What follows borders on surrealism: a sensual hair-washing sequence à la Out of Africa, gallons of wine, and a disorienting vulnerability. Claiming she fears that Ami will grow up and write a tell-all about her improprieties, Carr resists — and heads home alone.

On the way, she’s arrested for drunk driving. Alberta rescues her and confesses her own grudge against Allura, who allegedly stole clients and played dirty. She proposes an alliance to bring the rival down. “I think I met my soulmate,” Carr concludes — ever the drama queen.

Carr and Ami: a disturbing mirror

Trying to get closer to her daughter, Carr takes Ami to the office, where the girl needs to write a school essay. With the emotional detachment of a budding serial killer, Ami helps her mother craft a text about Carr’s past with self-harm, treated with the usual insensitivity of the series. And voilà: now we know why Carr always wears gloves. These scars will undoubtedly resurface later.

After bonding with Ami, Carr seeks out Sebastian. He tells her some harsh truths, but she listens. And when she says, “This is me trying,” we witness a rare moment of sincerity. She apologizes for pushing him away and for removing him from Ami’s life as well. They reconcile. Carr ends the episode with two emotional supports and a new openness with her daughter, which says more about Sarah Paulson’s talent than about the writing.

Just as Glenn Close elevates every scene she’s in, Paulson pulls humanity out of a script that doesn’t quite know what to do with her. But the truth stands: Carr works best as an unhinged villain. Humanizing her is possible — Paulson makes sure of that — but the writers keep trying to have their cake and force-feed it to us.

The case of the week: Juliana Morse (Brooke Shields)

The client-as-mirror of the week is Juliana Morse, a 50-year-old woman who wants a divorce from her husband with Alzheimer’s, who no longer remembers who she is. Juliana wants to travel, live, date — and her daughter argues she doesn’t need a divorce to do all that. But Juliana insists staying married would be unfair to him.

The problem: the prenup. The contract puts her at serious financial risk, and now that her daughter is the father’s legal representative, she needs the young woman’s approval. The daughter refuses.

Liberty, who is about to marry Reggie, takes the case to heart. She hates prenups and believes Reggie shares her view. He doesn’t. He suggests signing one, insists she can change anything she wants (which she does), and repeats that it’s “to protect her.” Romantic or ominous? In All’s Fair, it’s always the latter.

The police close in — and Dina obstructs

Allura, Liberty, and Dina try to assess how Emerald is dealing with the death of her attacker, but Emerald avoids the discussion. And when Detective Connie Morrow arrives at the firm with a warrant to seize computers and documents related to Lloyd Walton’s murder, the tension spikes.

Connie begins with Allura, since cellphone records place her near the victim’s home at the time of death. Allura explains she was helping Milan, who is pregnant with Chase’s child. She suggests Connie confirm it with Milan — but Dina barges in as Allura’s attorney and kicks the detective out.

When Connie questions the possibility of motive among the lawyers, Dina fires back with a line that only strengthens my suspicions:

“If one of us were involved, we would’ve done a much better job than this.”

I wasn’t convinced. Connie wasn’t either. And my theory stands stronger than before.

Milan, Chase, and the baby

Earlier, Allura urged Milan to tell Chase the truth. Milan finally reveals the news: he’s going to be a father. Chase is thrilled, but Milan insists she’ll raise the baby alone and that telling him was merely a “courtesy.” When he asks if Allura knows, she hangs up.

The episode’s strongest scene: Dina and Doug

At home, Dina cares for Doug with tenderness. When he asks for more pain medication, he finally confesses: there is no hope. He knew for weeks but couldn’t bring himself to tell her.

Dina slips into denial — new treatments, doctors, miracles. Doug, however, wants her to accept reality.

When he falls asleep, Dina goes downstairs to make tea… and collapses. She smashes everything in the kitchen, falls to the floor sobbing, overtaken by raw, almost animalistic grief.

Glenn Close, with this material, doesn’t deliver a scene — she delivers devastation. Pain, fury, helplessness. A woman confronting an unappealable verdict.

And if Dina is capable of shattering the entire kitchen over the impending loss of her husband… is it really that far-fetched to imagine she killed the son of the man who destroyed their lives years ago?

Honestly? I don’t think so.