S01E24 - Last Morning

"Last Morning"
Episode Information
Season
Episode
24
Production Code
S01E24
Rating
TV-MA DLSV
Chronology
Previous
Next
Characters
Introduced
Dr. Saha Venn (meerkat)
Crossover
None
Contents

"Last Morning" is the twenty-fourth and final episode of Season 1 of We Can Fix Pawbert.

Synopsis

On the morning of his prison transport, Pawbert packs his belongings and says goodbye to the pack. He is transported to Zootopia Correctional Facility, endures intake, and settles into protective custody. The season ends with Pawbert reading letters from his pack and affirming his commitment to making his sentence count.

Plot

The episode opens with gray morning light filtering through the safehouse window. Pawbert wakes slowly in Luther's arms, not wanting to move, not wanting to acknowledge what day it is. Transport is scheduled for three o'clock—Nick and Judy asked Bogo to arrange the afternoon timing so Pawbert could have the morning. When Pawbert confesses he does not know how to leave, Luther reframes the moment: going somewhere is not the same as leaving, because going means he is coming back.

Pawbert packs his belongings on the main floor. The green sweater goes in first—his armor, even though he knows it will be confiscated at intake. The photos of his mother, the recipe card in her handwriting, Maddie's card from Station 118, Charles's napkin scrawled with "NINE-NINE!", and the small trophy from the heist—each item a memory, each going into the bag. Judy reviews the visitation schedule on her phone, already having submitted applications for Wednesday and Sunday visits. Nick insists on making lunch himself, acknowledging that he always cooks when he does not know what else to do.

Over the meal, the conversation is strained but genuine. Nick delivers a rare sincere speech, acknowledging that when Pawbert first arrived—muzzled, terrified, guilt visible in every movement—Nick did not expect them to end up here. He respects the slow, boring, doing-the-work change Pawbert has made. Pawbert thanks him. Nick promises to return to mockery by the next visit.

At two-thirty, Luther tells Pawbert the van will arrive in thirty minutes. Their final private moment is charged with everything they cannot say. Pawbert asks to be kissed, and Luther does not hesitate. The kiss is long and desperate—fear, love, grief, and hope poured into it. Pawbert promises to remember this moment every night in his cell.

The transport van arrives. Two officers wait by the open door. Pawbert emerges from the safehouse wearing plain clothes, the laminated photo tucked in his pocket. The sweater stays behind. Officers cuff him—no muzzle, because the violent predator designation was struck. Nick promises terrible vending machine snacks on Wednesday. Judy squeezes his arm and tells him she has believed in him longer than he has believed in himself. Luther says nothing except the word that defines his promise. The van doors close. The city slides past the window as Pawbert is driven toward the prison.

At Zootopia Correctional Facility, intake is administrative rather than dramatic. Officers move Pawbert through stations like a factory line—name, date of birth, charges recited without inflection. They take his clothes, his belt, his dignity in small lawful increments. The green sweater disappears into a plastic evidence bag. The recipe card, Maddie's card, the napkin, the trophy—all reduced to property tags. But the laminated photo of Pawbert with his mother was approved by court order as a therapeutic material. He clutches it like a secret.

They escort him through corridors that smell like bleach and old sweat. Distant shouting, metal doors, the constant hum of fluorescent lights. Inmates behind bars glance up as he passes. Voices call out—rich boy, snitch—but Pawbert keeps walking, using the grounding technique Dr. Fuzzby taught him. Five things. Floor tile. Door hinge. Officer badge. Exit sign. His own breath.

Cell 3C-17 is small. Concrete walls. A thin mattress on a slab. A toilet-sink combo bolted in the corner. A narrow window too high to see out of. The door closes behind him with a heavy final sound. He flinches. Silence wraps around him. He sits on the edge of the mattress holding the laminated photo and cries quietly, not loud, not where the cell can watch. Then he whispers the counter-script mantra and forces himself to breathe. After a while, something shifts inside him—relief that the trial is over, that the worst has already happened. He does something unexpected: he makes the bed. A tiny choice. But right now he needs choices like oxygen.

Dr. Saha Venn, a meerkat prison psychologist, conducts his intake evaluation. She does not start with his crimes. She starts with reality—protective custody helps with physical safety but can worsen psychological symptoms. When Pawbert begins to say he does not deserve help, she cuts him off: self-punishment is not a treatment plan. She tells him his job is simple. Stay alive. She slides him a grounding exercise he already knows and tells him pride does not belong in survival. They will meet twice a week. In between, he will write.

Back in his cell, mail arrives through the slot. Three letters. The first is from Nikki—practical information, treatment schedules, visitation protocols. The second is from Nick—handwritten in sharp dramatic script, calling prison dumb, reporting that Luther brought soup to dinner, reminding Pawbert not to disappear. The postscript threatens legal action over an owed soup debt. The third is from Luther—three lines that take up almost no space and carry almost infinite weight: a promise to be here, to be here always. Pawbert reads Luther's letter over and over until the words are burned into his memory.

The lights dim. The prison settles into its nocturnal rhythm. Pawbert lies on the thin mattress thinking of the safehouse, the trial, his family in prison. Relief and grief coexist. He turns to face the shelf where the letters and photo are propped. The guilt will always be there—not a pit to fall into but a weight to carry. He whispers a vow into the dark: he is going to make it count. As he drifts toward sleep, one final thought holds him like a key: they have not left him.

Key Moments

  • Pawbert packs his belongings at the safehouse
  • Luther reframes departure as going somewhere rather than leaving
  • Nick makes lunch and delivers a sincere farewell speech
  • Pawbert transported to ZCF without a muzzle (violent predator designation struck)
  • Prison intake: green sweater and all personal items surrendered except one laminated photo
  • Pawbert placed in protective custody, Cell 3C-17
  • First meeting with prison psychologist Dr. Saha Venn
  • Letters arrive from Nikki, Nick, and Luther
  • Pawbert affirms his commitment to making his sentence count

Key Lines

Line Speaker Context
"You said you'd wait." / "I said always." Pawbert / Luther Morning before transport
"You're not leaving. You're going somewhere." Luther Reframing the departure
"'Deserve' is not a treatment plan." Dr. Venn Cutting off Pawbert's self-punishment
"Missing people is proof you've got something to return to." Dr. Venn Reframing grief as connection
"Stay alive." Dr. Venn Direct survival directive
"Stay visible. Stay annoying. Stay alive." Nick (letter) Full survival mandate
"You still owe me soup. This is a legally binding contract." Nick (letter) Humor as love
"I'm here. I'll be here. Always." Luther (letter) Simple, maximum weight
"I'm going to make it count." Pawbert Final whispered vow
"They haven't left me." Pawbert Final thought, season close

Characters Introduced

Character Species Role
Dr. Saha Venn Meerkat Prison psychologist at ZCF

Locations

Location Description
Site Two - Luther's room Final morning with Luther
Site Two - Main floor Packing and farewell
Site Two - Kitchen Nick makes lunch
Transport van Pawbert transported to ZCF
Nick and Judy's apartment Nick writes his letter
Luther's house Luther writes his letter
ZCF - Intake Processing and surrender of personal items
ZCF - Corridor Walk to protective custody
ZCF - Cell 3C-17 Pawbert's cell in protective custody
ZCF - Psych Services Meeting with Dr. Saha Venn

Items

Item Description
Green sweater Packed from safehouse; surrendered at ZCF intake
Laminated photo Birthday photo with Lillian; kept in cell by court order (therapeutic material)
Recipe card Surrendered at intake
Maddie's card Surrendered at intake
Charles's napkin Surrendered at intake
Heist trophy Surrendered at intake
State-issued prison clothing Replaces Pawbert's personal clothing
Three letters From Nikki, Nick, and Luther

End Credit Song

"Found/Tonight" (From 'Hamildrops'), Ben Platt & Lin-Manuel Miranda

"Found/Tonight" is a mashup of "You Will Be Found" from Dear Evan Hansen and "The Story of Tonight" from Hamilton. The choice maintains the Dear Evan Hansen throughline established in the pilot—critical for a series about a broken mammal learning he's worthy of love—while weaving in Hamilton's themes of solidarity and endurance. The song's emotional core speaks directly to Pawbert's state as he enters prison: "Have you ever felt like nobody was there? Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere?" He has. For twenty-four years, he was. But the answer the song offers is the answer the pack has given him: "When you're broken on the ground, you will be found." The episode ends with Pawbert in his cell, reading letters from Nick, Judy, and Luther, clutching his mother's photograph—proof that even behind walls, he is not alone. "No matter what they tell you, someone will come running, they'll take you home" echoes Luther's "Always," the promise that prison is separation but not abandonment. And Hamilton's contribution—"raise a glass to all of us, tomorrow there'll be more of us"—speaks to the pack that formed around him and will be waiting when he emerges. He will be found. He already has been.

Notes

  • This is the Season 1 finale.
  • The intake sequence mirrors the processing sequence in the premiere, bookending the season with institutional procedures that strip Pawbert of his possessions.
  • Dr. Saha Venn becomes Pawbert's prison therapist through Seasons 2-3, complementing Dr. Fuzzby's role outside.
  • The season ends on a note of cautious hope rather than despair, setting the tone for the prison arc of Season 2.