In the fluorescent haze of HHM's basement, a man sorted letters. Jimmy McGill — law degree hidden in his back pocket, dreams folded even smaller.
"I worked my way through law school while holding down a job."
Behind foil-covered windows, Chuck McGill lived in darkness. Brilliant. Broken. The brother who couldn't believe Jimmy could ever truly change.
"You're not a real lawyer."
Every small victory. Every case won for the little guy. Jimmy McGill, attorney at law, fighting the good fight — or so he told himself.
"I know what stopped me. And you know what? It's never stopping me again."
Miles of nothing. The sun beating down like judgment. Some walk into the desert and never come back the same. Jimmy McGill walked in. Someone else walked out.
"I've been living this lie for so long..."
The neon sign flickered to life. Gaudy suits. Inflatable liberty. Jimmy McGill was gone. In his place stood Saul Goodman — a friend of the cartel, a stranger to himself.
"S'all good, man."
In the end, the bars closed around him. But for the first time in years, James Morgan McGill could see clearly. Confession. Redemption. Peace.
"My name is James McGill."