TL;DR: Stuart’s obsession with winning drags him into the orbit of a killer, but in the end, it’s friendship (and a slightly ridiculous wig) that saves him. Suits LA finally flexes the heart under its designer blazer. Rating: 4/5.

It Started With a Wig

I wasn’t ready for “Suits LA” Episode 10. I thought I was. I had my snacks. I had my “this’ll be a lightweight filler episode” attitude. And then they ambushed me. Not with murder, not with courtroom drama, not even with romantic tension simmering hotter than a West Coast summer. No, they hit me with a wig.

God bless the costume department. In the opening flashback to Stuart and Ted’s Columbia Law School days, Josh McDermitt is saddled with one of the worst hairpieces television has seen this decade. It’s so distracting it could honestly be considered a tertiary character. But beneath the plastic wig crimes, there’s a truth shimmering: “Suits LA” finally found the emotional hook it’s been searching for.

Because the episode isn’t just about Stuart defending a maybe-murderer named David Bowie (no, not that David Bowie). It’s about what happens when your desire to win becomes bigger than your conscience — and whether, if you’re lucky, someone you love can pull you back from the brink.

Stuart vs. His Reflection

In the present, Stuart is deep into the David Bowie trial. Bowie has an alibi. Stuart has footage. The case should be dead on arrival. But if “Suits” taught us anything — and “Suits LA” continues the lesson with the precision of a shark in a tailored suit — it’s that should is the most dangerous word in law.

The trial dredges up memories Stuart would rather forget: the bloodsport of Columbia Law, the price of proving you’re the best, and the ways ambition doesn’t just cut down your enemies; it slices into your own heart, too.

The judge won’t dismiss. The prosecutor is relentless. Stuart’s armor, so carefully polished, starts to crack.

Mock Trials, Real Scars

The flashbacks unfold like a reverse fairy tale. Stuart and Ted, neck-and-neck for the top of their class, are pitted against each other in a mock trial designed to break ties (and possibly friendships). Stuart plays dirty first, dragging Ted’s actual father into the courtroom theatrics. It’s brutal. It’s low. It’s exactly what gets results in a system that worships winning.

But Ted hits back harder. He sacrifices Helen, Stuart’s then-girlfriend, on the altar of victory, revealing her most private feelings under cross-examination. It’s ugly. It’s humiliating. It’s personal in a way that “mock” trials were never supposed to be.

And when Stuart finally sees the human cost laid bare — when a broken man tells him to rip a child to shreds just to clinch a hollow victory — he realizes he can’t. Not this time. Not again.

Friendship wins. Barely.

They share a drink. They mend what ambition almost destroyed. And that memory, fragile but indelible, shadows everything that comes after.

A Cold Courtroom, A Colder Truth

Back in the now, Stuart bulldozes a path to victory. He reveals a sex tape. He manipulates a witness. He protects his client — at the cost of every scrap of loyalty he owed his colleague Erica.

And then, in the quiet aftermath, the bomb drops.

The footage was doctored.

David Bowie is guilty.

Worse: Stuart, in his desperate hunger to win, helped a killer walk free.

The realization isn’t cinematic. It’s not a shout or a sob. It’s smaller than that. It’s the sickening weight of betrayal settling into your own chest when you realize you were the betrayer all along.

Friendship in the Crosshairs

Stuart tries to fix it. He scrambles to make amends, to confess, to salvage his own shredded soul.

But Bowie — real Bowie, murderer Bowie — is waiting. And he’s not interested in redemption arcs. He’s interested in silencing witnesses. Stuart’s life, his wife, his entire future dangles on the knife-edge of Bowie’s temper.

Until Ted steps out of the shadows.

Recording in hand. Backup ready. Once again, Ted saves Stuart. Not because Stuart deserves it. But because friendship, real friendship, doesn’t check the balance sheet before it acts.

They could have ended it there. A fist bump. A glib joke. Roll credits.

But “Suits LA” lets the moment breathe, lets us sit with the terrifying beauty of it: forgiveness isn’t earned; it’s offered. Often when we least deserve it.

Ships in the Night

Meanwhile, romance is a hot mess.

Ted and Amanda can’t figure out if they’re working together, pining for each other, or both. Ted vanishes to New York without a word, Amanda sets up her empire without waiting for his blessing, and the emotional cold war between them settles into uneasy stalemate.

There’s honesty. There’s hurt. There’s a lot of “what ifs” hanging in the air like unsaid confessions.

And Erica and Rick? Same storm, different boat. Rick puts it all on the table — he wants her, no games. Erica flinches. She can’t — or won’t — take the leap.

They’re ships passing in the night, and “Suits LA” wisely refuses to smash them together for easy satisfaction. These people are messy. They’re human. They bleed hope and fear in equal measure.

Final Verdict

“Suits LA” Episode 10 is a gut punch in designer clothing. It’s funny, it’s brutal, and it dares to let its characters be ugly and scared and breathtakingly human. Stuart’s battle for his soul (and his literal survival) anchors the best hour of the series so far, and McDermitt and Amell sell every bruised, complicated beat. The heart of “Suits LA” finally roared to life — and it was worth the wait.