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Star crossed lovers. But not in Verona or even the West Side world of the Sharks and the Jets. Instead, this week's Law and Order takes the oldest of love stories and recasts it among New York City's least fortunate: the homeless and mentally ill.

The unlikely love story begins with what sounds like an assault on a woman. By the time Detective Briscoe arrives there's only a bag of clothes and a pair of broken glasses smudged with blood. The police lift fingerprints off of the glasses, and match them with Karen Brewster, a vagrant who was arrested for misdemeanor loitering during (as Briscoe puts it) one of "his honor's neighborhood sweeps." Karen's a schizophrenic, her parents tell the detectives, but they haven't seen her since her father was hospitalized with a stroke a few weeks ago. The detectives track down her doctor, but the visit doesn't start off well - there's that pesky physician-patient privilege - meaning he really can't discuss anything she's told him unless Karen waives the privilege. Doc can, and does, fill the cops in on the fact that he hasn't seen her for a while, and lets slip (when he probably shouldn't) that she was on a lot of medication.

Karen must be getting her prescription refills somewhere, and somewhere turns out to be New York's notorious Bellevue Hospital. Once again, there's a doctor-patient privilege problem, but the detectives do some fast talking about Karen being a "public health hazard" and get the duty nurse to open up. If good police work means convincing people to say things they want to say but feel they shouldn't, Briscoe and Jordan get an A. Though their technique is less than subtle, it's not so unlikely; no one cares enough about a homeless person to guard the privilege. In fact, as we will see later, no one cares enough to worry much about Karen at all. The nurse refers the detectives to hospital security, who tells them there was a ruckus in Karen's ward that led to her discharge from the hospital to a halfway house.

It's beginning to look like Karen was being stalked, and the detectives find a homeless person who sold Karen a knife. Somehow, they also find the cabbie who dropped her off at the Boat Basin on Riverside Drive, where they discover a freight container with Karen's body inside. Karen was strangled and, it appears, raped.

Time to go deep into the homeless community to find Karen's killer. The detectives get a picture of their suspect and -- in the proud Law and Order tradition of ethnic stereotyping -- are led to an Irish priest who runs a soup kitchen. He identifies the stalker/murder suspect as "Harvey." A little more digging brings the detectives to a donut shop Harvey frequents, where a beat cop (yes, you heard me, it seems there's a policeman in a donut shop) suggests that Harvey probably eats there a lot because it's near a drop off for the Rikers prison bus. Like Karen, Harvey is not a high functioning individual, and he's not getting much in the way of help.

The Rikers connection pays off, and the detectives learn that "Harvey" is Harvey Bower. They go to see his parents in Bayside, Queens, who insist that while Harvey has some problems (of the bipolar variety), he would never hurt anyone. And Harvey's hiding out in their garage.

Queens is the Wild West and the local cops bring a full posse to arrest Harvey. It doesn't go so smoothly, and Harvey gets shot in the arm. Lt. Van Buren is pissed, and tells the cop who fired that he'd better call his "PBA." That's Police Benevolent Association, and she means he'd better call his lawyer - both for the disciplinary investigation she's about to initiate and for the inevitable lawsuit for his use of excessive force.

After the botched "peaceful surrender of a deranged man," District Attorney Schiff concludes that the best defense is a good offense, and directs his underlings to make sure the press know the cops got the right man - even if they shot him. Van Buren catalogues the evidence for us: knife cuts on Harvey's hands, a blood match, his semen, and his coat over Karen's body. Slam dunk, it appears, and McCoy won't take anything less than first degree murder. That's a capital charge, by the way, and possible here only if the State can prove murder during the commission of the rape. Clearly, McCoy has no sympathy for the fact that Harvey might be several cans short of a six pack. Harvey's still recovering from his gunshot wound, so Briscoe has to do his traditional post-arrest interrogation as a bedside visit. He gets nowhere, because Harvey is just spouting disconnected phrases. (My favorite is "seventy thousand eunuchs in China." Maybe I'll mutter it in a crowded elevator and see what happens.) McCoy takes over and introduces himself, evidently believing that the words "Hello, I'm Jack McCoy" will drive the demons from Harvey's body, but before that can work Harvey's lawyer shows up. Insightfully, she realizes that Harvey has a pretty good insanity defense (in New York it's called "not guilty by reason of mental defect") and laughs off Jack's threat of a capital charge. Instead, she offers to take a deal limited to Harvey's commitment to a state hospital and her agreement to drop the police brutality suit.

Jack and ADA Abbie Carmichael don't think Harvey is as crazy as he seems to be. The prison doctor calls him a case of "textbook psychosis," evidenced by his belief that Bill Gates has computers hidden in every room in the city. This proves nothing but the doctor's incompetence. (If "Bill Gates paranoia" were a sign of psychosis, a lot of lawyers suing Microsoft are in big trouble). Abbie suspects that it's more "textbook" than "psychosis," and sets out to prove Harvey has been faking it. She checks out Harvey's record at Bellevue - not by coincidence the hospital where Karen was getting her scripts filled. When a doctor who had treated Harvey claims patient confidentiality, we get another brief but accurate lesson on the limits of the doctor-patient privilege: the patient gives up the privilege when he puts his mental state in issue by raising the insanity defense.

Harvey was trying to get into Bellevue, Abbie learns, the same time Karen was there - and it was the night of the ruckus in her ward. Looks like Harvey assaulted her, but don't put your money there yet.

Is Harvey crazy, or, as the DA's favorite shrink Dr. Skoda says, is he "crazy like a fox"? Or is he -- as my college English professor would say -- a Shakespearian fool: sounds crazy, but has remarkably sane insights. Dr. Skoda's "interview" of Harvey is more a cross examination, not really fair coming from a supposedly impartial doctor. To prove an insanity defense, Harvey's lawyer has to show that when Harvey killed Karen he did not understand the nature and consequences of his conduct, or that he did not know his conduct was wrong. Skoda presses Harvey on why he killed Karen, and Harvey says Bill Gates made him do it. (Okay, maybe Harvey is crazy. A computer in every room is one thing, but not even the Department of Justice believes Gates is involved in murdering crazy homeless people.) (That's Rudy Guilliani's job.) But Skoda gets Harvey to admit that Karen was a good person and did not deserve to die, so it looks like he did know right from wrong.

At a hearing on whether Harvey can present an insanity defense at trial, the judge buys the prosecution argument that there was too much planning in the stalking, rape, and murder for it to be a psychotic episode. Harvey reacts by deciding to stop taking his medication, leaving him in a catatonic state. Now Harvey is clearly not competent to stand trial, which requires that a defendant understand what's going on around him and be able to assist in his defense. The ever-sympathetic Jack McCoy decides Harvey should be forcefully medicated. This is a beautiful irony - give him drugs so he can be tried, convicted, and executed - and nails the inability of the legal system to deal with mental illness. Harvey's lawyer puts it well: "My client may be legally sane but it doesn't mean he's not crazy."

Cut to argument in court on whether Harvey must be medicated. Lawyers get a free trial advocacy lesson when, in court, Harvey's lawyer turns to Jack and says that he "can't" force Harvey to take his medication. Two no-nos: first, always look at the judge, never the other lawyer. Second, it's the judge who decides what "can" and "can't" be done. In fact, the judge decides Harvey should take his meds - not to force him to be sane, but so that he can assist in his defense. This is a clever solution to a difficult dilemma. Who could fault the Judge for making Harvey take his medications for his own good, even though that "good" may end him up in prison, or worse.

Harvey is tied to the bed and given his shots, but it's not over yet. Harvey can only be convicted of capital murder if he also committed rape, and his lawyer tells Jack and Abbie she's going to prove the sex with Karen was consensual. Abbie wants to take a plea to murder - the system failed both Harvey and Karen - but Jack won't back down. On further investigation, Abbie finds a childhood picture of Harvey in Karen's room, and it starts to look like they were friends. Abbie also learns that when Harvey was in prison at Rikers, Karen would go to the homeless shelter near the prison just to be near him. McCoy concedes the proof for rape is fading fast.

Jack and Abbie pay Harvey and his lawyer another visit in prison, to offer second degree murder (25 to life) and Harvey blurts out that he'll take it. He loved Karen, he did not rape her, and he wants it all to be over. He won't explain why he killed her, however, and without it, McCoy won't take the guilty plea. This is unnecessary as a legal matter, but as far as entertainment goes we can thank Jack because it would be completely unsatisfying for the viewer without an explanation.

Now for the twist. Harvey's parents come to see McCoy with a bag of drugs they found in the garage. At first they think Harvey was hoarding his pills and planning to kill himself, but it turns out they weren't Harvey's pills, but Karen's. Abbie puts it all together: Karen was the one trying to kill herself, and Harvey kept trying to stop her. (The ruckus at Bellevue was Harvey trying to take her knife away, not trying to assault her.) Harvey breaks down and explains. When Karen's father had a stroke, she realized she could end up alone on the street with no one to take care of her. She was afraid. She wanted to kill herself, and finally begged Harvey to kill her. "If you loved me, you would do it," she pleaded.

He did and so he did.

Even McCoy recognizes the tragedy here, and he gets the last, insightful word: "Who'd have thought that with all the things wrong with the kids, the worst thing that could have happened is that they would fall in love?"

This is a great ending, because it puts the whole show in a new light. Karen and Harvey are outcasts because of their illness, and the love they find is probably the only bright spot in otherwise miserable lives. In classic tragic tradition, their love is their downfall. Because of her illness, Karen cannot face a common fear - of being left alone - and asks Harvey to kill her to allay that fear. Harvey agrees - partly because he's ill, but mostly because he loves her. This could all be written off to "insanity," but that's too easy. First, the show skillfully points out that the line between sane and insane is not easy to draw, and the law does not draw it well. Second, the plot echoes Romeo and Juliet (with a Law and Order twist). Few believe the classic lovers are crazy -- just young and head-over-heels. Romeo, believing Juliet to be dead when the audience knows she is not, takes his own life. Having lost Romeo, Juliet takes her life. Harvey and Karen don't have pedigreed parents forbidding their union, but they have been left to cycle through prisons, shelters, and subway grates with no help. They are victims, not of youth and familial fighting, but of neglect, and the show exposes the myriad ways in which the system failed them. They find love, but as in Shakespeare, it leads to tragedy and despair, not salvation.

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