Fuck me.
I'm dying here.
Let me get on the other side, work it from there.
One, two.
Three.
Shit.
Need help?
- Right. On three, motherfuckers. - One, two, three.
I'm embarrassed for you all.
Yo, Herc, I catch my breath, I'm gonna shoot the drawers off this bitch.
It's caught on something, Lieutenant.
Get over there with Carver.
One, two, you know what to do.
What the fuck?
Jesus. My ass is kicked.
I could move it a bit when I was alone. It must've got wedged in the door somehow.
Desk is empty, right?
- Yeah. - You checked it?
At this rate, we're never gonna get it in.
What?
In?
In.
Unbelievable, unbe-fucking-lievable.
Christ.
If you walk through the garden
You better watch your back
Well I beg your pardon
Walk the straight and narrow track
If you walk with Jesus
He'll save your soul
You gotta keep the devil
Down in the hole
All the angels sing
About Jesus' mighty sword
And they'll shield you with their wings
Keep you close to the Lord
Don't pay heed to temptation
For his hands are so cold
You gotta keep the devil
Way down in the hole
This case is a bit humble for you.
I know it doesn't look like much on paper, but see what you can do.
- Making new friends? - Not yet.
I spent the morning down in juvenile court
but the kids know they can't be hurt with a street-weight charge so didn't get much.
You tried, huh?
Nothing like being told, "Fuck off," by a 14-year-old.
- Right here's our best shot. - Him?
Hand-to-hand with Bubbles and he's carrying a long-ass sheet.
- All right. Who's first? Ms. Dawkins? - State versus Marvin Browning, Your Honor.
One count distribution of a controlled substance, heroin,
and one count distribution of a controlled substance, cocaine.
- Quantity? - One gelcap and one vial, Your Honor.
Bail recommendation?
That defendant be held, as he is part of a continuing investigation
and is subject to a mandatory five years without parole because of prior convictions.
- Will your office seek the mandatory five? - Absolutely, Your Honor.
Very well, I'll take that into consideration.
Got his attention, at least.
Lieutenant, come have a taste.
Come on, we're celebrating.
- Patrick's going out on medical. - Sweet, sweet Cervical 6.
My shoulder's numb, my arm's numb.
My fingers feel like they belong to some son of a bitch in the next county.
This is my ticket out of this rat-shit department.
66 and two-thirds pension and I don't have to wait for my 30.
- I'm gone. - Fucking yo did you a favor.
Kid hit like a mule, I've got to say.
You should take a couple of days. Think it over.
My brother-in-law's got a video store out on Moravia.
Does $6,000 a week straight rentals, another $8,000 in porn.
He needs a partner.
But they take that off a medical pension.
If you report it as income, they do. Do I look that fucking stupid?
Have a nice life, Lieutenant.
What's with you?
You gonna miss me, Augs?
What the fuck am I going to do, Paddy?
Tell you what.
- What do you say we go out together? - What do you mean?
I mean, it only hurts for a minute. And it doesn't have to be line of duty either.
I'm serious. You know those stairs where they send us down to the basement?
- Yeah. - It's dark down there.
You go up eight or nine steps, let go of the rail, take a little jump...
- I'd break my fucking neck like that. - You don't break nothing.
You do a little dance on those steps, you're up to two-thirds with me.
And maybe you sue the city, get a little more.
Can't say we don't deserve it.
Five in.
For a one-and-one.
Why bang me like that for a one-and-one?
It's your turn, Mr. Browning. Everybody out there gets a turn.
You're all running wild here. A judge might want to slow you all down a mite.
I don't know, Marvin. I'm looking at your sheet here and...
For one thing, it's a little wrong to be calling it a sheet.
More like a book.
We got the room to get a little crazy on you.
Like she said, it's your turn.
Tell us some stories, it could be somebody else's turn.
Stories...
Avon Barksdale.
Know the name?
Every motherfucker up in them towers know the name.
But I ain't never had a word with the man.
Stringer Bell, then?
Wee-Bey? Savino? Stinkum? CCO? Roc-Roc?
Well who you gonna give us, Marvin?
You don't say a name soon, you're gonna be courtside.
All right.
All right? All right what?
All right, I'll take the years.
Damn, boy.
You should see the cop.
When you're ready to get up, put that on.
- Report to bunk A-7. - A-7.
Don't be later than breakfast.
HEY-
Who else is up in here? Anybody from Westside?
DC boys, mostly.
Long fucking drive. Me and you drawing another shit detail.
- This ain't a shit detail. - No?
I'm in Upper fucking Marlboro, Maryland, and still going south.
Look. Another cow.
Use your imagination.
This little shitbird, having been whipped good by us once,
he sees us and he starts crying like a little bitch
cause he knows we drove all the way to Prince George's for more of his ass.
Imagine we jack him up, toss him into a small room...
And tell him Detective Mahone is near dead from the sucker punch.
No shit. The drunk old fuck suddenly slipped into a coma.
The Commissioner and Mrs. Mahone are at his bedside in the ICU.
And we've been ordered to come down here, rip off his scrotum, put it in a jar
and drive it back to Baltimore to sit with the bowling trophies
behind the bar at the FOP Lodge.
All right? After which...
Fucknuts stops whimpering long enough
to just start giving people up, whoever.
Stringer Bell. Avon Barksdale.
- Yeah? - Yeah.
Little prick turns on everybody
and we break the case wide open.
- Cool. - Right?
(Man) 'So from all them hand-to-hands, nobody flipped?'
No, that part of town, Barksdale carries more weight than us.
Just like all these fucking homicides.
Witnesses lying, paid off, backing up on their story.
- Can you blame them? - Not really.
Every now and then, we visit the projects. They live there.
- Your man's D? - D'Angelo, yeah.
This one's got a D as a possible shooter.
- This one connects. - No way.
Yeah. I'm seeing it.
- Diedre Kresson, one of Keeley's cases. - Come on, Jay, this is a college girl
blown up in an apartment up in Northeast.
How does it match with the other Westside mopes?
- They don't have cars? - It doesn't match.
It does. Look at your office report. A witness puts her with a D the night she's aced.
How many Ds do you think there are in the system? As a street name?
Let me ask you something, Jimmy. How many case files are you putting on Barksdale?
- Maybe a dozen. - A dozen cases.
So, how many of those are from our squad?
One. Gerard Bogue.
One case? Your squad's down a man for weeks, Jimmy.
We're gonna be humping your calls, catching your cases,
hopping around like a one-legged pig-town whore on cheque day and for what?
So you can have your big adventure and solve everybody else's cases? Is this what I hear?
He's got you, Jimmy.
Where's the love, McNulty? Show me some fucking love.
- All right. - Attaboy.
He's my son.
Why not dump this loser on Santangelo? He's meant to be helping us anyway.
I would if I could find the fucker. Must have another job, he's gone so much.
- What does Daniels say about that? - Nothing, I cover for him.
He was out in the wind all day yesterday, half the day before.
Man, Keeley really dogged this one.
Ain't nothing in here but a 24 and some crime scene photos, and this.
"Tywanda called. NFD, no last name, no address.
"Claims your victim killed after being visited by a suspect named D."
No further description.
There's a callback number, though.
So call.
'The number you have reached has been disconnected.'
Disconnected.
"He got you, Jimmy."
All right, motherfucker, he got me, too.
So, I'm gonna call Verizon, see if they got a fresh listing.
You happy now, bitch?
You sure about that tag, Bubs?
I seen the van.
It cleared the Court and rolled up Amity toward Lexington.
Plates were reported stolen off a car parked on this block.
So you're thinking they're from right around here?
Maybe.
Word in the Towers said it was Omar and his crew.
- Omar? Who's he? - You ain't know Omar?
Omar the terror. Been ripping and robbing out here for years now.
- Is he fierce? - That nigger don't play.
- Got a last name? - Just Omar.
He don't need no last name.
Who's his family?
You remember No-Heart Anthony? Came up with him. They brothers.
No-Heart Anthony?
Miss Kima, do not tell me you don't remember No-Heart Anthony.
Damn, girl. What town you been policing at all these years?
And right now, I am personally ashamed to be your snitch.
- Shit. - What?
- I'm late for my class. - Class?
- 12-14? - "12-14."
Requesting anyone in my unit who's up to report to Channel 13.
'35, I got that.'
Package be moving.
Avon's stuff always be good.
It's a sweet score?
It's all right.
That play was a little bit raggedy in there, though.
I fucked up, I know.
Letting go your name.
I don't really care you shouted me out.
Everybody in these projects been knowing Omar.
I just don't want them coming down on you, baby boy.
Shirley coming with her game.
- Every fucking day with that shit. - Mr. Omar?
My cheque late.
Yo, Mike.
Hook a sister up, yo.
So, what next, yo?
Got some irons.
Think about working the flush-and-run on the Eastside till things cool a mite.
That'll work.
- So you don't want to lay over here tonight? - No.
- Sure? - No, I'm gonna go see my mom.
- Keep it close. - I hear that.
Who the man?
Hey. I gotta be somewhere first but I'll run him back after.
No problem. Thanks for answering.
- Bubs. - McNulty.
What's up?
You ever heard of No-Heart Anthony?
Who, Anthony Little? 1058 Argyle, Apartment 16J.
He's in Hagerstown on a robbery bit. What about him?
My man.
Fuck y'all.
You know how the cracker motherfuckers do when they kill a deer?
Or when they go out killing animals?
Got them on the front of the truck, tied up, stretched out, so everybody could see it.
You feel me?
I'm serious. That's what I want.
I want that motherfucker on display.
I'll send a message to the courtyard about this motherfucker
so people know we ain't playing.
Yeah, we got peoples on it.
You tell them it's 1,000 on the bucks
and it's a deuce on Omar.
- Yeah, Bird's on it. - Savino, too.
You know, Bird jailed with Omar down the cut.
He said he all faggot.
A faggot? Get the fuck out of here.
Said he had a whole stable of boys down in Jessup.
This motherfucker got even less use for pussy now that he home.
So, he gotta a lotta heart for a cocksucker?
Yo, yo, we doubling down on Sweet Lips, all right?
We make it four motherfucking thousand dollars on him.
Six if I get the chance to holler at him before he get got.
- Say no more. - Take care of all that.
Stick-up come up dead on the stash one night.
- Police jumping out the next. - Something up at the Pit?
Maybe, yeah.
What's up with my nephew?
I don't know. He making that money out the hole, but...
He might have a problem he don't know about.
I'm on it.
Yo, where in Leave It To Beaver-land are you taking me?
I'm late for something.
I'll drop you after, on the way back downtown.
- What you late for? - Soccer.
Suck what?
(Man) Get in the goal!
Spread it out, spread it out. There you go.
First team, fall in!
- Dad! - Mikey, how are you?
- Who's winning? - They are, 4-1.
4-1? Who got the goal for you guys?
- Ricardo, my assist. - Assist? That's good.
You've got to drink on the breaks. Don't get dehydrated.
- Hey- - Hey-
This is Bubbles.
- Hi. - (Man) Second team, come on!
Go on, Mike. Go get 'em.
You're late. He thought you weren't gonna come this time either.
This job, you know this job.
I can't get out here when he gets off the bus at four.
I need more than every other weekend. He needs me more.
No more weekends.
50-50 split's all my lawyer says I have to give.
It's not 50-50 if I don't see him all week.
- You see him every day. - Don't curse. My lawyer says...
Fuck your lawyer.
Fuck you. Fuck you.
- Did you see? - Yeah, I saw.
I saw.
Come on, you get out.
This good for you?
Uh-huh.
Thin line between heaven and here.
How did he know where the stash at? The knockos don't know, but he do?
Cause some nigger's snitching.
Ain't nobody got to be snitching for Omar to creep by and see where the stash at.
- Damn, Bodie. Fucked that nigger up. - They stomped his ass.
How he ain't courtside for banking a knocko?
Boy, how you get home so quick?
Nigger, what you steal?
Camry XLE. You all want a ride? It's right around the corner.
Man, Boy's Village ain't shit.
I'm just too bad for that off-brand, little-boy bullshit, man.
It can't hold me.
What you laughing at? What's so funny?
If you was me, your ass would still be down there.
You ever seen a city jail, nigger?
You ever caught a body? I'm the one who just got home, remember?
Eight months on Eager Street with a body on me.
- You got the one. - The one you know about.
You little motherfuckers need to ask around.
Yo, out near the county, right, on the high end of the Eastside,
they got these apartments out there, right?
So there was this little shorty who used to stay out there.
She was, like... phew.
I mean...
I ain't seen a female that fine since.
I gotta say, shorty was right.
You fucked her?
No, man, it wasn't like that.
This was a shorty my uncle was messing with. They was going on at it for a little while
till she find out my uncle got another shorty round the way.
He got a few of them around the way. Know what I'm saying?
She goes off talking about calling the police about shit she ain't meant to know about.
- Oh, shit. - Yeah, you know it.
But see, I got some creep to me. And my uncle, he know that shit.
So they roll me out past her crib.
And they show me how she lives right on the ground floor, first level.
You know.
I go creeping around the back, to the back window.
I got the.45 on me, the big gun.
I walk up to the window and I look in and it's dark as shit
because it's 3:00am and you can't see shit.
What did you do?
So I pulled out the piece
and I start tapping with the back of it on the window.
And it was quiet, but it was loud enough so she could hear that shit.
Tap, tap, tap-
That's what she heard, yo. Sure enough, she comes out.
She's naked and shit.
I don't know why the fuck, but she has a robe
and as she slipping on her robe, she turns on the light
and when she does that, and it's light on the inside
she can't see shit on the outside.
Damn.
She naked.
Tap, tap, tap-
She hears that shit on the window and she ain't got no choice but to see what it is.
She steps up...
Looks out, to see where it's coming from.
What happened?
He shot her?
Yo, D, if she was all that, why didn't you fuck her first?
- Nigger, you sick, just shut up. - What?
Something is seriously wrong.
This is ridiculous.
Because a lab freezer goes out with an electrical short,
blood samples in 56 homicides,
15 rapes, are allowed to putrefy.
- State's attorney knows? - The Mayor, too.
Most of our trace lab is now 25 years old.
You ever go outside for money? The non-profits?
Such as?
The Abell Foundation, for one. My brother's on the board.
You want me to run it up there for you?
- You could swing that? - Never hurts to ask, does it?
It never does, Your Honor.
So, in that same spirit...
Where are we with the Barksdale probe?
Oh, well...
My other reason for stopping by.
Hand-to-hands and search-and-seizures. I heard about these.
Some mid-level players caught up.
Look, it's not a knockout blow but we sent a clear message.
I don't see Barksdale's name anywhere,
or Bell, or anything about the murders.
The casework, it goes towards that.
No.
So we've got work to do.
Don't we?
Police, open the damn door!
- Open the damn door. - Open the door.
- What? - Open the motherfucking door!
- Upstairs front clear. - Kitchen's clear.
I'm at the back door.
- Anybody pop out here? - OK, quiet.
Upstairs rear, clear.
I'll beat this bitch like a red-headed stepchild
for hiding up in this pisshole.
Goddamn creepy crawlies everywhere.
Tell Bodie we're on his ass.
I'm sorry for cursing at the door.
I mean, I couldn't see that it was only you.
Is it the drugs again?
Would you like to sit down?
Preston came to me when my daughter died.
He was four years old.
But even then, I knew he was angry.
His mother lived out there, caught up in it.
After a while, you couldn't make her see nothin' else.
No, man, that wasn't us.
- 2:30 in the Towers? You're crazy. - I don't know what you're talkin' about.
So how you think you gonna carry it?
I'm sorry, ma'am.
And I'm sorry for the way we came through here.
If Preston comes past...
Give him this
and tell him we need to talk, OK?
I'm sorry.
- What the fuck you doing in there? - Talking.
- Talking? - Yeah.
- See you later. - Catch you later.
Yeah?
McNulty.
Some judge for you.
Yeah.
Look, can I call you back?
- Major, Sir? - Yeah.
I've been thinkin'.
It's a clear violation of the general orders, I know, but...
Last night, I'm at home. I'm sittin' up butt naked
and I got one hand wrapped around a cold, domestic beer...
And the other around my magnificent, flaccid four-and-one-half-inch wonder
and I am trying with all my might
to remember what Leila Kaufman's nipples looked like
when her bathing top slipped off at the Hillendale pool swim party.
- Leila Kaufman? - Yes, sir.
Uh, summer of '72.
I got this saucy wench in my gun-sights, so to speak,
and I am dangerously...
Close to engorged...
When all of a fuckin' sudden, out of nowhere,
fuckin' Detective fuckin' Jimmy McNulty pops into my head.
McNulty?
Obviously, I gotta admit to myself that my whole night is ruined.
At which point, I got nothing to do but think about the problems of Jimmy McNulty.
Because clearly this guy
and his fuckin' problems are standing between me and all worldly pleasure.
Clearly.
First of all, it's not Jimmy's fault.
- No? - No.
Jimmy is an addict, sir.
What's he addicted to?
Himself.
It's not funny, sir.
As a matter of fact, it's a fuckin' tragedy is what it is.
The guy, he has come to believe
that he is always the smartest fuck in the room.
And you know what? It's not his fault. Let's face it.
He's not joining Mensa. He's taken a fuckin' job with the Baltimore Police Department.
His first two years in Homicide, he's in Ulmansky's squad
partnered with Tony Lamartino.
Christ, it must've been months even!
He was the smartest fuck in the fuckin' room.
What's your point, Jay?
My point is... he can't help it.
It makes him an asshole, I know,
but it's also what makes him good police.
Last year, he gives me eight clearances.
One of them was a... decomp floater
who was John Doe for three weeks.
Tell your boy to wrap up that bullshit detail in two weeks.
He does that, he comes home, clean slate.
(Man) 'You'd have loved it. Burrell is sitting there with a handful of street-level arrests
'pretending he has a plan.'
So, what did you tell him?
"'Never shit a shitter, Deputy." That's what I fuckin' told him.
- 'I did good, right, Jimmy?' - I gotta go.
"Discuss the Hicks ruling as a manifestation
"of the judiciary's attempt to maintain a speedy disposition
"of criminal cases within a modern court system."
What?
That's what I said.
"What?"
What the hell's the Hicks ruling?
Did you highlight my sofa?
- What? No. - Yes, you did.
That was there before.
Hell it was. Damn, Kima, marker does not come out.
- No, I didn't do it, I swear. - OK, let me see the marker.
You want my marker, I need to see a warrant.
I'm serious. I need to see a probable cause.
I'm gonna beat your ass. That's a probable cause.
- Give me the marker. - Damn, gettin' all violent and shit.
- You just violated my civil rights. - That's it, new rule. No marker on the couch.
You get over to that table and do your homework.
Go. Take it and go.
Gimme my marker.
I'm gonna need some club soda.
Damn, girl...
This cellphone bill must eat up the paycheck.
No, most of that's work. It's on the company.
Phelan won't let go.
Are we anywhere close on Barksdale?
- No, sir. - So what are you telling me?
I'm not telling you anything, Sir. I'm waiting for you to tell me.
I can do whatever you need me to do.
If you want me to push it further, I can do that.
If you want it to go away...
If you wanna bring in someone else, maybe do things differently.
You looking for the back door, Lieutenant? Already?
McNulty says this case needs a wire.
You think he's right?
It needs somethin'.
Just climb your ass up the pole.
No, man. This'll work.
I'm not climbin' no damn ladder.
You never gonna hit it, man.
Bomb!
- Housing must think we just dumb. - Is that...
- That's your pager or mine? - That's me.
- Watch that shit on my head. - It ricocheted off the fuckin' camera.
Yeah, you need some aim.
'Yo, who this?'
- So what do you think? - Title three?
Right, but it's not for a wiretap. It's to clone a pager. I got it from Pearlman.
- Pagers? - Some kind of throwback thing.
- You mean, why not cellphones? - Right. Who uses pagers anymore?
Tell you what, I was checking out a wireless bill last night.
Every incoming call was listed.
Right. So, if we get Barksdale's pager, we might get off the street.
Maybe even trace some supply.
So who's No-Heart Anthony?
No-Heart ran drugs in the homes in the early '90s.
So, a couple years back,
he's in Randallstown, tryin' to take off a jewelry store.
He fucks it up. Half the county chases him back downtown.
I guess No-Heart figures he's not up for doing the time
cause he puts a.44 against his chest, pulls the trigger.
A.44?
It's a contact wound.
Wakes up two hours later in the University ER.
- With a new nickname. - Right.
Bubbles says Anthony's brother took off with the Barksdale stash the other night.
Dude named Omar.
It's not the easiest trade, you know, robbin' dealers.
A man like that is likely to have a weapon on him.
We jack him up. There's a charge to work off.
And if he knows where the Barksdale stash is
he probably knows a whole lot more.
See? Another plan.
The thing is, we're gonna have to sell this.
- You wanna raise it with Daniels? - He'll listen to you more than me.
Where's Santangelo?
Oh, he's at ECU. He's got a case going today.
I haven't heard anything to the contrary, so...
We're gonna press on.
Ideas?
We could continue with the busts.
But that's not gonna get us too far off the street.
On the other hand, the people we pulled in last week had pagers.
So did D'Angelo Barksdale when McNulty jacked him up.
We could clone a couple of pagers.
- Clone what? - Their pagers.
They get beeped, we get beeped. We see who's calling, from what number.
If they're all that, why they still using pagers? Why not un-ass a few dollars for cellphones?
It's a discipline.
You can't bug a pager.
But you can't make a call either.
You're gonna want a pen register on all the pay phones in the low-rises
and any other phones that link to the pagers.
What would it take to do the pagers?
A wiretap affidavit.
We got enough PC from the hand-to-hands and surveillance. We got the exhaustion.
- I'm exhausted just listening to this shit. - Good.
Exhaustion is a legal requirement for using electronic intercepts.
We gotta prove nothing else works.
See, we made the arrests, but nobody flipped.
We don't have an informant who takes us above the street.
That's exhaustion.
All we got left to do is follow one of these mopes and prove we can't do it.
We show a judge we can't make the case by following these guys, and we can't.
How can we keep on any of them in those towers?
But you gotta show you tried.
Do we have a pager number?
This was written on the stash house wall
with the letter D next to it.
Is that D'Angelo? Did you check it?
It's him.
Let's do this.
What does he want us to do? I don't understand.
I'll explain it to you if you buy me breakfast.
Explain again why I'm about to rework a six-month-old crime scene.
Look at this narrow-ass file. Keeley didn't do shit.
- He did the scene. - We're talking about Keeley.
Fucking Jay and his leaps of logic.
- This case is nowhere near what we're doing. - Give it a shake or two anyhow.
- Make a sergeant happy. - Whatever.
Do you know Lester Freamon?
Mm-hm. A little. Why?
- He's with us on this Barksdale thing. - I thought they gave you humps.
He looks like a hump, he acts like a hump, sittin' there, playing with his toy furniture.
Jimmy, he makes more money off of that shit than you do off of this job.
- Don't let Lester fool you. - He did already.
- Today in roll call, he showed something. - Hey, he's natural police.
He used to be Homicide.
- Why did he leave? - Ask him.
- This is the one, huh? - Yup. Hasn't been rented since.
Aw, fuck.
Motherfucker.
Fuck.
Fucking fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
What the fuck?
Fuck.
- No. - Fuck.
Fuck it.
Oh, the fuck.
Motherfuck.
Aw, fuck. Oh, fuck.
Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Fucker.
Oh, fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Motherfucker.
Fuckin' A.
Fuck.
Check this.
Motherfucker.
Fuck me.
Pow.
Sydnor's on foot, Cam's in the car.
Herc, you need to be on top of the roof behind Amity.
Again, I get the shit detail?
The plan is to stay on D'Angelo.
- If we lose him, we lose him, right? - We're gonna lose him.
You can't follow people in them towers or hang in the low-rises without a reason.
Just to make sure, we want to lose him, right?
Losin' him is good?
Right.
Then why the fuck do this?
Come on, Herc. Roll with me on this one.
So you're police after all?
You know what you doing but you ain't been doing it.
- How long you been in the Pawnshop Unit? - 13 years and four months.
- 13 years? - And four months.
I gotta ask you...
What does a police officer assigned to the Pawnshop Unit do?
You intake reports from registered pawnshops on all items valued over $50.
Then you make an index card for that item.
Then you file that index card.
If someone wants to check if something stolen was pawned we see if we have a card.
If we do, we do, if we don't, we don't.
- You did that for 13 years? - And four months.
- Why'd you ask out of Homicide? - No ask about it.
- You got the boot? - Uh-huh.
- What'd you do to piss them off? - Police work.
I think I need to buy you a drink.
Just one?
Caught this case in a Brooklyn home in the summer of '87.
An 80-year-old woman, stabbed up,
nightgown, in bed, forced window, rear entry.
Worked it a couple of weeks. Got the names of two squirrels in Curtis Bay.
Squirrel number one gives it up and tries to put all the weight on squirrel number two.
Back up the statements?
Print on the rear window for number two. One for number one on the medicine chest.
- So, it's down, yeah? - Mm.
Even better when number one drives by the house where they fenced the lady's shit.
Clock-radio, TV, toaster oven.
- So, what's the problem? - The problem was the fence.
Turned out he was the son of one of the editors at the News America.
This man is running the newspaper and his son is getting all fucked up,
getting high down on Locust Point.
The deputy, who I guess is in a favor-doin' mood, sends word down to the major.
I'm supposed to make the case without the fence.
Just the print hits and the statement.
He's doin' this to have some newspaper guy in his pocket?
Yeah, I guess so.
Is this Burrell?
No, no, Mueller. Deputy Ops before Burrell.
So, what did you do?
What do you think I did?
I charged him with receiving, then had his ass testify.
You could've made the case just on the prints and the statements.
Probably. Yep.
Why didn't you?
Why?
Why are you fuckin' up yourself chasing Avon Barksdale?
A week after trial ends, Major comes to me,
asks me where I want to go.
I tell him I don't care. I like to be outside, you know?
Give me a foot-post, I'll still make my money. Send my ass up to Edmondson Avenue.
You went to a foot-post?
Major come back, asks me where I don't want to go.
And he asks it like he wanna make sure I land OK.
So, I tell him I don't want no fuckin' paper-shuffle.
No office shit.
Send my black ass outside and let me police.
Pawnshop Unit.
They got me good.
So, Why'd they let you out of the box? Why now?
I guess they just forgot about me.
Shit, Lester.
You back from the dead.
- You rolled away the stone. - Hmm.
Bunk Moreland says you're natural police. One of the few.
Yeah, I've had my moments.
Detective...
When they ask you where you wanna go,
and they are gonna ask you where you wanna go,
do yourself a favor.
Keep your mouth shut.
I gotta take a tinkle, boy.
- I got it. - All right.
Hello.
Um...?
- Is Kima there? - And you are?
Tell her it's, uh, it's McNulty.
For you, Kima. A decidedly confused white boy.
Oh, God.
How'd it go today?
Lost him in the 221. Picked him back up in the low-rises
- then lost him on Schroeder Street after dark. - Nicely done.
- Are you OK to drive? - Yeah, I'm fine.
I just wanted to thank you.
For what?
For today, you know, with Daniels.
- You should be thanking Lester. - I did.
I just wanted to thank you too, Detective Greggs.
No problem. Good night.
That it is.
What'd I miss?
Nothin' much.
- Lovelorn? - Worse. Lonely.
You didn't make it into class again today.
- You said you'd stick with it. - I'm tryin'.
But things are hard right now.
I'm doing the best I can.
You said yourself you need to do somethin' else.
Somethin' better for us.
- You promised. - Look...
Oh, man.
What am I gonna do with you, huh?
You know better women than you have fallen for my tricks, right?
What you got under this?