Fuck me.
I'm dyin' here.
Let me get on the other side,
work it from there.
One, two.
- Three. - Three.
Shit.
Need help?
Right, on three, motherfuckers.
One, two, three.
I'm embarrassed for y'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?
Well, 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 through Jesus ♪
♪ He'll save your soul ♪
♪ You gotta keep the devil ♪
♪ Down in the hole ♪
♪ All the angels sing ♪
♪ About Jesus' mighty soul ♪
♪ And they shoot you with your wing ♪
♪ Keep you close to the Lord ♪
♪ Don't pay heed to temptation ♪
♪ Oh, your hands are so cold ♪
♪ You got to keep the devil ♪
♪ Way down in the hole ♪
♪ 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 there.
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, to wit, heroin,
and one count distribution of a controlled substance, to wit, cocaine.
Quantity?
One gel cap and one vial, Your Honor.
Bail recommendation?
State requests defendant be held,
as he is part of a continuing investigation
and further is subject to a mandatory five years
without parole because of prior convictions.
Will your office be seeking the mandatory five in this case?
Absolutely, Your Honor.
Very well, I'll take that into consideration.
Got his attention, at least.
Hey, Lieutenant, come have a taste.
Aw, come on, we're celebrating.
Patrick's going out on medical.
Sweet, sweet cervical six.
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 2/3s pension
and I don't have to wait to for my 30. I'm gone.
Fucking yo did you a favor.
Kid hit like a mule, I gotta say.
You should take a couple days.
Think it over before you put in papers.
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, Paddy, they take that off the top of 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 gonna do, Paddy?
Tell you what.
What do you say we go out together?
What do ya 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 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'll break my fucking neck like that.
You don't break nothin'.
You do a little dance on those steps,
you're up to 2/3s 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?
Now, why bang me like that for a one-and-one?
- 'Cause it's your turn, - Mr. Browning.
Everybody out there gets a turn.
Oh, well, y'all runnin' wild up in here.
I'm thinking a judge might want to take a look at this
and slow y'all down a mite.
Well, I don't know, Marvin.
I'm lookin' at your sheet here
and, well, for one thing,
it's a little wrong to be calling it a sheet.
More like a book.
Point is, we've got the room to get a little crazy on you.
Like she said, it's your turn.
Tell us some stories,
might could be somebody else's turn.
Stories.
Avon Barksdale.
Know the name?
Every motherfucker up in them towers know the name.
Myself, I ain't never really 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.
A'ight.
A'ight? A'ight, what?
A'ight, 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.
The outer loop of the beltway, quite slow at Telegraph,
getting past the Woodrow Wilson Bridge.
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.
But look... another cow.
Use your imagination.
This little shitbird,
having already been whipped good by us once,
he sees us, right? And he starts cryin' like a little bitch,
'cause he knows that we drove all the way down to Prince George's
for more of his ass, right?
Imagine we jack him up, toss him into a small room,
and tell him that Detective Mahone
is near dead from the sucker punch.
No shit,
the drunk old fuck suddenly slipped into a coma,
and now 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
so it can sit with the fucking bowling trophies
behind the bar at the FOP lodge.
All right? After which...
fuck-nuts 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?
So, from all them hand to hands, nobody flipped?
No, that part of town, Barksdale carries more weight than we do.
Just like all these fucking homicides.
Witnesses lying, witnesses paid off,
witnesses backing up on their story.
Can you blame 'em?
Not really.
Every now and then we visit the projects,
they live there.
Your man's Dee, right?
D'Angelo, yeah.
This one's got a Dee as a possible shooter.
This one connects.
No way.
Yeah, I'm seeing it.
It's Deidre Kresson, one of Keeley's cases.
Come on, Jay, this is a college girl
blown up in the kitchen of an apartment up in Northeast.
How does this match with all the rest of these Westside project mopes?
They don't have cars?
This doesn't match, Jay.
Sure it does, take a look at your office report.
You got a witness who puts her with a Dee the night she's aced.
How many Dee's you think there are in the system, Jay?
As a street name?
Let me ask you something, Jimmy.
How many case files you got here
that you're 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, you know,
hopping around like a one-legged pigtown whore on check day,
and for what? So that you can have your big adventure
and solve everybody else's cases?
Is this what I'm hearing?
He's got you, Jimmy.
Where's the love, McNulty?
Show me some fucking love.
All right.
Attaboy, he's my son.
Why don't you just dump this loser on Santangelo?
He's supposed to be down here helping us anyway.
I would if I could find the fucker.
Must have another job, he's gone so much.
What does Daniels have to say about that?
Nothing, I cover for the guy.
He's out in the wind all day yesterday, half the day before.
Aw, 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 Dee."
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 'bout that tag, Bubs?
I seen the van.
It cleared the court and rolled up Amity toward Lexington.
Plates was reported stolen off a car parked right here, on this block.
So you thinkin' they from right around here, right?
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 rippin' and robbin' out here, for years now.
Is he fierce?
That nigga 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 policin' at all these years?
And right now, I am personally ashamed to be your snitch.
- Aw, shit, fuck. - 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 movin'.
Avon's stuff always be good.
It's a sweet score?
Yeah, it's a'ight.
That play was a little bit raggedy in there, though.
I fucked up, I know, lettin' go your name.
Just saying, I don't really care you shouted me out.
Everybody in these projects been knowin' Omar, you heard.
I just don't want them coming down on y'all, baby-boy.
Shirley comin' with her game.
Every fuckin' day with that shit.
Mr. Omar?
My check late.
Hey, yo, Mike.
Hook a sister up, yo.
So, what next, yo?
Got some irons,
think about working the flush-and-run over on the Eastside,
'til things cool a mite.
That'll work.
So, what up, man, you don't wanna lay over here tonight?
- Naw. - You sure?
Naw, I'm gonna go see my mom.
Keep it close.
Hear that.
Who the man, huh?
Hey, I gotta be somewhere first.
But I'll run him back downtown after.
No problem, thanks for answering.
- Hey, Bubs. - Hey, McNutty.
What's up?
You ever heard of No-Heart Anthony?
Who, Anthony Little?
1058 Argyle, apartment 16-J.
He's up in Hagerstown on a robbery bit.
- What about him? - My man.
Fuck y'all.
You know how them cracker motherfuckers do
when they kill a deer?
Or, like, when they go out killing animals and whatnot?
Got 'em 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'm gonna send a message to the courtyard about this motherfucker,
so people know we ain't playing.
Yeah, we got peoples on it.
You tell 'em it's a thousand 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, right?
- He said he all a faggot. - A faggot?
- Mm-hmm. - Get the fuck outta here.
Yeah, said he had a whole stable of boys down in Jessup.
This punk motherfucker got even less use for pussy now that he home.
So, he gotta a lotta heart for a cocksucker, huh?
Yo, 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.
Stickup come up dead on the stash one night.
Police jumpin' out the next.
Something up at the pit?
Maybe, yeah.
What's up with my nephew?
I don't know, I mean, he doin' good.
He makin' 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-Beaverland are you takin' me?
I'm late for something.
I'll drop you after on the way back downtown.
What you late for?
Soccer.
Suck what?
Get in the goal!
Spread it out, spread it out, there you go.
Whoo!
- First team, fall in!
Dad!
Hey, Mikey, how are you?
- Who's winning? - They are, four-one.
Four-one, who got the goal for you guys?
- Ricardo, my assist. - Assist, that's good.
Hey, you got to drink on the breaks, okay?
I don't want you to get dehydrated.
- Hey. - Hey.
This is Bubbles.
Hi. Okay.
- Go on, Mike, go get 'em. - Bye, Dad.
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 4:00.
I need more than every other weekend, Elena.
He needs me more than that, so does Sean.
I'm not giving up anymore 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 goddamn week.
- You see him every day-- - Don't curse at me.
- My lawyer says that-- - Fuck your lawyer.
Fuck you. Fuck you!
Did you see, did you see?
Yeah, yeah, I saw, I saw.
Come on, you get out.
This good for you?
Um-hmm.
It's a thin line between heaven and here.
How he know where the stash at?
The knockos don't know, but he do
'cause some nigga snitchin'.
Man, ain't nobody got to be snitchin' for Omar
or one of his boys to creep by and see where the stash at.
Damn, Bodie.
- Fuck that nigga up. - They stomped his ass.
How he ain't courtside for banking a knocko?
Boy, how you get home so quick?
Nigga, what you steal?
Camry XLE.
Y'all want a ride? It's right around the corner.
Man, Boys Village ain't shit.
I'm just too bad for that off-brand,
little-boy bullshit, man, it can't hold me.
What you laughin' at? What's so funny?
If you was me, your ass would still be down there.
You ever seen a city jail, nigga?
You ever caught a body?
I'm the one who just got home, remember?
Eight months over on Eager Street, with a body on me, nigga.
- Yeah, you got the one. - Yeah, the one you know about.
Man, y'all 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...
I mean, I ain't seen a female that fine since.
I gotta say, shorty was right.
You fucked her?
Naw, man, it wasn't like that.
This was a shorty my uncle was messing with.
So, you know, they was going on at it for a little while
'til she find out that my uncle got another little shorty 'round the way.
More right to say he got a few of 'em around the way. Know what I'm sayin'?
So, she goes off the hook and shit,
talking about she gonna call the police,
start talking about shit she ain't supposed 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.
Right? First level.
You know,
I go creeping around the back, to the back window.
I got the four-five on me, the big gun.
And I walk up to the window and I look in
and it's dark as shit 'cause it's like 3:00 in the damn morning and shit.
You know, you can't see shit.
Whatcha do?
So, I pulled out the piece and I start tappin'
with the back of it on the window.
And it was quiet, you know,
but it was loud enough so she can 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 you know, 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 walk over there
and see what it is.
She steps up,
looks out,
see where it's coming from.
What happened?
He shot her.
Yo, Dee, if she was all that,
why ain't you fuck her first?
Nigga, you sick, just shut up.
What? I'm just saying.
There is something 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,
if 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?
Well...
my other reason for stopping by.
Hand-to-hands and search-and-seizures, I've heard about these.
Well, some mid-level players caught up, as you can see.
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.
Well...
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 motherfuckin' door!
Upstairs front clear.
Kitchen's clear.
I'm at the backdoor. Anybody pop out here?
All clear, quiet.
Upstairs rear, clear.
I'm gonna beat this bitch like a red-headed stepchild,
I find him hiding up in this pisshole.
Goddamn creepy crawlers everywhere.
Tell Bodie we're on his ass.
I'm sorry for cursing, at the door, I mean, um...
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 awhile, you couldn't make her see nothing else.
Nah, man, nah, that wasn't us.
2:30 in the towers? You guys are crazy, man.
I don't know what you're talking about, man.
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, okay?
I'm sorry.
What the fuck you doing in there?
Talking.
- Talking? - Yeah.
- See you later. - A'ight, catch you later.
I'm driving.
Yeah.
McNulty.
Some judge for you.
Yeah?
Well, can I call you back?
- Major, sir? - Yeah.
I been thinking.
It's a clear violation of the general orders,
I know, but...
last night, I'm at home.
I'm sitting up buck naked.
And I got one hand wrapped around a cold domestic beer,
and the other wrapped 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, summer of '72.
I got this saucy wench in my gunsights, so to speak,
and I am dangerously
close to engorged,
when all of a fucking sudden out of fucking nowhere,
fucking Detective, fucking Jimmy McNulty pops into my head.
McNulty?
Obviously, I gotta open my eyes and 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 fucking 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.
A matter of fact, it's a fucking 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.
Because, let's face it, he's not going to Johns Hopkins or joining Mensa,
he's taking a fucking job
with the Baltimore Police Department.
His first two years in homicide, he's in Ulmansky's squad,
partnered with Tony Lamartino.
Uh, Christ, it must've been months even,
he was the smartest fuck in the fucking 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.
You'da loved it.
Burrell is sitting across from me
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 fucking 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 say,
"What?"
What the hell's the Hicks ruling?
Did you highlight my sofa?
What? No.
Yes, you did.
That was there from before.
Hell, it was.
Damn, Kima, marker does not come out.
I didn't do it, I swear.
Okay, let me see the marker.
You want my marker, I need to see a warrant.
I'm serious, I need to see some probable cause.
I'm gonna beat your ass.
How about that for probable cause?
Gimme, gimme that marker.
Damn, gettin' all violent and shit.
You know you just violated my civil rights, huh?
That's it, new rule. No marker on the couch.
You get over to that table over there and do your homework.
Go, take it and go.
- Gimme my maker. - Thank you, mm-hmm.
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 with this.
If you want me to push it further, I can do that.
If you want it to go away.
And if you want to 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 something.
Just climb your ass up the pole, man.
Naw, naw, man, this'll work.
I'm not climbing no damn ladder.
You ain't never going to hit it, man.
Bomb! Housing must think we just dumb.
- Is that--
that's your pager or mine?
That's me, that's me.
Yo, watch that shit on my head.
Hey, man, it ricocheted off the fucking camera.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you need some aim.
- Hmph.
Yo, who this?
So, what do you think?
A title three?
Right, but it's not for a wiretap.
It's to clone a pager, I got it from Pearlman.
Pagers, huh?
Some kind of throwback thing.
You mean why not cell phones?
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, I don't know why,
he finds himself in Randallstown
trying to take off a jewelry store.
He fucks it up,
half the county chases him back downtown.
And I guess No-Heart figures he's not up for doing the time,
'cause he puts a four-four against his chest,
pulls the trigger.
A .44?
Gets a contact wound,
wakes up two hours later in the University ER.
With a new nickname.
Right.
Bubbles says it's Anthony's brother
who took off with the Barksdale stash the other night.
Dude named Omar.
It's not the easiest trade, you know, robbing dealers.
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 want to raise it with Daniels?
He'll listen to you more than me.
Where's Santangelo?
Oh, he's-- he's at ECU.
He's got a case going today.
Well, as of today, I haven't heard anything to the contrary, so...
so we're gonna press on.
Ideas?
We can continue with the buys.
But I don't think that's 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 try to clone a couple of pagers and see where that takes us.
- Clone what? - Their pagers.
They get beeped, we get beeped.
We see who's calling and from what number.
If these guys are all that, why they still using pagers?
Why not un-ass a few dollars for cell phones?
It's a discipline.
You can't bug a pager.
But you can't make a call with a pager, either.
You're gonna want a pen register
on all the payphones in the low-rises
and any other phones that link to the pagers.
What would it take to do the pagers?
A wiretap affidavit.
I think we've got enough PC from the hand-to-hands and surveillance.
We got most of 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 did the raids,
we made the arrests, but nobody flipped.
We don't have an informant who takes us anywhere above the street.
That's pretty much exhaustion.
All we got left to do now, is to follow one of these mopes
and prove to ourselves that we can't do it.
See, we try to show a judge we can't make a case
by following these guys. And we can't.
How can we keep on any of them when they go up 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.
Will you explain to me again why I'm about to rework
a six-month-old crime scene?
Look at this narrow-ass file.
Keeley didn't do shit on this.
He did the scene though.
This is Keeley we're talking about.
Fucking Jay and his leaps of logic.
This case is nowhere near anything we're doing.
So, give it a shake or two anyhow.
- Make a sergeant happy. - Whatever.
Hey, did you know Lester Freamon?
Mm-hmm. A little, why?
He's with us on this Barksdale thing.
I thought you said 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 that shit
than you do off of this job.
Don't let Lester fool you.
He did already. But today in roll call, he showed something.
Hey, he's a natural police.
He used to be homicide.
- Why'd he leave? - Ask him.
This is the one, huh?
Yep, hasn't been rented since.
Ah, fuck.
Motherfucker.
Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
What the fuck?
Ah, fuck.
Fuck.
- No. - Ah, fuck.
Fuck it.
How the fuck?
Motherfuck.
Aw, fuck. Aw, fuck.
Fuckity, fuck fuck, fuck fuck, fucker.
Ah, fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Motherfucker.
Fuckin' A.
Fuck.
What's that?
Motherfucker.
Fuck me.
Boom.
Pow.
Heh.
Sydnor's on foot, Carv'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.
We lose him, we lose him, right?
Oh, we're gonna lose him.
I mean, you can't follow people in them towers.
You can't even hang in the low-rises unless you got a reason.
Just to make sure. We want to lose him, right?
Losing him is good?
Right.
Then why the fuck do this?
Come on, Herc, roll with me on this one, all right?
So, you're a police after all.
You know what you're doing, but you ain't been doing it.
How long you been in the pawn shop unit?
13 years and four months.
- 13 years? - And four months.
I gotta ask you, what exactly does
a police officer assigned to the pawn shop unit do?
You intake reports from registered pawn shops
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 find out
if something stolen has been pawned,
we look to see if we have an index 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?
- Wasn't no ask about it. - You got the boot?
- Uh-huh. - What'd you do to piss 'em off?
Police work.
I think I need to buy you a drink.
Just one?
Caught this case in the Brooklyn Homes.
Summer of '87.
80-year-old woman stabbed up.
Nightgown, in bed. Forced window, rear entry.
Worked it for a couple weeks,
got the names of two squirrels over 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 hit on the window for number two,
another one for number one on the medicine chest.
- So, it's down, yeah? - Mmm.
Even better's when squirrel number one drives by the house
where they fenced the old lady's shit.
Clock-radio, TV, toaster oven.
So, what's the problem?
The problem is the fence.
Turned out he was the son of one of the big editors
over at the "News American."
This man is running the afternoon newspaper
and his son is getting all fucked up,
doin' the dirt and getting high down in 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.
Play it like that.
So, he's doin' this for what?
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 without him.
Just on prints and the statements.
Probably, yep.
Why didn't you?
Why?
Why are you fuckin' up yourself chasing Avon Barksdale?
A week after the 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 goddamn footpost,
I'll still make my money, you know.
Send my ass up to Edmondson Avenue. I don't give a shit.
You went to a footpost?
Major, come back asks me where I don't want to go.
And he asks it like he wants to be sure I land okay.
So, I tell him, I don't want no fucking paper-shuffle.
No office shit.
Send my black ass outside and let me police somewhere.
- Pawn shop unit. - Uh-huh.
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're back from the dead.
You rolled away the stone.
Bunk Moreland says you're a natural police.
One of the few.
Yeah, I've had my moments.
Detective...
when they ask you where you want to 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. I got it.
All right.
Oh, hello.
Um...
Is Kima there?
And you are?
Tell her it's-- it's McNulty.
For you, Kima.
A decidedly confused white boy.
Oh, God.
How'd it go today?
Lost him in the 211.
Picked him back up in the low-rises,
and then lost him on Schroeder Street after dark.
Nicely done.
Are you okay to drive?
Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.
I just wanted to...
I just wanted to thank you.
For what?
For today, you know, with Daniels.
You should be thanking Lester.
Oh, I did. I just wanted to thank you, too, Detective Greggs.
No problem. Goodnight.
That it is.
What 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 trying, but things are hot right now.
I'm doing the best I can.
You said it yourself you need to do something else.
Something better for us.
You promised.
Oh, man.
What am I gonna do with you, huh?
You know, better women than you
have fallen for my tricks, right?