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The Wire (2002–2008): Season 1, Episode 11 - The Hunt - full transcript

While Greggs' life hangs in the balance, the entire department attempts to hunt down Savino. When Wallace flips, willing to testify that Stringer, Wee-Bey and Bird killed Brandon, Daniels stashes him in his grandmother's house on the outskirts of the city, but he soon becomes restless. Stringer tells Wee-Bey he needs to get out of Baltimore until the Savino investigation cools off, whilst Avon considers his next move. When McNulty and Pearlman try to pressure Levy into giving up Savino, he proves smarter than they gave him credit for. Meanwhile, when the detail's hand is forced, and a series of city-wide raids are ordered so as to appease Burrell's desire for "dope on the table," McNulty goes to see Phelan for help, but is surprised at his reaction. Daniels decides not to raid the main Barksdale stash house, but when word of his plan gets back to Burrell, he realizes there is a snitch in the detail. Elsewhere, Bubbles finds it increasingly difficult to stay clean.


Come on. Come on!

(Man) Another bag here.

Christ.

- Sergeant?
- Yeah?

- Who are the primaries?
- Cole and Norris.

Cole's here...and Norris is at the hospital.

- What do you need?
- Room to work.

I keep ordering people off the scene,

and between Narcotics,
DEA and the two districts,

we keep collecting more
and more bodies around here.

Nobody move!

I said nobody fucking move!

If you have not been assigned a task
by a Homicide detective,

step away from this crime scene.

Is there anybody doesn't
understand a direct order?

If you have not specifically
been instructed otherwise,

then remove your useless,
interfering asses from the area.

Now!

Slow this thing down to a crawl.

Give these bastards no chance
to fuck up in a meaningful way.

- Wedged all the way to the back.
- She couldn't get to it.

She taped it up front.

But as soon as she put any weight on these
worn-ass car seats, they pulled the tape off.

Gun slid back behind the mesh
as they drove, probably.

Christ.

- Where was her support?
- There were two cars several blocks distant.

She got turned around in the alleys.
She gave her 20 at the north side of Warwick.

They went there on the shots?

Foxtrot finally found her.

So, we had two units covering the north side
and a helicopter up on top,

and no one saw any vehicles in flight.

Bunk. Terry, Mike, come on.

What the fuck happened?

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 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

Way down in the hole

Way down in the hole

Way down in the hole

You didn't have an eyeball?

On those streets,
there's no way you can eyeball it.

- She threw out 20s as best she could.
- Understood, I'm just asking.

The link we have to this is Savino Bratton,
a minor lieutenant to our target, Barksdale.

- I gave you people all that.
- We're hitting his last-knowns.

The set-up was more than him. The casings
are different calibers

and her Glock was full up.

- How bad?
- Chest wound, no exit.

Through and through to the throat.

They had the pressure pants on her
to push up the pulse.

They put those pants on you, it ain't good.

OK.

You're on Baker when you hear the shots.
Where was the second car?

- Warwick, I think.
- OK. You've got the east well covered.

- To the west is the rail bed.
- What did Foxtrot see?

- Nothing moving except our units.
- Lieutenant.

I know just how you feel. This is
the toughest job a police commissioner has.

I don't think I'll ever get used to it.

This is Lieutenant Daniels.

Oh. Right. Right, of course.

This entire department stands behind
Detective Greggs in every possible way.

- I just thought you should know that.
- Yes, sir.

Jaybird..

We have a runner.

Yeah, we're gonna need casts
of these two imprints.

Put the lab tech on it.

The money's not anyone's primary concern.
I understand that.

I won't give a shit about the money when you
have lost one of your own who might...

I mean, Jesus, this is awful.

- But if we can get to this Savino character...
- Hey.

Fuck your money.

Jimmy?

You hurt?

No.

It's hers.

Come on, get up. Let's go. Up with you.
Come on.

She couldn't talk, couldn't breathe. Nothing.

She went into the ambo that way.

Is she...?

- What the fuck did I do?
- Come on, walk.

What's that?

- What's our plan, Ray?
- Bunk and Jay stay with the scene.

Keeley and Crutchfield are at the office
typing warrants.

- Who's on the autopsy?
- Me, I'm at the morgue.

Norris and Holley stay at shock trauma
in case she sits up and talks.

- We're laser printing the car, right?
- Course. Worden's on that.

- You're in command for the city, right?
- Major Rawls, Homicide.

Anything you need from my office -
men, money, whatever - you just ask.

Right.

Cooperator, your girl's down shock trauma.

- Let's get to work.
- Fuck you.

- Fuck me? We got a wire up.
- So?

We got a wire up on some motherfucker
that shot a cop.

If somebody says the wrong fucking thing
about what happened,

where the fuck do you want to be?

Church roof?

Yeah, you and me.
Sydnor takes the McCullough Street phone.

Anybody get in contact with Kima's people?

Shit.

I'll do that first and meet you at the church.

Bunk, Mike.

Wonder who that bitch was.

- Always some shit, right?
- Yeah.

(Phone)

- 'Done?'
- Done.

'All right.'

Let's get outta here.

Yeah.

Lab tech to this spot. Photos and casts.

(Chatter on radio, indistinct)

Can I get 18-12 up here?

Whoa, whoa.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

You're camped here.
Nobody touches this shit,

or even comes near it,
till the tech does his recovery.

Whoa.

Hello.

- He stopped running.
- Either he got tired or...

- Or he got into a car.
- Right.

- 11-34.
- 'Go ahead, 11-34.'

I'm in the...3000 block of Landvale,

backing up to the CSX bed.

I need a lab unit and
a DPW crew with a jackhammer.

- 'A jackhammer?'
- Gonna keep a bit of road, KGA.

- Alive. In the OR.
- My people at the scene have heard this.

It's a copy of the original.

- We brought a machine... Where the fuck is...
- Sir.

Here it is.

(Rap music playing from tape)

- 'Don't fuck with this count.'
- That's Savino.

'I'll be right back with your shit.'

(Kima) 'Where are we? That sign said
Longwood but I could swear this is Warwick.'

'The hoppers be turning the sign poles
to fuck with you all.'

'I make it we're on the north side of Warwick,
in an alley, I don't know, shit...

'half a block west of Longwood, maybe?

'I hope you all copy that.
This got the right feel for you?'

'He better not be long
cos I don't know where the stash is,

'and if they dragging us all over
this part of town...'

- (Kima) 'What's that?'
- Jesus.

- 'Something ain't right. This shit ain't right.'
- Christ.

(Gunfire)

(Kima) 'Signal 13, signal 13.'

- 'Where the fuck...?'
- She can't reach the gun.

- 'What the fuck?'
- 'Two males, black hoodies, both armed...'

(Gunfire)

Shut it Off. Shut it Off.

Listen to me, you fuck.
You did a lot of shit here.

You played a lot of fucking cards

and made a lot of people do
a lot of fucking things they didn't want to do.

This is true. We both know this is true.

You, McNulty, are a gaping asshole.
We both know this.

Fuck if everybody in CID doesn't know it.

But fuck if I'm gonna stand here

and say you did a single fucking thing
to get a police shot.

You did not do this, you fucking hear me?

This is not on you. No, it isn't, asshole.
Believe it or not, everything isn't about you.

And the motherfucker saying this...
he hates your guts, McNulty.

So you know if it was on you,
I'd be the son of a bitch to say so.

Shit went bad. She took two for the company.

That's the only lesson here.

Police!

Police, let me see your hands.

- Hands on your head!
- Down on the ground!

Search warrant, get on the ground.

Police. Get down.

Let's see your hands.

- He ain't here!
- Who ain't here?

- Zach, he ain't here!
- Zach?

- No, honey, we're looking for Savino.
- Savino? No, he's my baby.

Yeah, well, your baby shot a cop.

(Man) 'They're kicking in the doors,
looking for Savino.'

- (2nd man) 'What up with that, man?'
- 'Some shit about he killed a cop.'

'Who, Savino? Savino ain't shot no cop.'

'They acting like he did it.'

- 'Shit.'
- 'I'm telling you, man.'

- They're talking about it anyway.
- Ripples in the pond.

Talking ain't knowing, is it?

(Signs)

Skin this cat another way.

Two pages to Stringer tonight, right?

Only this one after the shooting.

Who's 07? And what phone is he asking
for Stringer to call him back?

- Shit went good but...
- Hold on.

(Radio) 'The officer
may have been undercover.'

- All right, talk.
- Like I said, it went good.

Except there was this bitch in the back seat.
Surprised the shit out of us.

Didn't even see her until the shit popped off.

I mean if it was up to me,
I'd have let the girl walk.

She ain't look like the talking type.

But Little Man seen her,
bugged out and let a couple go.

- Savino didn't tip y'all off?
- Wasn't no time.

He get up out the car, we see him go
up the block like we said, right?

After that, he out of sight
and we bring it home like we planned, baby.

Shorty was a cop.

And she ain't dead.

Where'd you all put the guns?

She wasn't no cop, man.
She look like one of Orlando's hos.

Bey, where the fuck are the guns?

- A storm drain off of Park Heights, man.
- What the fuck is wrong with Little Man?

This motherfucker bugged out one time.

He gonna bug out again
when he find out shorty's a fucking cop?

Come on, man. Savino got a story
that he can keep to and he know it.

But Little Man,
he always been fucking weak like that.

Little Man gotta go.

You hear me?

This shit gonna get real heavy.
You understand me? We gotta fall back.

I wanna see how it go with this Savino
bullshit, see how they go past that.

But if the shit don't hold or if this
cop wake up and start talking shit,

then you gotta go sky up.

Where you got your peoples at?

New York, Jersey, Cleveland.

All right. So, Philly? DC?

You know what I'm saying?
No profile, no connections, no noise.

You feel me, right?
All right. We gotta be careful.

- Jesus.
- I'm sorry.

It's all right, you just scared me.

I, er...

I work with Kima.

- Kima, she...
- Kima's at work.

What are you...?

Dust the receiver, the coin return
and the metal top.

The can, too.

(Doctor) We can't really know for sure.

Lieutenant?

I'm sitting over there with Kima's girl and...

Maybe somebody from the department
or the city might want to say something.

Who's here from the family?
A daughter, you say?

- A daughter?
- Officer Greggs has a girl?

A roommate.

The family's in Richmond,
driving up first thing.

The roommate's already here.

I'll do it myself.

No problem. If we lose her,
he can always pose for the funeral.

Still need the right door for Savino. His last
knowns, his girlfriend, his mama. Nothing.

Tracers picked up a of couple hairs
on one of the hoodies.

So either these guys are neighborhood yos

who lucked into $30,000
on a street stick-up, or...

Or they're pros who set up in an alley
on one side of the tracks

then slip over to the other side,
where they park their ride.

What about the post?

Cause and manner of death
on Mr. Blocker is homicide,

to wit, close-range GSWs to the shoulder,
chest and left arm.

Nine millimeter, six left twist,
suitable for comparison.

We pulled something else
from the back seat of the car?

Yeah, .380. Semi-jacketed.
Casings were different, too.

So we confirmed the two shooters.

Print hit. Wynton "Little Man" Rice,
enforcer in the 221

and a definite connect to Barksdale's world.

Print hit? Print hit from what?

Soda can. Dropped at the pay phone
at Park Heights and Belvedere.

Still had fizz in it when I got there.

What is this pay phone
at Park Heights and Belvedere?

Some motherfucker paged Stringer Bell
20 minutes after the shooting.

I dusted the phone, too, but it was smudged.

So we got a Barksdale pro in the northwest
ringing up the boss minutes after the deed.

So much for the amateur-hour theory.

Good pull. You are?

Freamon. Lester Freamon.

- Where you working?
- Pawnshop Unit.

How you gonna shoot a police? Ain't no
percentage in that, know what I'm saying?

For real.

Someone around here do that, every knocko
in the world be down here busting heads.

I guess them Park Heights niggers
just ain't got no fucking common sense.

- A lotta heart, just no sense.
- Poot. Wallace on the phone.

- Yeah?
- Wallace?

Nigger ring me up twice a day
whether he got shit to say or not.

- Homesick motherfucker making me bug.
- Where's he at?

At the shore with his grandma.

Surfing or some bullshit. Or something.

(Beeping)

- You just use that phone?
- Yeah, a little earlier.

- You might wanna go to Mosher Street.
- Just now?

Yeah.

- A man downtown needs to talk to you.
- Man downtown?

Make some sense for this man, please.

- I ain't never been so clean in my life.
- I'm just doing my job.

- What up, Mr. Beachfront Property?
- 'No, fool, I told you, I'm bayside.

- 'My grandmother on the bayside.'
- You on vacation and not bringing me.

- 'How you get all the way down there?'
- I took a bus.

'Shit, tell me how to go,
and I grab a 'hound, too.

'Come down and hang with your ass.'

No, man, it ain't like that. The air down here
all sticky. Worse than Baltimore.

'And these crickets, louder than
a motherfucker. I can't get no sleep.'

I ain't cut out to be no country-ass nigger.

'Please deposit two dollars
for an additional two minutes.'

Shit, I gotta go.

You can take a nigger out the Westside
but you can't take...

(Beeping)

What's your name?

Look, I didn't do shit here, OK?

- I asked you your name.
- No, this shit ain't right.

- Who'd you try to page, shit bird?
- Why the fuck do you care? I mean...

You have exactly three more seconds
to explain yourself to me, asshole.

One shooter opened the passenger door,

- so any latent prints from that side...
- (Muffled shouts)

- Why'd you page her, shit bird?
- Get off me.

- You think this is a game?
- I wanna talk to Greggs.

- You can't, motherfucker.
- Then McNulty then. This shit ain't right, sir.

Savino. Savino.

Mope ain't around.

One of them low-rise hoppers
on tower phone two.

OK.

Maybe he forgot the number.

- What the fuck was that?
- You don't know?

We just caught a re-up off the tower stash.

Fourth floor, south side, second unit down.

(Daniels) Put that away.

Put that away and work the case.

Can I ask you something?

How much of this case
would you give up to get her back?

- That's not the point.
- How much?

All Of it.

But it doesn't work that way.
You can't give it back.

I'm sitting with a hospital progress report
that shows no fucking progress.

She's not conscious, she's intubated,
she's had a trach and a lung collapse.

And if she's got a shred of luck, the shot
she took to the neck didn't catch any spine.

It wasn't worth it.

Homicide for McNulty on line two.

Do your job.

- Yeah?
- (Bunk) 'So how you doing with it?'

- I'll live.
- Yeah?

Well, listen, Jimmy.
We had a little dust-up over here.

Holley might have beat
one of your girl's Cls on spec.

What is he, a short guy? Mumbles a lot?

'That's him. You might wanna roll past and
squelch this shit before it gets outta hand.'

Yeah.

- It ain't worth it, man.
- It ain't worth it at ten times the price.

A fucking cop, man!

How stupid is this motherfucker?
If you see a bitch in the car, change it up.

We can go to Orlando another day.

Savino was trying to signal, but he in the
dark, he don't know where Bey's coming from.

- Nothing breaking our way.
- We gotta burn this cop money.

It's probably marked somehow.

The guns are in the sewer,
Bey's a rock, but it's the bitch cop.

If she talks,
she gonna put Little Man and Bey in there.

- What up with Little Man?
- He's scared. He shot a cop.

- Fuck.
- But I put Bey on that.

- What about Savino?
- Savino, he gotta eat the charge.

But he knew that. So if he keep his story tight,
he gonna be all right.

We knew Orlando was
a snitching motherfucker.

But this is cash. He got us caught up.

I know, man. That's my fault, man.

Bey and Savino came to me with the idea that
if they take Orlando, they can take the cash.

I was like, you all get your payday...

How the fuck is Orlando
gonna front this type of cash?

- What it say?
- I know, I fucked up.

All right, take this trash
outside, fucking burn it.

Tell Wee-Bey to clean up the mess
before he jet.

He was throwing 911 messages to her pager.
I asked him why.

He braced up. Shit got outta hand.

- Does he know?
- Uh-uh.

McNulty, man. What they doing over there?
He just started beating on me.

Last night, she got shot.

- Where the fuck were you at?
- (McNulty) I was there.

Hey, Bunk.

We got no good latents
on the passenger side door.

What about the dash?

Call the lab.

What can I do?

For one thing you can roll around
the projects, see who's missing.

Who ain't around.

You OK with that?

Yeah, I just, erm...

I been keeping it kinda close, you know?

Ain't been around the projects much lately.
You know what I'm saying?

You beefing with someone down there?

No, I'm not beefing with...

Eyes open, Bubs.

For Kima.

Hang loose, I'll get you a ride.

Where are we with Savino?

- Still MIA.
- Enough of this bullshit.

Well, if he calls me, I'll tell him
to turn himself in. I'm going to do that.

- Not good enough.
- Excuse me?

We need him now.

No, thanks. Perhaps as
an officer of the court...

Ronnie is being polite.
She's a member of your twisted little tribe.

She's putting it into your twisted language.

Me? I wouldn't wipe my ass
with a Baltimore lawyer.

- No offense.
- None taken.

I'm willing to let you
ratfuckers suborn perjury

and blow smoke up a judge's ass
and jury-tamper your balls off

without losing the slightest bit
of my sunny disposition.

Fuck me if I don't let you structure
your cash into briefcase fees, either.

That's between you and the IRS.
Neither one of you is anyone's friend.

What Jimmy is trying to say is...

No, what Jimmy is saying is
if you want my nose closed to your shit,

you have to throw me something.

Right now I need Savino Bratton in bracelets.

- I don't know where he is.
- You repped him the last four felonies.

I guess you can get word to him
if you want to.

A police may die, Maury,
and Savino was there.

He comes in this afternoon,
and he takes the drug charge at least.

Or what?

Or we send tactical teams
into his momma's house

until there's no house left to worry about.

You get a letter
from the State's Attorney's office,

and subpoenas for all your bank accounts.

And let's see if all those cash deposits
match the reported income.

I'm hearing this from him,
and I understand that he's distraught.

Am I hearing this from
the State's Attorney's office as well?

You are.

I'll see what I can do.

Fuck you, Jimmy!

- You didn't tell me that was coming.
- He'll bring him in.

- He will if he can, that's not the point.
- What's the point?

The point is that Maury Levy is a past
officer of the Monumental Bar Association,

and unless I want
to spend my whole life as an ASA,

I can't spend time
pissing on people who matter.

Another career in the balance.

- Fuck you.
- No, fuck you.

If only half of you in the State's Attorney's
office didn't want to be judges,

didn't want to be partners in a law firm,

if you had the balls to follow through,
you know what would happen?

A guy like that would be tried and convicted.

The rest of them would back up
so we could push a clean case through.

But everybody stays friends.
Everybody gets paid.

And everybody's got a fucking future.

You'll just use anyone, won't you?

I've been searching the logs for pager hits
that used an 07 code, right?

It comes up now and then
on D'Angelo's pager.

Stringer's, too, but less often.

Most of the time,
there's nothing to place the guy.

But check it.

- And this is on Stringer's page?
- It comes back to the pay phone

at Maryland General Hospital.

Let me guess. The date of this page
is the same day that Stinkum got killed.

- And Wee-Bey got shot in the leg.
- That was the talk on the wire, anyway.

If you pull the ER records for that morning,
you're gonna find Wee-Bey in the pile.

07 is Wee-Bey. It's gotta be.

Then we have Wee-Bey and Little Man
at the pay phone at Park Heights

20 minutes after the ambush,

throwing a page to Stringer.

We're all over town
for this piece-of-shit Savino.

With ties to the Barksdale organization?

- Yes, sir.
- What else?

The case is progressing. We're gleaning
possible shooters from the wiretap.

I asked for the controlled buy.

I put one of our people in harm's way.

So right now I want to make sure
that we are doing everything.

- We are, sir, we're on it.
- Good.

The commissioner wants raids citywide.
Every door we can take.

Any addresses we can write on,
anything connected to a narcotics case.

CID, tactical, the DEUs.

And tomorrow, on the six o'clock news,
we put a lot of fucking dope on the table.

A lot of it.

Dope on the table?

We need to let them know who we are.

We can't for one minute
let them think that this will stand.

The Commissioner wants
to send a message, Lieutenant.

You make sure you and your people do
everything possible to see that it is heard.

Dope on the damn table.

Hey, it's like the man said.
We're letting them know who we are.

Yeah? And who the hell are we?

Again, for the record, let's make clear
that Mr. Bratton has not been Mirandized

and that what is said here
is for purposes of a proffer.

- Agreed?
- Agreed.

OK, then. Here you go.

That's baking soda. Which Mr. Bratton
intended to sell to Orlando Blocker.

You can keep it with our compliments.

- Where's the money?
- Mr. Bratton did not receive money.

He left it in the car
when he went to retrieve the sham cocaine.

If you recorded the transaction,
the tape will confirm this.

And he wasn't around for the shooting.
He doesn't know who the shooters are.

And God knows he wasn't in on the setup.
I mean, it was pure dumb luck

that he left them in an dead-end alley
and they were shot just two minutes later.

This is bullshit. A police is down.

Mr. Bratton had no knowledge
that the young woman was a police officer

and no intention of doing anything other
than defrauding Mr. Blocker of $30,000.

Ms. Nathan?

No charge if he gives us the shooters.

And if he testifies, we'll find a way to squeeze
him into the federal witness program.

As I indicated, Mr. Bratton has no idea who
shot Mr. Blocker or the undercover officer.

Best you can do is 286B.

- What the hell is that?
- Distribution of sham CDS.

- Three-year maximum, $5,000 fine.
- That's it?

If he took the cash,
we could go to felony theft or fraud,

but the tape has him leaving the money.

- Three years.
- A cop was shot, Maury.

So if we convict,
he'll do every damn day of the three.

I can do the three. Ain't no thing.

And the $5,000 fine?
Oh, shit, you still up $25,000, right?

Nicely done.

Give me two.

Damn, Orlando. I still can't believe that shit.

Man, all this shit behind this motherfucker.
Who the fuck was he?

He ran a club for my uncle.

Yeah?

First Stink, and now him.

And I heard the cops
been all in Savino's shit, too.

- He ain't been around.
- Little Man, neither.

Somebody could clean up shit around here.

True. You can't just be going around
dropping Five-0 like that.

You know how your uncle is
when people get to fucking up.

He starts taking that shit personal, man.

Look like a couple more niggers
gonna get dropped.

- What up?
- You D?

Yeah.

You need to get with Stringer right away.

See? You moving up in the world.

As long as you don't fall in
with the trash they taking out.

Yeah, whatever, nigger. I'll be right back.

Tower boys all nervous and shit.
Little Man ain't post for work.

Ain't answering his page, neither.

See?

I'm not gonna lie.
She has swelling around the vertebrae,

and some indications of partial paralysis.

That may or may not go away
when the swelling goes down.

- Her family is with her.
- What the fuck is up with Homicide?

- Are we on the shooters yet?
- They're working it hard.

The departmental response is gonna be
to take doors tomorrow morning. Citywide.

Every unit is kicking in any
drug-connected address they can write on.

- We're gonna do the same.
- Lieutenant, is that...

Except...we're gonna hold back
on the main stash.

The house up in northwest we tracked...

We advance this case more by sitting there.

And raids that are too much on the bull's-eye
will have Barksdale changing up.

We might blow the wire altogether.

Two addresses in the low-rises are probables

and another two row houses have been used
for stash as recently as last week.

But this...
this here is the best bet for a good rip.

Herc picked up on it yesterday.

Fourth-floor,
end unit on the south side of the 221.

They're dropping the re-ups out the window
to the hoppers.

- What if they change up the apartment?
- They do that every day.

- Yesterday was the fifth floor, north side.
- We'll have a man there with a cell phone.

They change up, we call the duty judge,
who orally amends the warrant.

We hit everything at 11:00.

The squad that takes the high-rise
needs to stage at 05:00.

We need to be inside
before the building even wakes up.

Anyone who wants to sleep tonight
needs to start typing his ass off right now.

What's up? Why ain't the club open?

You going with Bey.

Yo, Bey.

Keep it clean. Don't make no mistakes.

Going where?

What the fuck you waiting for?

(Arguing, indistinct)

Stop bullshitting me!

The main stash. He knows we're on it.
He knows we held it back.

The Deputy.

We grab a senator's bag man
in the projects, he knows that.

State Police come in, he knows that, too.

- Like fucking clockwork.
- He's got a rat.

Here, in the detail.

In the beginning,
when we started, Burrell had me.

I pipelined everything to that motherfucker.

- But now...
- He lost you.

So now he's picked up someone else.

That's how they do.

(Chatter)

Can we talk?

Excuse me a moment, gentlemen.

It's Burrell, he's gotta back off already.

- What now?
- We're on a prime location. Barksdale's stash.

He wants us to write a paper
and take the door.

- Why?
- Dope on the table.

It's a photo op to make us feel better
about Greggs getting shot.

- Christ.
- You need to rip him a new one, Your Honor.

Er...

I don't know, Jimmy.

You back on the ticket, huh?

It was just the usual bullshit.

They're just clicking me around,

trying to get another black face, make it
four-and-one to even up for the last time.

The Governor promised
two new appointments.

So now we're back where we were.
That's all it was.

That's all?

Half-assed hack politics, Jimmy.

It has nothing to do with your case.

I need you on this.

So, who's my daddy now?

I just do what the fuck
they tell me, you know?

It ain't on me to know
what the fuck they have in mind.

- Look, Bey.
- Now it come down to this crazy shit.

Yo, turn in this alley right here. Right there.

...what's the sound?
Out of bounds

Another nigger down and out
A crackhead with no name...

What the fuck you stopping for? Go!

...some guy hit hard and wound up paying

Out in the field where the bands keep playing

Understand what I'm saying...

Inside, man. Let's go.

This dude is crazy.

Get in, motherfucker.
We ain't got all night for this shit.

Man, get in here.

Go ahead, man. What's wrong with you?

Check it out, D.

I need you to feed them while I'm gone.

You gonna give them different food
for each tank, too, all right?

But don't worry.
I'm gonna show you what to do. Come here.

These are my Tetras.

You got Kimmy, Alex, Aubrey
and Jezebel in here somewhere.

I don't know, she think she cute.

You take two pinches of whatever food
I got next to each tank.

They set for the day.

You see, they ain't no problems.
Just beautiful as hell, D.

I'm gonna go upstairs and pack some shit.

Yo, Bey. Where we going, man?

Philly. You gonna take the truck back,

but first I got to grab some shit,
show you what to do with my tanks, right?

Philly?

We shot a narco, D.

...l've been told

Soothe me

I want some sugar in my bowl

I want some steam on my clothes

Maybe I can fix things up so they'll go

What's the matter, Daddy?

Come on, save my soul

I want some sugar in my bowl

I ain't foolin'...

No Savino. No Little Man, no Wee-Bey, either.

And the Barksdale kid from the Pit.
He's out the mix, too.

You think it was them that did it?

- (McNulty) 'Wee-Bey, Savino, Little Man.'
- Yeah, that's what we're hearing, too.

We got pick-ups on these motherfuckers
and miles of NCIC bullshit.

- 'Warrants for blood and hair, too.'
- It's Bey and Little Man, shooter one and two.

Yeah?

Well, right now
we need our girl to wake up and say so.

All right.

You did good, Bubs.

McNulty, you know...
the situation is different for me.

- I mean, for me, I'm...
- Mount up.

L gotta go.

Prez will get you a ride, OK?

(Helicopter overhead)

Move out.

Police.

Police! Go!

Show your hands, asshole!
Down on the ground. Move it!

(All shouting)

Check the basement.

- Clear?
- All clear.

- Bathroom's clear.
- Check the mattress.

Check under the bed, check all the drawers,
every inch of this room.

- Got anything?
- No.

Bingo.

- Got it.
-There she goes.

Bag it.

Let's do it.

That's fine police work, Erv.

'Ladies and gentlemen,

'what you see on the table in front of you

'represents our department's answer
to a culture of death and drugs.

'And when an officer falls in this war,

'others stand ready to pick up the challenge

'and carry the fight
to the very doorstep of those responsible.

'This is only the beginning, I can assure you.

'But today, a message has been sent.

'And believe me, this message
is being heard loud and clear

- 'by all those who seek profit and power...'
- (Phone)

'..in the importation and sale of illegal drugs.'

Slow.

Bullshit on the McCullough Street phone,
nothing on the towers.

- Who's on the rooftop?
- No one.

Fuck it.

'Where's the money, man?'

- 'How much you need?'
- 'The bus cost like $18, man.'

- 'Your grandma ain't got it?'
- 'She gonna try to stop me from booking.

'I'm telling you, boy.
This country-ass shit got me all messed up.

'You need to send me something
for the bus. I'm dying.'

'I feel you.
When do you want to come home?'

- 'When the money get here.'
- 'All right, I'm gonna probably send it today.'

(Equipment beeping, respirator pumping)