The Wire (2002–2008): Season 1, Episode 8 - Lessons - full transcript

Number 18.

Conine.

I knew that one.

All right, this one's for Mikey.

-Can I help you?
-Yeah, one lemonade, please.

You ready?

Number 6.

I know it.

-David Segui?
-Melvin Mora, numbnuts.

I thought Mora was number 9.

Guys, we're gonna play that spy game.
Remember the spy game?

-Yeah.
-Who's it?

That tall black guy over there.

You're supposed to say
African-American, Dad.

African-American, then.

-I'm the front, you're the follow.
-I was the follow last time.

Don't argue, go on. Go.

Come on!

I got him.

Yeah, they're both brown hair, one that big,
the other about that big...

and he's wearing, I don't know
what the fuck he's wearing. He's....

Will Michael and Sean McNulty
please report to the offices...

at the rear of the market.

Michael and Sean McNulty.

Please report.

One pay phone goes down, don't mean shit.

Both at the same time, that's a plan.

-We spooked them.
-Busting the runner?

Maybe it's that, maybe it's something else.

We still got the tower phones.

And we're up
on Stringer Bell's pager now, too.

Yeah, but this shows
just how cautious these guys are.

We make any play,
and they're ready to change up on us.

If they're not using
the pay phones in the low-rises...

then what are they doing?

They're walking to another pay phone.

We might see more traffic
on the tower pay phones.

Sergeants' test's tomorrow, right?

4:00 in the afternoon.

You ain't gonna take it this time?

Sure, why not?

-You ain't gonna study?
-Sure I am.

You guys need to follow
some of the boys out of the Pit...

and see what they're using for pay phones.

Excuse me, is that a direct order?

I'm just saying--

If you wanna follow these assholes
from phone to phone...

why don't you do it yourself?

I'm in-office, remember?

-Right, they took your gun.
-For shooting your car.

No, that was before.

-That's right, that was something else.
-Right.

You believe this guy?
Like there are fucking stripes on his sleeve.

You guys need to get up
on those rooftops today.

See what these mopes are using for phones.

Come here, look at this shit.

What the fuck is that?

-Let me look at that shit.
-Bird told me that shit.

Fucking peter-puffer,
get the fuck out of here.

Mr. Omar, you want ends on this?

No, darling, I'm cool.

Nice shirt.

Yeah, fuck you.

It takes guts wearing a pink shirt
on the BPD Homicide unit.

Yes, it does.

Guts, or a familiarity
with alternative lifestyles.

-What are you chasing?
-Toyota Camry.

Whose?

It's listed to some woman
with a county address...

but Saturday, my man
Stringer Bell was using it.

You were working the weekend?

No, I'm down in the Northeast market
with the kids, right?

-Who should appear before me?
-Market day for String, too?

I know he makes me if I get too close,
so I tell Sean and Michael front-and-follow.

They're so good, I lose track of them,
scared the shit out of myself.

But they stay with him, spec the Camry...

and Sean, my flesh and blood, gets the tag.

Your kids know front-and-follow?

They fucking love it.
We play spy in the mall sometimes.

Anyhow, I got a Woodmore address
of a woman...

who lends her wheels to Stringer Bell.

-It's a start.
-The fucking family McNulty. Jesus.

What?

Wallace.

-What?
-Yo, Wallace.

-What?
-What's this about here?

This one here?

"A bus traveling on Central Avenue begins
its route by picking up eight passengers.

"Next, it picks up four more, and then an
additional two, while discharging one.

"At the next-to-last stop,
three passengers get off the bus...

"and another two get on. How many
passengers are on the bus at the last stop?"

Just do it in your head.

Yo, testers coming out today.

New package.

I might be down later.

Later?

Look, I'll catch you
around the way, all right?

Wallace, man, you can't just lay up in here.

-Seven, right?
-Dee been asking about shit.

-So what?
-I been telling him you sick...

but you know he won't let me carry that
too much longer.

Now, look, I be down later sometime.

-No, man, testers gonna be out.
-Look, man, fuck the testers, all right?

Fuck the testers, fuck Dee, fuck all that shit.

Just let me hold $10,
and I'll give it back to you by Friday.

How? Dee ain't gonna pay you
for not working.

Look, you gonna let me hold $10, or not?

Eight?

Damn, Sarah, look. Close your eyes.

You working a ground stash. 20 tall pinks.

Two fiends come up and ask for two each,
another one cops three.

Then Bodie hands you 10 more,
but a white guy rolls up in a car...

waves you down, and pays for eight.

How many vials you got left?

Fifteen.

How the fuck can you keep the count right,
but not do the book problem?

Count be wrong, they'll fuck you up.

-No, he coming to you.
-Today?

-Yeah.
-He in a rush or something?

No, we told him to do it like that.
He had his hand out last night...

and we told him first thing today.

-He ain't coming into the tower?
-No, not like that.

Just run 20 on down to him.
He gonna roll on his way, all right?

-Be there in, like, an hour, maybe.
-Who gonna know?

-Little Man, he know Day.
-All right.

That was Stringer Bell?

Calling tower pay phone number 1,
after taking a page 15 minutes ago.

-We know Little Man?
-Yeah.

Enforcer in the 221 building.

Okay, so he's rolling out of the 221
in about a half an hour or so...

with 20 whatevers to hand off
to someone named Day.

Product coming out of the towers.

We're usually trying to catch it going in.

Yeah, if you wanna catch them,
we're gonna have to hustle.

Wallace, man, he bugging.

-Where he be at?
-Nowhere.

He just lays around all day, you know?

Begged my ass off for sandwich money.

You worried about him?

I mean, shit ain't right, Dee.

You might consult with him some.

What the fuck, man? lf he don't wanna
be down here, that's on him.

I mean, ain't like nobody holding
no gun to his head or nothing.

Yeah, but he ain't about nothing else.

He up in his room and shit,
all the damn day.

He up in his room and shit,
all the damn day.

All right, tell Wallace to come see me.

All right.

Be right back.

It's been two hours.

What if Little Man ain't working
in the 221 today?

What if this Day guy don't come?

What if he came,
and we missed the pick-up?

Yo, Herc, what if your mother
and father never met?

-How's shop doing?
-Steady rolling.

All right, let's take a ride.

-Beef run.
-Beef run, where at?

Pulaski, baby, the good shit.

Get in the car, man.

Yo, Poot. You the man for an hour.

Shit, look at me.

-Kima.
-The Lincoln, we're on it.

Hang back. Let's see where he goes.

I don't understand that, never did.

Damn, Bey, how can you stand that shit
with all that hot shit on it?

Man, trick is not to give a fuck, boy.
I got this, you know me.

So what? My uncle's cut y'all loose today?

No, we're celebrating.

Stinkum got some points
for some fresh territory.

I heard about that.
How much is yours in the package?

20.

We gotta run off the niggers
that been down there.

Ain't no thing.
Bunch of off-brand niggers is all.

You keep running that pit the way you been,
you gonna see points, too.

Yeah, you know, shit, I'm here waiting.

It'll come, right, Stink?

Yeah, I been talking to Orlando, right?

He said he got this good
coke connect from New Orleans.

Orlando?

He want me to put what he can get
out into the court, a little extra on the side.

I don't know, Dee,
you better talk to your uncle about that.

-Yeah, definitely.
-Hear that?

Yeah, I'm gonna see what he say on it. Yeah.

But, you know, today is your day, man.

-Stink day.
-His night, too.

Yeah, man, we gonna
break out tonight, daddy.

Bring some of Orlando's good pussy
over there by Little Man's.

-Yeah.
-Yeah.

You up there? You up?

-Yeah, he up.
-You up.

Nigger, I'm up! You don't gotta ask twice.

-What's wrong?
-No.

He give a fuck now.

Water.

-Step out of the car, sir.
-What did I do?

Step out of the car.

Go around to my partner, here.

-Man, look, I'm already late.
-Put your hands on the roof, please, sir.

Sir, you were observed in one of the city's
designated drug-free, anti-loitering zones...

where a drug suspect
leaned into your vehicle...

handing you something.

And when we signaled for you to stop...

you leaned over
as if concealing something...

-beneath the passenger seat.
-Look, enough of this shit, now.

-Is there something beneath that seat, sir?
-No.

Then you don't mind if we look, right?

Fuck y'all. This is some bullshit.

-That's none of your business, all right?
-How about if I make it my business?

You rang?

-Who's he?
-Damien Lavell Price.

He takes $20,000 in cash
out of the 221 building.

Lester picked up the drop
from one of the tower phones.

We followed him up Reservoir Hill
till he spotted us.

-He's a legislative aide?
-Who paged me?

He's in your office.

We popped him with $20,000 in cash.

-What kind of PC?
-Right off the wire.

Stringer Bell to someone on a tower phone.

We thought we were gonna
come up with drugs.

Got money instead.

I know this guy.

Orioles won last night.
Bullpen stood up to Boston.

You get that money cracking cribs, or what?

I'd like to speak to my attorney.

He was driving for a politician
at this fundraiser I went to.

-Which one?
-Someone from Annapolis...

from the looks of his ID, anyway.

-What do we charge here?
-He say the money's his?

He doesn't say shit.

He doesn't say shit.

Keep the cash, write him a receipt.

He wants to put a claim in
to the city solicitor, he can.

But they're gonna ask him
where he got the pile.

The angel of death.

Who's that?

Major Reed, lID.

Lieutenant, a word.

What's up?

-How you doing?
-Me?

Yeah, you. Everything is good?

I'm all right.

I mean, you fixed for cash
or something, man?

'Cause if you need a little something...

really, the thing to do is just to ask for it.

That's all I do,
is put money in your pocket...

and make sure
you don't stray from the nest!

Sit down.

Listen, the last motherfucking thing I need
is for the clean name on my liquor license...

to be dirtied the fuck up by you.
You understand that?

Avon, come on, man.

Do your fucking job!

I checked with
the state Personnel Department.

He's on the payroll
of Senator Davis' district office...

for more than a year.

He did four years in Hagerstown
for daytime B and E.

Before that, drug charges
and a PBJ on a check charge.

And now we catch him coming out
of the towers...

with $20,000 in manicured, banded money.

You brought him in here on what charge?

Civil forfeiture.

Until he tells us a legitimate source
for that money, we keep it.

So you have no criminal charge.

No, just the money.

Give it back.

-Sir?
-Give the man back his money.

Sir, we pulled this off the wire...

with one of our suspects telling
another to expect a pick-up.

-It's drug money in that car.
-Give him back his money.

Write it up as an unwarranted car stop.

Now I ask you to put a charge
on a drug dealer, Lieutenant.

That's all I ask.

And now I got wiretaps, pager clones,
affidavits coming out of my ass.

And you're in people's shit
where you're not supposed to be.

-Sir--
-I'm shutting this down, Lieutenant.

You charge what you can,
and you do it by the end of the week.

-We did nothing wrong here.
-You jacked up a senatorial aide.

You went into his pocket,
pulled out $20,000.

And though there's no criminal charge,
you think it wise to try to keep it.

You shit all over yourself...

all over me, all over this department.

Now, I told you, no surprises, remember?

$20,000, even.

Sign here, or you can
count it yourself, if you want.

So I can leave now?

Will somebody please tell me
what the fuck that was about?

This is bullshit.

We just gave back 20 large
of Barksdale's money.

Hey, what the fuck?

Let me guess, the Deputy?
How's he got onto this so quick?

-I told him.
-You told him?

Why would you be telling him?

He's the Deputy for Operations,
I arrested an aide to a state senator.

How do I not tell him?

Have you noticed there hasn't been
a complaint from the senator?

Know why?

What is his driver doing coming out
of the high-rises with so much money?

-I told the Deputy that.
-What did he say?

Mind our own business?

Give the man back his money
and go the fuck away?

Pretty much.

Except he said a few things
for my benefit, too.

Like how I had shit all over him.

Like how he was
shutting us down this week.

-The fuck he is.
-We're done.

I go past Friday, and I'm buried.
He told me that.

He's gonna bury you? For what?
You're doing your fucking job.

You think the job is gonna save me?
You think it's gonna save you?

Chain-of-command.
That's all I got from the Deputy, today.

Chain-of-command?

Did you tell your major about the
senator's driver? Or the Colonel?

No? Then where's your chain-of-command?

What's the shift lieutenant doing
going up the back stairs to the Deputy Ops?

-What are you saying?
-Nothing.

Goddamn right.

Why, he got something on you?

You say you got the Deputy's ear.
What the fuck's he got on you?

Only rank, Detective.

Yo, Stink. What about the rules, yo?

Special occasion, yo.

Yo, Bey.

-I'm gonna throw up.
-No, you ain't.

Burrell thinks I crossed him.

He said this to you?

In so many words.

-You need to explain then--
-Explain what?

That I'm bringing in a case
that goes everywhere?

Today, it was some senator's driver.

Two days from now,
a city councilman, maybe.

He asked for a charge on Barksdale.
That's all he asked for.

This thing with the legislative aide,
who could've foreseen it?

He saw it. Burrell.

See, this is the thing
that everyone knows and no one says.

You follow the drugs, you get a drug case.

You start following the money,
you don't know where you're going.

That's why they don't want wiretaps or
wired Cls or anything they can't control.

Because once that tape starts rolling,
who the hell knows what's going to be said?

That son of a bitch McNulty asked me
what the Deputy had on me.

He actually asked me that.

What did you say?

Where everybody go? Where the girls go?

Fuck it, man, party broke.

We drunked out and fucked out.

You all send me out for liquor,
and by the time I get back, the shit is dead?

Look at this.

The Knicks done fucked up their draft again.

What's with her?

Oh, fucked her silly. What can I say?

She snorted half the shit we brought up
in here, too, that greedy bitch.

Yo, Bey.

-You wanted to see us?
-What the hell is this?

I got copied this morning.

It's just what it looks like.

A memo signed by the Deputy Ops, Rawls
and Forester, telling us to pack it in.

We come down on the wire by Friday,
ship the computers to the DEA by Monday...

and charge whoever we have
by the end of next week.

Yeah? Who do you have?

Couple of mid-level guys.
Anton Artis, a.k.a. Stinkum.

Shooter named Bird,
wanted for killing Gant.

He was the witness in your court.

-That's it?
-Except for a couple of hangers-on, yeah.

Why are they doing this? Why now?

We picked up a bag man
coming out of the high-rises...

carrying $20,000 in cash, yesterday.

-So?
-So, he works for Clay Davis.

Of the 39th Legislative District.

The deputy was displeased.

It's okay, though.

We gave the money back,
said we were sorry.

-What can Daniels do?
-Not a fucking thing.

The Deputy sent him the same direct order
you have on your desk right there.

Get me Burrell on the line!

Detectives, when you swore
that your affidavit was true...

to the best of your ability,
what did the Circuit Court of Baltimore do?

-You gave us the wire.
-For how long, Detective McNulty?

Sixty days, no?

And how long have you monitored
these phone extensions?

Forty days, maybe.

Deputy Burrell is on the line.

Erv, it's Phelan.

Kiddo, you're fucking with me here.

Yes, you are.

Erv, listen to me.

The Circuit Court signed two orders...

for a total of 60 days
of telephonic surveillance.

Now, I'm looking at a copy
of a memo from your office...

telling me I can't have my 60 days.

You're not hearing me.

The Circuit Court for Baltimore
ordered 60 days on this tap.

The Court wants its 60 days.

Now, if you take this wire down on Friday,
you'll be in contempt of court on Monday.

Understood?

And all the best to Arlene and the kids.

Yeah.

Who's your daddy now?

Look, I didn't do a damn thing, Lieutenant.
You got a beef, it's with the judge.

Yeah, he got the Deputy's memo,
he called his own shot.

Ask Greggs if you don't believe me.

Look, I've got to go.

Kima.

Deputy called, mad as the devil.

Tell them to quit packing.
We're back up on the wire.

Kima.

McNulty or the judge? Or both?

This time, the judge.

Ask me a question. Any question.

I thought you weren't studying.

This job is common sense.
Ask me a question, dickless.

See how I do.

"According to Q1--"

Hold up, help me out, here.
You have to know them by the numbers?

It helps.

Makes it sound more professional that way.

"According to Q1 ...

"the general order
covering sexual harassment...

"in the event a female officer
in your squad complains...

"that her side partner
has sexually harassed her...

"you should:

"A: Notify the commanding officer.

"B: Notify the shift lieutenant.

"C: Notify the ranking female officer."

I go with D.

D?

Yeah, bitch-slap the side partner
for dipping into my private stock...

then take missy home
and fuck her till she smiles.

What the hell?

When a small change in price
creates a large change in demand...

then demand is said to be elastic,
but some products are inelastic.

Meaning, a change in price
does not affect demand.

Some key factors that affect
the elasticity of demand are what?

-Mr. Bell?
-Desire.

Consumer need.

Right, specifically, the ability of a consumer
to delay acquisition. What else?

My pencil lost its point.

All the girls say so.

Damon, we got work orders here,
and ain't nothing happening.

These jobs were due yesterday,
and people going to be coming in here...

asking for their work
and nothing been done.

Man, fuck them. Let them wait.

No, you are not going to bring that
corner bullshit up in here, you hear me?

You know what we got here?

We got an elastic product.
You know what that mean?

That mean when people can go elsewhere
and get their printing and copying done...

they gonna do it.

You acting like we got
an inelastic product and we don't.

Now, I want this to run
like a true fucking business.

Not no front, not no bullshit.

Understand me?

I'm serious.

-Where you snatch this old wreck from?
-Out Frederick Road.

Ditch it over Eastside when we done.

Check it.
Him there, and that other fool there.

They the only ones might be trouble.

I'll drop Scar,
you just drop that other motherfucker.

No, just Scar.
His boy break, we going to let him.

-But if he raise up, I'm on him, see?
-Damn, I wish Bird was here, man.

Bird be loving this shit right here.

Which do remind me,
we get up out of here...

you need to drop that shit
down a storm drain.

Now give me some time
to go around the block...

and set up on the other side, all right?

What up, who got black tops?

Hey, now.

What the fuck?

Listen here, Bey.

You come at the king, you best not miss.

-Stink's been got.
-Stink?

-Bey caught one, too, in the leg.
-Shit, man, what happened?

-They down the gulley on Edmondson.
-Fucking Scar, man.

-No, it ain't him. Omar, man.
-Omar?

Bounty's going up on that bitch.

That fucks us.

We had Stinkum tied up with a bow
from the arrest of the runner...

and now he's out of the case.

The man's a fucking loose cannon.

-Literally.
-We've got to pull his ass up at least.

There's a dime on this cocksucker's head.

One of you motherfuckers needs to step up.

-Where you go with that?
-Maryland General.

Walked up in there and told them
I was on the corner, caught a stray.

-Police come talk to you?
-Just a roller, no homicide.

-Put it out there.
-Not just our people, either.

I'm talking about any nigger
who wants to step up.

Put out the word.

There's $10,000 on Omar
or any motherfucker standing with Omar.

Y'all niggers ain't got shit to do
but be on this motherfuckin' hunt.

-Now be on it.
-All right.

So, what you think, homes?

I'm thinking this is the worst
part of the game.

-Best we do is break out even, right?
-What?

I'm saying, this shit got personal.
Ain't nothing else to it.

-So, you talking about letting it slide.
-For a time, maybe.

I'm saying we put the word out
that you ready to talk a truce.

When this nigger come out
from underneath his rock, you hit him.

But right now? This shit got out of hand.

What you want me to say?

Look, I don't know nothing
about Stink getting dropped...

and I don't know nothing
about Bey getting shot, either.

-I don't know about this crazy nonsense.
-I don't know, it came back to us quick.

You know how that be.

Everybody want to believe
the worst about Omar.

But live and let live, you know?

I don't see you letting
them slide on Brandon.

If I was coming after certain people...

I definitely wouldn't want to give
y'all fine people any cause for concern.

There are rules here, right?

-Rules?
-Yeah.

No mistakes, no bystanders.

No taxpayers getting caught up in the mix.

I mean, you just get in close
and you hit the right nigger.

And lose the gun afterward,
that'd be a rule, too, I think.

One thing, Omar.

Having Stinkum dropped
kind of fucks us on our thing.

How so?

We had Stink caught
with 4 G-packs on a re-up.

And maybe we could've built
something on that.

-Roll him up with Stringer, maybe.
-Now he's got no roll to him.

So, the point is, Omar,
while we're all grateful...

for the case you gave us on Bird,
and we admire your do-it-yourself nature--

We need you to hang back.

Look, man, it ain't all up to me, right?

I got a bounty on my head.

Yeah, we saw the van.

Look, man, I do what I can do
to help you all, but the game is out there.

And it's either play or get played.

What, that it?

Gentlemen. Ma'am.

Lester, are we still cops?

-Technically, I suppose so.
-Okay, I was just checking.

Keisha ain't called, and she ain't been home.
How was she when you left her?

She was sick, I told you that.

She missed work last night and she ain't
been down there to pick up her check today.

You know something?

This game...

this thing with my uncle...

might not be right for me, I'm thinking.

Why do you say that?

Nothing good to it but the money.

Sounds a lot like my job.

I mean, you got people using each other.

Scamming each other.

Cutting each other up
because they're late on a bill.

Shooting folks because
there might be a fucking dollar in it.

It gets to sometime
like I can't even fucking breathe.

Like I can't even get no air.
You know what I mean?

Do something else.

-So, you happy with your job?
-Shit.

Well then, do something else.

I am. I'm going to have to. Shit.

Can't stay pretty forever.

It's not forever, right, Dee?

And then what?

You pretty now.

Now we pretty.

You got me, holler back.

Dee, man.

Raise up and roll in quick.
Stink been got, man.

You hear me? They got Stink.

I need your help.

Who caught the one
from Edmondson last night? Anton Artis.

Cole, with an assist from Dunnigan.

-Omar was the shooter.
-Fuck me.

It's all over the wiretap.

Okay, let's see.

We put down one murder on the testimony
of one eyewitness...

who then goes out and drops
somebody else.

Yeah, it was payback
for his boyfriend, Brandon.

Anton Artis is Stinkum, one of the boys
who snatched Brandon and did him up.

I'm sure that motherfucker
had his reasons, Jimmy--

You want to give back the Gant case,
then tell Cole the name of his shooter.

You want to give back the Gant case,
then tell Cole the name of his shooter.

Otherwise, tell him we're hearing talk
on the wire...

and we'll give him his clearance
once we wrap our case.

But you won't.

No, we won't.

You want me to go and bullshit Cole
out of his case for you?

-Why don't you go tell him yourself?
-Are you kidding?

If Rawls sees my fingerprints on this,
he'll run my nuts through a cheese grater.

Fuck you, Jimmy.

-How's it going with it?
-Pretty good.

I like this kid who's fucking
my victim's old girlfriend.

Ray, can I talk to you for a minute?

In my office.

With cases like this one,
you are put in some strange fucking places.

Cole's doing good this year,
he don't need the clearance.

All right, I know this fucks him.

You should've seen his face when I told him
you'd give him his shooter down the road.

He's happy?

Yeah. He looked at me like a damn puppy.

-I'm sorry, Bunk.
-I'll carry it.

Fuck it.

No, tonight's mine.

Look, I'll tell you what, I'm going to roll out.

Here's the money
I would've spent on your ass.

Jimmy.

Call Nadine and tell her I caught one,
and I'm out on the street.

I lied for you, didn't l?

-You got a minute?
-Yeah, what's up?

I think I might have fucked something up.

Yeah?

I'm interviewing Omar, a few weeks back.

And he's giving it to me
that Bird is the shooter in the Gant case.

He tells me, if we catch up to Bird,
he'll have the gun on him.

Which he does.

But the thing is I told him that
we needed an eyeball witness.

At which point, he volunteers.

Maybe he saw it.

Or maybe he put himself in it
just to see Bird locked up.

I got the impression there
wasn't much love between them.

I fucked up, didn't l?

A little. But the gun matches.

And he's consistent with our witness
on the description and the scenario.

So, don't sweat it.

Kima.

You know, interrogation
is more art than science.

You've got to feel your way through
on instinct, mostly.

Come, take a look at this.

Who are they?

Some dancers who work at Barksdale's club.

I pulled their names
off of liquor board complaints...

and state employment records.

If you were going to try to turn
one these girls, which one would it be?

Her.

Why?

She doesn't have a record, for one thing.
She's just a DMV photo.

Why else?

I don't know. I can't really say.

I like her face.

Soul, conscience, whatever you want
to call it. She's a citizen, right?

It's in the eyes.

Instinct, Detective.

Yeah?

What?

Who is this?

He did?

How the hell did you get my number?

Yeah, okay.

Yeah.

-Ma'am?
-Get this crazy bastard out of here.

-What's the matter?
-He set off the smoke alarm, twice.

That good?

In the bathroom.

Bunk, it's Jimmy.

What the fuck?

Bunk, wake the fuck up.

-Bunk, wake up.
-What?

-The fuck are you doing?
-I hear you, Jimmy.

What are you doing?
Where are your fucking clothes?

Right here.

-Who gives a shit?
-Come on, man.

No.

What did you burn your clothes for, man?

Got hair, got fibers and...

got pussy on it and....

What, trace evidence?

You smell pussy?
I don't smell no pussy no more.

-Knock it off.
-I think you all can just take my ass home.

Trace lab ain't going
to have shit on the Bunk.

That shit. No fucking case file, Detective.

Where are your fucking shoes, man?

Ma'am, you seen his shoes?

Give me that pussy,
and now you going to take my shoes?

That ain't right, shit.

Shit.

Christ, Jimmy.

Bunk, I'll give you that
burning trace evidence makes sense.

What the fuck did you plan to wear home?

Shit.

Jimmy, you know something?

You're no good for people, man.

I mean, damn. Everybody around you....

Christ.