The Wire (2002–2008): Season 2, Episode 4 - Hard Cases - full transcript

McNulty goes on a self-assigned moral mission to identify his floater, but his old partner, Bunk, says they have more pressing matter at hand: finding Omar to testify against a Barksdale ...


What's up?

Great view.

Harbor, I mean.

It's fucking picturesque, is what it is.

Every morning I ask myself,
"Is today the day I drive down...

"to Fort Armistead, stare
out at the harbor?"

No, I figure eventually,
if I mind my own business...

Uncle Frank will wake my ass up
at 7:00 in the morning...

tell me to get my ass down there
for some mysterious fucking reason.

Good anchorage, good cranes...

good railroads, close to I-95.
Lot of people ready to work, right?

That's my fucking town.

Except, the thing is,
we're another 110 miles...

for any ship coming up
from Hampton Roads. An extra day.

So why come?

Unless you know your cargo's
gonna move...

fast and clean through the port.

Why offload in Baltimore,
except that a Baltimore gang...

can turn your ship around
faster than any other port...

and will make sure your cargo...

all your cargo, gets where it needs to go
faster than anywhere else.

Like you guys never stole nothing
back in the day.

We ain't back in the day, Nicky.

When was the last time
you saw trucks backed up for three miles...

outside Patapsco terminal?

If it wasn't for the car-ships,
we would be starving.

The cameras come back.

I'm serious.

They come back today, we tell the shipper
we lost the can in the stacks.

They're gone. We turned them over already.

To who?

You know the Tasco line's a cunt hair away
from taking their business down to Norfolk.

- I don't need this shit right now.
- I do, Uncle Frank, I need the money.

- You ain't hearing me!
- What? You think this shit is easy?

You think it's fucking easy?
You try living on five or six days a month.

See how fast it puts you on your ass.
I am on my ass, Uncle Frank.

You need money, you come to me.

Frankie Sobotka is
Father fucking Christmas...

on the docks lately.

- No doubt, his pockets are full.
- You think it's for me?

Is that what you think?

It ain't about me, Nick!

I know, I'm sorry.

You got Ziggy mixed up in this. Jesus,
Nick, what the fuck are you thinking?

Me and Zig are gonna talk on this
long and hard.

Come on, let's go to work.

How much?

Twenty.

- Three-way split.
- Who's the inside man?

You don't know?

Fuck you then, I ain't no snitch.

Nobody should flash too much money.
You know that much, right?

Yeah.

Toxicology's coming back positive
for strychnine.

10%, 12%. It's pretty well laced.

This was intentional?

That's the ME's call, but I've seen
street packages cut all the time...

with all kinds of chemicals.

You don't use too much,
you give a weak package some kick.

People start thinking you're high-grade,
when what you got is...

stepped-on trash
with a little bit of rat poison mixed in.

Too much rat poison,
you got people falling out, like we got.

Be nice to have a few answers
for those reporters.

What do they wanna know?

How it got in, what we're doing, the usual.

It got in like everything gets in.

If you can't win
the war on drugs in a prison...

where the hell you gonna win it? I ask you.

Listen, if it were one or two dead,
it would fade.

But five in one night,
and eight more in the infirmary?

We need to show the flag on this.

What I'm gonna need is for you all
to wheel and deal.

What do you mean?

If this case gets made from an informant...

and you're gonna have
a couple dozen of them...

if you're ready to shave some years.

Colonel.

- Jimmy.
- Winona.

Gilligan, little buddy.

Don't you have a job?

Ouch!

I smell fresh police work.

Okay, be like that.

You got some paper from inside the can?

A letter, couple of envelopes,
some scraps of stuff?

Yeah, everything's down
in your evidence control.

- You got the submission slips?
- He does.

- Lester.
- You want to pull all of it?

Hold it.

Before you start dancing
with your Jane Doe...

I'm gonna need a little something from you
on the Gant case.

I got a full set of Ilene Nathan's
teeth marks on my hind parts.

- No problem, I got you covered.
- You found Omar?

I never lost him, my friend.

- He's got Omar?
- Bullshit.

Who's Omar?

My papers are in.

They are.

You want out, you're out.

But I'm offering to clean the slate here.

- You and me.
- Why?

The council vote is next week,
after which I'm upstairs.

Now, if I'm gonna give myself a chance...

to make my mark on this place,
I'll need good people.

People you can trust.

And you ain't that?

All right. You're a snake.

But you seem to know your business.

I'm taking the bar exam in a month.

Why not put it off for a year or two...

leave the department
with a major's pension?

Scalise is gonna retire this summer.

You do me a good turn
on this detail in southeast...

and you'll have that posting.

Why would you do that?

I value you, Cedric.

You're arrogant and disloyal.

But maybe, given time,
you'll find a way to shine.

- What's the detail?
- Drug case, probably.

My sense of it is that
Stan Valchek has got...

some personal issues with somebody
in one of the port unions.

He thinks they've got too much money.

And so, being Valchek, he gets a detail.

That it? Pretty thin.

I don't care if you make a case
for Valchek or not.

I do care that the old Polack
comes away from it...

feeling he got his money's worth.

Valchek asked for me by name, didn't he?

You two are trading horses
and you need me in the corral.

How about this?

If I bring in the case...

you make the detail permanent
as a major case unit...

within CID.

Fair enough.

Just keep Valchek stroked
and make sure you bring in...

- a drug case or two.
- One other thing.

A promotion and the promise
of a specialized unit isn't enough?

I choose my own people.

Fuck me once, shame on you.

- Fuck me twice--
- Make a list.

Give it to Rawls. He'll pull who you want.

The shit do not make sense.
Some of them wasn't about nothing.

I mean, Tae? Lizard? If it was a hotshot...

they were after
some real lightweight motherfucks.

Yo, Dee, you want any Silver Surfers?

They tossing shit Tae had in his cell, man.

Whoever load that shit up
didn't know what he was doing.

My boy down the infirmary say the shit
was more rat poison than it was dope.

Fucking-A right.

Jane Doe, number five.

Five.

What's up, baby?

Not here, put it away.

Shot and a beer, darling.

Kept one for yourself, did you?

Them Japs, they make a nice little camera,
they do.

- You even got film in that bitch?
- No, it's digital.

I know it's digital, so what?

So, no film, look,
there's a computer chip inside.

You take that off,
you load the pictures onto the computer.

Thanks.

Ziggy.

Don't spread no cash around
for a while, all right?

Hell, no.

I might get a new clutch plate
put in Princess is all.

- Also, your father knows.
- How does he know?

Horse saw us, right?

Fuck me, he told?

How long has Horse been tight
with your pop? Of course he told.

He's pissed, Zig. He ain't happy.

What did you say?

I told him we already
turned the cameras around...

and after a while, he stopped yelling.

At you, maybe.

Anyway.

It's low profile for a while, all right?

All right.

You take a picture on that,
you don't have to take it to photomart...

- to get it turned around?
- No, it goes on a computer.

I got to take a leak.

I go next, all right?

Pretty boy. Hey, there.

Christ, Ziggy.

Jimmy, just a scheduling thing.

Sean was invited to Mark Lohrman's
birthday party on Saturday.

So you can pick him up there after 2:00.

I realize it's your weekend,
but Sean would be upset if he missed it.

Okay? Great.

Omar by the end of the week, Jimmy.
Ilene is on the warpath.

Motherfucker, I am serious.

Mr. McNulty, this is Dr. Halpern's office.

You missed your six-month cleaning
on Tuesday...

and we haven't heard from you.

Give us a call, please.

McNulty, this is your dear friend
Ilene Nathan.

I indicted this piece-of-shit case...

because you swore to me
we had an eyeball witness...

Drive time is 6:38 in the a.m.
and we have reports of a...

- Go around, asshole.
- What'd you call me?

I'm sleeping on this side.

Because you got to get up, everybody does?

Yup.

Wipe off the seat, Nick, I know you hit it.

- If I could fart now, I would.
- That's a surprise.

No chance for breakfast?

No. I'll stop by the bar.

No, you won't. You ain't got time.

You got to run me past my ma's
to pick up Ashley.

Shit, hurry up, then.
You know I got a ship to work today.

Your ma knows you got a ship, too.

Don't go upstairs. Just head out the back.

I'll pick you up at the back
of the alley, all right?

Jesus, Nicky, we got a kid together.

What's the big deal we spend the night
in your folks' basement?

They're decent people.

- We ain't got time.
- I know.

- So, why you grabbing?
- They were staring right at me.

I'll meet you out back.

So how do you get the container
off the ship, off the dock?

I guess if you wanted
to make sure your cargo...

isn't messed with, you'd want to get
with one of the checkers.

- Who are they?
- Local 1514.

They monitor
all the loading and offloading...

they match the manifests,
they tally the cargo.

Nothing goes in or out
without them putting it down somewhere.

- Or not.
- Or not.

So we need to talk to a checker.

What?

Black, white, Polish, Irish, Italian,
it doesn't matter.

No one talks to police.

How do you make a case then?

I patrol.

I write traffic tickets.

If we got an open container,
or a damaged container...

I take a report.

We got something stolen,
I take another report.

Someone gets something dropped on him
or gets run over by a front-end loader...

- I keep writing.
- That's the job?

How long you been on?

- Two years.
- What did you do before that?

I took tolls from people
at the Fort McHenry tunnel.

Which, I'm happy to say,
wasn't nearly as much fun.

Made $22,500
and went home tired every night...

until I walked by the office bulletin board
one night...

read the MDOT job posting.

Port Authority officers, Schedule one,
starting at $33,000 with benefits.

Toll-taking days were over?

Father of my two kids
went to Houston in '99...

hasn't so much as called in three years.

I wasn't gonna make it on $22,500.

Not with kids, I wasn't.

Did you want to be a police?

- Could've been me the other night.
- True.

Except for all of a sudden,
you up and tell me to stop doing that.

Avon to the rescue. How did you know?

I figured you were gonna be
bringing your ass in here...

to thank me for pulling
you off of that shit.

Five dead. More in the infirmary.

- How did you know?
- I did as your uncle should...

because I'm concerned about
you fucking yourself up.

You knew.

Look, man, I ain't had
nothing to do with it.

I might know who did, though.

You practically running this place.
Who else could it be?

It ain't about what happened,
you understand?

It's about using what happened
to our advantage.

Play or you gonna get played.

I need to know that you ain't do that shit.

That's what I need to know.

I already said it.
You ain't gonna believe it, fuck it.

You can tell yourself that I spiked it,
but be grateful that you still standing.

Once you done with all that...

we can talk about how we start
shaving some of these years off.

And not just for me, for you, too.

They looking for the motherfucker
who brought that shit in here.

They need him to fall. And you know what?

I can give you a name.
I can give you the right name.

We can take that name
down to the assistant warden...

and we can get some of our lives back.

You dig?

So, stay close.

This play on the inside,
this play on the outside...

we got it all covered.

I don't want no part of what
you do no more. You hear me?

So you can just leave me
the fuck out of that.

Whatever it is.

Anyone seen Omar?

We're back in!

Six ships in one day.

Ain't seen the terminal this
busy in months. Feels sweet.

Shit, look at this pretty bitch.

- What the fuck are you wearing?
- Italian leather, all right?

In the middle of winter?
On the goddamn docks?

- How much does that shit cost?
- $2,000.

For a goddamn jacket?
Are you out your fucking mind, Zig?

Fuck it.

$2,000 for a single goddamn jacket.

Jesus, Zig, you need therapy and shit.

I figured an African-American
such as yourself would understand...

how a player such as myself
needs to take heed in the latest fashion.

But apparently,
you ain't got no fucking style neither.

- I'm gonna walk, all right?
- See you.

What?

What did I tell you about
not spreading no cash around?

Jesus Christ, Nicky, it's a fucking coat.

I can tell people I'm paying for it
on installments or whatever.

But you got to admit, I
do look pretty today.

I do.

The Greeks wanna talk to us.

What about?

We did good by them.

Yeah?

But, for Christ sakes, Zig,
keep your shit quiet...

before half the fucking waterfront's
talking about us.

All right, no problem.

- All right. See you later.
- See you.

Yo, quit it.

Gentlemen.

We don't need that now.

- Say what?
- I don't give a shit about drugs.

Littering pisses me off, though.
You can pick that up when I'm gone.

I'm looking for a stick-up boy,
name of Omar.

Dark-skinned, thin guy
with a scar right down his face.

You boys would definitely know him
if you saw him...

because he's got a shotgun about yea-long.

He'll put it to your head
and steal your shit without thinking twice.

Does anyone know where he hangs?

Who he's running with?

What he's driving?

Fuck you, Officer.

The second package came
even weaker than the last.

It won't take the cut like it did before.

Fucking Atlanta shit cost more
and still not as good.

Came in at 25.

All we can do is sprinkle it and bag it.

And lose my money?

I lose my money.

Step on that motherfucker.

How hard?

Make it 10.

- It's shit now.
- I know.

So the container itself leads us nowhere.
Fake addresses on either end.

Which leaves us the port itself.

Because whatever went wrong
on that ship was known to whoever...

was supposed to pick that container up.

Which is why it stays on the dock.

Bottom line is, we need to know more
about cargo moving off that terminal.

How to do dirt.
And how to hide when you're doing dirt.

Bottom line for me is different.

Bottom line for me is,
you guys should've held that ship.

For your crime scene, for your witnesses,
for the whole damn case.

Sir, the witnesses--

I don't care if they were
speaking Mandarin Chinese...

with a cocksucker's lisp.

They needed to see the inside of
an interrogation room. They were the case.

We were in Philadelphia,
with no real jurisdiction...

dealing with foreign nationals
and no real probable cause.

I can only tell you
what it looks like from where I sit.

And from here, the view is
two of my detectives fucking the dog.

Thirteen homicides, 14, if we connect
the floater, and all of them red.

So what can I tell you?

If this case doesn't fall,
we're all gonna be stepping on our dicks...

trying to explain what happened.

So, work it as you see fit...

but understand...

if I have to throw Burrell
a scapegoat or two...

I got one to throw.

Fuck me.

What did you want to talk to us about?

If you are able to do like you did,
we have other things we can use.

Like what?

Fact is, we shook things up down there
snatching all them cameras.

It comes to expensive shit like that,
we got to lay back for a while.

Stuff we need is not like that.

No?

Acetone, sulfuric acid,
potassium permanganate.

- Chemicals?
- It's like paint thinner, shit like that.

What do you need with those?
Just go get them at the hardware store.

No. We need much.

Metric tons. Five or ten tons.

Check and you'll see,
they make these things here.

Send them from here.
Tanks and tanks down at your docks.

Good money for those.

How much?

How much chemical? Two tons? Four?

- Eight?
- I'll look into it.

Yo, Bubbles!

McNulty.

My meanest man.

Get in the car.

Where you been at, brother?

What did you get? Walkman.

You know how it works, Bubs.
You're going to pay taxes on this shit.

Taxation without representation, you know?

I don't want much. I need Omar.

Wild Omar?

You want us to wander around town...

looking for a crazy motherfucker
with a shotgun?

Him and me go way back,
it's a friendly thing.

If he's a friend,
you can find the motherfucker without us.

No problem. Show me the receipt
for this shit, you're off the hook.

- Here.
- Keep it, part of my tax.

Your tax is Omar.

I need a line by Friday, Bubs.

Fuck!

My client will provide accurate information
as to the source of the tainted narcotics.

He can identify the method
by which contraband is smuggled...

into this institution,
as well as the people responsible.

Cellblock talk is cheap.

He'll give you what you need
to make a case...

- if that's what you're interested in.
- Your terms?

Mr. Barksdale is due
for a first parole hearing at 28 months.

We'd like to trim that to a year...

and have your assurances
of institutional support...

for work release and early parole.

One year on a seven-year bit?

We are offering extraordinary cooperation
in this matter.

Mr. Barksdale's placing himself at risk...

by offering information
implicating other prisoners...

and staff at MCI.

And I would only add that Mr. Barksdale's
extant conviction is his first.

He has no priors whatsoever.

It's my recollection that a city police
got shot behind Mr. Barksdale's business.

- No, sir.
- You don't remember that?

I remember the officer got shot.

And I remember being upset about that,
not only because the officer got shot...

but because I knew it meant
there was gonna be more police on me.

I remember thinking, "Any time any fool
do something like shoot a police...

"it's bad on everyone."

I know that you know
that my name ain't nowhere...

on what happened to your friend.

I think what we're asking is reasonable
under the circumstances.

After all, until someone identifies
the source of the tainted heroin...

you could have
another five overdoses tomorrow.

Or the day after.

Consider the offer.

But the next time we talk...

an assistant attorney general
has to be in the room.

Tuna surprise?

Christ sakes, Ma,
I climbed all over two ships today.

How about a meal for that kind of day?

- Where's Pop?
- He's at the bar with the horses.

Go tell him it's dinner.

- We winning, Pop?
- Nicko.

You up today?

I was doing good,
but this year Gulfstream is killing me.

Go easy. That's my inheritance.

After 25 years, I'm still
ahead almost $7,000.

You ought to let me take you up to Pimlico
when it opens.

Try your system out for real.

Too tempting.

Just once.

Saw that the Cape Spruance
is over at Point West.

Yeah, we offloaded her today.

You know we double-hulled her
down at number four.

Maybe two years before
the dry dock closed up.

She still floats?

Of course she still floats.

You ever miss it, Pop?

Wouldn't do no good.

What's for dinner?

Tuna surprise.

You're loyal to your people.
I respect that, at least.

Don't worry, Lieutenant.

Burrell wants you on this detail,
so I want you, too.

I need your approval
for Freamon, Greggs, and Hauk.

- They're all CID.
- Correction.

You need my approval for everyone.
This may be Valchek's creation...

but the detail is investigative
and comes under CID.

If they work for me, they need my okay.

Good news is, I got no problem
with anyone on your list.

Except McNulty. No McNulty.

Nothing that even resembles
the son of a bitch.

- That bad?
- He quits or he drowns.

That's the only two things get him
off the fucking boat, so help me God.

You even know what
this detail's about, Lieutenant?

Some kind of beef that Valchek has.

Two fucking Polacks
pissing on each other's leg.

I heard.

Anything to get you
out of the basement, Lieutenant?

Girl.

No! Kima, who cares?

We're gonna be there in five minutes
and they'll still be dumbass frat boys.

You got to start thinking,
what would a lawyer do?

What would a lawyer say?

Shakima Greggs, Esquire.

That's what I'm talking about.

- Get your ass down, fool.
- Fuck you, lady.

Ain't no lady.

- Bitch, drive it or lose it.
- Oh, my God, let's get out of here.

Only the finest breeds can perform this
well, with this much heart and obedience.

Obedience that brings out the champion
not only in show dogs...

Look at that tiger go. A third generation
champion from Glassport.

Even house pets that never knew
they had the blood of champions in them.

To perform at this level...

an animal has to follow orders
without question.

It is not instinct.

Come on upstairs.

All dogs have instinct.

Jesus Christ.

Nothing's on this side. Most chemicals
are over at the Fairfield terminals.

Who do we know at Fairfield?

Ott's brother-in-law works there.
You might try and touch him.

What do they want with those for, anyway?

Beats the fuck out of me.

- Jesus, I'm sorry.
- Fuck, man, shit.

I didn't see you standing there
in all that sweet leather.

- What the fuck is wrong with you?
- Clumsy, I guess.

You can just go out
and steal a whole can full of baby wipes...

and just clean yourself up.

You fucking goof.

Dick.

Shit, Lieutenant, I promised.

Think my woman's gonna give
a great big cheer when she hears about it?

- I was out the damn door.
- You don't know Cheryl.

You don't know Marla.

If you want...

I could use you inside,
like we did Prez last year.

If I hear the music, I'm gonna dance.

I'll tell your wife, if you tell mine.

In the car, but not out in the open.

Yo, Rock.

Be subtle with it, man.

- You know what subtle means?
- Laid back and shit.

- Good tunes, Pop?
- Yeah.

Thanks for the phones.

I don't know, Bubs. I mean...

if you go rolling over rocks...

then you're gonna get
bit by a snake, right?

Got to pay that tax, Johnny.

You got to give a working police his due.

- So, Bee's working for Lamar?
- All of them work for Lamar.

He got that whole corner to hisself.

You saying the stash is across the street
in the low-rises?

In the second court.

They got it up in this one place
that got the boarded-up windows.

How many doors down from the end?

Three.

Yo, Pops.

Anyone got a line on that wild boy
who likes to pop the shotty?

- Omar?
- Yeah, I need Omar.

What do you want with Omar?

Just want a word with him.

Just a word.

You want to get with Omar...

you need to stand out
on one of them corners...

with a big-ass package.

You be talking to that nigger soon enough.

You feel anything?

Let's go.

Come on.

As agreed, the price of cooperation is an
agreement by the state parole officials...

to move Mr. Barksdale's first parole
hearing forward by 12 months...

and to credit him in the file
with cooperation in this matter.

You can't make a case
on just some con's say so.

We need the dope on the table.

Of course you do.

If, before the end of business today,
you effect a search...

of Correctional Officer Tilghman's vehicle,
locker, and person...

we are confident
sufficient evidence will be recovered.

"We are confident"?

As far as D.O.C. is concerned,
this is a fair deal...

if it takes the overdoses off our plate.

But if we come up empty on this...

You won't.

Five will get you ten...

that's the motherfucker
that spiked the packages.

You have proof of this?

Then we make the case
that's there for us to make.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. New Orleans.

Lieutenant.

- Welcome to the southeast.
- Major, I understand you asked for me.

My son-in-law can't say enough
in your favor.

And, of course, you did him
a good turn last year, right?

- You want to tell me about this target?
- Frank Sobotka.

A union man down at the port.

The motherfucker's showing a lot of money.
My gut says a drug connection.

I can also tell you for a fact
that his people...

will up and steal anything
that isn't nailed down.

- You seen the off-site?
- Not yet.

I told my people to meet up here,
at the district.

Pretty good digs. Come on, I'll show you.

It's from a young woman to her mother...

or at least an older woman.

She mention any names?

There is an Anya here.

And from the way she writes,
I'm guessing it is a child.

It's almost ready, Father. Excuse me.

- So who's she writing to?
- There is no name.

The letter is for the whole family.

But...

she signs, "Nadya." Her name is Nadya.

- Nadya.
- Is she in trouble?

She's dead.

Anything in the letter to indicate
as to where these people live?

If you had an envelope, I could...

The only thing specific she mentions,
is a church...

St. Volodymyr, or St.
Vladimir, and a priest.

- Father Vasyl, it says.
- There's no names or places or...

Across the water,
Father Vasyl is a common name...

and there are many St. Volodymyrs.

But leave the letter. I will try.

Thank you.

I'm saying, if there
isn't enough work, then

you could do something
else, that's all.

There's enough work.

Fact is, I came into
some back pay I was owed...

from about a month ago.

A couple thousand from
the vacation fund.

Stop, Ash.

I was thinking...

maybe this'll be the time
for us to get a place.

You could cover that?

And maybe we don't rent.

Maybe we try and buy something
in the neighborhood.

Nothing too big, just...

I heard Aunt Treesey's
old place up in Covington...

has been fixed up real nice.

Like with wood floors and all.

Ash, what's that ship right there?

- Cable ship.
- And what's the gray one next to it?

Military Sealift.

Attagirl.

You cold?

- Dwight?
- What's up?

We're gonna have to
search your vehicle. Sorry.

Search? What the fuck?

Open it, or I'm gonna shim the lock,
maybe damage your ride.

You got no call to be doing me like this.

- No call and no damn warrant.
- You drive onto a D.O.C. facility...

you acknowledge the vehicle's
subject to search.

Where's the key, Dwight?

He's gonna be back
from lunch any minute, Zig.

You hear me? He sees you on that thing...

he's gonna break you down
and sell you for parts.

Here it be.

You all planted that shit.

You fucking know you did.

- What's with the whistle squad?
- It's for us.

They marked us the moment
we stepped out of the car.

- That's him.
- That's Horseface?

- How did he get the name?
- You need a close-up?

Thomas Pakusa.

We need to talk to you about something.

What?

You were working the Atlantic Light
when it docked, right?

If you say so.

You remember that container
that came off that day?

- With all the dead girls.
- No.

You don't remember
all them dead girls in a can?

Come on, Horse.

I remember when you found them all
in the stacks.

I don't remember
they came off the Atlantic Light.

Let's take a ride downtown,
clear this mess up.

No.

Get the fuck in the car.

- Am I locked up?
- Get in the damn car.

You want me in that car,
you need to lock me up.

If that's the way it'll be,
I wanna talk to my shop steward...

and he can have an IBS lawyer go with me.

Dad, what--

Jesus, Pop, what's that for?

Say cheese.

You pull another stunt like that, Zig,
I'll have your damn card.

I don't care who your mother is.
Get the fuck out of here!

Kind of smart for a fat man, isn't he?

All right.

Goddamn it, Ziggy, you sick fuck.

Get your dick out of my computer!

Where are the detectives
who were first assigned?

Dead. To me, anyway.

I shipped them humps back to Burrell
as fast as I could.

What kept you?

That's the beautiful thing
about this department.

Every brain-dead
somehow manages to land on his feet.

- How's it hanging, Prez?
- How're you doing?

I'm all right.

Where's Lester? We got him, too, right?

He was out on the street
today with Homicide...

but Rawls promised to give him
the bad news tomorrow.

Not McNulty though.

McNulty they really hate,
not that I blame them.

You, of course,
have Roland for the duration.

Anyone else from the southeastern
you need, you got.

I'll leave you to it, then.

Carver's in the southeast, now.
I think he's got Sector Two.

It'd be great to have
Carver on this, right?

On what?

We don't even know what the hell
we're supposed to be chasing here.

No offense to your father-in-law,
but it's real thin.

We're here, right? Whatever happens,
we run with the program for a few weeks.

Maybe make a drug case or two
down by the port.

Beats the hell out of E.C.U. anyway.

Him and this lady have this daughter.
The daughter's born a mute.

The wife doesn't like that at all,
so she breaks out.

So this guy's raising his daughter,
she has her period...

freaks out, goes to him,
he thinks she was raped--

Jackpot.

That's about $10 worth
of bulk metal right there.

We just have to haul it down
to the scrap yard and we're good.

We'll break our fucking
backs on this thing.

Keep your eye to the ground, okay?
I'm schooling you.

Okay?

This is good, right here.

This is $10 right here.

Snitching Bubs.

You be asking for me?

These headphones are great.
I'm gonna use them at the gym. Thanks.

- You hear the boys?
- No, it's quiet up there.

A little too quiet.

That means they're probably
playing video games.

Or with a book of matches.

So, did you have a lawyer
look at the papers yet?

I did.

- And?
- He says I shouldn't sign it.

Says I'm giving away too much.

I would never, under any circumstances...

pay that kind of support and alimony
if we went to court.

That's what he says?

Signed and notarized.

I don't wanna argue about the money.

I wanna get back together.

Yeah.

Yo, String, I was subtle with that.

...has led to drug distribution charges
against three inmates...

one who was, himself, incapacitated...

by the tainted narcotics
and the correctional officer...

a 10-year veteran.

I've been instructed
by the Corrections Commissioner...

and the State Public Safety Secretary...

to announce that the maximum penalties...

will be sought against this officer...

I got a midterm. I got to study.

- So this is their joint?
- What's the plan?

Time to make it clear to these people
that we're not gonna go away.

You ain't gonna play
that country shit, right?

I hate that country shit.

Not even Ray Charles
can save that mess for me.

No, sir.

Big Daddy Lipscomb was right tackle.
Your brain's gone to shit, Jessy.

Left tackle.

You was too busy pissing in your drawers
to learn left from right.

Take your ass down to Schula's Steakhouse
and get an education.

Darling.

What's the deal?

Just dropping in for one or two
and then we take ourselves out of here.

How about you?

I'm leaving after this one.

You guys Port Police?
I don't recognize either one of you.

- City Homicide.
- Homicide?

- Who got killed?
- Those dead girls in the can.

That was an accident.
That was a fucking accident.

That's what I heard, anyway.

Excuse me.