The Wire (2002–2008): Season 3, Episode 3 - Dead Soldiers - full transcript

The brutality at police headquarters continues over the perceived failure of department commanders to rein in the city's crime stats. Another hit by Omar on the Barksdale stash houses goes ...


I gotta hit the head.

I can't take this shit, Bunny.

Yeah. It'll pass.

They're just riding you now.
Next week it's somebody new.

They can't take away your EOD, Marvin.

The worst they can do
is bust you back to lieutenant.

I don't even wanna think about the worst
these motherfuckers can do.

You don't either.

You're still not connecting the dots, Marvin.

Have a look.

- Hoffman and Holbrook, sir.
- Very good.

But you had a body dropped there last week

and this is what the fuck
it looked like yesterday.

Bond and Preston, for the record.

Ashland and Wolfe.

Chase and Durham.

Sir, I deployed my resources
per your instructions.

We've beefed up foot patrols...

we have our plain-clothes squads
on 12-hour shifts.

- And the corners stay full?
- They move, sir.

Every day.
They're gonna sell their drugs somewhere.

Major Taylor, I look at your numbers,
I see the intel reports, the photos.

It all tells me that you lack a fucking clue.

If you'll permit me.

- Is your Deputy Major present?
- Yes, sir.

You now command the Eastern District.

Major Taylor, you are relieved.

Take the podium.

Anyone else having trouble
with the writing on the wall?

Dismissed.

When you walk through the garden

You gotta watch your back

Well, I beg your pardon

Walk the straight and narrow track

Walk the straight
and narrow track

If you walk with Jesus

He's gonna save your soul

You gotta keep the devil

Way down in the hole

He got fire and the fury

Fire and fury

At his command

Well, you don't have to worry

Hold on to Jesus' hands

Oh, we'll be safe from Satan

When the thunder rolls

Oh

You gotta keep the devil

Way down in the hole

You gotta keep the devil

Way down in the hole

Way down

Way down in the hole

And I'm like,
"Nigger, if you want to sell me a new car,

"you better really sell it to me,

"cos otherwise,
I'm sitting back and I'm watching."

What you want with a new ride for?

Ain't like you can't get a new car
anywhere you want

any time, in this whole city.

- I'm just saying.
- Saying what?

- In case.
- In case what?

In case I ever wanna buy a new car.

- Damn, is that too much to ask for?
- Girl, you crazy.

Shit, shit, get down, get down.

- Yeah, they feeling it now.
- They protecting the fuck out of it too.

You see what you wanted?

Yeah, man, but they got
the whole second floor boarded up.

Got a little porch around back, couple of
the boys there now smoking menthols.

So we slide up from the back?

- That barred up too.
- No way through the front?

Not now.
But come tomorrow morning,

they gonna scale back down
to a three-man skeleton crew, you feel me?

Not sure I like this.

Why we got to keep hitting up
the Barksdale people?

Ain't like this whole motherfucking city
ain't got stashes all over it.

True that.

So why?

- Because.
- Because?

Indeed.

So that's a cop-shooter?

Yeah, not much to him.

But he did that job
on the Dozerman kid last week.

Gave it up in a full statement.

Before or after
you knocked the shit out of him?

"Injuries were sustained while patrol officers

"were effecting pursuit
and arrest of aforementioned suspects."

- He was caught East Side, right?
- Yeah.

But the wagon made a stop
at the Western District

for an unscheduled tune-up.

It's dark on that back lot.

Western boys mistook him for a piñata.

So what do you think?

I think this is a tragic motherfucking
miscarriage of justice.

I think it deserves a special grand jury,

and if not, the President should appoint
an independent prosecutor.

Oh, no, actually, I think, Kofi Bryant
and the United fucking Nations

should get involved.

- It's a murder, Bunk.
- The word from upstairs

is we're supposed to be
having less murders, not more.

This is Anne Arundel County.
Why should they care?

Why should you?

Hey, Bunk. Hey, how's it going?

Deputy asks, have we
recovered Dozerman's service weapon?

No, sir. The kid said he sold it on the street.

Gave only the street name of the buyer.
A certain Peanut, whereabouts unknown.

- They want that gun back.
- Sir?

They don't want a departmental weapon
on the street. You know, as a principle.

Look, the great white deputy has spoken.

This case is not done
until that gun comes home.

Don't get up.

One of the most heavily armed cities
in the gun-loving world.

Why should those ignorant motherfuckers
care about one goddamn semi-auto,

more or less?

What'd you bring me downtown
in this shit for, man?

Police don't get wet.

Talk to me, big man.

Thought you should know, my boy, Cheese,
went into the box with a couple of police.

- He stood tall?
- No doubt.

Kept his mouth shut and waited them out.

The way it turned out,
they the ones that fucked up.

How come?

Police let it slip
Cheese played in on some talkies.

Tried to pin a hit on him.
Said they heard it all over.

- Who got hit?
- A dog.

- What kind of dog?
- Kind mistake your leg for pussy.

So, they had phones tapped?

Don't matter to me none if they did.

Me and the people I keep close,
we don't talk on the phone line.

You talk on the phone, String?

So we good, then.

What we know is,
they still looking hard at us.

You wanna know what kills more police
than bullets and liquor?

Boredom.
They just can't handle that shit.

You keep it boring, String.

You keep it dead fucking boring.

You're serious?

I am.

- What's the closest school to here?
- Stuart Hill Elementary.

That's at least eight blocks.

- Three sevens.
- Three sevens?

Five eights.

Bullshit, let's see it.

Five eights. Read 'em and weep.

You're cheating.

- I just can't catch your ass is all.
- It's just luck, Tony.

It's just luck.

- You called my desk looking for me?
- Yes, I did. Come on in. Grab a chair.

But watch your wallet if you do.

Make it quick, Tommy.

The new city editor wants a 40-inch
weekender on liquor board reform.

- They're gonna reform the liquor board?
- Yeah, with a hand grenade.

- So what's on your mind?
- We're off the record?

There's gonna be no academy class
of police cadets this year. Mayor's orders.

Homicide rate's climbing, felonies are up,
we got patrol vacancies out the ass.

Even more coming
at the year-end retirements.

And this is coming from His Honor?
To what end?

Keep some money.

Money's in the budget but even a six-month
delay in hiring saves a couple million.

You think there's some paper,
something the Mayor signed?

No, the personnel office will confirm
that the class is delayed until next year.

You get that much, you can come back
to me for a couple of quotes.

- You want in on this?
- No indeed. I love my Mayor.

Councilman, thank you.

- Stirring up some shit?
- Just a little bit.

For the good of our fair city by the bay.

Three twos.

Housing authority has this slated
for demolition, right?

But no money to do it yet.

Boss, you sure it's a good idea
not to tell anybody about this downtown?

Ignorance is bliss, Lieutenant.
Anyone ever tell you that?

Once, but I beat the dog-piss out of the guy
with a night stick.

Anybody seen McNulty?

Catch him up when he posts.

New target.
Kintel Williamson, goes by Prince K.

Has a string of corners
from Park Circle to Woodland Avenue.

And he's dropping bodies too.
Three in the last four months.

Or so say our friends
in the Northwestern District.

So we're off Proposition Joe's people?

We're gonna ship
all the mid-level arrests downtown to CID.

Let narcotics work up those prosecutions.
After that, we're on to new business.

- He don't look like much.
- He's dropping bodies.

With everybody pressed
to bring the murder rate down,

that's the new mandate for this unit.

- Bell has bodies on him too.
- Not lately.

And Prop Joe hasn't made much noise either.

They're still running product.
Still got kids banging out there.

And now, cos we blew a wire
over a fucking dog

we have to let them just walk on,

go about their shit like we were never
anything to take seriously in the first place?

I want an investigative strategy
mapped up by week's end.

Well, McNulty's here in spirit anyway.

What?

Right there.

This will work too.

There's a couple occupied
in the 200-block and that one over there.

But otherwise...

we're good.

Good shit, right?

Let's go.

- Commissioner Burrell, please.
- Who's calling?

- It's Councilman Carcetti.
- Hold, please.

- Hello.
- Erv, I'm giving you a heads up.

You'll get a call from a reporter
about the academy class.

- What the fuck? Is this a joke?
- Calm down, just "no comment" the fucker.

You tell me my name
will be nowhere near this

- and then send a reporter my way?
- Exactly.

Then you call the Mayor and you tell him

you got a reporter nosing around
about the academy class.

- Tell him you have no idea how it leaked.
- I knew this shit'd come back to me.

- You're covered on this.
- God damn it,

you can't hang me out there like this
with the Mayor.

- My ass is flapping in the breeze...
- You want that class, Erv?

- You gotta trust me.
- Shit.

How you even find me?

- Ran into Lucas.
- Don't even call his name.

Nigger still owes me money.

He just told me how to find you, that's all.

He tell you how I'm doing?

Yeah.

I know what you're thinking.

You ain't looking all that yourself.

You look just fine, girl.

Just trying to find your sister, that's all.

She ain't for you no more.

She ain't for none of our kind.

Gone out County way.

Picked herself up County clothes,
County car...

County nose to look down
on all us city niggers with.

She a teacher.

- Where at?
- Don't be rushing me, motherfucker.

I know you looking to tip on out of here,
get your aftershave on, get yourself correct.

She teach speech.

Make it so every nigger
sound like Condoleezza.

Up Ida B Wells.

Excuse me, sir.
Have you seen this little girl?

This my baby.
Can you just take that picture with you?

Thank you so much. God bless.

- Have you seen this little girl?
- You have to back up.

My little girl. She's only four.

I ain't seen your little girl. Back up.

- Please, just take a look at her!
- I ain't seen your girl...

How do?

- Let's go.
- Where it at, man?

Back there.

- So, what up, man, you don't value my time?
- Nigger, please.

Hand me that screw gun and
calm the fuck down.

Go! Go!

Clear!

Yo, Tosha, go!

- Dante, go, I got your back.
- Go, Dante.

I got you, baby. I got you.

Go! Go!

Go, Dante, go!

Yo, y'all ready?

Let's bang out.

Go, go, go! Go!

Come on, Kimmy, get in the car.
Get in the car, man.

Your department leaks
like a fucking sieve.

It could be someone over here
at the Hall. Someone on your staff.

- Someone on the Council.
- It doesn't matter now.

We got to spin it as best we can,

so we need you to step up
and take this one for the team, Erv.

Me?

Tell the newspaper the academy class
has been delayed for some reason.

Lack of recruits, problems in your
personnel division. Keep it in your shop.

After which, the Mayor steps in,

announces we'll have a class
in January come hell or high water.

Do it like that, it's a one-day story.

Mr. Mayor, this was a budget question.

I was directed to delay that class.

Yeah, you took the hit then
and you're taking the hit now.

And I thank you for both, Commissioner.

89?

And that's just the ones
with West Side addresses.

You got to narrow that shit down.
Find some way to work with all them Peanuts.

Motherfucker, do I look like
George Washington Carver?

Shit.

Cocksuckers got me chasing one gun
through a city full of 'em.

- Homicide.
- Two down, Pall Mall and Pimlico.

Pall Mall and Pimlico. Got it.

- Two down in the street.
- Ray Cole's up.

Cole is in court today and I caught
that cutting in Cherry Hill last night.

Don't look at me.

I'm in the haystacks,
looking for Dozerman's prodigal gun.

You gonna make me
go back-to-back as a primary?

That's some cold shit, Bunk.

Agg assault with a two-by-four?
I don't think so. Put that with the Part Two's.

This one too. Assault by pointing.

If you don't use a handgun,
you don't get credit for waving it, right?

Larceny here.
Hump wrote this up as a daytime B and E?

Fuck this.

Do it clean.

Don't massage anything,
don't sex anything down.

We give 'em the fuckin' truth.

What about COMSTAT, boss?
They'll rip you.

There's five months to my 30, right?

Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke.

The major no doubt has some explanation,
some excuse, if you will,

for a weekly felony tabulation
that's going in the opposite direction

- from the other eight districts.
- I have none, sir.

You are content with this?

No, Deputy, I'm unhappy.

I wish we were making more of an impact.
But doing what we're doing...

it's clear that's not the case.

Major Colvin, I am under the impression
crime is down in the Western.

Perhaps you misfigured
your felony stats this week.

No, sir. We were very accurate.

Sometimes the gods are uncooperative.

Uncooperative?

This is a cooperative effort,
a cooperative department.

Why, in the Eastern District,

Lieutenant Daniels exemplified
this new spirit just the other day.

Because of that,
we got two fresh homicides in the black

and a lot less bodies on the streets
had that drug war been allowed to drag on...

Mayor has me taking the hit in public
for the late academy class.

- You're kidding me.
- Where's the fucking loyalty, I ask you?

...but in the Western,
what do I get from a veteran commander?

You're having a laugh, aren't you, Bunny?

You got the real stats and projections
somewhere else.

Someone's just outside with them, right?

A stripper, maybe?
That would be nice.

She comes in, flashes a little tit,
gives us a whiff of muff

and delivers my fucking stat sheets

with a reduction that matches
what we promised the Mayor.

That would be beautiful.
That would be crème fucking brûlée.

But what I got instead is some half-assed
"I wish we were doing better" platitude

that's meant to fool maybe a six-year-old girl
into thinking you're doing your job.

Well, she's left the room, Major Colvin.

She's out there right now asking the stripper
if she can have her job when she grows up

because she sure as shit
doesn't want yours!

You know why?

Because there isn't gonna be a Western
District in 20 years if this shit keeps up.

I don't care how many years
you have on this job.

If the felony rate doesn't fall,
you most certainly will.

The gods are fucking you,
you find a way to fuck them back.

It's Baltimore, gentlemen.
The gods will not save you.

You on my team.

No, you with me.

I ain't on nobody's team.
I'm not playing that...

Come on.
We're on the same team.

Give me that.

She look like a player?

Bystander?

Come on, let's go.

Right in the middle of it all, if she was.

Over here.

You guys! I'm comin' out!

- Yo, my turn to be Omar.
- No. Give it to me.

Give it to me. Give me.

I'm telling you, I was there.

White folks was on the stoop
by the 909 Club

and Apex just standing over his ass

pumping more holes in the boy
than a motherfucker need.

Shit, I ain't lying. Soon as that
motherfucking nine stopped talking,

white folks look up at Apex, say,
"Bitch, that the best you got?"

Man, I'm just saying,

a boy got that much white blood,
he got to be a punk.

- You want me, boss?
- Your numbers are way down, Fruit.

Way down.

Man, it's Barksdale's people.

They clipping the dope fiends
coming up Fremont.

You know, when I ran a shop
and my numbers dropped,

I damn sure did something about it.

- Yeah, I hear that.
- I just want 'em moved.

Take the young 'uns with you,
give 'em a workout.

All right.

So, Lieutenant, you got an "attaboy"
from the Deputy today, huh?

It cost me my wiretap, though.

Still, it's good work over in the Eastern.

Knocking down a drug war.

He's gonna do the same thing for me
up on Park Heights.

I got this Kintel Williamson character
who needs some fixing.

Rawls promised me Daniels
and his unit for about a month or so.

You're getting quite the rep there, kiddo.

So, Stan, what's your plan
for the Southeast?

How you gonna give Rawls his numbers?

I don't know. Flex squads on the corners,

foot patrols in the Perkins Homes,
overtime out the ass.

And if that don't work, cheat on the stats.

So what say you?

Shit, me? I'm going to 12-hour shifts
on the weekend, man.

What about you, Bunny?

Uh, I don't know.

I thought I might legalize drugs.

So they hit the goddamn alley.
And we on them.

That cocksmoking motherfucker
with the big-bitch gun?

- We was running hard on his ass, but...
- I think I hit him.

- Nigger, you ain't hit nobody.
- I might've hit him.

Yo, String, we hit the one girl.

But after that, man,
I ain't seen nobody catch no lead, man.

- Except for Tank.
- Yeah, Tank gone.

The other broad dropped him.
So I guess we even now.

- So you get one, right?
- Yeah.

That's good. That's like a 40-degree day.

Ain't nobody got nothing to say
about a 40-degree day.

50, bring a smile to your face.

60, shit, niggers is damn near
barbecuing on that motherfucker.

Go down to 20, niggers get they bitch on.
Get they blood complaining.

But 40? Nobody give a fuck about 40.

Nobody remember 40, and y'all niggers
is giving me way too many 40-degree days.

What the fuck?

Yeah.

Now, we gonna cover that bitch's funeral,
her fucking wake,

we gonna be all over that motherfucker,
till the bitch hit the ground.

And if the faggot roll up
to pay his respects...

we're gonna be on that motherfucker.

- Who the fuck you talking to, man?
- It's Donette, String. She been calling.

No, put the phone down.

Are you all feeling me on this?

Yeah.

He show up,
we on him like a motherfucking...

Like a 40-degree day.

So, overall, felonies are down.

But murders are still up.
What's our next move?

Let me bump overtime and court pay
for homicide and district ops.

Cases go into the green
before they go into the black.

Done.

And if we could get some help
at the courthouse, it would go a long way.

If you're trying to dig your way out of this,
don't make me your shovel.

We bring you casework that goes nowhere.

The cases are thin.

Most wouldn't make it past a prelim
in the court of a freshman judge.

Maybe if your personnel weren't
so concerned for their conviction rate,

- they'd chance a whodunnit or two.
- For Christ's sake...

Jesus, at least pretend
you're on the same side.

Stephen, you and I are both going to be
counting votes this time next year.

Do something to help our sorry asses.

And Erv, if you want to do more
than just finish out Walker's term,

show me something more
than just a pass of the buck.

I don't think any of us
wants to have to get a real job.

- Mr. Mayor.
- All right.

- I'll see you both in here on this next week.
- Thank you, sir.

They're like children.

Demper's always been a hack.

But he's an elected hack,
so we're stuck with him.

But Burrell, though.
You're vulnerable on crime, Clarence.

You need to set some deadwood adrift.

- Burrell's got friends.
- The ministers?

Well, he might be their man,
but so are you.

You fire Burrell,
you get some new blood in here,

the crime rate drops, huh?

The ministers will live with it.

So you're tough on deadwood, huh?

In the new 11th district too, I hear.

Mr. Mayor, it's time for Eunetta to go.

She's had her time. There are better people
out there for the Council.

She's on the team, Odell.
Just like my police commissioner.

I value loyalty. Don't you?

Bunky Bunk, where's my Bunk?

Cole was up, not you.

You're on Dozerman's gun, remember?

Cole was at the courthouse. Sue me.

Rawls and Foerster have crawled
into my backside,

and they'll stay there
until you find Dozerman's gun.

Now, I would like it very much
if I could unclench my ample ass cheeks,

if you don't mind,
and rid myself of that discomfort.

Jay, I just caught one that pushed its way
all the way to the top of my stack.

- A victim, Jay. On the real side.
- Do tell.

Second body in a double.

Girl in her 20s, caught in a firefight.
Takes one in the dome.

But she's still dead
in a zip code that does not fucking matter.

And you still owe me
a departmental issue nine.

Find the fucking gun, Bunk.

Fuck me.

Kintel Williamson, who the fuck?

- He has corners in Park Heights.
- But Jesus, who doesn't?

So all day we're calling you, Jimmy,
wondering where you're at.

Kima, maybe you can enlighten us.

Don't look at me.

My running buddy don't even tell me
where he's off to these days.

- I was at the library.
- Bullshit.

I was at the library at MCI Jessup.

D'Angelo Barksdale was not a suicide.

- The ME tell you that?
- He didn't need to.

The physical evidence didn't match up.

Look, I don't like coming up off of Stringer
or Prop Joe any more than you do,

but, McNulty, this shit is kind of weak.

Cedric is under a lot of pressure
to use this unit to get the murder rate down,

so for now,
Stringer Bell's jacket belongs in narcotics.

Man took you off a boat, Jimmy.

He want to peel his unit off, his unit, Jimmy,

and go after the target of his choice,
baby, it's his call.

Lester, I thought you were all about
the best case possible.

When it's there, I am.

Yo, I need y'all to hear this, man.

It was my fault.

You hear me?

I'm sorry, yo.

That don't do nothing for me.

How come...

they know you're police
when they hook up with you

and they know you're police
when they move in,

and they know you're police
when they decide to start a family with you,

and all that shit is just fine
until one day it ain't.

One day it's,
"You should have a regular job.

"You need to be home at five o'clock."

- "You need to call more."
- I'm saying.

"You need to stop fucking waitresses."

I wanna come down here tomorrow
to Western.

See what's what
since those Towers came down.

We're supposed to start
on Kintel tomorrow.

Oh, fuck that chump.

- He can wait a day or two.
- Yeah, OK.

What the fuck.

When you were humping a radio car
in the Western, was this your hole?

Yeah.

Here and down on Winchester,
under the bridge.

Bet there were a lot of nights
you didn't go home to the missus.

- Don't tell me I'm the same kind of asshole.
- Pucker up, girlfriend.

Jesus!

I'm turning into McNulty.

Hey. I'm getting ready to go now.

No, Mee-maw, you know I can't.

Times like these, honey, you have to shine.

In your face, in your clothes,
and in your pocket. Now, go on.

- Make sure you get something to eat.
- Go on, now.

- You know 'em?
- Not a clue.

The crew on that corner looks familiar.

A couple of old faces.

Not many.

You go away for a year
and the whole world changes up.

Quiet, though.

Barksdale loses the Towers and he's able
to stretch out without bodies falling?

I wonder what the Western guys
have been seeing lately.

Yeah?

- Hey, Jay.
- You have a minute?

Yeah.

- What the fuck happened?
- He just collapsed.

When?

How is he?

Shit.

You're gonna let me know, right?

OK, yeah.

Thanks.

- You know Ray Cole?
- Homicide, right?

Collapsed in the gym
at the Central District this morning.

- On a fucking StairMaster.
- Well, how is he?

A StairMaster.

Hey, check it out.

- Where they at?
- I don't know.

Shit! Go!

Go! Look out, man!

Break it. Break it, motherfuckers.

- Man said break. Come on.
- I was working that bitch.

Yeah, shorty, you hard.

Go. We out of here.

"The Commissioner acknowledged
that money had been budgeted

"for the academy class,

"but said the department
was awaiting approval

"of a federal training
and education grant

"before scheduling the program."

Burrell can talk some shit, can't he?

Uh-oh. Downtown in the house.

- Hey, Kima baby.
- Hey, Ellis.

Herc.

To what do we owe the pleasure?

Cruising your district,
seeing what's up since the Towers fell.

We see Barksdale crews on a few corners,
but no one seems to be beefing with them.

What's up with all this brotherhood?

We keep the lid on tight.
They know we're not their friends

and they damn well know that
we'll take it to them if they don't behave.

What do your CIs tell you?

Fuck CIs.
We don't need no stinking CIs.

We tune 'em up, we beat 'em down,
we lock 'em up.

It's the Western District way.

Sergeant, you're wanted in roll call
for a supervisor's meeting.

Gotta go.

Remember what I told you?
Police is only as good as his informants.

We ain't downtown no more.
We're in the trenches here.

You want information, you go get
your own CI and you shoot the shit.

You're late, Sergeant.

I had a couple of downtown detectives
in my shop.

They were confused
and required assistance, sir.

Well, I'll catch you up.

The new strategic plan for the district

is to move all street-level trafficking
to these three areas.

- We want to push it.
- Push it, boss?

If they don't go easy, then they go hard.

But we let these knuckleheads know

that if they move to these areas,
away from the residential streets,

away from commercial areas,
away from schools,

if they take that shit down the road

they can go about their business
without any interference from us.

It's going to be hands-off
in the Western District

- for the foreseeable future.
- Bullshit, man.

- No fucking way.
- Wait.

You want us to give them a free pass?
How are we gonna look them in the eye?

They'll shit all over us,
tell their kids to shit all over us.

Hey, the Major wasn't finished.

You got to take the long view here.

Once...

Once they're all comfortable,
once they're all rounded up,

once they've been down there a bit
and they're used to putting their feet up

and playing with the remote,

then we move.

Then we go back and we do police work.

Look at it this way, gentlemen.

Would you rather shoot at fish in the ocean,

or would you rather gather them up
in a few small barrels

and start emptying your clips then?

And you still get to kick the shit
out of all the mopes

that don't move off our corners.

So it ain't all bad.

Slow up, girl.

Come on, now.

So this your ride?

- It's nice.
- I suppose you got a Lex.

Nah, girl. Got a bus pass.

- You out the game, then?
- Yeah.

Doing a little landscaping right now
but trying to figure things out.

- So what's your boy's name?
- Allen.

- After Iverson?
- After his daddy.

What?

I'm trying to picture you mowing a lawn.

Yeah, I don't be wearing this suit.

- You look good in it, still.
- You look good too.

You know, they bought a lot of folks out
with early retirement in Parks and Rec.

I could maybe hook you up
with someone to talk to.

A man at my church is helping the city
fill a lot of those jobs.

That would be... Thank you.

Write your number there.

He'll call you.

I gotta go.

It was good seeing you.

Grace.

Looking at you...

What?

Hurts.

You shouldn't look, then.

A food blast will take your mind off it.

I'd rather my mind on it, Bubs.

I swear, I'm sick of all of this, man.

Wondering when I got so old.

Some more mac and cheese...

- Hey, Bubs.
- Kima.

- Hey, Bub.
- McNutty, man. My mainest man.

- You ready to put some work in?
- Born ready.

- Snitching? Fuck that, Bubs.
- Hey, hey. Nah, man.

Better than lifting 500-pound radiators.
I'm up for these two, Johnny.

- That's easy money, man.
- Come on, let's grab a burger.

You mind if I bang out of here early?
I ain't right with this Cole thing.

There's a detectives' wake
at Kavanagh's tonight. You gonna come?

I barely knew the guy.
Y'all laying him out at the bar, huh?

Tradition. Tomorrow night,
he goes to the funeral home for family.

Tonight, Ray drinks with the boys.

Come on, Bubs. We ain't got all day.

He's up for re-election

and he's never had one of his goo-goo bills
pass the committee.

So, he's got one for all-day kindergarten.

I mean who's gonna argue
with more kindergarten?

I mean, this guy has got a bill which is
the legislative equivalent of kissing a baby.

So he goes to his chairman,
pleads his case and says...

"This don't go through, I'm going to be back
in that hardware store, mixing paint."

The chairman takes pity and agrees.
He gets the bill to the floor.

But the house speaker, he hates this bill.
So, it gets loved to death, you know.

Slaps on an amendment for another
$150 million in costs, subsidies, handouts,

and the bill goes down in flames, 122 to ten.

The delegate, he can smell those paint cans.

And the chairman says, "Hey, sorry, brother.

"I fought like a tiger for that bill."

- With friends like that...
- You want friends? In this racket?

Get a dog.

- What?
- Look, we're real busy.

- I need to talk to him.
- I gave him the message.

- Look, just tell him it's Donette.
- You're sure he knows you?

Yeah, he know who the fuck I am.

- Yo, String, she say...
- Not now.

Look, he say not now. I gotta go.

Marlo? It's a problem, String.

Club soda and lime.

You'll never get there that way.

Get where?

Excuse me.

How the hell was I to know the Mayor
was gonna put the screws to you?

You read the paper? I look like shit.

Hey, you got your class.

And probably scored points with Royce
out of sheer loyalty, right?

We are police.

So no lies between us.

He wasn't the greatest detective,
and he wasn't the worst.

He put down some good cases
and he dogged a few bad ones.

But the motherfucker had his moments.
Yes, he fucking did.

You remember the Mississippi extradition?
The arson murders?

- Right.
- He brought that case home.

And the triple at the after-hours
over on Hudson Street,

that was Ray Cole at his best.

And Fayette Street in '93, the drug wars.

He took a lot of hot corners and cooled them.

Yes, indeed.

He won as much as he lost.

Much as any of us.

Oh, for Christ's sake, Hugh,
play the fucking song, already.

Did he piss off a wife or three?

No fucking doubt.

I think the last one actually
kind of got used to him, thank God.

Did he say the wrong shit now and then?

Did he bust balls and cheat on his taxes

and forget to call his mother
and fuck the wrong broad

for the wrong fucking reason
every now and then?

Who fucking doesn't? Christ!

Was he as full of shit as every other
sad-sack motherfucker wearing a badge

of Baltimore City Police?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

His shit was as weak as ours,
no question.

But Ray Cole stood with us,

all of us,

in Baltimore,

working, sharing a dark corner
of the American experiment.

He was called.

He served.

He is counted. Old King Cole.

Old King Cole!

The Cadillac stood by the house

And the Yanks, they were within

And the tinker boys
they hissed advice

Hot-wire her with a pin

Well, we turned and shook
as we had a look

In the room where the dead men lay

So big Jim Dwyer made his last trip

To the shore where his father's laid

15 minutes later
we had our first taste of whisky

There was uncles giving lectures
on ancient Irish history

The men all started telling jokes

And the women they got frisky

By five o'clock in the evening
every bastard there was piskey

Fare thee well going away,
there's nothing left to say

Farewell to New York City, boys,
to Boston and PA

He took them out with a well-aimed clout,
he was often heard to say

I'm a free-born man of the USA

I'm sorry, but I gotta get these guys home.

But all things considered,
I think they did pretty well.

They were great.
And you were great, really, Jen.

Besides, I think they got
all the family shots they need.

- So, you'll be a while, though, huh?
- Mm-hm.

Gotta work the crowd, you know.

- Make them think I'm worthy of their faith.
- You are.

- Thank you.
- Most of the time.

Bitch.

Not too late if you can help it, OK?

Jimmy.

Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy.

Shit is fucked.

You fuckin' wake up like any other day.

You fuckin' eat and think about bills
and dry-cleaning and shit and...

fucking vacation and your fuckin'
retirement plan, and what?

Like that.

Like that.

He checked outta here...

with you still owing him
a clearance on that Omar thing.

I know, I know. I fucking know.

Like that.

On a fucking StairMaster.

On a fucking StairMaster.

Wake up and die right, you cunts.

What's going on, man?

That whip is pretty.
I gotta get me one of them joints one day.

Shit, yeah.

English SDH

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