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The Wire (2002–2008): Season 5, Episode 7 - Took - full transcript

An unexpected call puts Templeton back in the spotlight--and gets McNulty more attention than he expected. Bunk bucks at Landsman when ordered to help with the force's most recent red ball.


Now they're online.

This is masked
as Marlo's cell number?

How the fuck? How?

Spoofed to imitate a call stream
like it's a phone-company switch.

We can put any digits in we want.

Meanwhile, phone company
paperwork on the case

has the cell we gave to Sydnor.

It's fairly basic shit.

Now, stick to the script.

We don't want any tell-tales.

Even with the voice modulator,

you're exposed here.

Seven-Baker-14.

BGA. Go ahead, 14.

14. I got a vehicle blocking an entrance.

400 Pressman.

What the...

Shit.

Templeton.

Hey, you...

Where do you get off,
you sick little twist?

Sexual? I'm not sexual with them,
I'm not abusive with them.

How dare you write that in your paper
without knowing nothing about me?

- What?
- Biting's not sex, it's biting.

I'm not sick like that.

Hang on, hang on, hang on.

Maybe I should come bite you.

Would you like that, Scotty?

I bet you would like that. Am I right?

You write about me like I'm sick.

You're the sick one, you know that?

Is that why you like me, Scotty?
Is that why?

Fuck me.

Yeah, this is Holley,
Baltimore Homicide.

I need a trap-and-trace on case 08H114.

Cell phone is in use right now.

I could come bite you,
you tell me how sexual it is.

OK, hang on.
Who... Where are you?

Here's what's happening now.

You humiliate me like that?

You mortify me like that
in front of my father?

My father's father?

Listen to me,
smack daddy, crack daddy,

little baby whack daddy,
here's what's happening.

You ain't never
going to find them anymore.

You ain't never gonna
see them no more.

I'm sending you something right now.
You take a good look at this guy,

because you ain't never
going to see him no more.

Hey, OK.

Don't hang up. Can we...

Oh, shit. Did you get McNulty?

- Just his voicemail.
- Oh, Christ.

That was... That was him.

Again!

Nice Bawlmer accent.

It's my heritage.

...has traced the phone in question
to Pier Five on Pratt Street.

All units respond to that 20
and detain anyone present

pending the arrival
of a duty officer.

One-Baker-Ten, copy that.
I'm rolling.

One-Baker-13, I'm almost there.

KGA to all units.
Be advised that we're looking

for a 10-30 individual
on a cell phone.

- Anyone on a phone?
- Not that I saw.

Just people moving through,
it could be anybody.

Let's just fan out and take names.

Go down this road.
Get their names over there.

Get everybody up in this area now.

- Stop.
- What the hell is this?

- Hey, let go of me.
- Get your hands up.

Get on the ground now.
Get your hands up! Step out!

Get everybody over there
and get their cell phones.

Everyone take out your cell phones and
place them on the table in front of you.

Stop, he didn't do anything.

What are you doing?

Foxtrot to KGA, I'm your eyeball.

- Sarge, we got him.
- Bullshit.

- I got him on tape.
- The goof actually called.

Yeah, yeah, it was sweet.

Hey, what'd I miss?

He went off on a tangent.
Said he wanted to bite me.

What? Bite you how?

Scott, are you saying
that he threatened to...

Wait a minute. Hold on a second.

Holy Christ.

So are we partners or what?

No, Clay.

I don't pick
so much as a single juror

without the full amount
of my fee being paid.

If you want Billy Murphy
on your case,

you got to pay to put him there.

I got a taste for you right up front.

A good, five-figure taste.

But you asking for me to pay
a winner's fee right up front,

and you know what?
I ain't a winner yet.

Right now, with the sword
hanging over my head,

I don't have the kind of
financial support at my disposal

that I would ordinarily
be able to rely upon, you feel?

So the money boys
are laying off, huh?

They thinkin' short when
they should be thinkin' long.

Shameful shit.

25,000, 25,000 more
when you seat a jury.

I don't work that way.

I know you don't, partner,
I know you don't.

And normally I wouldn't dream
of asking you to suit up for game day

with my tab as it is.

200,000 when I get you out
from under this mess.

And, Clay, don't fuck me.

Don't even think about fucking me
out of a single part of that fee.

Oh, Billy, you talk
as if you don't know me.

I'm disappointed. I am.

My brother, let's be fair.

I'm providing you with the opportunity

to go head-to-head
with the state's attorney

in a case that's gonna be
front-page news.

For all that profile?

Shit, partner,
you should be payin' me a fee.

Seriously, dawg, for 20,000 cash
to my campaign committee,

I'll get myself indicted federal,

let you go to trial on that.

Beat the feds like a stepchild,
an' really make a name for yourself.

Fuck you?

Naw, son, I'm gonna make you.

Motherfuckers gonna be
wipin' they ass

with Johnnie Cochran's memory,
and carryin' your business card

in every damn pocket
before we done.

No.

I already got more rep
than any lawyer would ever need.

Why don't you save
that silver-tongued bullshit for the jury?

Right.

No, nothing since.

All right.

Me, Barlow and Kincaid
been sittin' here

like the fucking Maytag repairmen,
growing piles.

Nothing, not a call. Then, bang.

No luck at the harbor.

We were tracking the GPS
then it just goes dead. Area of Pier Five.

- Where's McNulty?
- Over at the newspaper.

Let's hear that motherfucker again.

Hey, you, where do you get off,
you sick little twist?

Sounds like some gearhead from Dundalk.

And emotionally, how was he?

- He sounded pissed.
- At you, personally?

Like I told you,
he said I humiliated him

by writing that the biting was sexual.

At the end, he offered
to come here and bite me.

- I didn't really respond to that.
- OK.

- Did he sound like the same guy?
- What do you mean?

Did it sound like the voice you heard
on the first call?

Oh, right. Yeah.

No, actually.

Well, yeah. I mean, yeah.

It was the same,
but this time I noticed

he had a real thick Bawlmer accent.
Real thick.

- You didn't notice that the first time?
- I guess I did, but I forgot.

- Did I screw up in any way?
- No. Not at all.

Listen, we reserve the right
to make this decision,

but that said,
would running these photos

in any way impair the investigation?

I don't think so. Fact is,
we need as many eyes as we can

looking for this homeless guy.

You don't know where this guy is?
He could be...

- Could already be a victim, sure.
- Jesus.

That's Charles and Conway.
I wonder if he's a regular out there.

He had to have used
a different phone.

Had to have been a cell phone
if he sent you these.

That's true. But, again,
you can't print anything

about where he's calling from.
We're trying to get up on that cell phone.

What should I do if he calls again?

Keep him on the line
as long as you can. Don't spook him.

Guy likes to rant.
Let him do his thing.

- You OK?
- Me? Yeah, I guess.

I wouldn't worry.
He's just using you. He needs you.

I kind of resent that, actually.

Oh, I dunno.

It's workin' out pretty well
for both of you, right?

Gentlemen, thanks for these.

Callin' Vincent on his cell all morning,
he still ain't answer.

Ain't got time for this.
Re-up time will come due,

we still ain't picked up the mannitol.

What the fuck?

Yo, Vincent.

Where you at?

Manny? Manny?

Shit.

- Omar.
- Why you still alive, then?

He say tell Marlo
he out in the streets, waitin'.

Say this whole damn city gonna know

Marlo ain't man enough
to come down in the streets.

- He get the stash?
- Yo, Cherry.

He blew Manny up
as soon as he got inside.

- He was gonna do me too.
- How the fuck he get inside?

Manny open up
to go on the food run,

and this dicksucker was right there.

He knew we was the stash.

Ain't need to be told shit.

He just knew.

Four K of raw, flushed.

Hey, yo, Cherry.
You gonna untie me, right?

Come on, nigga, untie me.

Seriously, Steven.

If you can't afford it,
that's fine, I understand.

If you think this clown
is gonna hold me off

and keep the statehouse,
I know you've got to hedge your bets

given how much you're
waiting on from Annapolis.

But if you're gonna choose a side,
do it early. That's all I'm saying.

I hear ya, Tom.

I'm going to write out a check today,
and send it out the door.

That's great, Steven.
Really, I do appreciate it.

Can you...
Can I ask you to consider...

I'll double down on that for my wife too.

For your wife too?

That's just great, really.

Yeah, thanks for going
the extra mile on this.

No problem.

Photographs?

He messaged digital photos
of the possible victim

to the Sun reporter.
I canvassed this guy's regular corner,

he has indeed been missing
a couple of days.

We got these photos from the newspaper,

but we want to be able to
intercept any future images.

- Hence the amended order.
- Correct.

Can we catch photos
with our city equipment?

Actually, no. We're still bumping around
in the 20th century.

But Howard County
has the right software

- On a couple of their computers.
- You need two?

If one computer goes down,
we got the other one as backup.

We don't wanna miss our shot at this nut.

Well, good hunting.

Thank you, Judge.

Ronnie.

You briefed your boss?

And he's calling the mayor, right?

And Rawls too, I imagine.

Pretty little fella gets himself elected

on a law-and-order ticket.
Crime doesn't go down much,

and a couple weeks before he starts
gearing up to announce for governor,

some wingnut starts killing people,

taking photographs,
sending 'em to the newspaper.

You know something?
You may wanna check the governor's alibi.

You know?

Thanks.

You couldn't make 30?

20?

92.

I'm gonna tell you something.

A lot of people want Tommy Carcetti
to be their fuckin' governor.

And I can't imagine
what they're thinking.

92, Norman, in a single morning.
It is a new record.

The motherfucker killing homeless guys?
He grabbed one off the street,

wrapped a ribbon on his wrist,
sent a photo to the Baltimore Sun,

- Saying we won't find the body.
- He what?

The newspaper's
gonna run the photos.

Bill Rawls.
I need him on the line now.

You rascal, you

I'll be glad when you're dead,
you rascal, you

Look at you,
you baby-bumpin' motherfucker.

Look at you.

Let's go.
Deputy wants as much of my squad

as I can wrangle upstairs right now.

We're going large Richard
on McNulty's serial killer.

I'm working my cases.

Bunk, command performance.

The deputy wants bodies.
The mayor's spewing over this thing.

I'm not going.

What? You don't see those
on my sleeve?

- Plain as fuckin' day, Bunk.
- I'm doing police work here.

In fact, I have a fresh angle
on last year's major case,

on which I'm the sole
remaining investigator.

So fuck your stripes
and fuck McNulty,

and fuck your big-dick redball.

If you can't work with that,
just write me the fuck up,

and ship my ass to a trial board.

So, Alma stays with the investigation
and detectives downtown.

Don't go home without checking for updates
before the e-dot and double-dot editions.

So the case file is McNulty,

with the rest of his squad
as immediate support.

Lieutenant D'Addario's shift
will man the wiretap.

In addition to Alma and Scott,
Olesker will have a column coming.

Fletcher, I want you on homeless react,
also interviews with advocates and experts.

Melody, you get on the phone

with the whitecoats at
Clifton T. Perkins or wherever,

and work up a sidebar on what it means
when a whackjob kills somebody

and talks to reporters about it.

Greggs, I've been
scanning the casework.

While there have been numerous
field interviews and canvasses,

we haven't done much with background
work on victims and families.

If you could take charge of that.

Colonel Tomlin,

we'll need Tactical
to provide surveillance cars

and undercover decoys
where the homeless gather.

We need to be
in the street, proactive.

This case is as much about
preventing another abduction or murder

as it is about making an arrest.

We can't work this one with the phone.

We need to be in the street,
at eye level.

We need to keep the media
as part of the equation.

This reporter that's been contacted,
he's in the middle of it.

That may be a way to solve this thing.

You're in the middle of this now,

so while we're presenting this
as a first-person piece

on your latest contact with the killer,

Alma's going to interview
you for the mainbar.

McNulty's preliminary
checks with shelter workers,

and a canvass of
Conway and Charles,

indicates that our victim
is indeed missing,

but when we get a full ID,

we need to run every connection
to make sure this isn't a hoax.

Chief, we need to
pull bodies from District Ops

to give Homicide
their own surveillance arm.

And having had some experience
in the politics of staffing,

I leave it to McNulty
to pick the people.

For once, people, I am assured

that the resources we need
to work this story will be there for us.

So let's surround this mess
and report the hell out of it.

This one's got legs.

I am now told,
by the mayor directly,

that there will be no
overtime restrictions,

no staffing limits on this case.

So put this case down.

Police work. What do you know?

Good day. Six G-packs so far.

New package be
droppin' them fiends.

Yeah.

Probably need one more re-up.

Rare day on the corner, huh?

Step off, nigga.

Hey, Mike, check this out.

"Certified hydrotherapist,

"experience with geriatric patients,
Sinai Hospital outpatient clinic."

Jerry who?

Whatever, how about this -
"Dental front desk,

"high-quality dental office
seeks front desk."

- Like furniture?
- Like a secretary, I guess.

Man, you ain't even
ever been to no dentist.

"HVAC maintenance supervisor."

What the fuck is a huhvac?

"H-V-A-C."
Maybe they spelled it bad.

"Systems manager in
a deadline-driven environment."

Man, ain't nothing there.

Even if there was, you ain't 16,
and y'all got to pick up Bug after three.

Hey, hang on, hang on.

"Exotic dancer, downtown financial district
lunchtime hours.

"Must be flexible in body and mind."

Now we talking.

Hey, make it rain on 'em.
Make it rain.

Hold up.

Time out.

Fuck did I do?

If we don't know, then you do.

This is bullshit.

Yo, don't forget about Bug.

As this is an ongoing investigation,
I'll ask that you direct questions

to the police officials
best equipped to answer.

These new developments in the case
of the homeless slayings in our city

are troubling and tragic
and unacceptable.

We are doing everything possible
to locate and identify the individual

depicted in the photographs sent
to the Baltimore Sun today.

We are endeavoring to protect
other homeless citizens,

and we are pursuing the suspect
with every means at our disposal.

I have made clear
to my police commanders

that they have my full confidence

and the authority to employ
whatever resources they require.

And let me be unequivocal.

This man will be brought to justice.
Thank you.

Mr. Mayor, Mr. Mayor!

Voice and digital photos.

He calls again,
you'll capture either one.

I can do these background checks
myself, Jay.

You heard the deputy.
He specifically assigned Greggs.

Greggs has an open triple.

And this squad has your serial killer.
The case is shit-hot.

Jay, I don't need...

You are the point man
on the motherfucker who's missing.

You don't have time to work
on the older cases.

It goes to Greggs,
end of fucking story.

Now... what else do you need?

I'm gonna need those surveillance teams
as this thing sprawls.

For now, let me pull this guy's ID
as fast as I can. Figure what he's about.

- After that, I'll have more to spin off.
- Voice analysis of the call?

Shit, I don't believe in that shit.

Next thing I know, you'll want me to go
to Quantico with this fucking thing.

As a matter of fact...

You don't believe in behavioral
forensics, Dr. Moreland?

I don't believe in much
of anything at this point.

It doesn't fucking matter
what any of us believe at this point.

You turned on
the fuckin' tap, Jimmy.

They're finally paying
for police work again.

Proud of yourselves?

We're close to Marlo.
A week or two at most.

How does it feel getting
Greggs pulled off her triple?

How does it feel knowing
that you got surveillance teams out there,

and District units, and Tactical,
all of 'em chasin' bullshit.

We're gonna use the surveillance teams.
They'll help us bring in the case.

I don't even want to know
whose picture you got running in the paper,

or where that motherfucker
actually happens to be...

Names and addresses,
whatever you got.

- Jimmy...
- Don't kill yourself.

Shit.

Don't worry, son.
I got you covered on all this.

Listen, one other thing.

I'm getting my kid for an overnight.

Where do I get kids' furniture?

Ikea.

See y'all.

Shame on y'all.

I mean it.

- Trace lab.
- It's Moreland.

You just called.

I know, and I'm callin' again.

I need the tracework
on 06H271, and I need it now.

I know, he hasn't been around to it yet.

Tell him I called,
and tell him I'm gonna keep calling

until he feels
my fucking pain, all right?

Gift-wrapped.

Number one.

Fuck.

How the fuck do they expect me
to get this shit done on my own?

Broke-ass department ain't even payin'.

You OK?

It's fucked up.
It's all fucked up, OK?

I could make a red go to black
'cept for these cheap motherfuckers.

What do you got?

Good snitch put the finger on
an eyeball wit been duckin' me.

He lays up at this one girl's place
at Athol Avenue, right?

Comes in late, but he leaves early.

So?

So I don't mind sittin' on the place
all night long an' not get paid.

But it's a garden apartment.
Parking lots on both sides,

and if he decides to park on the street
and walk across the grass,

he still has the fucking patio doors.

Two more men do it?

Yeah, and two more cars, yeah.

I got more bodies
than I can use on my serial thing.

Let me make a call,
hook you up with two Tac guys.

You tell 'em you're sitting
on a 20 that I gave you.

- I'll write up the hours under my file.
- And you can do that?

Go with God.

Can you make out who that is?

Yeah.

Look at you.

Not even blinking.

Not that I blame you

after what this heinous
motherfucker did to you.

Still, this right here is vicious.

I mean, whoever did this had a real time.

Now you know what I'm saying?

Now, I know it wasn't you,

because with all due respect

you don't have the physicality
to do this kind of damage.

I mean, whoever did this

had to be a full-grown
and powerful individual -

a fearsome individual.

You see what I'm sayin'?

You the murder police.
How the fuck would I know?

- Is this spot good for a stand-up?
- Let's go with a wide shot on this.

Goddamn Pulitzers.

Kinda formula, I know.

Anecdotal lead, nut graf, best quote.

It works as a sidebar, but for
tomorrow, let's stretch it some, huh?

Really spend some time with
some of these people, you know?

What I mean is, sometimes,
the weakest stuff in a story

is the shit with
quotation marks around it.

You got a guy telling
how rough it is on the

street, it really
doesn't have much pull.

But if you can describe him as he
really is, tell his story in moments...

Look, tomorrow, get back in the
shelters and the soup kitchens,

and just be with folk.

I don't care if you file copy on it.
If something presents itself as a story,

great, but if not, just spend the day
being with people.

I'm not interested in what can be quoted
or counted on this one.

I'm interested in what feels true.

I'm in - 30 inches, with room
for Price's stuff from the hall.

- Scott?
- Five minutes.

- We're coming up on first edition.
- Three minutes.

We had him in that,
what do you call it,

- Rehabilitation.
- Four times.

We're not rich people.

Henry's on disability.

We get him out,
he makes all kinds of promises,

but, well, you know...

I'm sorry.

The last time,

we decided we wouldn't be there for him.

We knew he'd probably die out there,

if the drugs get him, we knew that.

But this thing in the newspaper,
this sex stuff,

the biting or whatever...

Jesus, nobody deserves that.

You see what I have a problem with, right?

The first-person is one thing. I know
he needs to put himself in the story...

It's essential.

But this business about him being
out there day and night with the homeless,

I mean, this stuff about sharing their
"darkest corners with them,"

He's writing more as an essayist.

We've got a column
from Olesker, front metro.

I mean, it's pretty powerful
without being purple.

But this stuff that Scott's written,

it makes it sound like he's been living
with the homeless for weeks.

He spends one night under the JFX,

another half-day quoting people
in a homeless shelter.

It ain't exactly Studs Terkel.

You don't think the piece
should run as it is?

I mean, we have him interviewed about
the call from the killer in Alma's mainbar,

we have his quotes.
But the rest of this stuff,

he's acting like he's
taking his life in his hands,

he walks another highway at night?

I mean, this is our fucking city.
This ain't Beirut.

I respect your concerns.

I'll take the piece
and move it as my own edit. How's that?

OK.

And while they declined
to talk on camera,

the parents of Jonathan Boland
say they are hopeful

that the renewed attention
to their son's death a few years ago

will lead police to his killer.

For Channel Six News, I'm Cass...

Media's going crazy.

City Hall too.

But for once, we're getting
what we need to do the job.

- How does it feel?
- Forbidden.

I feel like they're gonna find out how much
we're spending and shut us down.

You don't have all this in your head yet?

I just want to go over it all again.

We finish voir dire by lunch,
and then it's opening arguments.

- For Mr. Bond. It's on him.
- He needs a strong second.

He needs me to know
this case inside and out.

How much longer, Lester?

If Marlo has a code, we can break the code.
That's a given.

How long?
Depends on the code, doesn't it?

Quicker we bring this in and shut it down,
the safer we'll all be.

Landsman wants me
to go to fucking Quantico,

let the FBI do a profile.

Might learn something about yourself.

It's not funny, Lester.

This shit's bigger than
I ever thought it would be.

The whole fuckin' city...

Yeah, Jay.

No.

No, I don't need
an academy class

to help with a canvass
near this guy's corners.

Well, I don't need
any additional canvassing.

What? You wanna know why?
I'll tell you why.

Because I already know the name
of the missing smokehound.

Yeah, his name, his DOB, and his last
known address at a city shelter.

Lawrence Butler, 3/10/1951,

400 West Street,
South Baltimore Men's Shelter.

How? Police work.

When I have more leads, Sergeant,

I'll be able to use the extra manpower
you give me and run this shit down.

But until then, will you back off, Jay?

Yeah, just back the fuck off.

Trouble with making this thing
into a redball?

People start to treat it
like a fucking redball.

Jesus!

Get me out of this, Lester,
as fast as you can.

Senator!

Senator, there have been rumors
of a last-minute plea offer.

How can I plead to what I didn't do?

What are you reading there, Senator?

This here?

Prometheus Bound, an ancient play,

one of the oldest we have,
about a simple man

who was horrifically punished
by the powers that be

for the terrible crime of trying to
bring light to the common people.

In the words of Aeschylus,
"No good deed goes unpunished."

I cannot tell you how much consolation
I find in these slim pages.

- One more question, Senator.
- Ladies and gentlemen,

I do believe I have my day in court,
and I will see you inside.

City Hall wants an update.
What do we know about our missing mope?

What else?

Sending a tape of the call
down to Quantico, along with the case file.

They'll review, then meet with us.

You gotta hit every downtown shelter
or mission there is.

- You want bodies for that?
- I'm taking Christeson.

- The rookie?
- Yeah, he'll ask the extra question.

He's hungry. He's...
If I need more bodies, I'll let you know.

Heard what you did with Christeson,

letting him go on his own case, while you
carry him and two surveillance teams.

Your shit is right, Jimmy.

- Thanks.
- So I got another one for ya.

You remember
the rape-murder I had? Bolton Hill job?

Brother-in-law of my rapist,
last year wouldn't talk to me,

but now, his wife just got collared,

and if she gets locked up,
his kids go to family services,

so he's desperate to deal.

The problem is,
he's in the New York system -

Elmira, Newburgh, one of those places.

Anyway, I get a road car and expenses,
I can put it down.

Jimmy, he strangled a 20-year-old,
stuffed her under her bed.

OK, give my CC to motor pool.

I'll bury the expenses
and the OT in my file.

Thanks, brother.

Ain't you the little king of diamonds.

Homicide.

Nah, he's on the street right now.
Call back in a couple hours.

On second thought, gonna have Norris
with me on that canvass today, boss.

And with every single transaction
you've described, Detective,

the money was routed through
the senator's personal account

- And then withdrawn as cash.
- Yes, sir.

- Often in the same amounts?
- Often the exact amounts,

sometimes slightly smaller amounts, but
always within a day of the initial deposit.

Thank you, Detective Freamon.

Your honor, no further questions.

Cross-examination, Mr. Murphy.

No questions, your honor.

- You got a number?
- What?

Number on a slip. If you get a number,
I might could find you a seat.

- It's mac an' cheese today.
- No, I'm a newspaper reporter.

So you got what to eat, then.

Yeah, came down here just to hang out,
and get with some homeless people.

How come whenever y'all be wanting
homeless, y'all come to the soup kitchens?

- You don't serve homeless?
- Serve everybody.

Homeless, poor folks, workin' people
tryin' to make it to a paycheck.

Shit, half the neighborhood be up here
the week before check day.

Hey, you're not...

Homeless?
No, I'm down in my sister's basement,

over at Edmondson Village.

What you need the homeless to say?

Talk about the killings.
The thing going on with the serial killer.

But mostly, I'm just lookin' for a story
about what it's like for them.

What life is like.

Hard times out here.

I can't imagine.

You gonna write a story
about what life's like, huh?

- Bubbles, man.
- Mike Fletcher.

Sticking for the moment
with the West Baltimore Hoops charity,

what were
your basic responsibilities there?

I can't rightly say.

Yet you drew $40,000 a year
as the executive director.

No. All that money went straight
back to Senator Davis.

What, none for you?

I got paid through the district office
for drivin' him.

That money I kept. An' whenever I would
go out to snatch some money

- For the senator...
- Objection.

...he'd sometimes kick me back a few.
- Move to strike all of that.

Sustained.
Disregard that last comment.

This case is limited to
the charges stemming from

the operation of Senator Davis's
nonprofit charities.

Other matters are not relevant.

Here it is.

What the hell is that?
A meet at 5:50?

I'm gonna go get up on Monk.

You have a criminal history,
do you not, Mr. Price?

Yeah, I did some years.

And when you last
got out of prison six years ago,

was Senator Davis aware
of your criminal record?

Yes, sir.

And yet he gave you a job,

but today, is this how you repay him?

The testimony you gave
about returning the money you earned

at the senator's charities,

you say you repaid it
to the senator in cash, correct?

Every time.

So there's no proof that the senator
ever received that money.

- Isn't that correct?
- I guess not.

- You guess not.
- I guess not.

Mr. Price, you acknowledged earlier
that in exchange for your testimony,

you received immunity
from prosecution

for any charges related to this case.

Is it fair to say that
testifying against Senator Davis

ensures that you will not
yourself go to jail?

- Goddamn right.
- Mr. Price.

I'm s... Oh, shit, sorry.

- Mr. Price.
- OK, my B, Judge. Sorry.

Mr. Price, do you expect this jury

to take the word
of a twice-convicted felon

over the word of a duly elected member
of the Maryland state senate?

What can I say?

Y'all can play it like you feel
an' leave me be.

I don't get it. He hasn't moved off
this spot for an hour and a half.

All right, well,
come on back, then, all right?

Guy's been hitting the bus shelters
every third or fourth night.

We got two wounded and one dead
going back to that piece since December.

All I'm asking is for hours
to stake this asshole out.

Guy's like clockwork.

Spot me an' Garvey three nights,

and the case is fuckin' down.

- I can give you two nights.
- If he hits on the third?

- One night.
- OK, OK.

Two nights.

You need to put
my CC number on the OT slips

- And you give those to Jay...
- It's cool. I know the drill.

- You do?
- You're doing good here, boss.

What did you just call me?

- What the hell is that?
- Office reports.

Families of your victims,
debriefed in full.

And believe me, it ruined my week.

- Rough, huh?
- I'm sittin' there explaining

to the salt of the fuckin'
earth why their eldest,

who is living on the street because nothing
they did could fix his problems,

but God knows they tried,

why he met his end being bit on
and fucked with by some sick motherfucker

who used him for jerk-off purposes.

How the shit about the bite marks
get in the papers in the first place?

Gotta run. I got shit to assemble.

You didn't tell me that part of it,
did you, motherfucker?

I got one at the corner
of Calhoun and Mosher.

Jesus...

that poor guy.

Wanna take him home with you?

- I mean, shit, take me.
- What?

Just having fun with you, man.

Thanks for bringing me here, man,
showing me around.

Nah. Not about that.

Sure?

Just... write it like it feels.

Fuck.

Shit!

Rodney, you can't press a regular for
his whole tab. It just isn't done.

I used to run a bar. I know how
these things work, remember?

- Gus Haynes in the flesh.
- Well, more of it, maybe.

How you been?
Where you been hidin'? You in Vice still?

Vice? Shit, that does take me back.

I did eight years in Homicide, brother.
Now it's the Western.

Speaking of hiding out, when did you stop
comin' round? Last I saw you was...

I'm not running the districts anymore.
I'm an editor now, so...

Then you can afford to buy a round.

Hey, Dennis.

Let me pull your coat.

Long time, Gus. Don't tell me you knew
I'd be here tonight.

It's a cop bar, you know,
so, if it's not you,

it's some other face
from back in the day.

- Theoretical question.
- Theoretical?

In that case, a double, Rodney -
Gus is buyin'.

Two, Rodney. So...

What?

I seen you at the stash house, yo.

Ain't you used to be
with them Barksdale boys?

- What they call you, yo?
- Savino.

That's right. Savino.

You ain't never moved no dope.

You was always muscle as I recall.

Now you musclin' for Marlo, huh?

I wasn't there.

When they did the old man like that,
I wasn't there.

Chris an' Snoop, they on that.

I know who was there.
So you innocent, huh?

Let me ask you somethin' though.

Bein' that you muscle for Marlo,

what you was gonna do
if you was there, huh?

Riddle me that.

Yeah.

You know what, yo?

- Did you hear a gunshot?
- Shit.

Ready?

Yeah.

A'ight.

Yeah?

- We got to talk.
- I'll come over to you.

Does that seem possible?

To go through the court system
with a false ID?

Maybe the first time,
if she's got no priors, no prints on file,

but after that?

BPI sheets have
fingerprint characteristics

that are like an FBI bar code.

And it's paired with a photo.

A name's one thing,
but unless these women are twin sisters

and one's been carrying
the other one's hand

around in her purse for
the last 12 years...

Somebody's yanking your chain.

It's definitely a code.

Definitely not having
much to do with time.

We're at a point where
I'm going to need more bodies,

surveillance cars, man-hours.

We're gonna have to stay on these guys
'til those clocks start to make sense.

Good news is they're giving me
more manpower than I can waste.

Bad news?

It's all around the office
that I'm giving out hours and money

to people to work other cases.

I can't help it, Lester.
It's the kind of person I am.

- I give and give.
- If you're not careful,

you're gonna get shit on you, on us.

Who's gonna complain?

Guys are working cases
and getting paid.

So what exactly do you need?

Seven men.

No, eight. And cars.

Oh, shit, they offered me men
from the districts,

and a surveillance supervisor
to run the detail.

Anyone in the districts we trust?

Let me think on that.

Yeah?

I don't know how the fuck did you of
all people do this shit, huh? How?

- You got the right Allen wrench?
- Goddamn directions.

What kind of Scotch you using?

Fuck!

Fuck! Fuck!

Piece of shit!

Yo, so you talked to Chris, right?
What he say?

He didn't say shit.

He knows I ain't say
a fuckin' word to no police.

And you heard what Little Dermell said
to the juvenile master?

Lady ask him like,
"Yo, you got a record?"

He's like "Yeah, bitch, I got a record.

"My record's so long
I'm about to put out an album."

Don't touch that dial, young'un.

This a Stanfield corner, huh?

You know who I am?

You make sure you tell the boss man

that you know who it is
dropped Savino last night.

You feel me?

You tell that man
I'm-a drop all his muscle

until he get the heart to come
down to the street and dance.

You gonna remone that, sweetpea?

That's Omar? Damn.

Savino dead, yo?

Shit, man, if he woulda made me
from Monk's apartment the other night,

I might be laid out my own self.

Gimpy as a motherfucker.

I don't know, Senator.
I want to believe you.

I mean, I'm your lawyer.

But there's all this up on the board
that Mr. Bond has on display -

11,000 to West Side Hoops,

next day, $11,000 drawn,

then $11,000 deposited
in your personal banking account.

You bet it all went into my account.

It made it easier for me to do my job.

And at the end of the day,
not one penny stayed with me.

I need you to do better
than that, Senator.

- Where are your records?
- Records?

Yes, records.

For example,
this check for $11,000

- Dated January 22nd.
- That was last winter, right?

So, some went to pay
everyone's BGE,

'cause half my district was
gonna have the heat turned off,

and then, some went for puff jackets
for them that got children in need.

Let me tell you something, man.

My neck of the woods,
it's a jungle out there.

Everybody living hand to mouth,
improvising, hustlin',

make do with as little
as you can imagine.

Hell, that TV show,
what's that, Survivor?

Man, they want some good contestants,
they need to come around westside.

Folks I know?
We'd do great on that show.

Practice every damn day of our lives.

Hell, and Fear Factor?
Don't even get me started.

Forgive me, but I still don't understand
how that justifies...

Let me tell you something, brother -

I don't know how they do it
out in Roland Park.

Maybe Prosecutor Obonda
can enlighten me on that.

But my world is strictly cash-and-carry,
and I am Clay Davis -

my people need something,
they know where to find me.

Let me tell you, brother,
I step out the door,

hit the corner of Mosher
and Pennsylvania,

you better believe my pockets are bulging.

But by the time
I get to Robert Street...

Objection!
Objection, your honor.

Senator! Senator, take a seat,

and refrain from off-hand references
to Mr. Bond.

My apologies, your honor.

But these charities were
set up for basketball leagues

in city rec centers, weren't they?

Yeah, but you give me 20,000 for
a basketball and an air pump,

I am pullin' goodly on that
for whatever, whoever comes at me.

"Senator Clay,
I gots to bury my mother,

"bail out my son,

"buy a new shirt
for a job interview,

"pay my child's asthma doctor."

Takes me half an hour
to go a hundred yards,

and excuse me if I didn't ask
that old arthritis woman for a receipt,

or that young mother needed
the Similac to sign a damn piece of paper

so I don't have to be up here
in this box right now

explainin' to folks who never been
in our neck of the woods

how things truly are.

And if a jury of my peers, you all,

deem it right and true
for me to walk out of here

an upright and justified man?

I ain't gonna lie to you.

I'm gonna do
the same damn thing tomorrow,

and the day after that
and the day after that,

until they got me laid out
at March's Funeral Home,

and truck me off to Mount Auburn.

Silence.

Silence in this courtroom.

What about trailers? Like FEMA.

We set up trailers to act as
temp housing for some of the...

some of the shelter population.
Put 'em down in War Memorial Plaza.

Do you know how much
FEMA pays per trailer?

A dozen trailers for the homeless.

We've got three to four thousand
on the streets, at least.

It's symbolic.
You know, we're doing what we can

with a civic disaster -
like New Orleans.

Abandoned by the state,
ignored by the federal government.

It's bad enough you want to keep
the city shelters open 24/7.

That puts the health department
a couple hundred thousand in the red.

Add that to the overage
for letting the police department run wild

- With overtime and investigative costs...
- There's no choice anymore.

This thing has a lock
on everyone's attention.

When another victim disappears,
we're gonna be even more on the spot.

I'm just telling you, if this goes on more
than a month, with what we'll be spending,

you're looking at cutbacks
throughout the agencies,

maybe even teacher layoffs
come the end of the fiscal.

- Teacher layoffs?
- By a gubernatorial candidate.

- In an election year.
- Lovely.

Hold up, hold up.

I just want to say that despite
all the false accusations made against me,

the people who I continue to serve
have spoken.

What the fuck just happened?

...as long as I can to serve the people.

Whatever it was,
they don't teach it in law school.

45 inches of Clay Davis
playing not just the race card,

but the whole deck, coming at ya.

Got it. Thank you.

Someday you're going to have
to explain all this to me, Gus.

After watching that verdict come in,
I feel very white.

Well, start with some James Brown records
and work up from there.

It's embarrassing, ain't it?

I can't believe nobody had
sense enough to tone this down.

The hype is bad enough, but what gets me
is that I can't trust the guy.

I send him back out on the street
to own his mistake,

he comes back with some bullshit
about stolen identities.

I don't give a fuck he gets took.
Everybody gets took now and then.

I know I did.

It's about not owning up to it.

Gus, this thing with
the woman and the crab cake?

You think the first time you catch him
is the first time he does it?

A lot of guys'll try to duck a correction,

but he was standing on an outright lie,
and if he'll lie about a correction...

Then will he lie to make a story better
than it ought to be?

I keep thinking about that kid in the
wheelchair out in front of Oriole Park.

The one that only had a nickname.

A black kid from the westside,
crazy for baseball?

Basketball, yeah.

Football, sure.

I don't wanna call
another reporter a liar.

I really don't.

What's the matter, baby?

You can't sleep?

Let's see.

Let's say good night to everybody.

Good night, moon.

- You say it.
- Good night, moon.

There you go. Good night, stars.

Good night, stars.

- Good night, po-pos.
- Good night, po-pos.

- Good night, fiends.
- Good night, fiends.

- Good night, hoppers.
- Good night, hoppers.

- Good night, hustlers.
- Good night, hustlers.

- Good night, scammers.
- Good night, scammers.

- Good night to everybody.
- Good night to everybody.

Good night to one and all.

Good night to one and all.