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µé¾î¿Í

 

Low man scrapped, yo.
He all the way down.

 

But we going to start fresh
on the latest tomorrow...

 

- down from up North.
- No problem.

 

- No problem?
- Yeah, yo's talkin' about some guy...

 

named Lohman, who's down with strep...

 

- like he's sick.
- And the last part?

 

And the last part is something about
how he's gonna start up...

 

a Fashion Lady or some shit.

 

- Fashion Lady?
- I'm fluent in the Perkins Homes...

 

and Latrobe Tower dialects,
but I haven't quite mastered...

 

the Franklin Terrace.

 

He's saying they're sold out
in the low-rises...

 

so tomorrow they're gonna
start fresh with a new package.

 

- That's what you hear?
- Listen again.

 

- Low man scrapped, yo.
- Low man, meaning the low-rise pit.

 

- He all the way down.
- Is down to scraps on the last package.

 

But we going start fresh
on the latest tomorrow...

 

down from up North.

 

Tomorrow, he'll start
fresh on the latest package.

 

Damn, how you all hear it so good?

 

"Gold Coast slave ship
bound for cotton fields...

 

"sold in a market down in New Orleans."

 

What the fuck is that?

 

Rolling Stones.
First two lines to Brown Sugar.

 

I bet you've heard that song 500 times,
but you never knew, right?

 

I used to put my head to the stereo speaker
and play that record over and over.

 

That explains a lot, actually.

 

- So, wait on black, yo?
- What's white on black?

 

Wait on black, right? Even I heard that shit.

 

Black's code for Stinkum.
We picked that up once we got on his pager.

 

Now, there's gonna be a re-up of
four G-packs in the low-rise court.

 

Stinkum is on the re-up
and it's gonna go down around noon.

 

Are you sure about all that?

 

Turn it upside down.

 

Four hash marks in a row,
one for each G-pack...

 

"LO" for low-rises.

 

- 12 for the time.
- "S" for Stinkum.

 

- How long to figure that out?
- Four or five hours.

 

You sit here looking at beeper messages
for five hours at a time?

 

I don't know, it's kinda fun figuring shit out.

 

You're not helping me out here, Sanny.

 

- Major, I--
- I ask you for one fucking thing...

 

- I know, but I don't--
- All these months, I'm carrying you.

 

I'm sitting here, watching case
after case stack up, right?

 

These are all yours,
and they're all open, Sanny.

 

Last year, your clearance rate was 40%.
This year, it's less than that.

 

I caught some tough ones.
There's not a lot of dunkers in there.

 

Mike, you're good on the dunkers.
I'll give you that.

 

Shit, comes to dunkers,
you solve probably 6, 7 out of 10.

 

- But a stone fucking whodunit?
- That's not a fair assessment, Major.

 

Fair? What the fuck is fair?

 

I got a detective out there, unsupervised,
running his own special ops unit...

 

burning me every chance he gets.

 

It's not my job to fuck another cop.

 

Not your job?

 

Tell you what, Detective.
I'm gonna be so fucking fair...

 

I'm gonna give you the choice.

 

Either bring me something on McNulty,
or go out there and do your job.

 

- Pick a file, any file.
- Major--

 

Pick a murder and solve it...

 

or bring me McNulty,
there's no third choice.

 

Stinkum will have a runner with him.
The runner's gonna be holding the package.

 

- When you get them, ride the bumper.
- So he knows we're there?

 

Right. Lay on the blue light if you need it.
Now, the runner's gonna bolt.

 

- I got the runner, you stay with Stinkum.
- No.

 

- I got the runner, he takes Stink?
- No.

 

You both take the runner.

 

- And Stink gets away?
- Nobody gets away.

 

If we pull in Stink on a car stop now,
we got to give up PC...

 

which means we got to give up the wire.

 

We didn't set all this up
for two days' worth of coke, did we?

 

We snatch the runner,
stick a hook in him and go back fishing.

 

And between the wiretap
and the runner bolting from the truck...

 

we got a charge on Stinkum
any time we want it.

 

We're also edging back into old murders,
pulling up fresh witnesses.

 

And there are assets to be seized,
stuff that fronts for the drug money.

 

- Like what?
- A strip club...

 

a couple of Westside laundromats,
a triple-A rated towing company...

 

a funeral parlor.

 

- A funeral parlor?
- He bought out one in Gwynn Falls last year.

 

The money's going everywhere.

 

That's just what we know from
one of Avon's girls bragging to a friend.

 

God knows what else he's got
that we don't know of.

 

Understand Barksdale's name is on nothing.
He's always a step or two removed.

Understand Barksdale's name is on nothing.
He's always a step or two removed.

 

It's a career case, Your Honor.

 

Look here, Jimmy.

 

You misspelled "culpable"...

 

and you're confusing "then" and "than."

 

T-H-E-N is an adverb used
to divide and measure time.

 

"Detective McNulty makes a mess...

 

"and then he has to clean it up."

 

It's great that you're going through
every word--

 

Not to be confused with T-H-A-N,
which is most commonly used...

 

after a comparative adjective or adverb,
as in:

 

"Rhonda is smarter than Jimmy."

 

Yeah? Look, there is more than enough
indication of progress...

 

to justify continued intercepts.

 

I'll sign an order
for 30 more days on all taps and clones.

 

One copy to the court,
one to the State's Attorney?

 

- Anything else you need?
- What, from you?

 

I think I'll go see a man about a dog.

 

It's always a pleasure, Ms. Pearlman.

 

Your professional demeanor
and your overall competence...

 

stands in stark contrast against
the usual municipal backdrop...

 

of mediocrity and indifference.

 

- Sarcasm, Judge?
- No.

 

Another 10 years of this nonsense,
and I see you wearing the robes...

 

of the District Court for Baltimore City.

 

That or a straitjacket.

 

Jesus.

 

I would love to throw a fuck into her.

 

The red hair, freckles...

 

Don't you think, Jimmy?

 

As in all matters before the Court,
I think whatever the Judge thinks.

 

Come on, Jimmy.

 

Sit. Talk.

 

- 12-14.
- What's up?

 

Eastbound on Preston.
Stinkum and a young boy riding shotgun.

 

They're at the light right now.

 

Got them.

 

Let's see how he plays it.

 

Fucking shit.

 

He's gonna bail any moment.

 

- Jump out!
- Bail-out on Druid Hill, 700 Block...

 

suspect wearing gray sweats,
running into the court.

 

Fuck me.

 

Close shop. Police.

 

- C'mon, shorty. Step.
- He ain't man enough for you.

 

Re-up!

 

Hello, Officer.

 

Run, man!

 

- Move, motherfucker.
- White man walking!

 

Yo, move, shorty, that's my re-up, yo!

 

- Goddamn.
- He's coming back!

 

- Give it up, son!
- Cut him off, cut him off!

 

Yo, get him!

 

- I got the bag!
- He's going right.

 

- Get the bag.
- Yo, move, man!

 

What's up?

 

Damn, motherfucker.

 

Bet you don't do that shit to a white man.

 

Y'all get the fuck away from him.
That man ain't did nothing to nobody.

 

Four packs. Street-ready.

 

- 12-08.
- 12-08.

 

Need a wagon inside the 800 block of Lex...

 

- inside the court.
- 10-4, 12-08.

 

Anyone got a smoke?

 

How are you sitting with your bosses?

 

Rawls tried to close
this thing down last week.

 

Blow the wiretap by charging
some weak-sister murders.

 

- What stopped him?
- Daniels.

 

- Daniels?
- I couldn't believe it either.

 

I'm ready to throw in the fucking towel,
Daniels stepped up.

 

Yeah? Why didn't you come to me?

 

You don't trust me no more, Jimmy?

 

Who dropped a dime to that
newspaper reporter, Your Honor?

 

Where you been?

 

35 cents these days,
before anybody'll cough up a dial tone.

 

No, it's 50.

 

I got another week
before my homicide shift flips to night work.

 

I'm not back with them,
Rawls sticks it to me.

 

You got a friend here.

 

Worse comes to worse,
Pearlman goes to her bosses.

 

The State's Attorney's office
still has some love for you, Jimmy.

 

I'm starting to worry more
about the people who claim to love me...

 

than the ones who don't.

 

Now?

 

Yeah.

 

Somebody's hitting Stringer Bell's pager
from the Number 2 payphone...

 

in the Tower Court.

 

- Now?
- Now.

 

What's up?

 

- Freamon.
- Visual on Stinkum.

 

- Yo, we lost four to 5-0.
- What?

 

- We lost four.
- Yo, why the fuck are you telling me this?

 

I'll talk to you later.

 

Does he think I can
just pull it out of my ass?

 

Can't go outside and play till
your homework's done?

 

Can't do shit till I clear this case for Rawls.

 

How old is it?

 

Old and cold.

 

Yours to begin with?

 

Then, my friend, you are double-fucked.

 

Motherfucker.

 

Son of a bitch!

 

Give me the card.

 

- You sick, heartless bastard.
- Come on, give me the card.

 

She was a gypsy woman

 

She was a gypsy woman

 

- Madame Laurie?
- You scoff?

 

Madame fucking LaRue, Jay?

 

Better men than you have
turned to this lady...

 

in their dark night of dead ends.

 

You're not serious.

 

I don't joke
when it comes to Madame LaRue.

 

The woman, she has an unexplainable gift...

 

in matters of death investigation.

 

She transcends the rational.

 

Give her a call.

 

He's dropped here,
so the dumpsters cover it from this side.

 

But everyone over there
with a window had a view.

 

Merit badge for two good little Scouts.

 

Ma'am, you need some help with that?

 

- I'm all right.
- Please, it's our pleasure.

 

Let me understand.

 

Y'all hang around the projects,
white and black together...

 

ties and jackets on, looking to help ladies
with their shopping carts...

 

and whatever else.

 

Police, right?

 

Afraid so, Ma'am.

 

About the murder a while back, right?

 

Maintenance man?

 

The defendants can take a seat.

 

- The judge will be in shortly.
- Can I take the file?

 

- Here.
- Thank you.

 

Excuse me, Ma'am?

 

- Detective?
- I need to pull one out.

 

Yeah, which one?

 

Let's see. Dope, coke, dope, theft, dope...

 

loitering, coke, attempted theft, dope...

 

dope, theft, dope,
and the charge du jour is...

 

possession, to wit, cocaine.

 

- But you need him?
- I need him.

 

Okay, he bounces over to drug court...

 

pleads to possession
and agrees to probation...

 

with ongoing treatment.

 

- That's it?
- That's it.

 

Okay.

 

I'm with your boy Bubs.

 

- You want out, right?
- Yeah.

 

Plead guilty to possession
and convince the drug court judge...

 

you want to get your shit clean.

 

- Drug court?
- Shake it off in treatment...

 

go to some meetings
and pee when they tell you to pee.

 

- No jail?
- No jail.

 

- I'm out right now?
- Soon as you're processed.

 

Okay.

 

Dead man was coming this way
and another man was walking behind him.

 

Must've said something to him, because he
turned around before he got shot.

 

- Do you know the man who did it?
- No, sir.

 

- What'd he look like?
- Who?

 

- The bad guy.
- Light skin, medium height.

 

Didn't have no meat on him.

 

- Young or old?
- He wasn't young.

 

Okay, if you pretend
my partner here is the victim...

 

and I'm the guy with the gun...

 

- This close?
- No.

 

Like that?

 

Yeah, that's about right.

 

- Do you think, if you saw this guy again--
- I didn't...

 

Ma'am, please, don't be afraid.

 

From where I was sitting,
his back was to me.

 

It's all right, you done good.

 

You have any trouble at all, you call us.

 

- She can't make a positive ID.
- My man Omar can.

 

A stickup artist with a half-dozen priors.
That's your eyeball witness?

 

She corroborates him on the details,
right down to the close-range shot.

 

We've also got Omar saying
if we jack Bird, we'll get the gun.

 

Says he's too stupid to throw it off.

 

So, between her and Omar,
a match on the gun gets us over.

 

It happened like you said...

 

like it was a plan.

 

It was a plan.

 

What's your address?

 

734 Fayette.

 

734 Fayette.

 

What's the apartment?

 

Kid, what apartment?

 

Come on, kid, what's the apartment?

 

- 11-M.
- Okay, 11-M. Is that so hard?

 

What's your DOB?

 

Come on, kid.

 

What?

 

It's him.

 

Who?

 

Kevin Johnson?

 

You hungry? Ham and cheese? Tuna?

 

I want a Reese's, yo. Peanut butter cup.

 

Drink?

 

Tea in a can.

 

You got it.

 

Go down to the machines.

 

Get a peanut butter cup
and a can of Lipton's tea.

 

Motherfucker can't even look at me.

 

- What say we start over on this?
- Start over?

 

My lawyer said I got a case
against y'all for this shit.

 

Fuck the lawyers.
I'm trying to talk about life here, Kevin.

 

Game already cost you, right?
More than it should have, I know.

 

Whose fault is that?

 

His. Ours.

 

Mine, maybe.

 

Thing is, I feel like
I owe you something here.

 

So, I'm asking how you want to carry this.
You want to get out?

 

You want to do something else
with the rest of your years?

 

You come see me.

 

Tea was sold out.

 

Might be tomorrow, might not be for a while.

 

But when you're ready for
something different, give me a call.

 

I'll remember.

 

Motherfucker thinking he can
pimp me over a candy bar.

 

I'm thinking it might be a drug thing,
or maybe straight-up robbery.

 

- You're Irish, no?
- Italian.

 

- Santangelo?
- Santangelo.

 

Saint Angelo.

 

Early martyr, patron saint of Licata, Italy.

 

Prayed for his killer
with the knife still in him.

 

But it's not Saint Angelo calling.

 

It's Saint Anthony who wants to help you.

 

He does?

 

Very much.

 

Ain't he the guy you call
when you lose something?

 

You sure that's Anthony?

 

Go to the victim's grave, bury the statue...

 

wait an hour, a full hour, no shortcuts.

 

Then dig it up. Go straight home.

 

When you go to bed, hold it to your ear.

 

And he tells me who did it?

 

I think it was my turn to pick.

 

Yeah, definitely my turn. You had me
down at the B&O the other night.

 

After you dragged me
to the Sugar Hill Tavern, remember?

 

No.

 

Hey, Turk.

 

Where's Nadine this fine evening?

 

Gainesville. Been down in Florida
at her sister's all damn week.

 

Shame to say, though. Lack of pussy
will change even a good man's demeanor.

 

Sweet as can be.

 

Marla.

 

Good to see you.
You remember my husband, Cedric?

 

Yes, I do. Nice to see you.

 

Marla's with me on the GBC's
downtown redevelopment committee.

 

She's the one that prods me
awake at the meetings.

 

That was drastic stuff.
Everybody was nodding off.

 

- That last one was so long--
- Excuse me.

 

I think it's the best ticket in years.

 

$500-a-plate fundraisers
for a police lieutenant?

 

Even in this city, that constitutes cruel
and unusual punishment.

 

And which member of the ticket
has so energized you?

 

The Mayor? Council President?

 

- The Registrar of Wills, maybe?
- The Mayor, I might recognize if I saw him.

 

For the rest,
I'd pretty much need B of I photos.

 

You're not wrong, Lieutenant.

 

In this state,
it's a thin line between campaign posters...

 

and photo arrays.

 

Pop quiz.

 

City council? Eastside, maybe?

 

State senator.
Clay Davis, from the 39th District.

 

Vice-chair on the budget committee.

 

You'll never make Major at this rate.

 

Excuse me, while I do my duty
and kiss some senatorial haunches.

 

Clay, nice to see you again.

 

Come on, let's roll.

 

Ain't you gonna sign it?

 

No, you get that back
when the meeting's over.

 

And if you don't stay, we don't sign.

 

That's how it works.

 

Come on, I want to see the show.

 

Bubbs.

 

10: We continue to take personal inventory...

 

and when we are wrong, promptly admit it.

 

11: We sought through
prayer and meditation...

 

to improve our conscious contact with God,
as we understood Him...

 

I ain't seen some of these faces in so long,
thought they were dead.

 

Same thing, ain't it?

 

Having had a spiritual awakening
as the result of these steps...

 

we try to carry
this message to other addicts...

 

and practice these principles
in all our affairs.

 

Today's speaker is going to be Waylon...

 

who, if you come to these meetings,
you have to know.

 

Hell, you all know I'm Waylon,
and I'm an addict.

 

Hi, Waylon.

 

And the fact is that I want to be clean today
more than I want to be high.

 

I know that's right.

 

It's good to be here.
Hell, it's good to be anywhere clean.

 

Even Baltimore.

 

I been clean a few 24 hours now,
and I'm still dead certain...

 

that my disease wants me dead.

 

Yeah, I'm in here with you all, talking shit
about how strong I am, how strong I feel...

 

but my disease is out there in that
parking lot, doing push-ups on steroids...

 

waiting for the chance to kick my ass
up and down the street again.

 

Scars on my hands, on my feet...

 

two bouts of endocarditis...

 

Hep C and whatnot knocking down walls
and kicking out windows in my liver.

 

I lost a good wife...

 

bad girlfriend, and the respect of anyone...

 

that ever tried to loan me money
or do me a favor.

 

Pawned my pickup, my bike...

 

my National Steel guitar...

 

and a stamp collection
that my granddad left me.

 

And when it was almost over for me...

 

and I was out there on them corners...

 

not a pot to piss in,
and anyone that ever knew me or loved me...

 

cussing my name,
you know what I told myself?

 

I said, "Waylon, you're doing good."

 

I surely did.

 

I thought I was God's own drug addict.

 

And if God hadn't meant
for me to get high...

 

he wouldn't have made
being high so much, like, perfect.

 

Now, I know I got one more high left in me...

 

but I doubt very seriously
if I have one more recovery.

 

So if there's anybody out there
that sees that bottom coming up at them...

 

I'm here to talk sense.

 

I don't care who you are...

 

what you done...

 

or who you done it to.

 

If you're here...

 

so am I.

 

That's right.

 

The Mustard Seed Group
gives out key chains...

 

for stretches of clean time.

 

So if you've earned it,
come on up and get it.

 

Does anybody have nine months?

 

Does anybody have six months?

 

- Does anybody have three months?
- Yeah.

 

Does anybody have one month?

 

And now, for the most
important person in this room...

 

does anybody have 24 hours...

 

or a sincere desire to live?

 

Yeah, all right.

 

We shoved off this morning.

 

"God grant me the strength...

 

"to accept the things I cannot change...

 

"and the courage
to change the things I can...

 

"and the wisdom to know the difference."

 

What's the score?

 

Orioles, 4 to 3.
Bernie Williams just doubled, though.

 

They always let the Yankees
back into it, always.

 

No, they got a bullpen this year.

 

- Who's pitching?
- Buddy Groom.

 

Who you driving for?

 

Marla Daniels.

 

I'd love to crack this here crib.

 

Yeah?

 

Good day's work. Good day's work.

 

What about the alarm system?

 

Shit, I'd wire that weak-ass
thing back on itself...

 

pull the truck up,
bust through those French doors.

 

- That'd work.
- Yes, indeed.

 

Sell most of this good shit around the way...

 

but some of it, like the art and all,
I might have to run it up New York.

 

Name's Damien Price.

 

But I mostly go by Day-Day.

 

I'm Cedric Daniels.

 

But I mostly go by Lieutenant.

 

Look, they're bringing in Roberts.

 

There you are.

 

There's somebody I need you to meet.

 

- Go on.
- Yeah.

 

- Take it all off.
- Rub them together like that.

 

See here, motherfucker.

 

You got to put this Gant thing on Bird...

 

and you got to do something
with that other case...

 

the young girl.

 

Diedre Kresson.

 

You need to be able to
charge both them murders...

 

and then you walk that on up to Rawls.

 

Now, you see, Jimmy...

 

here's the hard part,
for an asshole like yourself:

 

You just got to give him
them clearances like a goddamn gift.

 

And then you still might have
to kiss his ass...

 

for about three, four motherfucking months.

 

You're gonna have to do it.

 

Three or four months?

 

Got to, Jimmy.

 

Too fucking late to do anything else.
You gonna be one ass-kissing white man.

 

You know why I respect you
so much, Bunk?

 

It's not 'cause you're good police.

 

'Cause, you know, fuck that, right?

 

Fuck that, yeah.

 

It's not 'cause when I came to Homicide,
you taught me all kinds cool shit about...

 

I don't know, whatever.

 

Whatever.

 

It's 'cause when it came time
for you to fuck me...

 

you were very gentle.

 

Damn right.

 

See, 'cause you could've
hauled me out of the garage...

 

and just bent me
over the hood of a radio car.

 

But no, you were very gentle.

 

I knew it was your first time.

 

I wanted to make that shit special.

 

It was, man.

 

It fucking was.

 

- Take your fucking money back.
- No, this is mine.

 

Take it back, you old whore.

 

Turk.

 

Can I get one more?

 

What's up?

 

- They up there, right?
- Yeah, they up there.

 

Hey, Dee.

 

You get a chance, man,
let me pull your coat to something.

 

I got a little move we might could do.
So get with me after, okay?

 

All right. Most def.

 

The only reason why I even called Bell
was because these niggers--

 

You're not supposed to talk shit
on the phone and you know that.

 

What's up, bro?

 

Who's snitching?

 

- Nobody.
- Is you sure on that, man?

 

You done had the stick-up,
then the jump-out.

 

- Now, they running up on Stink.
- My crew, we tight.

 

All right?

 

Ain't nobody holding no extra money.
I checked all that.

 

Maybe your ass just ran a stop
or had a taillight out or some shit like--

 

You think I'd run a stop with $40,000?

 

- Fuck no.
- Nigger, I don't know.

 

Something is up.

 

So go down there today...

 

tell them hoppers you got
working for you down there...

 

that this shit is about to change.

 

Stringer gonna come down there,
he gonna run through the changes.

 

Until this shit is straight, the Pit is dead.

 

Thing is, why they didn't pop Stink?

 

Knockos took the boy and the package,
and they got Stink by the tags on the truck.

 

You took that down to the police
and filed a report, right?

 

Truck, I ditched that shit
up off Cold Spring Lane, man.

 

You ain't heard nothing
from the knockos yet, right?

 

- No.
- What the fuck?

 

They catch four packs
popping out the truck.

 

They don't even get the plate?

 

What's all this shit?

 

Something's up, man.

 

Something is definitely up.

 

I got somewhere I gotta be.
Cover me with Daniels, will you?

 

Asshole.

 

Herc, Carver.

 

- What?
- What?

 

Come here.

 

Come here.

 

Them two is freaks.

 

Stash-finding motherfuckers
popped the package from nowhere.

 

Who you talking?

 

Skinny black motherfucker
and that ass-ugly knocko.

 

The white boy with the ball cap.

 

- The ones who jumped Bodie?
- Batman and Robin.

 

All right?

 

- Bang.
- You got them, baby.

 

- I'm Batman.
- I don't think so.

 

- Batman's white.
- And Robin's black?

 

You heard the hopper,
you're the ass-ugly white guy.

 

Boy Wonder,
why don't you suck my bat-dick?

 

Get the fuck outta here.

 

Why don't you sign this for me there,
Mr. One-day Man?

 

God have mercy when they piss you, boy.

 

You mean the god of my understanding?

 

No, we gotta get you
some clean piss, you know...

 

so you can take up
into your probation office.

 

Yo, Bubs.

 

Who the fuck do we know with clean piss?

 

- So you're ready to charge this one?
- If we luck into the gun, yeah.

 

And then we tag-team Bird.

 

If we get him with the gun,
we take it federal.

 

Five years minimum,
and he's got prior felonies...

 

it's a lot more.

 

We got an address we want to hit?

 

We're working with informants.
As soon as we get something, we jump.

 

...warm air for the afternoon...

 

partly sunny, windy and warm
with a chance of thunderstorms...

 

high up to 83, and then on Friday,
clearing and windy with a high near 70.

 

Weather updated around
the clock on WTOP radio.

 

I'm meteorologist Dave Lew
at the Weather Channel.

 

This is the WTOP radio network.

 

You worried about being seen?

 

If anybody got a problem
with me spending time with y'all...

 

I'd be much obliged to stick
my gun straight in their mouth.

 

How's that work?

 

Bird not up in the mix today.

 

If we had more than a street name,
maybe we could come up with an address.

 

What can I say? Out here, Bird just Bird.

 

So, what up,
you all fixing snatch him from out here?

 

That's the plan.

 

He don't pack down here, none of them do.
And that's the rule.

 

Now, if you want iron, you gotta go
to one of those kids up in the towers.

 

- We need the gun.
- Then y'all got a problem.

 

Without knowing his crib,
we definitely got a problem.

 

Not unless y'all know where Bird like to cop.

 

- What, Bird gets high?
- Not in the towers, he don't.

 

Avon ain't having his people using.
That's another rule.

 

"Never get high on your own supply."

 

Now, if I was hunting Mr. Bird...

 

I would consider the best package
to be the red Dilly...

 

that's over there in Carrollton.

 

That's if I have to be
constabulating like you all.

 

Carrollton?

 

I know one thing, when you all
run up on him, you all best be more...

 

careful, that is.

 

Why is that?

 

Bird will throw down
without thinking, for sure.

 

Poot.

 

Where Wallace been at, man?

 

I don't know.

 

He in the wind.

 

Wallace been fucked up.

 

Since they got that stickup boy, you know?
Put him on the car like that.

 

Wallace all quiet and shit.

 

Don't even come out his room some days.

 

I'm looking for Dee. You seen him?

 

Dee.

 

Chilling?

 

What's up?

 

- What're you doing down in the projects?
- I got something, man.

 

Something right.

 

Come on over.

 

Where the shop at?

 

Nothing today.

 

See, that's the thing,
'cause if you need more of that...

 

I got this connect.

 

Yeah?

 

This guy I know from the club, he from D.C.

 

He got this thing through New Orleans,
these Jamaicans down there.

 

New Orleans?

 

They're offering weight, Dee.

 

- My uncle know about it?
- No, see.

 

This thing on the side for me...

 

I got enough to turn
a New York quarter on it...

 

but I don't have what you got right here
with the distribution.

 

You see what I'm saying?

 

I'm saying, Dee,
I'd be taking all the risk with them peoples.

 

Once I have the package, I bring it
down here to you, and you put it out.

 

We do an even split on what comes back.

 

Right?

 

Let me think on that, all right?

 

Finally get some ends for us.
You see what I'm saying?

 

Yeah.

 

Yeah, most def.

 

I'm out.

 

- Be good.
- Think on that.

 

$5 hats, right here. $5, baby, $5.

$5 hats, right here. $5, baby, $5.

 

$5, yeah. Everybody, $5 hats right here.

 

Which door are we watching again?

 

The vacant next to the store.

 

That's the shooting gallery.

 

Is he still in there?

 

Greggs is on the back
and we're on the front, so you tell me.

 

Yeah.

 

$5 hats, right here. $5, baby, $5.
I got you right here.

 

Cover up that head of yours.
You know what I mean?

 

Can't beat that, right?

 

$5 hats, right here. $5 hats.

 

- $5 hat there, mister.
- Fuck you, man.

 

Take them.

 

Shorty.

 

Get your hands back.

 

I got him.

 

Get off me, man.

 

Get the fuck off me.

 

- I got the feet.
- Bitch-ass cops!

 

There we go.

 

Yeah, look what we have here.

 

Baby.

 

Get the fuck off me.

 

My hand.

 

- Fucking bitch.
- Shut the fuck up!

 

Shit is tight, man.

 

We should leave the couch
right there, right?

 

- Yeah, leave that shit right there.
- That's nice, that's straight.

 

So?

 

What's the deal, String?

 

- How often you all changing the stash?
- Every night since we got jacked.

 

- Anybody on the team getting high?
- No, man. Just the old touts.

 

And they ain't handling no money, no vials.

 

You all been going in and out
of the vacants?

 

Making sure them narcos
don't set up in there?

 

Yeah, for sure.

 

I got no cell phones,
no house phones neither, right?

 

No, man, nothing but these pagers
and them pay boxes over there, that's it.

 

All right, tear them motherfuckers out.

 

What?

 

Tear out them phones.

 

From now on, you all need a payphone,
you walk a few blocks...

 

and you do not use
the same phone more than once a day.

 

You hear me?

 

- You hear me, right?
- Done.

 

- All right. Bey, tear them motherfuckers out.
- Come on, man.

 

Man, come on. Get off the phone.

 

So, we wanted to hang...

 

the velvet backdrop...

 

with the Lexus and the pit bulls...

 

but it's still out at the dry cleaners.

 

But seriously, folks,
we really wanted to show all the jurors...

 

that you left our little interrogation here
without any more scuff marks...

 

than what you brought in.

 

Fuck you, fat man.

 

"Fuck you, fat man."

 

I thought we were friends.

 

That gun is downstairs now,
in the ballistics lab.

 

It comes back on a dead state's witness,
then you're gonna see death row.

 

- You up for that?
- Suck my dick, dyke cunt.

 

Where's my lawyer at?

 

Freak. Cunt-eater.

 

You got one chance,
you stupid motherfucker.

 

You roll back on the people
you killed William Gant for...

 

or you gonna eat the whole meal.

 

Tell you what...

 

gimme this hand back and step to me,
and I'll fuck you in all three holes.

 

Fucking charmer, this one.

 

Bitch.

 

You ain't got shit on me.

 

- One of you should go in.
- Is she in trouble?

 

Kima? He keeps this up, she'll cut his ass.

 

You ain't shit!

 

You ain't got shit on me!

 

So, you're my eyeball witness?

 

So, why'd you step up on this?

 

Bird trifling, basically.
He killed an everyday working man and all.

 

Don't get it twisted, I do some dirt, too...

 

but I ain't never put my gun
on nobody who wasn't in the game.

 

A man must have a code.

 

No doubt.

 

- Man, I know you from somewhere.
- Yeah?

 

I was in Southwestern
before I came to Homicide.

 

Worked Frederick Road.

 

No, I mean, back in the day.

 

You go to Edmondson, right?

 

Yeah, you was ahead of me.

 

I remember you was the first brother
I ever seen play that sport with a stick.

 

What's it called?

 

- Lacrosse, man.
- For sure.

 

Yeah, I was All-Metro attack.

 

Prep school boys used to pee themselves
when they see old Bunk coming at them.

 

So look here, homey.

 

Seeing as how you're being all charitable
with your recollections...

 

what else you got in the way
of open murders?

 

- Going to Barksdale?
- Going anywhere.

 

- How far back do you want me to go?
- As far as you need.

 

Murder stay murder.

 

Thanks.

 

Gun matches.

 

You're done, Bird.

 

Last chance to grab a little something
for yourself on a deal.

 

Eat my shit first,
you downtown white whore.

 

Yeah, that's right.
Take this ugly-ass cunt-eater with you, too.

 

Yo, I'm cuffed, man.

 

You gonna at least give me
a fair chance, right?

 

Come on, man. Don't do me like that, man.

 

You fat fuck!

 

Take these handcuffs off, man!

 

Fulton and Baker, you say?

 

It happened last year,
couple days after Easter.

 

This girl by the name of Neecee.
She about 30, 35.

 

Denise Redding.

 

Yeah, I got it.

 

I'll be damned.

 

Bird sure know how to bring it
out in people, don't he?

 

Hello?

 

The Lindsey case, right?

 

No, Lindsey. Martin Lindsey.

 

Who the fuck is Denise Redding?

 

- What the fuck did you do to him?
- Here's yours, Mike.

 

I don't even fucking remember this one.
I swear I don't.

 

Well, it's down.

 

Our boy gave us a statement,
two witnesses and an ID of your shooter.

 

Take it with our compliments.

 

Sanny.

 

What are you doing downtown
this time of night?

 

Madame fucking LaRue?

 

I gotta thank you, Jaybird,
you saved my fucking life here.

 

Only thing I can't figure is I asked
for help on the Lindsey case, not this one.

 

Mike...

 

fuck the gypsy shit.

 

These are the guys that
saved your ass, right here.

 

Thanks.

 

Jimmy.

 

We gotta talk, man.

 

It's about Rawls.

 

What's the plan here?

 

Drunken fuck on a Tuesday night?

 

- Is it Wednesday morning?
- I'm not drunk.

 

It's Rawls.

 

He's going after my badge.

 

What?

 

They're gonna do me, Ronnie.

 

They're gonna do me.

 

I love this fucking job,
and they're gonna do me.

 

Come on.