01x11 - The Hunt

Episode transcripts for the TV show "The Wire". Aired: June 2002 to March 2008*
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A narcotics detective and homicide officer target drug traffickers.
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01x11 - The Hunt

Post by bunniefuu »

Come on. Come on!

Another bag here.

Christ.

Sergeant? Yeah?

Who are the primaries? Cole and Norris.

Cole's here...and Norris is at the hospital.

What do you need? Room to work.

I keep ordering people off the scene, and between Narcotics, DEA and the two districts, we keep collecting more and more bodies around here.

Nobody move!

I said nobody f*cking move!

If you have not been assigned a task by a Homicide detective, step away from this crime scene.

Is there anybody doesn't understand a direct order?

If you have not specifically been instructed otherwise, then remove your useless, interfering asses from the area.

Now!

Slow this thing down to a crawl.

Give these bastards no chance to f*ck up in a meaningful way.

Wedged all the way to the back. She couldn't get to it.

She taped it up front.

But as soon as she put any weight on these worn-ass car seats, they pulled the tape off.

g*n slid back behind the mesh as they drove, probably.

Christ.

Where was her support? There were two cars several blocks distant.

She got turned around in the alleys. She gave her 20 at the north side of Warwick.

They went there on the sh*ts?

Foxtrot finally found her.

So, we had two units covering the north side and a helicopter up on top, and no one saw any vehicles in flight.

Bunk. Terry, Mike, come on.

What the f*ck happened?

If you walk through the garden You better watch your back Well, I beg your pardon Walk the straight and narrow track If you walk with Jesus He'll save your soul You gotta keep the devil Down in the hole

All the angels sing About Jesus' mighty sword And they shield you with their wings Keep you close to the Lord Don't pay heed to temptation For his hands are so cold You gotta keep the devil Way down in the hole

Way down in the hole Way down in the hole Way down in the hole Way down in the hole

You didn't have an eyeball?

On those streets, there's no way you can eyeball it.

She threw out 20s as best she could. Understood, I'm just asking.

The link we have to this is Savino Bratton, a minor lieutenant to our target, Barksdale.

I gave you people all that. We're hitting his last-knowns.

The set-up was more than him. The casings are different calibers and her Glock was full up.

How bad? Chest wound, no exit.

Through and through to the throat.

They had the pressure pants on her to push up the pulse.

They put those pants on you, it ain't good.

OK.

You're on Baker when you hear the sh*ts. Where was the second car?

Warwick, I think. OK. You've got the east well covered.

To the west is the rail bed. What did Foxtrot see?

Nothing moving except our units. Lieutenant.

I know just how you feel. This is the toughest job a police commissioner has.

I don't think I'll ever get used to it.

This is Lieutenant Daniels.

Oh. Right. Right, of course.

This entire department stands behind Detective Greggs in every possible way.

I just thought you should know that. Yes, sir.

Jaybird.

We have a runner.

Yeah, we're gonna need casts of these two imprints.

Put the lab tech on it.

The money's not anyone's primary concern. I understand that.

I won't give a sh*t about the money when you have lost one of your own who might...

I mean, Jesus, this is awful.

But if we can get to this Savino character... Hey.

f*ck your money.

Jimmy?

You hurt?

No.

It's hers.

Come on, get up. Let's go. Up with you. Come on.

She couldn't talk, couldn't breathe. Nothing.

She went into the ambo that way.

Is she...?

What the f*ck did I do? Come on, walk.

What's that?

What's our plan, Ray? Bunk and Jay stay with the scene.

Keeley and Crutchfield are at the office typing warrants.

Who's on the autopsy? Me, I'm at the morgue.

Norris and Holley stay at shock trauma in case she sits up and talks.

We're laser printing the car, right? Course. Worden's on that.

You're in command for the city, right? Major Rawls, Homicide.

Anything you need from my office - men, money, whatever - you just ask.

Right.

Cooperator, your girl's down shock trauma.

Let's get to work. f*ck you.

f*ck me? We got a wire up. So?

We got a wire up on some m*therf*cker that sh*t a cop.

If somebody says the wrong f*cking thing about what happened, where the f*ck do you want to be?

Church roof?

Yeah, you and me. Sydnor takes the McCullough Street phone.

Anybody get in contact with Kima's people?

sh*t.

I'll do that first and meet you at the church.

Bunk, Mike.

Wonder who that bitch was.

Always some sh*t, right? Yeah.

'Done?' Done.

'All right.'

Let's get outta here.

Yeah.

Lab tech to this spot. Photos and casts.

Can I get 18-12 up here?

Whoa, whoa.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

You're camped here. Nobody touches this sh*t, or even comes near it, till the tech does his recovery.

Whoa.

Hello.

He stopped running. Either he got tired or...

Or he got into a car. Right.

11-34. 'Go ahead, 11-34.'

I'm in the...3000 block of Landvale, backing up to the CSX bed.

I need a lab unit and a DPW crew with a jackhammer.

'A jackhammer?' Gonna keep a bit of road, KGA.

Alive. In the OR. My people at the scene have heard this.

It's a copy of the original.

We brought a machine... Where the f*ck is... Sir.

Here it is.

'Don't f*ck with this count.' That's Savino.

'I'll be right back with your sh*t.'

'Where are we? That sign said Longwood but I could swear this is Warwick.'

'The hoppers be turning the sign poles to f*ck with you all.'

'I make it we're on the north side of Warwick, in an alley, I don't know, sh*t...

'half a block west of Longwood, maybe?

'I hope you all copy that. This got the right feel for you?'

'He better not be long cos I don't know where the stash is, 'and if they dragging us all over this part of town...'

'What's that?' Jesus.

'Something ain't right. This sh*t ain't right.' Christ.

'Signal 13, signal 13.'

'Where the f*ck...?' She can't reach the g*n.

'What the f*ck?' 'Two males, black hoodies, both armed...'

Shut it off. Shut it off.

Listen to me, you f*ck. You did a lot of sh*t here.

You played a lot of f*cking cards and made a lot of people do a lot of f*cking things they didn't want to do.

This is true. We both know this is true.

You, McNulty, are a gaping assh*le. We both know this.

f*ck if everybody in CID doesn't know it.

But f*ck if I'm gonna stand here and say you did a single f*cking thing to get a police sh*t.

You did not do this, you f*cking hear me?

This is not on you. No, it isn't, assh*le. Believe it or not, everything isn't about you.

And the m*therf*cker saying this... he hates your guts, McNulty.

So you know if it was on you, I'd be the son of a bitch to say so.

sh*t went bad. She took two for the company.

That's the only lesson here.

Police!

Police, let me see your hands.

Hands on your head! Down on the ground!

Search warrant, get on the ground.

Police. Get down.

Let's see your hands.

He ain't here! Who ain't here?

Zach, he ain't here! Zach?

No, honey, we're looking for Savino. Savino? No, he's my baby.

Yeah, well, your baby sh*t a cop.

'They're kicking in the doors, looking for Savino.'

'What up with that, man?' 'Some sh*t about he k*lled a cop.'

'Who, Savino? Savino ain't sh*t no cop.'

'They acting like he did it.'

'sh*t.' 'I'm telling you, man.'

They're talking about it anyway. Ripples in the pond.

Talking ain't knowing, is it?

Skin this cat another way.

Two pages to Stringer tonight, right?

Only this one after the sh**ting.

Who's 07? And what phone is he asking for Stringer to call him back?

sh*t went good but... Hold on.

'The officer may have been undercover.'

All right, talk. Like I said, it went good.

Except there was this bitch in the back seat. Surprised the sh*t out of us.

Didn't even see her until the sh*t popped off.

I mean if it was up to me, I'd have let the girl walk.

She ain't look like the talking type.

But Little Man seen her, bugged out and let a couple go.

Savino didn't tip y'all off? Wasn't no time.

He get up out the car, we see him go up the block like we said, right?

After that, he out of sight and we bring it home like we planned, baby.

Shorty was a cop.

And she ain't dead.

Where'd you all put the g*ns?

She wasn't no cop, man. She look like one of Orlando's hos.

Bey, where the f*ck are the g*ns?

A storm drain off of Park Heights, man. What the f*ck is wrong with Little Man?

This m*therf*cker bugged out one time.

He gonna bug out again when he find out shorty's a f*cking cop?

Come on, man. Savino got a story that he can keep to and he know it.

But Little Man, he always been f*cking weak like that.

Little Man gotta go.

You hear me?

This sh*t gonna get real heavy. You understand me? We gotta fall back.

I wanna see how it go with this Savino bullshit, see how they go past that.

But if the sh*t don't hold or if this cop wake up and start talking sh*t, then you gotta go sky up.

Where you got your peoples at?

New York, Jersey, Cleveland.

All right. So, Philly? DC?

You know what I'm saying? No profile, no connections, no noise.

You feel me, right? All right. We gotta be careful.

Jesus. I'm sorry.

It's all right, you just scared me.

I, er...

I work with Kima.

Kima, she... Kima's at work.

What are you...?

Dust the receiver, the coin return and the metal top.

The can, too.

We can't really know for sure.

Lieutenant?

I'm sitting over there with Kima's girl and...

Maybe somebody from the department or the city might want to say something.

Who's here from the family? A daughter, you say?

A daughter? Officer Greggs has a girl?

A roommate.

The family's in Richmond, driving up first thing.

The roommate's already here.

I'll do it myself.

No problem. If we lose her, he can always pose for the funeral.

Still need the right door for Savino. His last knowns, his girlfriend, his mama. Nothing.

Tracers picked up a of couple hairs on one of the hoodies.

So either these guys are neighborhood yos who lucked into $30,000 on a street stick-up, or...

Or they're pros who set up in an alley on one side of the tracks then slip over to the other side, where they park their ride.

What about the post?

Cause and manner of death on Mr. Blocker is homicide, to wit, close-range GSWs to the shoulder, chest and left arm.

Nine millimeter, six left twist, suitable for comparison.

We pulled something else from the back seat of the car?

Yeah, .380. Semi-jacketed. Casings were different, too.

So we confirmed the two sh**t.

Print hit. Wynton "Little Man" Rice, enforcer in the 221 and a definite connect to Barksdale's world.

Print hit? Print hit from what?

Soda can. Dropped at the pay phone at Park Heights and Belvedere.

Still had fizz in it when I got there.

What is this pay phone at Park Heights and Belvedere?

Some m*therf*cker paged Stringer Bell 20 minutes after the sh**ting.

I dusted the phone, too, but it was smudged.

So we got a Barksdale pro in the northwest ringing up the boss minutes after the deed.

So much for the amateur-hour theory.

Good pull. You are?

Freamon. Lester Freamon.

Where you working? Pawnshop Unit.

How you gonna sh**t a police? Ain't no percentage in that, know what I'm saying?

For real.

Someone around here do that, every knocko in the world be down here busting heads.

I guess them Park Heights n*gg*r*s just ain't got no f*cking common sense.

A lotta heart, just no sense. Poot. Wallace on the phone.

Yeah? Wallace?

n*gg*r ring me up twice a day whether he got sh*t to say or not.

Homesick m*therf*cker making me bug. Where's he at?

At the shore with his grandma.

Surfing or some bullshit. Or something.

You just use that phone? Yeah, a little earlier.

You might wanna go to Mosher Street. Just now?

Yeah.

A man downtown needs to talk to you. Man downtown?

Make some sense for this man, please.

I ain't never been so clean in my life. I'm just doing my job.

What up, Mr. Beachfront Property? 'No, fool, I told you, I'm bayside.

'My grandmother on the bayside.' You on vacation and not bringing me.

'How you get all the way down there?' I took a bus.

'sh*t, tell me how to go, and I grab a 'hound, too.

'Come down and hang with your ass.'

No, man, it ain't like that. The air down here all sticky. Worse than Baltimore.

'And these crickets, louder than a m*therf*cker. I can't get no sleep.'

I ain't cut out to be no country-ass n*gg*r.

'Please deposit two dollars for an additional two minutes.'

sh*t, I gotta go.

You can take a n*gg*r out the Westside but you can't take...

What's your name?

Look, I didn't do sh*t here, OK?

I asked you your name. No, this sh*t ain't right.

Who'd you try to page, sh*t bird? Why the f*ck do you care? I mean...

You have exactly three more seconds to explain yourself to me, assh*le.

One sh**t opened the passenger door, so any latent prints from that side...

Why'd you page her, sh*t bird? Get off me.

You think this is a game? I wanna talk to Greggs.

You can't, m*therf*cker. Then McNulty then. This sh*t ain't right, sir.

Savino. Savino.

Mope ain't around.

One of them low-rise hoppers on tower phone two.

OK.

Maybe he forgot the number.

What the f*ck was that? You don't know?

We just caught a re-up off the tower stash.

Fourth floor, south side, second unit down.

Put that away.

Put that away and work the case.

Can I ask you something?

How much of this case would you give up to get her back?

That's not the point. How much?

All of it.

But it doesn't work that way. You can't give it back.

I'm sitting with a hospital progress report that shows no f*cking progress.

She's not conscious, she's intubated, she's had a trach and a lung collapse.

And if she's got a shred of luck, the sh*t she took to the neck didn't catch any spine.

It wasn't worth it.

Homicide for McNulty on line two.

Do your job.

Yeah? 'So how you doing with it?'

I'll live. Yeah?

Well, listen, Jimmy. We had a little dust-up over here.

Holley might have b*at one of your girl's CIs on spec.

What is he, a short guy? Mumbles a lot?

'That's him. You might wanna roll past and squelch this sh*t before it gets outta hand.'

Yeah.

It ain't worth it, man. It ain't worth it at ten times the price.

A f*cking cop, man!

How stupid is this m*therf*cker? If you see a bitch in the car, change it up.

We can go to Orlando another day.

Savino was trying to signal, but he in the dark, he don't know where Bey's coming from.

Nothing breaking our way. We gotta burn this cop money.

It's probably marked somehow.

The g*ns are in the sewer, Bey's a rock, but it's the bitch cop.

If she talks, she gonna put Little Man and Bey in there.

What up with Little Man? He's scared. He sh*t a cop.

f*ck. But I put Bey on that.

What about Savino? Savino, he gotta eat the charge.

But he knew that. So if he keep his story tight, he gonna be all right.

We knew Orlando was a snitching m*therf*cker.

But this is cash. He got us caught up.

I know, man. That's my fault, man.

Bey and Savino came to me with the idea that if they take Orlando, they can take the cash.

I was like, you all get your payday...

How the f*ck is Orlando gonna front this type of cash?

What it say? I know, I f*cked up.

All right, take this trash outside, f*cking burn it.

Tell Wee-Bey to clean up the mess before he jet.

He was throwing 911 messages to her pager. I asked him why.

He braced up. sh*t got outta hand.

Does he know? Uh-uh.

McNulty, man. What they doing over there? He just started b*ating on me.

Last night, she got sh*t.

Where the f*ck were you at? I was there.

Hey, Bunk.

We got no good latents on the passenger side door.

What about the dash?

Call the lab.

What can I do?

For one thing you can roll around the projects, see who's missing.

Who ain't around.

You OK with that?

Yeah, I just, erm...

I been keeping it kinda close, you know?

Ain't been around the projects much lately. You know what I'm saying?

You beefing with someone down there?

No, I'm not beefing with...

Eyes open, Bubs.

For Kima.

Hang loose, I'll get you a ride.

Where are we with Savino?

Still MIA. Enough of this bullshit.

Well, if he calls me, I'll tell him to turn himself in. I'm going to do that.

Not good enough. Excuse me?

We need him now.

No, thanks. Perhaps as an officer of the court...

Ronnie is being polite. She's a member of your twisted little tribe.

She's putting it into your twisted language.

Me? I wouldn't wipe my ass with a Baltimore lawyer.

No offense. None taken.

I'm willing to let you ratfuckers suborn perjury and blow smoke up a judge's ass and jury-tamper your balls off without losing the slightest bit of my sunny disposition.

f*ck me if I don't let you structure your cash into briefcase fees, either.

That's between you and the IRS. Neither one of you is anyone's friend.

What Jimmy is trying to say is...

No, what Jimmy is saying is if you want my nose closed to your sh*t, you have to throw me something.

Right now I need Savino Bratton in bracelets.

I don't know where he is. You repped him the last four felonies.

I guess you can get word to him if you want to.

A police may die, Maury, and Savino was there.

He comes in this afternoon, and he takes the drug charge at least.

Or what?

Or we send tactical teams into his momma's house until there's no house left to worry about.

You get a letter from the State's Attorney's office, and subpoenas for all your bank accounts.

And let's see if all those cash deposits match the reported income.

I'm hearing this from him, and I understand that he's distraught.

Am I hearing this from the State's Attorney's office as well?

You are.

I'll see what I can do.

f*ck you, Jimmy!

You didn't tell me that was coming. He'll bring him in.

He will if he can, that's not the point. What's the point?

The point is that Maury Levy is a past officer of the Monumental Bar Association, and unless I want to spend my whole life as an ASA, I can't spend time pissing on people who matter.

Another career in the balance.

f*ck you. No, f*ck you.

If only half of you in the State's Attorney's office didn't want to be judges, didn't want to be partners in a law firm, if you had the balls to follow through, you know what would happen?

A guy like that would be tried and convicted.

The rest of them would back up so we could push a clean case through.

But everybody stays friends. Everybody gets paid.

And everybody's got a f*cking future.

You'll just use anyone, won't you?

I've been searching the logs for pager hits that used an 07 code, right?


It comes up now and then on D'Angelo's pager.

Stringer's, too, but less often.

Most of the time, there's nothing to place the guy.

But check it.

And this is on Stringer's page? It comes back to the pay phone at Maryland General Hospital.

Let me guess. The date of this page is the same day that Stinkum got k*lled.

And Wee-Bey got sh*t in the leg. That was the talk on the wire, anyway.

If you pull the ER records for that morning, you're gonna find Wee-Bey in the pile.

07 is Wee-Bey. It's gotta be.

Then we have Wee-Bey and Little Man at the pay phone at Park Heights

20 minutes after the ambush, throwing a page to Stringer.

We're all over town for this piece-of-sh*t Savino.

With ties to the Barksdale organization?

Yes, sir. What else?

The case is progressing. We're gleaning possible sh**t from the wiretap.

I asked for the controlled buy.

I put one of our people in harm's way.

So right now I want to make sure that we are doing everything.

We are, sir, we're on it. Good.

The commissioner wants raids citywide. Every door we can take.

Any addresses we can write on, anything connected to a narcotics case.

CID, tactical, the DEUs.

And tomorrow, on the six o'clock news, we put a lot of f*cking dope on the table.

A lot of it.

Dope on the table?

We need to let them know who we are.

We can't for one minute let them think that this will stand.

The Commissioner wants to send a message, Lieutenant.

You make sure you and your people do everything possible to see that it is heard.

Dope on the damn table.

Hey, it's like the man said. We're letting them know who we are.

Yeah? And who the hell are we?

Again, for the record, let's make clear that Mr. Bratton has not been Mirandized and that what is said here is for purposes of a proffer.

Agreed? Agreed.

OK, then. Here you go.

That's baking soda. Which Mr. Bratton intended to sell to Orlando Blocker.

You can keep it with our compliments.

Where's the money? Mr. Bratton did not receive money.

He left it in the car when he went to retrieve the sham cocaine.

If you recorded the transaction, the tape will confirm this.

And he wasn't around for the sh**ting. He doesn't know who the sh**t are.

And God knows he wasn't in on the setup. I mean, it was pure dumb luck that he left them in an dead-end alley and they were sh*t just two minutes later.

This is bullshit. A police is down.

Mr. Bratton had no knowledge that the young woman was a police officer and no intention of doing anything other than defrauding Mr. Blocker of $30,000.

Ms. Nathan?

No charge if he gives us the sh**t.

And if he testifies, we'll find a way to squeeze him into the federal witness program.

As I indicated, Mr. Bratton has no idea who sh*t Mr. Blocker or the undercover officer.

Best you can do is 286B.

What the hell is that? Distribution of sham CDS.

Three-year maximum, $5,000 fine. That's it?

If he took the cash, we could go to felony theft or fraud, but the tape has him leaving the money.

Three years. A cop was sh*t, Maury.

So if we convict, he'll do every damn day of the three.

I can do the three. Ain't no thing.

And the $5,000 fine? Oh, sh*t, you still up $25,000, right?

Nicely done.

Give me two.

Damn, Orlando. I still can't believe that sh*t.

Man, all this sh*t behind this m*therf*cker. Who the f*ck was he?

He ran a club for my uncle.

Yeah?

First Stink, and now him.

And I heard the cops been all in Savino's sh*t, too.

He ain't been around. Little Man, neither.

Somebody could clean up sh*t around here.

True. You can't just be going around dropping Five-0 like that.

You know how your uncle is when people get to f*cking up.

He starts taking that sh*t personal, man.

Look like a couple more n*gg*r*s gonna get dropped.

What up? You D?

Yeah.

You need to get with Stringer right away.

See? You moving up in the world.

As long as you don't fall in with the trash they taking out.

Yeah, whatever, n*gg*r. I'll be right back.

Tower boys all nervous and sh*t. Little Man ain't post for work.

Ain't answering his page, neither.

See?

I'm not gonna lie. She has swelling around the vertebrae, and some indications of partial paralysis.

That may or may not go away when the swelling goes down.

Her family is with her. What the f*ck is up with Homicide?

Are we on the sh**t yet? They're working it hard.

The departmental response is gonna be to take doors tomorrow morning. Citywide.

Every unit is kicking in any drug-connected address they can write on.

We're gonna do the same. Lieutenant, is that...

Except...we're gonna hold back on the main stash.

The house up in northwest we tracked...

We advance this case more by sitting there.

And raids that are too much on the bull's-eye will have Barksdale changing up.

We might blow the wire altogether.

Two addresses in the low-rises are probables and another two row houses have been used for stash as recently as last week.

But this... this here is the best bet for a good rip.

Herc picked up on it yesterday.

Fourth-floor, end unit on the south side of the 221.

They're dropping the re-ups out the window to the hoppers.

What if they change up the apartment? They do that every day.

Yesterday was the fifth floor, north side. We'll have a man there with a cell phone.

They change up, we call the duty judge, who orally amends the warrant.

We hit everything at 11:00.

The squad that takes the high-rise needs to stage at 05:00.

We need to be inside before the building even wakes up.

Anyone who wants to sleep tonight needs to start typing his ass off right now.

What's up? Why ain't the club open?

You going with Bey.

Yo, Bey.

Keep it clean. Don't make no mistakes.

Going where?

What the f*ck you waiting for?

Stop bullshitting me!

The main stash. He knows we're on it. He knows we held it back.

The Deputy.

We grab a senator's bag man in the projects, he knows that.

State Police come in, he knows that, too.

Like f*cking clockwork. He's got a rat.

Here, in the detail.

In the beginning, when we started, Burrell had me.

I pipelined everything to that m*therf*cker.

But now... He lost you.

So now he's picked up someone else.

That's how they do.

Can we talk?

Excuse me a moment, gentlemen.

It's Burrell, he's gotta back off already.

What now? We're on a prime location. Barksdale's stash.

He wants us to write a paper and take the door.

Why? Dope on the table.

It's a photo op to make us feel better about Greggs getting sh*t.

Christ. You need to rip him a new one, Your Honor.

Er...

I don't know, Jimmy.

You back on the ticket, huh?

It was just the usual bullshit.

They're just dicking me around, trying to get another black face, make it four-and-one to even up for the last time.

The Governor promised two new appointments.

So now we're back where we were. That's all it was.

That's all?

Half-assed hack politics, Jimmy.

It has nothing to do with your case.

I need you on this.

So, who's my daddy now?

I just do what the f*ck they tell me, you know?

It ain't on me to know what the f*ck they have in mind.

Look, Bey. Now it come down to this crazy sh*t.

Yo, turn in this alley right here. Right there.

..what's the sound? Out of bounds Another n*gg*r down and out A crackhead with no name...

What the f*ck you stopping for? Go!

..some guy hit hard and wound up paying Out in the field where the bands keep playing Understand what I'm saying...

Inside, man. Let's go.

This dude is crazy.

Get in, m*therf*cker. We ain't got all night for this sh*t.

Man, get in here.

Go ahead, man. What's wrong with you?

Check it out, D.

I need you to feed them while I'm gone.

You gonna give them different food for each t*nk, too, all right?

But don't worry. I'm gonna show you what to do. Come here.

These are my Tetras.

You got Kimmy, Alex, Aubrey and Jezebel in here somewhere.

I don't know, she think she cute.

You take two pinches of whatever food I got next to each t*nk.

They set for the day.

You see, they ain't no problems. Just beautiful as hell, D.

I'm gonna go upstairs and pack some sh*t.

Yo, Bey. Where we going, man?

Philly. You gonna take the truck back, but first I got to grab some sh*t, show you what to do with my tanks, right?

Philly?

We sh*t a narco, D.

..I've been told

Soothe me I want some sugar in my bowl I want some steam on my clothes Maybe I can fix things up so they'll go

What's the matter, Daddy?

Come on, save my soul I want some sugar in my bowl I ain't foolin'...

No Savino. No Little Man, no Wee-Bey, either.

And the Barksdale kid from the Pit. He's out the mix, too.

You think it was them that did it?

'Wee-Bey, Savino, Little Man.' Yeah, that's what we're hearing, too.

We got pick-ups on these m*therf*ckers and miles of NCIC bullshit.

'Warrants for blood and hair, too.' It's Bey and Little Man, sh**t one and two.

Yeah?

Well, right now we need our girl to wake up and say so.

All right.

You did good, Bubs.

McNulty, you know... the situation is different for me.

I mean, for me, I'm... Mount up.

I gotta go.

Prez will get you a ride, OK?

Move out.

Police.

Police! Go!

Show your hands, assh*le! Down on the ground. Move it!

Check the basement.

Clear? All clear.

Bathroom's clear. Check the mattress.

Check under the bed, check all the drawers, every inch of this room.

Got anything? No.

Bingo.

Got it. There she goes.

Bag it.

Let's do it.

That's fine police work, Erv.

'Ladies and gentlemen, 'what you see on the table in front of you

'represents our department's answer to a culture of death and dr*gs.

'And when an officer falls in this w*r, 'others stand ready to pick up the challenge

'and carry the fight to the very doorstep of those responsible.

'This is only the beginning, I can assure you.

'But today, a message has been sent.

'And believe me, this message is being heard loud and clear

'by all those who seek profit and power...'

'..in the importation and sale of illegal dr*gs.'

Slow.

Bullshit on the McCullough Street phone, nothing on the towers.

Who's on the rooftop? No one.

f*ck it.

'Where's the money, man?'

'How much you need?' 'The bus cost like $18, man.'

'Your grandma ain't got it?' 'She gonna try to stop me from booking.

'I'm telling you, boy. This country-ass sh*t got me all messed up.

'You need to send me something for the bus. I'm dying.'

'I feel you. When do you want to come home?'

'When the money get here.' 'All right, I'm gonna probably send it today.'
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