The Hunt

[Helicopter hovering]

LANDSMAN: How many bags you got? C'mon, c'mon!

[Camera clicking]

MEDIC: Another bag here.

RAWLS: Christ. Sergeant?

LANDSMAN: Yeah.

RAWLS: Who are the primaries?

LANDSMAN: Cole and Norris. Cole's here, and Norris is at the hospital.

RAWLS: What do you need?

LANDSMAN: Room to work. I keep ordering people off the scene, and between narcotics, D.E.A. and the two districts, we keep collecting more and more bodies around here.

RAWLS: Nobody move! I said, nobody fucking move! If you have not been assigned a specific task by a homicide detective, you need to 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 fuck up in a meaningful way.

LANDSMAN: Okay.

BUNK: Aah! Wedged all the way to the back.

LANDSMAN: She couldn't get to it.

BUNK: Well, she taped it up front, but as soon as she put any weight on these worn-ass car seats, they pulled the tape off. Gun slid back behind the mesh as they drove, probably.

RAWLS: Christ. Where was her support?

LANDSMAN: There were they were several blocks distant. I think she got turned around in the alleys, she gave her 20 as the north side of Warwick.

RAWLS: They went there on the shots?

LANDSMAN: This, uh... Foxtrot finally found her.

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

[Police radio chatter]

LANDSMAN: Bunk... Terry, Mike, c'mon.

HERC: What the fuck happened?

NORRIS: You didn't have an eyeball?

DANIELS: On those streets, there's no way you can eyeball it. She was throwing out 20s as best she could.

NORRIS: Understood, I'm just asking.

DANIELS: The link we have to this is Savino Bratton. A minor lieutenant to our target, Barksdale. I gave your people all that at the scene.

NORRIS: And we're hitting his last knowns. We're on that. The set-up was more than him. Casings are and her Glock was full up, so.

BURRELL: How bad?

NORRIS: Chest wound, no exit. Through-and-through to the throat. She wasn't stabilized.

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

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

BURRELL: Right.

NORRIS: So, you're on Baker when you hear the shots. Where was the second car?

DANIELS: Um, Warwick, I think.

NORRIS: Okay. You've got everything and to the west is the railbed.

DANIELS: What did Foxtrot see?

NORRIS: Nothing moving except our units.

COMMISSIONER: 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.

NORRIS: Um, this is Lieutenant Daniels.

COMMISSIONER: Oh, right, right, of course. This entire department stands behind Detective Greggs in every possible way. I just thought you should know that.

DANIELS: Yes, sir.

PA SYSTEM: Please report to room 12. ... Please report to room 12.

BUNK: Jaybird. We have a runner.

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

DETECTIVE: Put the lab tech on. 11-39.

D.E.A. COP: It's not that the money is anyone's primary concern. I understand that. I'm not going to be standing here giving a shit about the money when you people have lost... Well, one of your own who might... I mean, Jesus, this is awful. On the other hand, if we can get to this Savino character quick--

RAWLS: Hey! Fuck your money.

[Sirens]

RAWLS: Jimmy? You hurt?

McNULTY: No. It's hers.

RAWLS: C'mon, get up. Let's go, up with you. C'mon.

McNULTY: Couldn't talk, couldn't breathe. Nothing. She went into the ambo that way. Is she, uh... The fuck did I do?

RAWLS: C'mon, walk.

LANDMAN: What's that?

RAWLS: What's our plan, Ray?

COLE: Bunk and Jay stay with the scene. Keeley and Crutchfield are at the office typing the warrants for this Savino fuck.

RAWLS: 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.

RAWLS: We're laser printing the car, right?

COLE: 'Course, Worden's on that.

D.E.A. COP: You're in command for the city, right?

RAWLS: Major Rawls, homicide.

D.E.A. COP: Anything you need from my office, men, money, whatever, you just ask.

RAWLS: Right.

COLE: Cooperator, your girl's down shock trauma.

FREAMON: Let's get to work.

CARVER: Fuck you.

FREAMON: Fuck me? We got a wire up.

HERC:So?

FREAMON: So we got a wire up on some motherfucker that just shot a cop. If somebody talks, if somebody gets on the wrong phone and says the wrong fuckin' thing about what happened here tonight, where the fuck do you want to be?! HERC: Church roof?

CARVER: Yeah, you and me. Sydnor takes the McCulloh street phone.

FREAMON: Anybody get in contact with Kima's people?

CARVER: Shit. I'll do that first, meet you at the church.

LANDSMAN: Bunk, Mike.

LITTLE MAN: Wonder who that bitch was.

BEY: Always some shit, right?

LITTLE MAN: Yeah.

(Phone ringing) Male: Yo.

BEY: Done.

STRINGER: Alright.

BEY: Let's get outta here.

LITTLE MAN: Yeah.

LANDSMAN: Lab tech to this spot. Photos and casts.

DETECTIVE: 11-39.

FEMALE ON THE RADIO: 11-35.

DETECTIVE: Can I get 18-12 up here?

BUNK: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Yeah, yeah. Yeah, yeah.

LANDSMAN: (Chuckling) you're camped here. Nobody touches this shit, nobody even comes near it until the tech does his recovery. Whoa. Hello.

BUNK: He stopped running.

LANDSMAN: Either he got tired or--

BUNK: Or he got into a car.

LANDSMAN: Right. 11-34.

MALE ON THE RADIO: Go ahead, 11-34.

BUNK: I'm in the 3,000 block of Lanvale backing up to the C.S.X. Bed. I need a lab unit and a D.P.W. Crew with a jackhammer.

MALE ON THE RADIO: A jackhammer?

BUNK: Gonna keep a bit of road, K.G.A.

DANIELS: Alive. In the O.R.

RAWLS: My people at the scene have heard this already. It's a copy of the original.

CHIEF: Okay, we brought a machine-- where the fuck is--

DETECTIVE: Sir.

CHIEF: Oh, here it is, here. Yeah, put it there.

[Music playing]

MALE: Don't fuck with this count.

DANIELS: That's Savino. I'll be right back with ya shit.

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

ORLANDO: Hoppers be turning the sign poles to fuck with y'all.

GREGGS: I make it we're on the north side of Warwick, in an alley, I don't know, shit, half a block west. I hope y'all copy that. This got the right feel for you?

ORLANDO: He better not be long 'cause, see, I don't know where the stash is, and if they draggin' us all over this part of town, you know--

GREGGS: What's that?

BURRELL: Oh, Jesus.

GREGGS: Somethin' ain't right.

ORLANDO: What?

GREGGS: Shit ain't right. Oh, Christ.

MALE: Fucker.

[Gunshots]

GREGGS: signal 13, signal 13. What the fuck?

DANIELS: She can't reach the gun.

GREGGS: What the fuck? Two males, black hoodies, both of 'em, one is--

[gunshots]

RAWLS: Shut it off, shut it off.

[PA SYSTEM] Dr. Mells, line six, Dr. Mells, line six.

RAWLS: Listen to me, you fuck. You did a lot of shit here. You played a lot of fucking cards and you made a lot of fucking people do a lot of fucking things they didn't want to do. This is true. We both know this is true. You, McNulty, are a gaping asshole. We both know this. Fuck if everybody in C.I.D. doesn't know it. But fuck if I'm gonna stand here and say you did a single fucking thing to get a police shot. You did not do this, you fucking hear me? This is not on you. No, it isn't, asshole. Believe it or not, everything isn't about you. And the motherfucker saying this, he hates your guts, McNulty. So you know if it was on you, I'd be the sonofabitch to say so. Shit went bad. She took two for the company. That's the only lesson here.

COPS: Police! Police! Police, let me see your hands! Get on the ground! Down on the ground! Search warrant, police, police, get down, get down!

MRS. BRATTON: He ain't here!

COP: Who ain't here?

MRS. BRATTON: Zach he ain't here!

COP: Zach? Naw, honey, we're lookin' for Savino.

MRS. BRATTON: Savino? No, he's my baby.

COP: Yeah, well, your baby shot a cop.

MALE: Yo, they kickin' in the doors, lookin' for a Savino.

OTHER MALE: What? What up with that, man? Hit about he killed a cop.

MALE:Who, Savino? Savino ain't shot no cop.

OTHER MALE:Man they kickin' in the doors, they actin' like he did it. Shit. I'm tellin' you, man.

[Beeping]

PREZ: They're talkin' about it anyway.

FREAMON: Ripples in the pond. Talkin' ain't knowin', is it? Skin this cat another way. Two pages to stringer tonight, right? Only this one after the shooting.

PREZ: Who's o-7? And what phone is he asking for stringer to call him back?

BEY: Shit went good, but there was--

STRINGER: Hold on.

RADIO: Officer was shot around 12:30 this morning. The officer may have been undercover...

STRINGER: Alright, so, talk.

BEY: Like i said, it went good, except there was this bitch curled up in the back-seat. Surprised the shit out of us.

STRINGER: Uh-huh.

BEY: Didn't even see her 'til the shit popped off. I mean, if it was up to me, I'd let the girl walk, she didn't look like the talkin' type. But Little Man seen her, and bugged out, let a couple go.

STRINGER: Savino didn't tip y'all off to that bitch?

BEY: Wasn't no time for that. 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.

STRINGER: Well, Shorty was a cop. And she ain't dead. Where'd y'all put the guns?

BEY: She wasn't no cop, man. She look like one of Orlando's ho's.

STRINGER: Bey, where the fuck are the guns?

BEY: A storm drain off of Park Heights, man. What the fuck is wrong with Little Man? I mean, this motherfucker bugged out one time. Well, he gonna bug out again, when he find out Shorty's a fuckin' cop? I mean, c'mon, man. Savino got a story that he can keep to and he know it, but Little Man, he always been fuckin' weak like that. Little Man gotta go. Yo, you hear me? Yo, this shit gonna get real heavy. You understand me, Bey? We gotta fall back. I wanna see how it go with this Savino bullshit, see how they go past that. But if the shit don't hold, or if this motherfuckin' cop wake up and start talkin' shit, then you gotta go sky up. Where you got your peoples at?

BEY: New York... Jersey, Cleveland.

STRINGER: Alright, so, um, Philly, D.C. You know what I'm sayin'? No profile, no connections, no noise. You feel me, right? Alright. We gotta be careful.

[Muffled voices]

CHERYL: Jesus. Look, sorry. It's alright, you just scared me.

CARVER: I, uh... I work with Kima. Uh... Kima, she, uh...

CHERYL: Kima, Kima's at work. What? W-w-what are you--

FREAMON: Dust the receiver, the coin return, and the metal top. The can, too.

PA SYSTEM: Dr. Jones to the nurses' station, please. Dr. Jones to the nurses' station.

SURGEON: We can't really know for sure.

CARVER: Lieutenant? I'm sitting over there with Kima's girl and, I mean, maybe somebody from the department or the city, maybe might want to say something.

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

CARVER: A daughter? Officer Greggs has a girl?

DANIELS: A roommate. The family's in Richmond, driving up first thing today, but the roommate's already here.

BURRELL: I'll do it myself.

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

NORRIS: Still need a right door for Savino. His last knowns, his girlfriend, his mama, all empty holes.

LANDSMAN: Tracers picked up a couple hairson one of the hoodies. That's something.

BUNK: So, either these motherfuckers are a pair of neighborhood yo's, who lucked into $30,000 on a street stickup or...

LANDSMAN: 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.

BUNK: What about the post?

COLE: Cause and manner of death on Mr. Blocker is homicide, to wit, close-range G.S.W.'S to the shoulder, chest and left arm. Nine millimeter, suitable for comparison.

NORRIS: We pulled something different from the back seat of the car, right?

BUNK: Yeah, 380, semi-jacketed. Casings were different, too. So, we confirmed the two shooters.

FREAMON: Print hit. Wynton "Little Man" Rice, enforcer in the two-two-one, a definite connect to Barksdale's world.

LANDSMAN: Print hit? Print hit from what?

FREAMON: Soda can. Dropped at the pay phone at Park Heights and Belvedere. Still had a little fizz in it when i got there.

LANDSMAN: What the fuck is this pay phone at Park Heights and Belvedere?

FREAMON: It's a phone from which some motherfucker paged Stringer Bell 20 minutes after the shooting. I dusted the phone, too, but it was smudged.

LANDSMAN: So, we got a Barksdale pro in the northwest, ringing up the boss minutes after the deed. So much for the amateur-hour theory.

NORRIS: Good pull. You are?

FREAMON: Freamon, Lester Freamon.

NORRIS: Where you workin'?

FREAMON: Pawn shop unit.

DEE: I mean, how you gonna shoot a police, yo? Ain't no percentage in that, you know what I'm sayin'?

POOT: For real.

DEE: Somebody around here do that shit, you know every knocko in the world be down here, buin' heads.

BODIE: I guess them Park Heights nigga's just ain't got no fuckin' common sense. A lotta heart, just no sense.

BOY: Hey, yo, Poot. Wallace on the phone, yo.

POOT: Yeah?

DEE: Wallace?

POOT: Nigga ring me up twice a day whether he got shit to say or not. Homesick motherfucker makin' me bug, yo.

DEE: Yo, where's he at, yo?

POOT: At the shore with his grandma, down there...

BODIE: Surfin' or some bullshit. Or something.

PA SYSTEM: Dr. Zellesky, you have a call on line five. Dr. Zellesky, you have a call on line five.

[Pager beeping]

[Tires screeching]

COP: You just use that phone?

BUBBLES: Yeah, a little earlier, man. Y'all might wanna go to Mosher
Street.

COP: Just now, you used it?

BUBBLES: Yeah.

COP: Man downtown needs to talk to you.

BUBBLES: Man downtown? Okay, make some sense for this for me, please, alright? I ain't never been so clean in my whole damn life.

COP: Look, man, I'm just doin' my job.

BUBBLES: Okay.

POOT: What up, Mr. Beachfront property?

WALLACE: Naw, fool, I told you, I'm bayside. My grandmother on the bayside.

POOT: Still, man, you on vacation and not bringin' me with you. How you get all the way down there, anyhow?

WALLACE: I took a bus.

POOT: Well, shit, tell me how to go and I grab a 'hound, too. Come down there and hang with your ass.

WALLACE: No, man, it ain't like that, yo. The air down here all sticky. Worse than Baltimore, yo. And these crickets, louder than a motherfuck. Can't get no sleep. I don't think I'm cut out to be no country-ass nigga, man.

OPERATOR: Please deposit two dollars for an additional two minutes.

WALLACE: Shit, I gotta go.

POOT: You can take a nigga up out the Westside, but you can't take--

[busy signal]

HOLLEY: What's your name?

BUBBLES: Look, I didn't do shit here, okay?

HOLLEY: I asked you your name.

BUBBLES: Naw, this shit ain't right.

HOLLEY: Who'd you try to page, shitbird?

BUBBLES: Why the fuck do you care, okay? I mean...

HOLLEY: You have exactly three more seconds to explain yourself to me, asshole.

BUNK: One shooter definitely opened the passenger door, so, any latent prints from that side of the car. (Muffled shouting )

HOLLEY: Why'd you page her, shitbird?!

BUBBLES: Get off me. Get off me!

HOLLEY: You think this is a fucking game?!

BUBBLES: I wanna talk to detective Greggs.

HOLLEY: You can't, motherfucker.

BUBBLES: Then, McNulty then, this shit ain't right, sir!

SANTANGELO: Savino, Savino. Mope ain't around.

HERC: (Speed dialing and ringing) Yeah, one of them low-rise hopper's on tower phone two.

FREAMON: Okay.

[Camera clicking]

PREZ: Maybe he forgot the number.

[Camera clicking]

SANTANGELO: The fuck was that?

HERC: You don't know? We just caught a re-up off a tower stash. Fourth floor, south side, second unit down. (Speed dialing and ringing)

DANIELS: Put that away. Put that away and work the case.

McNULTY: Can I ask you something ? How much of this case would you
give up to get her back?

DANIELS: That's not the point.

McNULTY: Well, how much?

DANIELS: All of it. But it doesn't work that way. You can't give it back. I'm sitting here with a hospital progress report that shows no fucking 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 shot she took to the neck didn't catch any spine.

[Phone ringing]

McNULTY: It wasn't worth it.

PREZ: Homicide for McNulty on line two.

DANIELS: Do your job.

McNULTY: Yeah?

BUNK: So how you doin' with it?

McNULTY: I'll live.

BUNK: Yeah? Well, listen, Jimmy, we had a little dust-up over here. Holley mighta beat one of your girl's C.I.'S on spec.

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

BUNK: Yeah, that's him. You might wanna roll past and squelch this shit before it gets outta hand.

McNULTY: Yeah.

STRINGER: It ain't worth it, man.

AVON: Naw.

STRINGER: It ain't worth it at 10 times the price.

AVON: A fucking cop, man. A cop! How stupid is this motherfucker?! If you see a bitch in the car, change it up. We can go to Orlando another fuckin' day.

STRINGER: Savino say he was tryin' to signal, but he in the dark, he don't know where Bey's at, or where they comin' from.

AVON: Nothin' breakin' our way, man, damn.

STRINGER: We gotta burn this shit. This is cop money, it's probably marked somehow. The guns are in the sewer, Bey's a rock, so that's cool. But it's the bitch cop. If she wake up and start talkin', she gonna put little man in there, Bey in there.

AVON: What up with little man?

STRINGER: He's scared. He shot a cop.

AVON: Fuck.

STRINGER: But I put Bey on that.

AVON: What about Savino?

STRINGER: Well, Savino, he gotta eat the charge, but he knew that. So if he keep his story tight, he gonna be alright.

AVON: Yeah, we knew Orlando was a snitchin' motherfucker, man. Fuck him, but this cash got us caught up.

STRINGER: I know, man, that's my fault, man. Bey and Savino came to me with the idea that, yo, if they take Orlando, they can take the cash, too. I was like, alright, y'all get your payday.

AVON: Yo, how the fuck is Orlando gonna front this type of cash? What it say?

STRINGER: I know, I know. I fucked up, I know.

AVON: A-ight, take this trash outside, fuckin' burn it. Tell wee-Bey to clean up the mess 'fore he jet.

HOLLEY: He was throwin' 911 messages to her pager. I asked him why, he raised up. Shit got outta hand.

McNULTY: Does he know?

BUNK: Uh-uh.

BUBBLES: Hey, McNulty, man. What they doin' over there, man? It's fucked up.

McNULTY: Last night, she got shot.

BUBBLES: Where the fuck were you at? Where were you?

McNULTY: I was there.

LANDSMAN: Hey, Bunk. We got no good latents on the passenger side door.

BUNK: What about the dash?

LANDSMAN: Call the lab.

BUBBLES: So, what can I do?

McNULTY: Well, for one thing you can roll around the projects, see who's missing. Who ain't around. You okay with that?

BUBBLES: Yeah, yeah, I just, um... I been keepin' it kinda close, you know? Ain't been around the projects much lately, you know what I'm sayin'?

McNULTY: You beefin' with someone down there?

BUBBLES: Naw. No, I'm not beefin' with...

McNULTY: Eyes open, Bubbs. For Kima. Hang loose, I'll get you a ride.

McNULTY: Where are we with Savino?

BUNK: Ah, still M.I.A.

McNULTY: Enough of this bullshit.

LEVY: Well, if he calls me for anything, I'll tell him to turn himself in. You know I'm going to do that.

McNULTY: Not good enough.

LEVY: Excuse me?

McNULTY: We need him now.

RONNIE: No, thanks.Perhaps as an officer of the court, you could endeavor to--

McNULTY: Ronnie here is being polite. She's a member of your twisted little tribe, so she's putting it into your twisted little language. Me? I wouldn't wipe my ass with a Baltimore lawyer, no offense.

LEVY: None taken.

McNULTY: I mean, 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. And fuck me if I don't let you structure your cash into briefcase fees, either. That's between you and the I.R.S. And neither one of you is anybody's friend, right?

RONNIE: I think what Jimmy is trying to say is--

McNULTY: No, what Jimmy is saying is if you want me to keep my nose closed to your shit, then you're gonna have to throw me something when I need it, and right now I need Savino Bratton in bracelets.

LEVY: I don't know where he is.

McNULTY: Well, you repped him the last four felonies. I'm guessing 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.

LEVY: Or what?

McNULTY: Or we send tactical teams into his momma's every night, 'til there's no house left to worry about. And you get a target letter from the state's attorney's office, followed by subpoenas for every fucking bank account in your fucking name. And let's see if all those cash deposits match the reported income.

LEVY: I'm hearing this from him, and I understand that he's distraught. I understand that. Am I hearing this from the state's attorney's office as well?

RONNIE: You are.

LEVY: I'll see what I can do.

RONNIE: Fuck you, Jimmy! You didn't tell me that was coming.

McNULTY: He'll bring him in.

RONNIE: He will if he can, that's not the point.

McNULTY: Well, what's the point?

RONNIE: 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 a fucking A.S.A.., I can't spend my afternoons pissing on people who matter.

McNULTY: Another career in the balance.

RONNIE: Fuck you.

McNULTY: No, fuck you. If only half you motherfuckers at the district attorney's office didn't want to be judges, didn't want to be partners in some downtown law firm, if half of you had the fucking balls to follow through, you know what would happen?

RONNIE: Oh.

McNULTY: A guy like that would be indicted, tried and convicted. And the rest of 'em would back up enough, so we could push a clean case or two through your courthouse. But no, everybody stays friends. Everybody gets paid. And everybody's got a fucking future.

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

PREZ: So, I been searchin' the logs for pager hits that used an 0-7 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.

FREAMON: And this is on Stringer's page?

PREZ: It comes back to the pay phone in the emergency room at Maryland general hospital.

FREAMON: Let me guess. The date of this page is the same day that Stinkum got killed.

PREZ: And Wee-Bey got shot in the leg.

FREAMON: That was the talk on the wire, anyway.

PREZ: You go to Maryland general and pull the E.R. records for that morning, you're gonna find Wee-Bey in the pile. 0-7 is Wee-Bey, it's gotta be.

FREAMON: And we have Wee-Bey and Little Man at the pay phone at Park Heights, 20 minutes after the ambush, throwing a page to Stringer.

RAWLS: We're all over town for this piece-of-shit Savino.

BURRELL: With ties to the Barksdale organization?

DANIELS: Yes, sir.

BURRELL: What else?

DANIELS: Well, the case is progressing. We're starting to glean some possible shooters from the wiretap.

BURRELL: You know, 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.

CHIEF: We are, sir, we're on it.

BURRELL: Good. The commissioner wants raids citywide. Every door we can take. Any addresses we can write on, anything connected to a narcotics case. C.I.D., Tactical, the D.E.U.'S and tomorrow, on the 6:00 news, we put a lot of fucking dope on the table. A lot of it!

DANIELS: Dope on the table?

BURRELL: 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.

DANIELS: Dope on the damn table.

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

DANIELS: Yeah? And who the hell are we?

LEVY: Again, for the record, let's make clear that Mr. Bratton has not been mirandized and that what is said at this juncture is for purposes of a proffer. Agreed?

NATHAN: Agreed.

LEVY: Okay, then. Here you go. That's baking soda. Which Mr.. Bratton intended to sell to Orlando Blocker. You can keep it with our compliments.

LANDSMAN: Where's the money?

LEVY: Mr. Bratton did not receive money. He left it in the car when he went to retrieve the sham cocaine. If you were recording the transaction, the tape will confirm this.

McNULTY: And he wasn't around for the shooting either. In fact, he doesn't know who the shooters are.

LANDSMAN: 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 shot-to-shit just two minutes later.

BUNK: This is bullshit! A police is down.

LEVY: 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?

NATHAN: No charge if he gives us the shooters. And if he testifies, we'll find a way to squeeze him into the federal witness program.

LEVY: As I indicated, Mr. Bratton has no idea who shot Mr. Blocker or the undercover officer. Best you can do is 286-b.

McNULTY: What the hell is that?

RONNIE: Distribution of sham C.D.S., Three year maximum, $5,000 fine.

McNULTY: That's it?

RONNIE: If he took the cash, we could go to d, but the tape has him leaving the money.

LANDSMAN: Three years.

NATHAN: A cop was shot, Maury. So, if we convict, he'll do every damn day of the three.

SAVINO: I can do the three, ain't no thing.

BUNK: And the $5,000 fine? Oh, shit, you still up 25, right?

McNULTY: Nicely done.

BUYER: Gimme two, yo.

[Radio playing]

DEE: Damn, Orlando, yo. I still can't believe that shit.

BODIE: Man, all this shit behind this motherfucker. Who the fuck was he?

DEE: He ran a club for my uncle, yo.

BODIE: Yeah?

DEE: Yeah, first Stink, and now him.

BODIE: Yeah, man, and I heard the cop's been all in Savino's shit too.
He ain't been around.

DEE: Little Man, neither.

BODIE: Somebody could get to cleanin' up shit around here.

DEE: True. You can't just be goin' around, droppin' five-oh like that, yo.

BODIE: You know how your uncle is when people get to fuckin' up, man. He start takin' that shit personal, man.Look like a couple more nigga's gonna get dropped.

DEE: Yo, what up?

BOY: You Dee?

DEE: Yeah.

BOY: They sayin' you need to get with Stringer, right away, yo.

BODIE: See? You movin' up in the world. As long as you don't fall in with the trash they takin' out.

DEE: Yeah, whatever, nigga. I'll be right back.

POOT: Tower boys all nervous and shit. Little Man ain't post for work. Ain't answer his pager neither.

BODIE: See?

DANIELS: I'm not gonna lie. She's got swelling around the vertebrae from a through and through, and some indications of partial paralysis. That might go away when the swelling goes down, it might not either. Her family is with her.

PREZ: What the fuck is up with homicide? Are we on the shooters yet?

COLE: They're working it hard.

DANIELS: The departmental response is to take doors tomorrow morning. Citywide. Every unit, every district is kicking in any drug-connected address they can write on. We're gonna do the same.

McNULTY: Lieutenant, is that--

DANIELS: Except... We're gonna hold back on the main stash, the house up in northwest we tracked off the wire, for one thing, we advance this case more by sitting on that location. For another, raids that are too much on the bulls-eye will have Barksdale changing up. We might blow the wire altogether.

FREAMON: We got two addresses in the low-rises that are probables, and another two rowhouses off the avenue that have been used to stash as recently as last week. But this, this here is the best bet for a good rip. Herc picked up on it yesterday.

HERC: Fourth floor, end unit on the south side of the two-two-one, they're droppin' the re-ups out of the window to the hoppers who run it off.

CARVER: What if they change up the appartment?

HERC: Well they do that every day. Yesterday was the fifth floor on the north side.

FREAMON: We're gonna have a man on the church watching with a cell phone. They change up, we call the duty judge who orally amends the warrant.

DANIELS: We hit everything at 1100 hours. But the squad that takes the high-rise needs to stage at 0500. We need to be inside before the building even wakes up. Anyone who wants to sleep tonight, he needs to start typing his ass off right now.

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

STRINGER: You goin' with Bey. Hey, yo, Bey. Keep it clean. Don't make no mistakes.

DEE: Goin' where?

STRINGER: What the fuck you waitin' for?

[Muffled talking]

BURRELL: Stop bullshittin' me!

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

FREAMON: The deputy. We grab a senator's bag man in the projects, he knows that. State police come in here with a cooperator, he knows that, too.

McNULTY: It's like fucking clockwork.

FREAMON: He's got a rat. Here, in the detail.

DANIELS: In the beginning, when we started, Burrell had me. I pipelined everything to that motherfucker. But now...

FREAMON: He lost you. So, now he's picked up someone else. That's how they do.

[Chattering]

[Laughing]

McNULTY: Can we talk?

PHELAN: Excuse me a moment, gentlemen.

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

PHELAN: What now?

McNULTY: We're on a prime location. Barksdale's stash. Instead of sitting on it and making cases off it, he wants us to write a paper and take the door.

PHELAN: Why?

McNULTY: Dope on the table. It's a photo op to make us all feel better about Kima Greggs catching a bullet or two.

PHELAN: Oh, Christ.

McNULTY: You need to rip him a new one, your Honor.

PHELAN: Ah... I don't know, Jimmy.

McNULTY: You back on the ticket, huh?

PHELAN: It was just the usual bullshit. They're just, um, dickin' me around, trying to get another black face on the ticket, make it four-and-one to even up for the last time. The governor had to promise two new appointments so, now we're back where we were. That's all it was.

McNULTY: That's all?

PHELAN: Half-assed hack politics, Jimmy. It has nothing to do with your case.

McNULTY: I need you on this. So, who's my daddy now?

[Music playing]

BEY: I just do what the fuck they tell me, you know? It ain't on me to know what the fuck they have in mind.

DEE: Look, Bey.

BEY: Now it come down to this crazy shit. Yo, turn in this alley right here. Right there.

[Car radio]

BEY: The fuck you stoppin' for? Go! (Barking) Inside, man, let's go. This dude is crazy.

DEE: Yo, Bey, man.

BEY: Get in, motherfucker. We ain't got all night for this shit. Man, get in here. Go ahead, man. What's wrong with you? Check it out, Dee. I need you to feed 'em while I'm gone. You gonna give 'em different food for each tank, too, alright? But don't worry, I'm gonna show ya what to do, c'mere. 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 tank. They set for the day. You see, they ain't no problems. Just beautiful as hell, Dee. I'm gonna go upstairs, and pack some shit.

DEE: Yo, Bey! Where we goin', man?

BEY: Philly. You gonna take the truck back, but first I got to go upstairs, grab some shit, show you what to do with my tanks, right?

DEE: Philly, yo?

BEY: We shot a knocko, Dee.

BUBBLES: No Savino. No Little Man, no Wee-Bey either. And then, the Barksdale kid from the pit he's out the mix, too. You think it was them that did it?

McNULTY: Wee-Bey, Savino, Little Man.

BUNK: Yeah, that's what we we're hearing too. We got pick-ups on these motherfuckers and miles of N.C.I.C. Bullshit. Warrants for blood and hair, too.

McNULTY: It's Bey and little man, shooter one and shooter two. I feel it, Bunk.

BUNK: Yeah, well, right now, we need our girl to wake up... And say so.

McNULTY: Alright. You did good, Bubbs.

BUBBLES: McNulty, you know, um... The situation is different for me. I mean, for me, I'm--

DANIELS: Mount up.

McNULTY: I gotta go. Prez will get you a ride, okay?

[Helicopter hovering]

COP: Move out.

[Tires screeching]

MALE: Five-oh, five-oh.

COPS: Police, police! Police! Go, go, go! Show your hands, asshole! Down on the ground. Move it, move it!

DANIELS: McNulty, Freamon, check the basement.

SYDNOR: Clear?

SWAT: All clear.

HERC: Bathroom's clear.

DANIELS: Check the mattress. Check under the bed, check all the drawers, check every fucking inch of this room.

CARVER: Got anything?

HERC: No.

COP: Bingo.

SYDNOR: Got it.

HERC: There she goes.

DANIELS: Bag it.

CARVER: Let's do it.

[Cameras clicking]

COMMISSIONER: That's fine police work, Erv.

COMMISSIONER: Ladies and gentlemen, what you see on the table in front of you, represents our department's answer to a culture of death and drugs. And when an officer falls in this war, others stand ready and carry the fight to the very doorstep of those responsible. Now 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 drugs.

PREZ: Slow. Bullshit on the McCulloh street phone, nothing on the towers.

McNULTY: Who's on the rooftop?

PREZ: No one. Fuck it.

WALLACE: Hey yo, where the money, man?

MALE: How much you need?

WALLACE: Yo, the bus cost like 18, man.

MALE: Your grandma ain't got it?

WALLACE: I ask her, she gonna try to stop me from bookin'. I'm tellin' you, boy, this country-ass shit got me all messed up. I'm sayin', you need to send me sothing for the bus, yo. I'm dyin' here, all broke and shit.

MALE: Yeah, I feel you. Well, when do you want to come home?

WALLACE: When the money get here.

MALE: Alright, I'm gonna.

[Machines beeping]