The Wire s01e11 Episode Script

The Hunt

How many shells you got? Come on, come on! Another bag here.
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 fucking move! If you haven't 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.
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.
Gun slid back behind the mesh as they drove, probably.
Where was her support? There were two follow cars several blocks distant.
She got turned around in the alleys.
She gave her 20 as the north side of Warwick.
They went there on the shots? The Foxtrot finally found her.
Hey, you got to be moving outta here.
So, we had two units covering the north side and a helicopter up on top.
And no one saw any vehicles in flight.
Terry, Mike, come on.
What the fuck happened? 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 your people that at the scene.
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.
She wasn't stabilized.
They had the pressure pants on her.
Trying to push up the pulse.
They put those pants on you, it ain't good.
You're on Baker when you hear the shots.
Where was the second car? - Warwick, I think.
- Okay.
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.
Right, of course.
This entire department stands behind Detective Greggs in every possible way.
I just thought you should know that.
Yes, sir.
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'm not going to be standing giving a shit about the money when you have lost one of your own who might I mean, Jesus, this is awful.
- If we can get to this Savino character- - Hey.
Fuck your money.
Jimmy? You hurt? No.
It's hers.
Come on, get up.
Let's go, up with you.
Come on.
Couldn't talk, couldn't breathe.
She went into the ambo that way.
Is she What the fuck 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 for Savino.
- 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.
Cooperator, your girl's down in shock trauma.
Let's get to work.
Fuck you.
Fuck me? We got a wire up.
So? So we got a wire up on some motherfucker that just shot a cop.
If somebody talks, and gets on the wrong phone says the wrong thing about what happened where the fuck 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? Shit.
I'll do that first, then meet you at the church.
Bunk, Mike.
Wonder who that bitch was.
- Always some shit, right? - Yeah.
- Done? - Done.
All right.
Let's get outta here.
Lab tech to this spot.
Photos and casts.
Can I get 18-12 up here? Yeah.
You're camped here.
Nobody touches this shit, or even comes near it until the tech does his recovery.
He stopped running.
Either he got tired or- Or he got into a car.
- Go ahead, 11-34.
I'm in the 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.
In the OR.
My people at the scene have heard this.
- It's a copy of the original.
- Okay.
We brought a machine- - Where the fuck is- - Sir.
Here it is, here.
Yeah, put it there.
Don't fuck with this count.
That's Savino.
I'll be right back with your shit.
Where are we? That sign said Longwood, but I could swear this is Warwick.
Hoppers be turning the sign poles to fuck with you all.
I make it we're on the north side of Warwick, in an alley, I don't know, shit 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, 'cause 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.
- What? This shit ain't right.
Signal 13, signal 13.
What the fuck? She can't reach the gun.
- What the fuck? - Two males, black hoodies, both of them- Shut it off.
Shut it off.
Mells, Line 6.
Listen to me, you fuck.
You did a lot of shit here.
You played a lot of fucking cards and made a lot of people do a lot of fucking things they didn't want to do.
This is true.
We both know this is true.
Ralston, please call cardiology.
You, McNulty, are a gaping asshole.
We both know this.
Fuck if everybody in CID 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 son of a bitch to say so.
Shit went bad.
She took two for the company.
That's the only lesson here.
Police! Police, let me see your hands.
- Get on the ground! - 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, your baby shot a cop.
They're kicking in the doors, looking for Savino.
- What? What up with that, man? - Some shit about he killed a cop.
Who, Savino? Savino ain't shot no cop.
They kicking in the doors, acting like he did it.
- Shit.
- 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 shooting.
Who's 07? And what phone is he asking for Stringer to call him back? - Shit went good, but- - Hold on.
Officer was shot around The officer may have been undercover.
- All right, talk.
- Like I said, it went good except there was this bitch curled up in the back seat.
Surprised the shit out of us.
Didn't even see her until the shit popped off.
I mean if it was up to me, I'd have let the girl walk.
She didn'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 to her? - 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.
Shorty was a cop.
And she ain't dead.
Where'd you all put the guns? She wasn't no cop, man.
She look like one of Orlando's hos.
Bey, where the fuck are the guns? - A storm drain off of Park Heights, man.
- What the fuck is wrong with Little Man? I mean, this motherfucker bugged out one time.
He gonna bug out again, when he find out shorty's a fucking cop? I mean, come on, man.
Savino got a story that he can keep to and he know it but Little Man, he always been fucking weak like that.
Little Man gotta go.
You hear me? This shit 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 shit don't hold or if this motherfucking cop wake up and start talking shit then you gotta go sky up.
Where you got your peoples at? New York.
Jersey, Cleveland.
All right.
So, Philly.
You know what I'm saying? No profile, no connections, no noise.
You feel me, right? All right.
We gotta be careful.
Look, I'm sorry.
It's all right, you just scared me.
I work with Kima.
Kima, she Kima's at work.
What is she? Dust the receiver, the coin return, and the metal top.
The can, too.
Jones to the nurses' station, please.
We can't really know for sure.
I'm sitting over there with Kima's girl and- Maybe somebody from the department or the city maybe 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 today but 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, all empty holes.
Tracers picked up a of couple hairs on one of the hoodies.
That's something.
So, either these guys are neighborhood yos who lucked into $30,000 on a street stickup, 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, right? Yeah,.
Casings were different, too.
So, we confirmed the two shooters.
Print hit.
Wynton "Little Man" Rice, enforcer in the 221 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 a little fizz in it when I got there.
What is this pay phone at Park Heights and Belvedere? It's from which some motherfucker paged Stringer Bell 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? Pawn shop unit.
I mean, how you gonna shoot a police? Ain't no percentage in that, know what I'm saying? For real.
Someone around here do that shit every narco in the world be down here busting heads.
I guess them Park Heights niggers just ain't got no fucking common sense.
A lotta heart, just no sense.
Wallace on the phone.
- Yeah? - Wallace? Nigger ring me up twice a day whether he got shit to say or not.
- Homesick motherfucker making me bug.
- Where's he at? At the shore with his grandma, down there Surfing or some bullshit.
Or something.
Zellesky, you have a call on Line 5.
You just use that phone? Yeah, a little earlier.
- You might wanna go to Mosher Street.
- Just now, you used it? Yeah.
- A man downtown needs to talk to you.
- Man downtown? Make some sense for this man, please.
All right? - 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.
Still, man, you on vacation and not bringing me with you.
How you get all the way down there? I took a bus.
Shit, tell me how to go, and I grab a 'hound, too.
Come down there 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 motherfucker.
I can't get no sleep.
I don't think I'm cut out to be no country-ass nigger, man.
Please deposit two dollars for an additional two minutes.
Shit, I gotta go.
You can take a nigger out the Westside.
But you can't take- What's your name? Look, I didn't do shit here, okay? I asked you your name.
No, this shit ain't right.
Who'd you try to page, shit bird? Why the fuck do you care, okay? I mean You have exactly three more seconds to explain yourself to me, asshole.
One shooter definitely opened the passenger door so any latent prints from that side of the car - Why'd you page her, shit bird? - Get off me.
You think this is a fucking game? I wanna talk to Detective Greggs.
- You can't, motherfucker.
- Then McNulty then.
This shit ain't right, sir.
Mope ain't around.
One of them low-rise hoppers on Tower Phone 2.
Maybe he forgot the number.
The fuck 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 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.
It wasn't worth it.
Homicide for McNulty on Line 2.
Do your job.
Yeah? So how you doing with it? I'll live.
Yeah? Listen, Jimmy.
We had a little dust-up over here.
Holley might have beat one of your girl's Cls on spec.
What is he, a short guy? Mumbles a lot? Yeah, that's him.
You might wanna roll past and squelch this shit before it gets outta hand.
It ain't worth it, man.
It ain't worth it at 10 times the price.
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 fucking day.
Savino say he 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 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 starts talking, she gonna put Little Man and Bey in there.
What up with Little Man? - He's scared.
He shot a cop.
- Fuck.
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 motherfucker, man.
Fuck him, 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, too.
I was like, all right, you all get your payday- How the fuck is Orlando gonna front this type of cash? What it say? I know.
I know, I fucked up.
All right, take this trash outside, fucking 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 raised up.
Shit got outta hand.
Does he know? McNulty, man.
What they doing over there, man? He just started beating on me.
Last night, she got shot.
Where the fuck were you at? - Where were you? - I was there.
Holley is investigating.
We got no good latents on the passenger side door.
and he sees her pager coming up 911.
What about the dash? You gotta help me! Call the lab.
What can I do? For one thing you can roll around the projects and see who's missing.
Who ain't around.
You okay with that? Yeah, I just 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, Bubbs.
For Kima.
Hang loose, I'll get you a ride.
Where are we with Savino? - Still MIA.
- Enough of this bullshit.
If he calls me for anything, 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 here is being polite.
She's a member of your twisted little tribe.
She's putting it into your twisted little language.
Me? I wouldn't wipe my ass with a Baltimore lawyer.
No offense.
None taken.
I mean, I'm willing to let you little ratfuckers suborn perjury blow smoke up a judge's ass and jury-tamper your balls off without losing the slightest bit of my sunny disposition.
Fuck 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, right? What Jimmy is trying to say is- No, what Jimmy is saying is if you want my nose closed to your shit you have to throw me something when I need it.
And 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, Morrie, 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 every night until there's no house left to worry about.
You get a target letter from the state's attorney's office followed by subpoenas for every bank account in your fucking name.
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.
I understand that.
Am I hearing this from the state's attorney's office as well? You are.
I'll see what I can do.
Fuck 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 Morrie Levy is a past officer of the Monumental Bar Association and unless I want to spend my whole life as a fucking ASA I can't spend my afternoons pissing on people who matter.
Another career in the balance.
- Fuck you.
- No, fuck 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 downtown law firm if you had the balls to follow through, you know what would happen? A guy like that would be indicted, tried and convicted.
The rest of them would back up so we could push a clean case through your courthouse.
But no, everybody stays friends.
Everybody gets paid.
And everybody's got a fucking 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 in the emergency room at Maryland General Hospital.
Let me guess.
The date of this page is the same day that Stinkum got killed.
And Wee-Bey got shot in the leg.
That was the talk on the wire, anyway.
If you go to Maryland General and pull the ER records for that morning you're gonna find Wee-Bey in the pile.
It's gotta be.
And we have Wee-Bey and Little Man at the pay phone at Park Heights throwing a page to Stringer.
We're all over town for this piece-of-shit Savino.
With ties to the Barksdale organization? - Yes, sir.
- What else? The case is progressing.
We're gleaning possible shooters 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 6:00 news we put a lot of fucking 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.
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.
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.
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 were recording the transaction, the tape will confirm this.
And he wasn't around for the shooting either.
He doesn't know who the shooters 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 shot just two minutes later.
This is bullshit.
A police is down.
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.
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.
As I indicated Mr.
Bratton has no idea who shot 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 shot, Morrie.
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? Shit, you still up $25,000, right? Nicely done.
Give me two.
Damn, Orlando.
I still can't believe that shit.
Man, all this shit behind this motherfucker.
Who the fuck was he? - He ran a club for my uncle.
- Yeah? Yeah, first Stink, and now him.
Yeah, man, and I heard the cops been all in Savino's shit, too.
- He ain't been around.
- Little Man, neither.
Somebody could get to cleaning up shit around here.
You can't just be going around, dropping 5-0 like that.
You know how your uncle is when people get to fucking up, man.
He starts taking that shit personal, man.
Look like a couple more niggers gonna get dropped.
What up? You Dee? Yeah.
They say 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, nigger.
I'll be right back.
Tower boys all nervous and shit.
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 fuck is up with Homicide? Are we on the shooters yet? They're working it hard.
The departmental response is gonna be to take doors tomorrow morning.
Every unit, every district 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 off the wire We advance this case more by sitting on that location.
And raids that are too much on the bulls-eye will have Barksdale changing up.
We might blow the wire altogether.
We got two addresses in the low-rises that are probables and another two row houses that 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 who run it off.
What if they change up the apartment? They do that every day.
Yesterday was the fifth floor on the north side.
We'll have a man on the church 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 5:00.
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.
Keep it clean.
Don't make no mistakes.
Going where? What the fuck 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 bring in a cooperator, he knows it, too.
Like fucking clockwork.
He's got a rat.
Here, in the detail.
In the beginning when we started, Burrell had me.
I pipelined everything to that motherfucker.
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.
Instead of making cases, 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 Kima Greggs catching a bullet or two.
You need to rip him a new one, Your Honor.
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 had to promise 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 fuck they tell me, you know? It ain't on me to know what the fuck they have in mind.
Look, Bey.
Now it come down to this crazy shit.
Turn in this alley right here.
Right there.
What the fuck you stopping for? Go! Inside, man.
Let's go.
This dude is crazy.
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 them while I'm gone.
You gonna give them different food for each tank, 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 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.
Where we going, man? 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? Philly? We shot a narco, Dee.
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 motherfuckers and miles of NCIC bullshit.
Warrants for blood and hair, too.
It's Bey and Little Man, shooter one and two.
I feel it, Bunk.
Yeah? Right now, we need our girl to wake up and say so.
All right.
You did good, Bubbs.
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, okay? Move out.
Police! Go! Show your hands, asshole! Down on the ground.
Move it, move it! McNulty, Freamon, check the basement.
- Clear? - All clear.
- Bathroom's clear.
- Check the mattress.
Check under the bed, check all the drawers, check every fucking inch of this room.
- Got anything? - No.
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 ofyou represents our department's answer to a culture of death and drugs.
And when an officer falls in this war 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 drugs.
Bullshit on the McCullough Street phone, nothing on the towers.
Who's on the rooftop? No one.
Fuck it.
Where's the money, man? - How much you need? - The bus cost like $18, man.
Your grandma ain't got it? If I ask her, she gonna try to stop me from booking.
I'm telling you, boy.
This country-ass shit got me all messed up.
I'm saying, you need to send me something for the bus.
Yeah, 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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