All language subtitles for The.Wire_.S05E03.720p.BluRay.x264-REWARD

Type quieter, asshole.

Early relief. So get the fuck out of here.

Jesus, Bunk.

- What time is it?
- 4:30.

I couldn't sleep, so get the fuck gone.

What time did McNulty leave last night?

Never did. He's in number one.

Pulling his hair out over some shit.

Think again about what the fuck you're doing.

Bunk, this can work.

It can.

Fuck you.

I mean that.

Jimmy, four in the fuckin' morning?

So it is.

All of these?

Homeless murders from the last five years.

Everything before that is on microfilm,
but we got enough right here.

- Jimmy.
- Most of it open.

We don't do so well with homeless killings.

Transient locales, no nearest, no dearest.
No one gives a fuck.

Cases stay open forever.

You're going to jail behind this shit.
Yes, you are.

You know what they do to police in jail?
Pretty police like yourself?

Motherfucker, we have kids.

Houses. Car payments. Furniture.

Jimmy, I just bought brand-new lawn chairs
and a glass patio table.

Now, you don't buy no shit like that if you
planning to lose your job and go to prison.

- You won't even get past the ME.
- Watch me.

You're dumping murders on us
that we can't solve,

- you're fucking the squad's clearance rate.
- Fuck the fucking numbers already.

The fucking numbers
destroyed this fucking department.

Landsman and his clearance rate
can suck a hairy asshole.

- Marlo ain't worth it, man. Nobody is.
- Marlo's an asshole.

He does not get to win. We get to win.

This case doesn't go away just because
the bosses can't find the money to pay for it.

These are fucking murders -

ghetto murders, but still...

I came back out of the Western
to work this case

because they said it would be worked.

I came back out on a promise,
and they're gonna keep that promise.

Whether they know it or not.

I'm gonna tell Landsman.

Yeah. You keep on with it,
I'm gonna rat you out.

Well, you do what you got to do.

My name is nowhere in the file.

I don't want fuck to do with this.

Hey, Bunk.

When you walk through the garden

Gotta watch your back

Well, I beg your pardon

Walk the straight and narrow track

If you walk with Jesus

He's gonna save your soul

You gotta keep the devil way down in a hole

He's got the fire and the fury

At his command

Well, you don't have to worry

If you hold on to Jesus' hand

And we'll all be safe from Satan

When the thunder rolls

But you gotta help me keep the devil

Way down in the hole

In the bottom of the hole

In the hole
In the hole

Way down in the hole

In the hole
In the hole

In the hole
In the hole

Way down in the hole

- What are you doing?
- Final is out.

I want to see my story.

- Now?
- It's my first time out front.

- I want to see it.
- This is why we should get home delivery.

Why pay for it when I get it
for free at the office?

Be back.

Brother Ray.

God rest ye.

When does the Sun get here?

Around now usually.

Anybody got a working car?

I got one, but I'm going back out
to my crime scene for a canvass.

Drop me at the ME?

Jimmy.

My office, now.

I'll get a lift over from one of the central cars.

This is way past any shit you ever pulled
in your life, Jimmy. Think on it.

You see Greggs out there,
bagging evidence alone,

then going back out to recanvass on a triple?
A triple fucking murder,

a home invasion,

and she's working it alone.

They pulled Crutchfield this morning,
put him back in the rotation.

- That's on them, but you can't...
- Fucking right, that's on them.

A triple murder, and 12 hours later
they leave one detective alone on it?

I guess she's lucky she has a car.

- This shit won't work.
- Then we're no worse than before.

- Extra red name or two on the board.
- Yeah, unless you got caught.

Who in this fucking unit is gonna catch me?

Most of the guys up here couldn't catch
the clap in a Mexican whorehouse.

What's with the red ribbon?

Barlow had an open strangle a few years back.

Homeless guy with a red ribbon
tied around his wrist.

So that's two.

Also, I found an open homeless case
which Ray Cole worked.

I wrote a ribbon into his office reports.

- So there's three.
- Our guy didn't have a red ribbon.

- That's where I'm headed.
- Jesus.

Listen to yourself!

Upstairs wouldn't jump on a real serial killer -

fuckin' Marlo, who's got bodies all over him.

Maybe they need the make-believe.

Yeah, maybe you're the asshole
just lost his fucking mind.

- Yeah, I'm locked in the box.
- In the box?

- It's no joke. Let me out.
- Be right there.

Jimmy.

He fuck you?

He tried...

but mostly he just fucks himself.

You ain't seen those yet, huh?
I'll bet you didn't.

Fucking Burrell's asshole must be so tight

you couldn't pull a pin from it
with a John Deere tractor.

Here you're promising a double-digit drop,

and he gives you a four per cent bump
for two quarters in a row.

- Thanks for bringing these by, Stan.
- Well, I wanted to give you a heads-up.

Truth is, looking at numbers like those,

I'm thinking you could do a lot worse

than give me a run as acting commissioner.

I know you couldn't make me permanent,

maybe six months
while you keep grooming your boy Daniels.

I'd get a pension bump,

and you'd get a head start
on clearing out deadwood,

beginning with Burrell and Rawls.

Thanks, Stan.

- Let me think on it.
- You do that, Tommy.

Even on an acting basis,
can you imagine Nerese

and the ministers dealing with
Commissioner Valchek?

- What are you gonna do about the numbers?
- Fuck can I do?

I cut the department budget
to the bone, right?

Can't very well complain
when their crime rate bumps.

Burrell comes in here and owns these,

I got to give him a pass,
at least until I can fix his money problems.

Your piece took a bad bite there.

35 inches down to 12?

Yeah, well, it's my fault for giving it up
to the A-section.

Page-one editor made noises
like it was gonna go out front

and then he tossed it back to Metro
before the double-dot.

Night editor didn't have room
to take it back, so...

Story deserved better.

- Sorry.
- Three people murdered in a house,

and it gets 12 inches below the fold.
Explain that to me.

There's no explaining it.

Advertising's down,
we got a smaller news hole,

we're not managing it well.

We messed up.

That's all.

Wrong zip code.

They're dead where it doesn't count.

If they were white and murdered in Timonium,
you'd have had 30 inches off the front.

Would have been my first front-pager
where I didn't share a byline.

Yeah?

I drove down to the Port Covington plant
this morning to get a copy.

You ain't the first to do that.

Our 10-7 on the floor yet?

He's by the overhead camera.

I need to grab prints, get him ID'd.

Don't you want to wait for the post,
keep his hands clean for trace?

I need to know who my victim is.
That's the priority.

Finish your breakfast. I got plenty of time.

There's nothing under the nails that I can see.

I think we can risk prints.

Something's up.

Please. Gather round.

Steve, could someone get word
across the hall to Features and Sports?

- Sure.
- We want everyone on this.

What, did we get sold again?

First the LA Times buys us up,
then the Tribune.

Law of the fish.

- We're the minnow.
- Maybe we won a Pulitzer.

Pulitzers are still a week away.
It just turned April.

Nah. Look at Whiting's pants.

If we won a Pulitzer,
the executive editor would be tumescent.

Tum-what?

Speak English. I'm just a police reporter.

Tumescent. Engorged.

Exactly.

It's a bad time for newspapers,
as you all know.

The news hole is shrinking
as advertising dollars continue to decline.

Our circulation numbers are also down
as we compete with a variety of media.

Technology is driving distribution...

and the internet is a free source
of news and opinions.

Seeking a balance in this new world,

we're now faced with hard choices.

We opened our first foreign bureau
in London in 1924.

The Sun's foreign coverage
has been a source of pride ever since.

So it is with...

tremendous regret...

that I tell you that Chicago has made it clear
that the bureaus in Beijing,

Moscow, Jerusalem,
Johannesburg and London

will all be shuttered.

Elsewhere in the newsroom,

there will be a fresh round of buyouts.

Chicago has given us some
specific budgetary targets

that will require some hard choices
throughout the newsroom.

We are, quite simply,

going to have to find ways
to do more with less.

So I guess I will turn this over to Tom,

who will get into the specifics.

I know some of you have questions.

If you could hold them for me
until after I've had a chance to speak.

Pull your clip book together.
Time to find a new home.

Chicago has sent us a memo
outlining options

that are available to those of you...

The aorta should have elasticity to it,

but it's rock-hard.

Whoever strangled him
could've just waited a month or two more.

This guy was on his last legs.

It is what it is.

In addition to the fractured hyoid
and the bruising,

I got signs of a struggle around the body,

a couple of witnesses who thought they heard
sounds of a struggle inside the house.

Also that ribbon you snipped off,
it might tie to other cases.

The ribbon my own investigator
missed at the scene.

It happens. It was high on the wrist.

Cause and manner is
homicide by strangulation.

Good hunting, Detective.

"Anyone requiring additional information

"on COBRA benefits and pension payout

"as part of the voluntary separation plan

"can schedule an appointment
with human resources."

Some of you will migrate into new positions

while others will, of course, be moving on
to other opportunities beyond the Sun,

but everyone in this room
has done excellent work

and should be proud of their contributions.

- How many buyouts are there?
- That hasn't been determined yet.

We'll talk to the union today.

How will this affect the upcoming
contract negotiations with the guild?

Badly. Kiss any raise goodbye.

How come there's cuts in the newsroom
when the company's still profitable?

There's nobody that feels
worse about this than I do.

I've seen the excellent work
we've done here in Baltimore.

The sooner we start
meeting with you individually,

the sooner I can answer all of your questions.

Not O'Mara.

Aw, no.

Good luck, everybody.

No increase in felonies
and a one per cent bump in total crime.

Do you vouch for these figures?

- Sir?
- No increase in crime

even after I cut you guys to the bone.
This is what you're telling me?

Because the one thing I'm asking of you guys,

the one thing that I'm asking above all,

is that you bring me clean numbers.

Yes, Mr. Mayor.

You made that clear.

Very good, then.

Burrell is done.

He just killed himself.

We leak the real stats, hold the cooked ones
in case he won't go quietly.

And replace him with who? Rawls?

He came in with the same stats.

If I know Bill Rawls, he'll be calling over here

as soon as he gets back to his office,

telling us he warned Burrell
against cooking the books.

The ministers won't live with Rawls.
Neither will Nerese.

As acting commissioner they will,

for a few months at least,
if we've got a black candidate to sell them.

Daniels isn't ready.
He's only been colonel for a year.

A year will do in a pinch.

You float it with one of your bunkies
on Calvert Street.

See how it plays.

Burrell reads that, he'll shit melons.

I fucking hope so.

It's Baltimore.

No one lives forever.

Andreas, right?

The Russian sent me.

Need you to get a word to Vondas.

- He got a new friend.
- I never hear the name.

Just let him know Marlo came past with a gift.

Be at you same time tomorrow.

Any idea how long this could take?

Don't know. Might be here all day.

I have meetings scheduled.

We've got to lay the foundation carefully,

make it so the grand jurors understand
all the ins and outs

so they don't get lost in the details.

Mr. Howard?

Is there any way I could go earlier?

If you're important enough, sure.

I'm the vice president
of a major financial institution.

Who the fuck isn't?

Now, sir, directing your attention
to the document in your hand,

is that also an account statement?

Yes, it is,
for a nonprofit, interest-bearing account,

organizational, with 501 3 designation.

Can you begin by slowly explaining
in the most basic terms

each of those things,
beginning with the word nonprofit?

- Hey, is box two open?
- Not yet.

- What about three?
- Someone's killing homeless men.

Medical examiner says so.

Weird thing about my case, Bunk.

Dead man was homeless,
but he had a red ribbon

tied around his wrist.

What does a homeless guy have to remember

that he should have a red ribbon
tied around his wrist?

- Barlow.
- What?

Nice out.

Oh, like Chanel No.5
comes out of your ass, Moreland.

If you got a problem, then I got a problem.

That's how the co-op work.

What's the problem?

I got too much money.

Son, believe me,

you ain't alone.

What to do with the shit we sell ain't no thing.

In Baltimore, dope and coke sell themselves,

but the money that come back?
Ain't enough mattresses, is there, now?

You got any ideas?

A few.

If you askin'.

- Not Twigg.
- Damn.

Guy gives 20 years to the paper,
and this how it ends?

Fact of the matter is,
it's more profitable these days

to run a worse paper for less money.

Cut back people and pages,
you increase revenue.

If we're lucky, they'll just get rid of deadwood.

How'd it go?

- "You've done excellent work."
- Shit...

Without being explicit,
they gave me a choice -

- either the copy desk or the buyout.
- You're kidding, right?

Apparently, they can hire
1 ½ twenty-somethings

for what it costs to keep me in print, so...

Damn, Roger. Sorry, man.

Fuck it. I might as well get to work
on that great American novel.

- Yeah.
- Gus, come on in.

Have a seat.

Relax, Gus. We need you here.

We value your dedication.
You've done excellent work.

We're counting on you
to transition the new team.

There's still excellent talent out there
that needs to be developed.

- What kind of team's going to be left?
- We're losing good people,

but we expect
to retain the core of a solid staff.

Doing more with less.

That's what we have to contemplate
going forward.

More with less, huh?

Look at this.

A red ribbon in one of Ray Cole's files.

Cole left a note with it.
"Found on left wrist of victim.

"Check against other cases."

Hey, hon. How's the stain look
on the cabinets? They dry yet?

Great. I'm on my way.

This is the hard part, getting these guys
to give a shit. Let's get a taste. I'm buying.

You think I'm drinking with you?
Go home, Jimmy.

Think your weak shit through, man.

Go home?
For the love of God, I'm working a serial killer.

You want to talk on it?

Went with Chris and them.

Set up on this family.

Everything so serious now.

Yo, little man, you finish your homework?

'Cause it's late now, and it's only gonna
get later if we don't roll home soon.

Ain't no school tomorrow. Teacher meetings.

We should do something, Mike.

Got my corner to run, man.

What?

What, nigger?

Six Flags be open again.

That shit's taking forever.

Complicated stuff, I suppose.

It's more like Joe make it complicated.

That nigga got a thing for conversation.

Not like Marlo.

Definitely not.

Now, see, pastor here, he one of about three
I like to give money to.

Help with his good works and all that.

Good works?

He down with all kind of missionary work
going on down in the islands.

You know, building a church for some folk,

a schoolhouse for some other folks,
all kind of good shit like that.

And what else y'all building?

- A hospital.
- Hospital, yeah.

Except they been building that mess
for about ten years now,

- and nothing ever actually get finished.
- How you gonna clean my money?

Got accounts at some of the banks
down there.

Donations come in as cash,
cashier's checks come out.

Tiny-ass Caribbean island
don't truck with no subpoenas,

- no court orders, none of that.
- You pay ten on the dollar.

Anything beyond that
depends on your generosity,

to save those who want to be saved.

I'm back.

I can see that.

Again.

I saw your text message
on my cell phone today,

it took me a minute to remember
who the hell you were.

- It ain't been that long.
- Shit. When you left,

I was still covering the labor beat.

We ain't had a labor reporter
around here in three years.

Yeah, well, now you the big, bad city editor,

and I'm whoring myself for politicians.

You got out just at the right time too.

- That bad, huh?
- Chicago is killing us.

One buyout after another.

I can't even begin to think
what our next round

of guild negotiations is gonna be like.

Well, enough of me crying.

What are you selling tonight, dear Norman?

Carcetti's planning to shitcan Burrell.

He's talking to people
and considering replacements.

City hall source?

Who's the leading candidate?

Rawls, deputy for operations,
might have the job for a few months,

but there's a frontrunner from deeper
in the department. Cedric Daniels.

It's been a while since
I've been on the street there, Norman.

- Who's this Daniels?
- Chief of detectives. Polished.

Holds a law degree.

Brought closure to some high-level cases.

His ex-wife got herself
elected to the council last go-round.

I always liked photos with my stories.

And this is aimed at who? Huh?

The ministers? Nerese?

You want to see if
they can live with this fella here, right?

A'ight.

From one whore to another.

Whoa, what the fuck?
Check this shit out.

Beautiful.

Holy shit. Look at this motherfucker.

Hit him with the spot.

CID. Figures, don't it?

Where y'all need to go?

- Down Six Flags.
- You talkin' round trip?

Run you 200 plus gas.

Where you at?

I got 150, gas included, if it even get us there.

Don't be fretting on the ride now.
This motherfucker tried and true.

A'ight.

I got half when we get there
and half on the way back.

I guess you're not up for a story.

- I need something worked on right away.
- What do you got?

Mayor's thinking about
firing the police commissioner.

- He's floating the idea anyway.
- No problem. I'm all over it.

What do you know about Daniels?

- Who is he?
- A CID commander.

Came out of the Eastern DEU, married to
the Daniels that won the council seat in '06.

Brought in a couple of big wiretap cases,
they gave him the Western,

hoping to clean up that district
after they shitcanned Bunny Colvin.

Since getting separated,
he's been shacked up with Ronnie Pearlman

over at the state's attorney's office.
No suction early in his career,

but now that he's got Carcetti's ear,

now the brass stay out of his way.

What's the man's favorite color?

- You sure?
- Yeah, what the hell?

I'm already on the clock.

- Ops bureau.
- Hi, darlin'.

It's Roger Twigg with the Sun papers.

- Hey, Roger.
- Is the deputy around?

- Sure.
- Thanks, hon.

Hey, an hour or two,
I'd have had it surrounded.

No doubt.

While Mr. Deadwood here's working the story,

see if you can feed him some react quotes.

A generous gift...

but your money, the money you bring me...

I don't need.

Money is money.

What's the difference who bring it to you?

It's dirty money.

It stinks.

- We ain't in the same business?
- The bills are from the street.

They're dirty, you understand?

Everything runs through Joe.
Everything is clean with Joe.

Ain't a problem.

Good.

Goodbye.

Hey, Bunk. What kind of knot
you say was on that red ribbon?

- The one on the homeless guy's wrist.
- Fuck yourself with your red ribbon.

Just thought of something.

I caught a vagrant months back
had a red ribbon tied around his wrist.

You remember that?

Helluva catch, Detective. Helluva of a catch.

Can I see your file?

Homicide?

Nope, just missed him.

Won't be back until about four.

Clean bills?

You mean laundered, right?

- I just showed you how...
- Nah, nah. He mean clean,

like the money straight out the bank and shit.
All lookin' nice.

See, people ain't right.
Here you are tryin' to pay a motherfucker,

an' all he worried about
is what the money look like.

Normally, my fee for this
would be 20 on the dollar.

40,000 to make it look nice.

You need this back today too.

Might ordinarily charge more,

but seeing as how we co-op, no charge.

Speaking of co-op,
tell them niggers that got burnt

I'm givin' away 50 for a line on Omar's people.

His sister, his me-maw,
some faggy he be with.

All that shit count, you hear me?

- I'd let sleeping dogs lie, son.
- I know you would, Joe.

You smart like that.

Yeah. Me?

Anyway, pass that offer on.

Come back for this here in an hour.

That boy want Omar bad.

Man, I ain't giving him a thing on Omar.

Omar been gone.

Took a lot of bad history with him too.

Why in the hell would I want
that motherfucker back?

How fast you think we were going
on that first drop?

- 75 an hour.
- That's it?

Felt like I was coming out of my seat, man.

You always knowing stuff like that. How?

Over there!

Y'all throwin' some bricks.

Put a little touch on it.

Watch.

Put some backspin on it,
or else it'll bank off the box and not in it.

Hold this.

- So where Fairfax at?
- Northern Virginia.

- How about you?
- I live up Baltimore.

That's so cool.

You two have your own place?

- Yeah, and Bug.
- That's tight.

Madman on the loose, huh?

Three linked cases and counting.

He's killing vagrants, is he?

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Who covers us for the Sun papers
nowadays? Twigg?

Him or this new girl. Alma something.

Baltimore Sun. Gutierrez.

Uh-huh.

Okay. Can I meet you?

Do you know Al Pacino's?

How about half an hour?

Okay. See you then.

Good react quote from me in Metro Write.

Whoa. Scott, come here.

This quote here.

"Carcetti may be holding the knife,
but Daniels sharpened it for him.

"He's been critical of Burrell
since the election."

Good shit, huh?

Yeah, from a high-ranking city hall source?

You feel comfortable telling me
where you got that?

Not really, it being a source.

It's a great quote, but if you're gonna...
if you're gonna slam somebody anonymously,

I at least have to be sure
that the quote comes from...

Nerese Campbell.

She's not gonna
slam the mayor's choice publicly,

but not-for-attribution, that's her quote.

You got Nerese to say that, huh?

Twigg's not the only guy
with game around here.

Let Vondas know I ain't mean
no misunderstanding earlier.

How do you know they're connected?
Is there DNA evidence or a signature?

We can't release that yet. You know, copycats.

So there is a signature.

What?

You're good.

- You're new, right?
- Five months.

I worked at the Sun-Sentinel
in Lauderdale before this.

I've read your stories. They're good.

Bullshit, but thanks.

You're gonna run something
right away, right?

We got to get the word out on this.

What kind of name is Alma?

- I have a boyfriend, Detective.
- Yeah?

He bigger than me?

Can I ask you why on the day in question

you were operating the senator's car
when you were detained by city police

with $20,000 in cash?

On advice of my attorney,
I ain't gonna answer that.

Y'all trying to criminate me here.

Mr. Price, you are employed
as a driver for Senator Davis,

earning 30,000 a year, is that correct?

- Yeah, so?
- Yet it is my understanding

that you are also drawing a $40,000 salary

as the executive director
of the West Baltimore hoops charity

and another 30,000 as the fundraising director

for the senator's day-care initiative.

How are you able to earn three salaries,

working three jobs at the same time,
Mr. Price?

You have a nice day.

Blind motherfucker.

His joint on Collington
on the east side of the street.

If he give up Omar, though,
I want in on that shit.

Nigger put a gun in my face, man.

- Joe know about Butchie?
- Motherfucker, I know about him.

Joe don't know shit about this here,

and he ain't need to know.

Now where my cheese at, man?

Ooh.

The fuck you been at, nigga?

Wasn't no school today,
so we took Bug to do something.

- Ain't no thing.
- It is when you don't tell no one!

I had to come down here all day long
to make sure your shit is straight.

This your corner or what, nigga?

I'm checking now to make sure
shit's right at the end of the day.

A'ight?

- Yo, count right?
- Yeah. All straight.

Ain't the point, and you know it.
Chris already heard about this shit.

Nice dolphin, nigga.

Let's go home, man.
I'll deal with this bullshit later.

That's 400 in your own account
down in the islands.

There no hurricane, department of justice,

or nigga with a gun can tap that.

- How I even know it's there?
- You check it online any time you like.

On a computer?

- If I can't hold it in my hand...
- A'ight. You got any prior convictions?

- No, nothing that rate.
- We get you a passport, then.

Take a trip.

Hm.

Ain't easy civilizing this motherfucker.

We chose poorly, Gus.

Yeah.

At this rate, there won't be much
to call a newspaper in ten years.

You know my father
worked over at Armco, right?

And every morning before he went to work,

he'd sit at the table,
reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee,

and no one could interrupt him for that
15 minutes before he walked out the door.

And I remember watching him, thinking,

"What the hell is so important
about that damn paper?

"I want to be part of that."

Made me want to be a newspaperman.

One day, I was cutting class at Patterson,

and there was this man on the downtown bus

folding his broadsheet just so.

And the way that man folded that paper

and concentrated on reading those pages...

made him look like the smartest son of a bitch
on the bus.

It was just one of those moments.

"If, ever I depart this vale,

"and you ever remember me

"and have thought to please my ghost...

"forgive some sinner,

"and wink your eye at some homely girl."

Fuck Henry Mencken.

I forgive you, Gus.

Oh, my God.

You see that quote from somebody
about me stabbing Burrell in the back?

That's a damn lie.

So what?

You're going to be named commissioner.

This is good news.
How is this not good news?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Thanks.

Cheap motherfucker.

No, no, see.

If you stack it with the domestic beer,

then I won't know, huh?

Cut a blind man some slack, hear?

- Y'all servin'?
- If you got some ID on you.

- Who was that?
- Little girl.

- Cash is in the register.
- Fuck the register, old man.

They all up in your shit.

They going after every damn thing.
Do you hear me?

We going to jail.

Focus, motherfucker.

Focus!

Look here.

Back in the girdle ads

underneath the story about the...

the school board
approving a name change for PS 114,

it's...

it's Jimmy McNulty's ripper.

You know why they call
them homeless, Jimmy?

Because they ain't got a pot to piss in,
and you know why they ain't got a pot?

Because nobody gives a good fuck.

Shake it for another day or two,
and then you're back in the rotation.

You done with this stupid shit?

Who the fuck do you need
to hear it from, Jimmy?

You have to let Burrell know
that this isn't coming from you.

That won't matter.
After what he read today, I'm the threat.

Then you have to tell him
that you won't take the job,

- that you don't want his chair.
- And he believes me?

The alternative is that
he goes public with what he knows,

whatever he has about the old days.

He sat on it this long.

You said yourself he'd rather bury that file

than to embarrass the department
on his watch,

but if it's between you and him surviving,
what do you think he'll do then?

How much could even be in that file?

An assets investigation? Some loose talk?

It was so long ago.
Most of those guys have moved on.

He only needs smoke.

He doesn't even need fire
to drag you down, to drag me down.

Everything that we have worked so hard for.

We've already lost enough.

What other people Omar got?

Cocksucker the one got the trouble.

No need for you to stand tall on it.

It don't have to be messy.

Ain't no other way. I can see that.

Where I find Omar?

No...

Where Omar at?

You a tough old man.

When word get to Omar,
make sure he hear everything.

We still ain't got no line on the man,
and now he comin' at us.

We gonna change up.
Marlo got to move indoors.

- The rest of us need to live on the run.
- Fucked-up plan, you ask me.

Marlo wants Omar.
What else you need to know?

You making your move on Burrell,
and I don't blame you,

and the thing is, I can help with that.

The ministers, Nerese,
black legislative caucus,

- I can bring them around for you.
- Feel free.

All I need is some help
with this grand jury nonsense.

- You go to Bond, you tell Bond that...
- I can't help you with that.

Story's been out all day,
and our phone isn't ringing.

The ministers, Nerese, the caucus,

they're willing
to live with Daniels, apparently.

Thanks anyway.

Thinking you can cut Clay loose, huh?

Thinking I'm done.

Bonjour.

Came to see my account.

Vous parlez pas français?

Y'all got my money in here?

Je ne parle pas anglais.

This mine. Y'all got my money.

Oui, monsieur. J'ai juste besoin de ça.

S'il vous plaît,
est-ce que je pourrais avoir le...

Ça.

Merci.

Identification, s'il vous plaît.

- What?
- Um...ça.

Yeah.

Oui.

Merci.

Okay, Monsieur Marlo.

So you string together Barlow's murder
and Cole's unconnected case and yours,

which is natural to begin with...

Instant serial killer,

which I thought would get the brass to begin
kicking out some money to work real cases.

- Like Marlo.
- Like Marlo.

Shit like this actually goes through
your fucking brain?

Yeah. If you don't want
to listen to your partner,

then listen to Lester,
he has the wisdom you need.

Joke of it is, no one gives a fuck
about a serial killer,

not unless he's carving up
some pretty co-ed or some shit.

Sun papers put the story in their back pages.

- You fucked up.
- Yeah. Tell him.

No. I mean, if you want to do it right,
a straight-up strangle's not enough.

Not if it's some vagrant.

Sensationalize it.

Give the killer some fucked-up fantasy,

something bad, real bad.

It's got to grip the hearts and minds,

give the people what they want
from a serial killer.

- Lester, what the fuck?
- No. You're onto something.

I only need a few weeks
to pull down Marlo Stanfield.

You fly this mess right, you can give it to me.

Who gives a damn if we fake
a couple of murders

that we're never gonna solve, huh?

The dead men don't care.

No one cares.

But if it's gonna get the bosses to throw down
enough coin to do police work...

I'm out. I'm outta here.

We got to give your killer a name.

We have to kill again.

Poppy, we've got to
cook one of these one night.

- Yeah, right on.
- Nice little dinner.

Omar, Omar, Omar!

Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on.

All right, all right. Here you go.

- Fellas, mañana. Tomorrow, okay?
- Tomorrow.

- Mind out, Bobby.
- Mañana, Lexus.

Hey, 'Naldo, cous' got to find out
where they got Honey Nut, yo,

if they expect us to call this spit o' land home.

Recibió mi llamada? Tengo malas noticias.

Qué pasa?

Mataron a Butchie.