( 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 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 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 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.
 

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