(Seagulls)
NICK: What's up?
SOBOTKA: Great view. Of the harbor, I mean.
NICK: It's fuckin' picturesque is what it is. Every morning, I ask myself, is today the day I drive down to Fort Armistead, stare out at the harbor. But no, I figure eventually, if I mind my own business, Uncle Frank will call and wake my ass up at seven in the goddamn morning, tell me to get my ass down there for some mysterious fucking reason. So, hey.
SOBOTKA: Good anchorage, good cranes. Good railroads, close to I-95. Lotta people ready to work, right? That's my fucking town. Except, the thing is, we're another 110 miles for any ship coming up from Hampton Roads. An extra day. So why come, right? Why come unless you know your cargo's gonna move fast and clean through the port? Why offload in Baltimore, except that a Baltimore gang will turn your ship around faster than any other port, and a Baltimore gang will make sure your cargo, all your cargo, gets where it needs to go faster than anywhere else.
NICK: Like you guys never stole nothing back in the day.
SOBOTKA: We ain't back in the day, Nicky. When was the last time you saw trucks backed up for three miles outside Patapsco terminal? If it wasn't for the car-ships, we'd be starvin'. The cameras come back. I'm serious. They come back today, we tell the shipper we lost the can.
NICK: They're gone. We turned 'em over already.
SOBOTKA: To who? You know the Tasco line's a cunt hair away from taking their business down to Norfolk. I don't need this shit right now.
NICK: I do, uncle Frank, I need the money.
SOBOTKA: Goddamnit, you ain't hearin' me!
NICK: What you think this shit is easy, huh? You think it's fucking easy? You try livin' on five or six days a month. See how fast it ur ass. I am on my ass, Uncle Frank.
SOBOTKA: You need money, you come to me.
NICK: Oh, yeah, Frankie Sobotka's Father fucking Christmas on the docks lately. No doubt, his pockets are full, huh?
SOBOTKA: You think it's for me?! Is that what you think, huh?! It ain't about me, Nick!
NICK: Yeah, I know, I'm sorry.
SOBOTKA: And you got Ziggy mixed up in this. Jesus, Nick, the fuck u thinking?! Me and Zig are gonna talk on this long and hard. (Deep breath) C'mon, let's go to work. How much?
NICK: 20. Three-way split.
SOBOTKA: Yeah, who's the inside man?
NICK: You don't know? Fuck you then, I ain't no snitch.
SOBOTKA: Nobody should flash too much money. You know that much, right?
NICK Yeah.
 

GUARD#1: Toxicology's coming back positive for strychnine. 10, 12%. It's pretty well laced.
ASSISTANT WARDEN: This was intentional?
GUARD#1: That's the M.E.'s call, but I've seen street packages cut all the time with all kinda chemicals. Seriously, you don't use too much, you give a weak package some kick. People start thinking you high-grade, when what you got is stepped-on trash with a little bit of rat poison mixed in.
GUARD#2: Too much rat poison, you got people fallin' out, like we got.
ASSISTANT WARDEN: Be nice to have one or two answers for those reporters.
GUARD#1: What do they wanna know?
ASSISTANT WARDEN: How'd it get in, what are we doing about it, the usual.
GUARD#1: It got in like everything gets in.
ASSISTANT WARDEN: If you can't win the war on drugs in a prison, where the hell you gonna win it? I ask you.
D.O.C. COMMISSIONER:: Listen, if it were one or two dead, it would fade. But five in one night, and eight more in the infirmary? We need to show the flag on this. What I'm gonna need is for y'all to wheel and deal.
ASSISTANT WARDEN: What do you mean?
GUARD#1: If this case gets made from an informant. An' you're gonna have a couple dozen of them, if you're ready to shave some years.
 

(Elevator bell)
McNULTY: Colonel.
(Phone ringing)
WINONA: Jimmy.
McNULTY: Winona.
LANDSMAN: Hey, Gilligan, little buddy. (Laughing) Hey, don't you have a job?
McNULTY: Ooh, ouch. I smell fresh police work. Okay, be like that. You got some paper from inside the can? A letter, couple of envelopes, some scraps of stuff?
RUSSELL: Yeah, everything's down in your evidence control.
McNULTY: You have the submission slips?
RUSSELL: He does.
McNULTY: Lester.
FREAMON: You want to pull all of it?
BUNK: Hold it. Before you start dancing with your Jane Doe, I'm gonna need a little something from you on the Gant case. I got a full set of Ilene Nathan's teeth marks on my hind parts.
McNULTY: No problem, got you covered.
BUNK: You found Omar?
McNULTY: I never lost him, my friend.
FREAMON: He's got Omar?
BUNK: Bullshit.
RUSSELL: Who's Omar?
 

DANIELS: My papers are in.
BURRELL: They are. You want out, you're out. But I'm offering to clean the slate here. You and me.
DANIELS: Why?
BURRELL: The council vote is next week, after which I'm upstairs. Now, if I'm gonna give myself a chance to make my mark on this place, I'll need good people.
DANIELS: People you can trust.
BURRELL: And you ain't that, hmm? Alright. You're a snake. But you seem to know your business.
DANIELS: I'm taking the bar exam in a month.
BURRELL: Why not put it off for a year or two, leave the department with a major's pension? Scalise is gonna retire this summer. You do me a good turn on this detail in southeast and you'll have that posting.
DANIELS: Why would you do that?
BURRELL: I value you, Cedric. Look, you're arrogant and disloyal. But maybe, given time, you'll find a way to shine.
DANIELS: What's the detail?
BURRELL: Drug case, probably. My sense of it is that Stan Valchek has got some personal issues with somebody in one of the port unions. He thinks they've got too much money and, so, being Valchek, he gets a detail.
DANIELS: That it? Pretty thin.
BURRELL: I don't care if you make a case for Valchek or not. I do care that the old Polack away from it feeling he got his money's worth.
DANIELS: Valchek asked for me by name, didn't he? You two are trading horses and you need me in the corral. How about this? If I bring in a case, you make the detail permanent as a major case unit within C.I.D.
BURRELL: Fair enough. Just keep Valchek stroked and make sure you bring in a drug case or two.
DANIELS: One other thing.
BURRELL: A promotion and the promise of a specialized unit isn't enough?
DANIELS: I choose my own people. Fuck me once, shame on you. Fuck me twice.
BURRELL: Make a list. Give it to Rawls. He'll pull who you want.
 

PRISONER#1: Shit do not make sense. Some of them wasn't about nothin'. I mean, Tae, Lizard? Shit, if it was a hotshot, they was after some real lightweight motherfucks.
PRISONER#2: Yo, Dee. You want any Silver Surfers, man? They tossin' shit Tae had in his cell, man.
RPSIONER#1: Whoever load that shit up didn't know what the fuck he was doing. My boy down the infirmary say the shit was more rat poison than it was dope.

McNULTY: Hah. Fuckin'-A right. Jane Doe number five. Five, five.
 

(Honking)
NICK: What's up, baby?
ZIGGY: Hey. Yahoo!
NICK: Not here, put it away. Shot and a beer, darlin'. Kept one for yourself, did ya?
ZIGGY: Them Japs, they make a nice little camera they do.
NICK: You even got film in that bitch?
ZIGGY: No, it's digital.
NICK: Yeah, I know it's digital, so what?
ZIGGY: So, no film, look... There's a computer chip inside. You take that off. You load the pictures on the computer.
NICK: Thanks, Delor. Hey, Zig. Ziggy. Don't spread no cash around for a while, alright?
ZIGGY: Oh, hell no. I mean, I might get a new clutch plate put in Princess is all.
NICK: Also, your father knows.
ZIGGY: How's he know?
NICK: Horse saw us, right?
ZIGGY: Fuck me, he told?
NICK: How long Horse been tight with your pop? Yeah, of course he told. He's pissed, Zig. He ain't happy.
ZIGGY: What'd you say?
NICK: I told 'em we'd already turned the cameras around, and after a while, like, he stopped yelling.
ZIGGY: Yeah, at you, maybe.
NICK: Anyway. It's low profile for a while, alright?
ZIGGY: Alright. (Camera beeping)
NICK: So you take a picture on that thing, you don't have to take it to no Photomart to get it turned around or nothin'?
ZIGGY: No, it goes on a computer.
NICK: I gotta take a leak. I got next, Ott.
ZIGGY (laughing): Whoa. Pretty boy. Hey there.
DOLORES: Aww Christ, Ziggy.
 

ELENA (on answering machine): Jimmy, just a scheduling thing. Sean was invited to Mark Lohrman's birthday party on Saturday. So you can pick him up there after two. And I realize it's your weekend, but Sean would be upset if he missed it. Okay? Great.
(Beep)
BUNK (on answering machine): Omar by the end of the week, Jimmy. Ilene is on the warpath. Motherfucker, I am serious.
(Beep)
FEMALE (on answering machine) Mr. McNulty, this is Dr. Halpern's office. You missed your six-month cleaning on Tuesday and we haven't heard from you. Give us a call, please.
(Beep)
NATHAN (on answering machine): McNulty, this is your dear, dear friend Ilene Nathan. I indicted this piece-of-shit case because you swore to me we had an eyeball witness.
(Beep)
McNULTY: Ugh.
 

(Male on radio) The drive time is 6:38 in the AM and we have reports that.
AIMEE: Go around, asshole.
NICK: What'd you call me?
AIMEE: I'm sleeping on this side. 'Cause you gotta get up, everybody does?
NICK: Yep. (Urinating)
AIMEE: Wipe off the seat, nick, I know you hit it.
NICK (Coughing) (Flushing toilet): If I could fart now, I would.
AIMEE: Oh, that's a surprise. There's no chance for breakfast, huh?
NICK: No. I'll stop by the bar.
AIMEE: No, you won't. You ain't got time. You gotta run me past my ma's to pick up Ashley.
NICK: Well, shit, hurry up, then. You know I got a ship to work today.
AIMEE: Your ma knows you got a ship, too.
NICK: I'm gonna go upstairs. Just head out the back, I'll pick you up at the back of the alley, alright?
(Bang)
AIMEE: Jesus, Nicky, we got a kid together. What's the big deal we spend the night in your folks' basement?
NICK: They're decent people.
AIMEE: We ain't got time.
NICK: I know.
AIMEE: So why you grabbing?
NICK: They were starin' right at me. I'll meet you out back.
 

BUNK: So how do you get the container off the ship, off the dock?
RUSSELL: Well, I guess if you wanted to make sure your cargo isn't messed with, you'd want to get with one of the checkers.
BUNK: Who're they?
RUSSELL: Local 15-14. They monitor all the loading and off-loading, they match the manifests, they tally the cargo. Nothing goes in or out without them putting it down somewhere.
FREAMON: Or not. Or not.
BUNK: So we need to talk to a checker.
RUSSELL (Chuckling)
FREAMON: What?
RUSSELL: Black, white, Polish, Irish, Italian, it doesn't matter. No one talks to police.
BUNK: How do you make a case then? I patrol. I write traffic tickets. If we got an open container, or a damaged container, I take a report. We got something stolen, I take another report. Someone gets something dropped on him or gets run over by a front-end loader, I keep writing.
FREAMON: That's the job, huh? How long you been on?
RUSSELL: Two years.
BUNK: What'd you do before that?
RUSSELL: I took tolls from people at the Fort McHenry Tunnel, which I'm happy to say, wasn't nearly as much fun. Made 22,5 and went home tired every night until I walked by the office bulletin board one night, read the M-dot job postings. Port Authority officer, schedule one, starting at 33 with benefits.
BUNK: Toll-takin' days were over, huh?
RUSSELL: Father of my two kids n in '99, hasn't so much as called in three years. I wasn't gonna make it on 22,5. Not with kids, I wasn't.
BUNK: Did you want to be a police?
 

(Buzzer)
DEE: Could've been me the other night.
AVON: True.
DEE: 'Cept for all of a sudden you up and tell me to stop doing that. Avon to the rescue. How'd you know?
AVON: I figured you was gonna be bringing your ass in here to thank me for pullin' you off of that shit.
DEE: Five dead. More in the infirmary. How'd you know?
AVON: You know, I did as your uncle should, 'cause I'm concerned about you fuckin' yourself up.
DEE: You knew.
AVON: Look man, I ain't had nothin' to do with it. I mean, I might could know who did though.
DEE: You practically runnin' this place. Who else could it be?
AVON: It ain't about what happened, ya understand? It's about using what happened to our advantage. Play or you gonna get played.
DEE: I need to know, Avon, that you ain't do this shit, a-ight. That's what I need to know.
AVON: I already said it. You ain't gonna believe it, fuck it. You can tell yourself that I spiked it but be grateful that you still standing. And then once you done with all that, we can talk about how we start shavin' some of these years off. And not just for me, for you too. Now, they lookin' for the motherfucker who brought that shit, right? They need him to fall. And you know what? I can give you a name. I can give you the right name. And we can take that name down to the assistant warden and we get some of our lives back. You dig? So, stay close. This play on the inside, this play on the outside, we got it all covered.
DEE: I don't want no part of what you do no more. You hear me? So, you can just leave me the fuck outta that. Whatever it is.
 

(Radio playing)
McNULTY: Anyone seen Omar?
 

DOCKER: We're back in!
SHAVED HEAD DOCKER: Six ships in one day.
NICK: Yeah, ain't seen the terminal this busy in months, man. Feels sweet.
SHAVED HEAD DOCKER: Shit, lookit this pretty bitch.
NICK: What the fuck are you wearing?
ZIGGY: Italian leather, alright?
NICK: In the middle on the goddamn docks? How much that shit cost?
ZIGGY: Two grand.
NICK: For a goddamn jacket? Are you out your fucking mind, Zig?
SHAVED HEAD DOCKER: Fuck it. $2,000 for a single goddamn jacket. Jesus, Zig. You need therapy and shit.
ZIGGY: Now, Id'a figured an African American such as yourself would understand how a player such as myself needs to take heed in the latest fashions. But apparently, yous' ain't got no fucking style neither.
NICK: I'm gonna walk, alright?
SHAVED HEAD DOCKER: See ya.
ZIGGY: What?
NICK: Fuck did I tell you about not spreading no cash around?
ZIGGY: Jesus Christ, Nicky. It's a fucking coat, I mean, I-- I can tell people I'm payin' for it on installments or whatever. But you gotta admit, I do look pretty today. I do.
NICK: The Greeks wanna talk to us.
ZIGGY: Yeah, what about?
NICK: We did good by them.
ZIGGY: Yeah?
NICK: But for chrissakes, Zig, keep your shit quiet before half the fuckin' waterfront's talkin' about us. Alright?
ZIGGY: Alright, no problem.
NICK: Alright. See you later.
ZIGGY: See ya.
 

DEALER: Yo, quit it.
McNULTY: Gentlemen. We don't need that now.
DEALER: Say what?
McNULTY: I don't give a shit about drugs. Littering pisses me off, though. So you can pick that shit up when I'm gone. Look, I'm looking for a stick-up boy, name of Omar. Dark-skinned, thin guy with a scar right down his face. You boys would definitely know him if you saw him, because he's got a shotgun about yea-long, he'll put it to your head and steal your shit without thinking twice. Does anyone know where he hangs? Who he's runnin' with? What he's driving?
DEALER: Fuck you, officer.
 

DEALER: The second package came even weaker than the last. It won't take the cut like it did before.
STRINGER: Fuckin' Atlanta shit cost more and siill not as good?
DEALER: Came in at 25. All we can do is sprinkle it an' bag it.
STRINGER: And lose my money? I lose my money. Step on the motherfuck.
DEALER: How hard?
STRINGER: Make it 10.
DEALER: It's shit now.
STRINGER: Yeah, I know.
 

BUNK: So the container itself leads us nowhere. Fake addresses on either end. Which leaves us the port itself, because presumably whatever went wrong on the ship was known to whoever was supposed to pick that container up.
FREAMON: Which is why it stays on the dock.
BUNK: Bottom line is we need to know more about cargo moving off that terminal. How to do dirt. And how to hide when you're doing dirt.
RAWLS: Bottom line for me is different. Bottom line for me is... You guys should've held that ship. For your crime scene, for your witnesses. For the whole damn case.
BUNK: Sir, the witnesses--
RAWLS: I don't care if they were speaking Mandarin Chinese with a cocksucker's lisp. They needed to see the inside of an interrogation room. They were the case.
FREAMON: Colonel, we were in Philadelphia, with no real jurisdiction, dealing with foreign nationals and no real probable cause.
RAWLS: Boys, I can only tell you what it looks like from where I sit. And from here, the view is two of my detectives fucking the dog. 13 homicides. 14 if we connect the floater. And all of them red. So what can I tell you? If this case doesn't fall, we're all gonna be stepping on our dicks trying to explain what happened. So, work it as you see fit, but understand, if I have to throw Burrell a scapegoat or two, I got what to throw.

McNULTY: Fuck me.
 

NICK: So... What did you want to talk to us about?
STORE OWNER: If you are able to do like you did, we have other things we can use.
ZIGGY: Like what?
NICK: Fact is, we kinda shook things up down there snatchin' all them cameras. It comes to expensive shit like that, we gotta lay back for a while.
STORE OWNER: Stuff we need is not like that.
NICK: No? Acetone, sulfuric acid, potassium permanganate.
ZIGGY: Chemicals?
NICK: Yeah, it's like paint thinner, shit like that.
ZIGGY: What the hell you need with those? Why don't you just go to the hardware store and pick them up?
STORE OWNER: No. We need much. Metric tons. Five or ten tons. Check and you'll see, they make these things here. Send it from here. Tanks and tanks down at your docks. Good money for those.
ZIGGY: How much?
STORE OWNER: How much chemical? Two tons? Four? Eight?
NICK: I'll look into it.
 

McNULTY: Yo, Bubbles!
BUBBLES: McNutty. Hey, my main-est man.
McNULTY: Get in the car.
BUBBLES: Where you been at, brother?
McNULTY: Whatcha get? Oh Walkman. You know how it works, Bubs. You're gonna need to pay taxes on this shit.
BUBBLES: Taxation without representation. You know?
McNULTY: I don't want much. I need Omar.
OMAR: Wild Omar?
JOHNNY: You want us to wander around town looking for a crazy motherfucker with a shotgun.
McNULTY: Him and me go way back, it's a friendly thing.
BUBBLES: If he's a friend, you can find the motherfucker without us.
McNULTY: No problem. Show me the receipt for this shit, you're off the hook. Here.
BUBBLES: Keep it, part of my tax.
McNULTY: Your tax is Omar. I need a line by Friday, Bubs.
BUBBLES: Fuck!
 

LEVY: My client will provide accurate information as to the source of the tainted narcotics. He can identify the method by which contraband is smuggled into this institution, as well as the people responsible.
GUARD#1: Cellblock talk is cheap.
LEVY: He'll give you what you need to make a case, if making a case is what you're interested in.
ASSISTANT WARDEN: Your terms?
LEVY: Mr. Barksdale is due for a first parole hearing at 28 months. We'd like to trim that to a year, and have your assurances of institutional support for work release and early parole.
ASSISTANT WARDEN: One year on a seven-year bit?
LEVY: We are offering extraordinary cooperation in this matter. Mr. Barksdale's placing himself at risk by offering information implicating other prisoners and staff at M.C.I. And I would only add that Mr. Barksdale's extant conviction is his first. He has no priors whatsoever.
GUARD#1: It's my recollection that a city police got shot behind Mr. Barksdale's business.
AVON: No, sir.
GUARD#1: You don't remember that?
AVON: I remember the officer got shot. And I remember being upset about that, not only because the officer got shot, but because I knew it meant there was gonna be more police on me. And I remember thinking any time any fool do something like shoot a police, it's bad on everyone. And I know you know that my name ain't nowhere on what happened to your friend.
LEVY: I think what we're asking is reasonable under the circumstances. After all, until someone identifies the source of the tainted heroin, you could have another five overdoses tomorrow. Or the day after. Consider the offer. But the next time we talk, an assistant attorney general has to be in the room.
 

NICK: Tuna surprise? Chrissakes, ma, I climbed all over two ships today. How 'bout a meal for at kinda day, huh? Where's pop?
NICK'S MOTHER: He's at the bar with the horses. Go tell him it's dinner.
NICK: We winnin', pop?
NICK'S FATHER: Nicko.
NICK: You up today?
NICK'S FATHER: I was doin' good, but this year... Gulfstream's killing me.
NICK: Well, go easy. That's my inheritance.
NICK'S FATHER: After 25 years, I'm still ahead almost... 7,000.
NICK: Pop, you really oughtta let me take you up to Pimlico when it opens. Try your system out for real.
NICK'S FATHER: Too tempting.
NICK: Just once?
NICK'S FATHER: Saw that the Cape Spruance is over at Point West?
NICK: Yeah. We off-loaded her today.
NICK'S FATHER: You know we double-hulled her down at number four. Maybe two years before the dry-dock closed up.
NICK: She still floats, huh?
NICK'S FATHER: Course she still floats.
NICK: You ever miss it, pop?
NICK'S FATHER: Wouldn't do no good. What's for dinner?
NICK: Tuna surprise.
 

RAWLS: You're loyal to your people. I respect that, at least. Don't worry, Lieutenant. Burrell wants you on this detail, so I want you, too.
DANIELS: I need your approval for Freamon, Greggs and Hauk. They're all C.I.D.
RAWLS: Correction. You need my approval for everyone. This may be Valchek's creation, but the detail is investigative and comes under C.I.D. If they work for me, they need my okay. Good news is, I got no problem with anyone on your list. Except McNulty. No McNulty. Nothing that even resembles the sonofabitch.
DANIELS: That bad, huh?
RAWLS: He quits or he drowns. That's the only two things get him off the fucking boat. So help me God. You even know what this detail's about, Lieutenant?
DANIELS: Some kinda beef that Valchek has.
RAWLS: Two fucking Polacks pissing on each other's leg.
DANIELS: Yeah, I heard. Anything to get you outta the basement, huh, Lieutenant? (Laughing)
 

(Rap music)
(Honking)
FRAT BOY: Hey, girl.
CHERYL: No! Kima, who cares? We're gonna be there in five minutes and they'll still be dumbass frat boys. You gotta start thinking to yourself, what would a lawyer do, huh? What would a lawyer say? Shakima Greggs, esquire. That's what I'm talkin' 'bout.
GREGGS: Get your ass down, fool.
FRAT BOY: Fuck you, lady.
GREGGS: Ain't no lady. Bitch, drive it or lose it.
BLONDE: Oh my God, let's get out of here.
(Honking)
 

(Female on TV) Only the finest breeds can perform this well with this much heart and obedience. Obedience that brings out the champion not only in show dogs. Oh, look at that tiger go. A third generation champion from Glassport. Even house pets that never knew they had the blood of champions in them. To perform at this level, an animal has to follow orders without question. It is not instinct.
MARLA: Come on upstairs.
(Female on TV) All dogs have instinct.
 

(Male) Jesus Christ.
ZIGGY (whistling)
SPAMANATO: Nothing's on this side. Most of the chemicals are over at the Fairfield terminals.
ZIGGY: Who do we know at Fairfield?
SPAMANATO: Ott's brother-in-law works there. You might try and touch him. Fuck they want with those for, anyway?
ZIGGY: Beats the fuck outta me.
MAU: Aww, Jesus, Ziggy, I'm sorry.
ZIGGY: Fuck, man, shit.
MAU: I didn't see you standin' there in all that sweet leather.
ZIGGY: What the fuck is wrong with you?
MAU: Clumsy, I guess. But, hey, you know you can just go out and steal a whole can full of baby wipes and just clean yourself up. You fuckin' goof.
ZIGGY: Dick.
 

GREGGS: Shit, Lieutenant, I promised.
DANIELS: You think my little woman's gonna give a great big cheer when she hears about it? I was out the damn door.
GREGGS: You don't know Cheryl.
DANIELS: You don't know Marla. Look, if you want, I could use you inside like we did Prez last year.
GREGGS: If I hear the music, I'm gonna dance. I'll tell your wife if you tell mine.

(Knocking)
STRINGER: In the car, but not out in the open. Yo, Rock. Yo. Be subtle with it, man. You know what subtle means?
ROCK: Laid back 'n shit.
 

JOHNNY: Good tunes, pop?
POP: Yeah. Thanks for the phones.
JOHNNY: I don't know, Bubs. I mean, if you go rollin' over rocks then you're gonna get bit by a snake, right?
BUBBLES: Got to pay that tax, Johnny. I mean, you got to give a workin' police his due. (Laughing)
KIMMY: So Bee's workin' for Lamar?
CRACKHEAD: All them work for Lamar. He got that whole corner to hisself.
KIMMY: An' you sayin' the stash is across the street in the low-rises.
CRACKHEAD: In the second court. They got it up in this one place that got the boarded-up windows.
KIMMY: How many doors down from the end?
CRACKHEAD: Three.
KIMMY: Three.
BUBBLES: Yo, pops. Yo. Anyone got a line on that wild boy who likes to pop the shotty.
POP: Omar?
BUBBLES: Yeah, I need Omar.
POP: What you want with Omar?
BUBBLES: Just a word with him. Just a word.
POP: You want to get with Omar, you need to stand out on one of them corners with a big-ass package. You be talkin' to that nigger soon enough.
BUBBLES: You feel anything? Let's go. Come on.
 

LEVY: As agreed, the price of cooperation is an agreement by the state parole officials to move Mr. Barksdale's first parole hearing forward by 12 months and to credit him in the file, with cooperation in this matter.
GUARD#1: You can't make a case on just some con's say so. We need the dope on the table.
LEVY: Of course you do. If, before the end of business today, you effect a search of correctional Officer Tilghman's vehicle, locker and person, we are confident sufficient evidence will be recovered.
GUARD#1: You're confident, huh?
D.O.C. COMMISSIONER: As far as D.O.C. is concerned, this is a fair deal if it takes the overdoses off our plate. But if we come up empty on this...
AVON: You won't.
GUIARD#1: Five'll get you ten, that's the motherfucker that spiked the packages.
D.O.C. COMMISSIONER: You have proof of this? Then we make the case that's there for us to make.
 

VALCHEK: Jesus, Mary an' Joseph. New Orleans. Lieutenant. Welcome to the southeast.
DANIELS: Major, I understand you asked for me.
VALCHEK: My son-in-law can't say enough in your favor. And of course, you did him a good turn last year, right?
DANIELS: You want to tell me about this target?
VALCHEK: Frank Sobotka. A union man, down at the port. Ah, the motherfucker's showing a lot of money, my gut says a drug connection. I can also tell you for a fact that his people will up and steal anything that isn't nailed down. You seen the off-site?
DANIELS: Not yet. I told my people to meet up here at the district.
VALCHEK: Pretty good digs. C'mon, I'll show ya.
 

WOMAN: It's from a young woman to her mother, or at least an older woman.
McNULTY: She mention any names?
WOMAN: There is an Anya here. And from the way she writes, I'm guessing it is a child. Oh. It's almost ready, Father. Excuse me.
McNULTY: So who's she writing to?
WOMAN: Oh, there is no name. The letter is for the whole family. But... She signs, "Nadya." Her name is Nadya.
McNULTY: Nadya.
WOMAN: Is she in trouble?
McNULTY: She's dead. Is the anything in the letter that gives any indications as to where these people live?
WOMAN: If you had an envelope I could... The only thing specific she mentions, is a church, St. Volodymyra, or St. Vladimir, and a priest. Father Vasyl, it says.
McNULTY: There's no names or places or...
WOMAN: Across the water, Father Vasyl is a common name, and there are many St. Volodymyra's. But leave the letter. I will try.
McNULTY: Thank you.
 

AIMEE: I'm saying, if there isn't enough work, then you could do something else, that's all.
NICK: There's enough work. Fact is, I came into some backpay I was owed from about a month ago. Couple thousand, from the vacation fund. Stop, Ash. I was thinking, you know, maybe this'll be the time for us to get a place.
AIMEE: You could cover that?
NICK: And maybe we don't rent. Maybe we try and buy something in the neighborhood. Nothing too big, you know, just... I heard Aunt Treesey's old place up in Covington has been fixed up real nice. You know? Like with wood floors and all. Hey, Ash. What's that ship there?
ASHLEY: Cable ship.
NICK: And what's the gray one next to it?
ASHLEY: Military sealift.
NICK: Atta girl. You cold?
 

ASSISTANT WARDEN: Dwight?
TILGHMAN: What's up?
ASSISTANT WARDEN: We're gonna have to search your vehicle, man, sorry.
TILGHMAN: Search the-- what the fuck?
GUARD#1: Open it, or I'm gonna shim the lock, maybe damage your ride.
TILGHMAN: Fuck this, you got no call to be doin' me like this. No call and no damn warrant.
ASSISTANT WARDEN: You drive onto a D.O.C. facility, you acknowledge the vehicle's subject to search.
GUARD#1: Where's the key, Dwight?
 

(Music)
SPAMANATO: He's gonna be back from lunch any minute, Zig. You hear me? He sees you on that thing, he's gonna break you down and sell you for parts.
ZIGGY (Laughing)
 

GUARD#3: Here it be.
TILGHMAN: Y'all planted that shit. You fuckin' know you did.
 

(Whistling)
BUNK: What's with the whistles?
RUSSELL: It's for us.
BUNK: Yeah?
RUSSELL: They marked us the moment we stepped out of the car. That's him.
BUNK: That's Horseface? How'd he get the name?
RUSSELL: You need a close-up?
FREAMON: Thomas Pakusa.
HORSEFACE: Yeah?
FREAMON: We need to talk to you about something.
HORSEFACE: What?
FREAMON: You re the checker working the Atlantic Light when it docked a couple weeks back, right?
HORSEFACE: If you say so.
BUNK: You remember that container that came off that day? With all the dead girls.
HORSEFACE: No.
RUSSELL: You don't remember all them dead girls in a can? C'mon, Horse.
HORSEFACE: I remember when you found 'em all in the stacks. I don't remember that they came off the Atlantic Light.
BUNK: Alright, let's take a ride downtown, clear this mess up.
HORSEFACE: No.
BUNK: Get the fuck in the car.
HORSEFACE: Am I locked up?
BUNK: Get in the damn car.
HORSEFACE: You want me in that car, you need to lock me up. And if that's onna be, I wanna talk to my shop steward, and he can have an I.B.S. lawyer go with me.
ZIGGY: Hey, dad, what-- Jesus, pop, what's that for?
SOBOTKA: Say cheese. You pull another stunt like that, Zig, I'll have your damn card. I don't care who your mother is. Get the fuck out of here!
(Whistling)
FREAMON: Kinda smart for a fat man, isn't he?
BUNK: Hey.
FREAMON: Alright, alright.
 

MAU: Goddamnit, Ziggy, you sick fuck. Get your dick outta my computer!
 

DANIELS: Where are the detectives who were first assigned?
VALCHEK: Dead. To me, anyway. I shipped them humps back to Burrell as fast as I could.
PREZ: What kept you?
HERC: That's the beautiful thing about this department. Every fuckin' braindead somehow manages to land on his feet. How's it hangin', Prez?
PREZ: How're you doing?!
HERC: I'm alright.
PREZ: Where's Lester? We got him, too, right?
DANIELS: He was out on the street today with Homicide, but Rawls promised to give him the bad news tomorrow.
GREGGS: Not McNulty though.
HERC: McNulty they really hate, not that I blame 'em.
VALCHEK: You, of course have Roland for the duration. Anyone else from the southeastern you need, you got. Well, I'll leave you to it then.
HERC: Hey, Lieutenant, Carver's in the southeast now. I think he's got sector two. I mean, it'd be great to have Carver on this, right?
GREGGS: On what? We don't even know what the hell we're supposed to be chasing here. I mean, no offense to your father-in-law, but it's real thin.
DANIELS: We're here, right? Whatever else happens, we run with the program for a few weeks. Maybe make a drug case or two down by the port. Beats the hell outta E.C.U.
 

JOHNNY: Anyway. Him and this lady have this daughter. The daughter's born a mute. The wife doesn't like that at all, so she breaks out, right? So this guy stuck raisin' his daughter, she has her period, she freaks out, goes to him, he thinks she was raped.
BUBBLES: Whoa, whoa, whoa, jackpot, eh? That's about ten dollars worth of bulk metal right there. All we gotta do is figure a way to haul it down to the scrap yard and we good.
JOHNNY: We'll break our fuckin' backs on this thing, man.
BUBBLES: Johnny, Johnny, look, keep your eye to the ground, okay? I'm trying to school you here. Okay?
JOHNNY: Yeah, yeah.
BUBBLES: This is good right here. This is ten dollars right here.
OMAR: Snitchin' Bubs. You be askin' for me?
 

ELENA: These headphones are great. I'm gonna use 'em at the gym, thanks. You hear the boys?
McNULTY: : No, it's quiet up there. A little too quiet.
ELENA: That means they're probably playing video games.
McNULTY: Or with a book of matches.
ELENA: So, did you have a lawyer look at the papers yet?
McNULTY: I did.
ELENA: And?
McNULTY: He says I shouldn't sign it. Says I'm giving away too much. I would never, under any circumstances pay that kind of support and alimony if we went to court.
ELENA: That's what he says?
McNULTY: Signed and notarized. I don't wanna argue about the money. I wanna get back together.
 

(Knocking)
STRINGER: Yeah.
ROCK: Yo, String, I was subtle with that.
ASSISTANT WARDEN (on TV): ... has led to drug distribution charges against three inmates, one who was himself incapacitated by the tainted narcotics and the correctional officer, a 10 year veteran. I've been instructed by the corrections commissioner and the state public safety secretary to announce that the maximum penalties will be sought against this officer.
STRINGER: I got a midterm, I gotta study.
 

BUNK: So this is their joint, huh?
RUSSELL: What's the plan?
FREAMON: Time to make it clear to these people that we're not gonna go away.
(Country music)
BUNK: You ain't gonna play that country shit, right? I hate that country shit. No, not even Ray Charles can save that mess for me. No sir.
(Soul music)
SOBOTKA: Big Daddy Lipscomb was right tackle. Your brain's gone to shit, Chessy.
CHESSY: Left tackle. You was too busy pissin' in your drawers to learn from right. Take your ass down to Schuler's steakhouse and get an education.
SOBOTKA: Hey, darlin'. What's the deal?
FREAMON: Oh, just droppin' in for one or two and then we'll take ourselves outta here. How 'bout you?
SOBOTKA: I'm leavin' after this one. You guys port police? I don't recognize either one of you.
BUNK: City Homicide.
SOBOTKA: Homicide? Who got killed?
BUNK: Those dead girls in the can.
SOBOTKA: That was an accident. That was a fucking accident. That's what I heard, anyway. Excuse me. (Breathing heavily)