The Wire A Series for "THE TARGET" Episode “When It's Net Yaur Turmn” Teiegiay by Simen Stery by David Sime= & Edward Burns July 28, 2881

e “when It's Not Yocur Turn” TEASER FADE IN: EXT. STREET CORNER/WEST BALTIMORE - NIGHT Ghetto crime scene. Boarded-up rowhomes, yellow police tape, emergency vehicles, UNIFORMED COPS, BYSTANDERS -- all of them black -- signifying from the periphery. CLOSE ON BODY of a young-black male, bloodied and supine at curbside. POV is ground level, tracking from .22 shell casing to a rivulet of blood, to another casing, to the face of the victim, eyes locked in sudden comprehension. Then onward to more casings, more blood, street trash, and, near the victim's feet, a crumpled ten dollar bill. Onward past a few more casings and then the feet of bored UNIFORM, standing around. all the while we are listening to a DETECTIVE (MCARDLE), obviously white, questioning a WITNESS, obviously black. MCARDLE (o.c.) So your boy's name is what? WITNESS (o.c.) Snot. MCARDLE (o.c.) Snot. Huh. MCARDLE (0.c.) You called this guy Snot? -~ WITNESS (o.c.) WITNESS (o.cC. Snotbcogie, yeah. MCARDLE (o.cC. Snotbcogie. CAMERR finishes its low-angle scan of the terrain to reveal HCMICIDE DET. JIMMY MCARDLE, white, mid-thirties, Irish, notepad in hand, questioning the WITNESS, black, early twenties. They are sitting, MCARDLE casually and the WITNESS nervously, on the steps of a vacant rowhouse. MCRRDLE He like the name? WITNESS What? Snotboogie WITNZSS shrugs

"When It's Not Your Tuzrn" 7/26/01 (CONTINUED) MCARDLE (cont.) ) (of£ BODY) (Z) This kid, whose mama went the trouble to christen him... (checks notepad) ...Omar Elijah Davis, he comes out of the house one day, maybe six or seven years old, and, ah, you know, he forgets his jacket. And so his ‘nose starts running. And some asshole, instead of handing him a Kleenex, he calls him Snot. WITNESS Huh. MCARDLE So he's Snot forever. (pause) Doesn't seem fair. WITNESS Life be that way, I guess. MCARDLE sighs, agrees. Both pause as they watch the MORGUE ATTENDANTS roll Snotboogie's wrecked BODY. WITNESS winces at the sight. MCARDLE So... (pause) Who shot Snot? WITNESS shoots MCARDLE a look. MCARDLE (cont.) C'mon. WITNESS I didn't see it, man. MCARDLE You liked him, didn't you? You kinda liked the guy. WITNESS Snot was awright. MCARDLE And you hung around, even aft rollers and the ambo got here were still here waiting 'cause you got something to tell me, rig WITNESS I ain't going no court. MCARDLE stares at him, waiting. {CONTINUED)

————_—_———_—'——- "When It's Not Your Turn" (CONTINUED) WITNESS (cont.) Motherfucker did not have to put a cap in his ass. MCARDLE Definitely not. WITNESS He coulda just whipped his ass, like we always whip his ass. MCARDLE No doubt. WITNESS He gonna kill Snot when Snot been doing the same shit since I dunno how long. MCARDLE I agree with you. WITNESS Kill a man over bullshit. MCARDLE Bullshit, huh? WITNESS % I'm saying every Friday we in the alley behind the cut-rate. We roll bones, you know? All the boys from 'round the way. We roll 'til late. MCARDLE {who gives a shit) Alley crap game, right. WITNESS And like every time, Snot, he would fade a few shootars, you know. Play it out until the pot's deep. Then he would snatch and run, you see what I'm saying? MCARDLE Zvery time? WITNESS Couldn't help MCARDLE Lemme understand this. Every Friday night, you and your bcys would shoot crap. And every Friday night, your pal Snctboogle would wait until there was cash the ground. Then nhe would gr the mcney and run away. 1 7 {CONTIN

"When It's Not Your Turn" 4. 7/28/01 (CONTINUED) WITNESS nods. MCARDLE (cont.) You let him do this? WITNESS Naw, man. We catch him and kick his ass. But ain't nobody going past that to shoot the nigger. MCARDLE stands, turns and watches as the BODY, now bagged, is hauled into the back of the MORGUE WAGON. MCARDLE I got to ask you. If every time, Snotboogie would grab the money and run away -- if he did that every time -- why did you even let him into the game? WITNESS Huh? MCARDLE If Snot always stole the money, why did you let him play? WITNESS looks at MCARDLE like he's an idiot. WITNESS Got to. (pause) This America, man. The WITNESS looks away, oblivious to the poetry of it. MCARDLE turns around, takes in the scope of the tragedy that is Baltimore. On our DETECTIVE, delighted with life, FADE TO: MAIN TITLES FADE IN: INT. QUTER LOBBY/FBI FIELD OFFICE - DAY MCARDLE enters a sterile federal lobby, replete with American flag, framed pictures of George W. Bush, John Ashcroft and Louis rreeh. He walks to a bullet-proof glass frontage, speaks to the RECEPTIONIST through the glass. MCARDLE McArdle. City Homicide. The RECEPTIONIST eyes him as if he 1s contagious. RECEPTIONIST Is anyone expecting you? (CONTINUED!

{CCONTINUED) MCARDLE Special Agent Fitzhugh. Squad Five. (nods at locked door) He's expecting me. Can I.. RECEPTIONIST Not without an escort. On MCARDLE, made to feel less than trustworthy, . CUT TO: INT. GHETTO WALK-UP - DAY Five MEN, all black, all twenties, sit at a battered dining table, listening to MUSIC from a portable tape player. All are working diligently, wearing masks. PAN DOWN to reveal perhaps five or six pounds of raw coke being based into rock. BASER #1 ...S0 like he talkin' like he got somekind record deal, you know? BASER #2 Man, please. That just shit you say to get the pussy. All LAUGH. BASER #1 True dat, man. As THEY work on, CuT TO: INT. OUTER LOBBY/FBI FIEZLD OFFICE - DAY AGENT FITZHUGH, white, thirties, better dressed than emerges from door. He looks over, sees CEPTIONIST eyefucking MCARDLE. TITZHUGH Hey, bunky. MCARDLE follow him. :e:s*fla’ You know

{CCNTINUED) MCARDLE I know how they get with locals, FITZHUGH smiles weakly. THEY pass through lobby door. INT. FBI FIELD OFFICE - DAY FITZHUGH and MCARDLE glide through a clean, sterile office of well-funded, well-organized law enforcement. Well-heeled AGENTS and CLERICAL WORKERS abound. MCARDLE looks like a bad relation in contrast. MCARDLE So what's up? FITZHUGH Good shit, brother. Good shit. MCARDLE Yeah? FITZHUGH Your man gave us a helluva case. MCARDLE He did, huh? FITZHUGH Comes to informants, you can pick 'em. I swear, Jimmy, he's about the best C.I. I ever worked. MCARDLE You up on a Title III? FTITZHUGH That and more. Cn MCARDLE, curious, CUT TO: INT. GHETTO WALK-UP - DAY The BASERS continue to work. BASER #1 pulls down his mask, uses an exacto knife to push a small pile of powder to the edge oI the table. ' : 1) Q] W ' . #1 put his head down, starts to snort. As OTHERS laugh, CcUT TO:

"When IZt's Not Your AR INT. WIRETAP ROOM - DAY With HEADPHONES on, MCARDLE watches on a black-and-white screen as BASER #1 finishes his snort. around their table, caught on film talking bullshit with couple million dollars of coke on the table in front of The scene is clear, but with a pronounced fish-eye perspective. The BASERS are seated a them. MCARDLE and FITZHUGH are in the company of TECHNICIANS and other AGENTS, monitoring the transmission. MCARDLE ‘Jesus Christ. FITZHUGH Pretty fucking great, huh? MCARDLE How'd you get this on tape? FITZHUGH That's not tape. MCARDLE looks at him. FITZHUGH {cont.) That's live, brother. MCARDLE Live? FITZHUGH Live from some shithole walkup on Homer Avenue in the bottoms of Pimlico. MCARDLE (Holy shit) This is going on right now. FITZHUGH As we speak. MCARDLE How? FITZHUGH Fiber-optic le“SLng Camera's behind a2 hole in the drywall so small that it locoks like =2 nail ghta made iz. MCARDLE Where's the mike? These motherfuckers gresat. ) [e] jal ot {CONTINUED;

@ (CON - 1T o FITZHUGH Parabolics. ©One on the roof. One in the apartment below. MCARDLE shakes his head in amazement. FITZHUGH (cont.) That's about three K's of coke on the table today. We followed it all -the way from New York. MCARDLE You're up in New York on this? FITZHUGH Fuck yes. We're backing into some Dominicans up there. Gonna get a wire on them soon. MCARDLE watches the monitor, wistful. FITZHUGH (cont.) You give great case, bunky. Wish you coulda worked it with us. On MCARDLE, seeing it from a dark hole, INT. LOBBY/CIRCUIT COURTHOUSE - DAY MCARDLE, and his partner, early forties, wiry and posséssing of dry wit, the metal detector at security checkpoint. sealed evidence bag. [E! [ MCARDLE So guess what he says? BUNK Hmm. MCARDLE "Gotta let him play. This America." . BUNK No fucking way. MCARDLE Could I make that up? VO badge thelr way around the detector. BUNK He give you the shooter? CUT TO: WILLIAM "BUNK" MORELAND, black, move toward BUNK has a brown

S 7/26/01 {CONTINUED) MCARDLE Three Newports and a grape Nehi and he's grand juried. It's down, Bunk. MCARDLE turns to the SHERIFF'S DEPUTY. MCARDLE (cont.) Barksdale's in Part Twelve, right? .. DEPUTY Huh? MCARDLE Project murder. Westside. DEPUTY Wnich one now? MCARDLE Never mind, (to BUNK) Gonna sit in on it for a bit. Where you gonna be? BUNK (off evidence bag) I'm just dropping this on Nathan and going back to the office. MCARDLE R Yeah? Don't answer nc phones, Bunk. BUNX grunts. As the TWO head in separate directions, CUT TO: INT. COURTROOM/CIRCUIT COURTHOUSE - DAY MCARDLE enters Courtroom of JUDGE CLIFFORD WATKINS as a murder trial is in progress. Defendant is D'ANGELO BARKSDALE, black, twenties, open-faced and nervous next to his diminutive, rumpled and quite Jewish, defense attorney, MORRIS LiVY, 60. prosecutor, COLLEEN HANSEN, white, female, thirties and ambitious, finishes her exam of a state's witness, WILLIAM GANT, ‘black, forty, working-class. JUDGE WATKINS, black, y, presides. HANSEN ...And is that your signature cn the of that photo array card. (CONTINUED)

it's Not iour 10. 7/26/CL {CONTINUED) GANT Yes. MCARDLE sits, looks around at the half-empty courtroom. He notices a well-dressed, but hardened looking male SPECTATOR #1, black, twenties, at one end of the gallery. He notices 42, sitting a row apart. And, finally, a black male, SPECTATOR #3 (STRINGER BELL), who looks almost professorial, with a briefcase, eyeglasses, legal pad and pen akimbo. MCARDLE stares at BELL as the questioning continues. HANSEN Mr. Gant, do you see the man you identified from that photo array sitting in the courtroom today? CU on photo array, with a police ident photo of D'Angelo Barksdale initialed. GANT looks up from the array and across to BARKSDALE. He glances over at BELL for a moment, who stares back blandly. GANT He's right there. HANSEN For the record, the witness has identified the defendant, Mr. Barksdale. (to LEVY) Your witness. LEVY (studies GANT a beat) Just one question, Mr. Gant. Have you ever seen this young man before the day in question? GANT No. LEVY Thank you. Your Homor, no further questions. JUDGE WATKINS {to HANSEN) Call your next witness. HANSEN The state calls Rita Lyles, Your steps down, a SHERIFF'S DEPUTY goes to door, summons LYLES, black and twenty-six, who enters and takes the We note JURORS, mostly black, clearly worried, as note not only LYLES' entrance but that of two mcre black SPECTATORS, mid-twenties, well-dressed, who sit nezr {CONTINUED!)

“wnen Not Your Turn” 7/26/01 {CCNTINUED) As LYLES takes the stand and HANSEN asks the preliminaries, MCARDLE stands and moves to a seat behind STRINGER BELL. BELL stops writing on legal pad, eyes a FEMALE JURCR, continues to write. MCARDLE leans over BELL's shoulder, notes that BELL has nearly completed drawing a He-Man action figure. As MCARDLE admires this, BELL draws a conversation bubble from the action figure's mouth and writes in the bubble, "Fuck you, Detective.” He holds legal pad up for CARDLE to see it clearly. MCARDLE sits back in seat. MCARDLE Cute. BELL ignores him, takes in the testimony. HANSEN Ms. Lyles, what is your occupation? LYLES I'm a security guard. HANSEN And were you employed as a security guard on May fourth, two-thousand- one, the day of the shooting? LYLES Uh-huh. % HANSEN - What were your duties on that date? LYLES I was in the booth of two-two-one. HRNSEN Is that the guard booth in the lobby of the Fremont Avenue highrise? LYLES ) HANSEN you are kehind bullet-proof glass, with clear view of the lobby? HANSEN now I Xnow this is you, can you tell looks at STRINGER BELL. Q Z 2 a

It's Not Your Turn” T/26/01 A . {CONTINUED) LYLES A man, he's waiting for the elevator when another man starts beating on him, like, and the one man, he got knocked down... HANSEN The victim got knocked down? .. LYLES No, the man with the gun. HANSEN The man who was knocked down had a gun. And do you see that man here in the courtroom? LYLES Nope. HANSEN double-takes. JURORS notice. HANSEN Excuse me? LYLES He ain't here. HANSEN looks to JUDGE for help. Nothing doing. HANSEN You don't... You testified... Clearly flustered, HANSEN picks up court file, removes photo array and hands it to LYLES. HANSEN (cont.) Ms. Lyles, remember when Detective Barlow showed you this photo array? LYLES Yeah. HANSEN Good. I call your attention to your initials that identify the defendant as the man who shot Mr. Blanchard. Did you write your initials above the photograph of Mr. Barksdale? LYLES de ain't the one who did the shooting. HANSEN But you identified him. (CONTINUED)

"When It's Not Your { CONTINUED) - LYLES That's 'cause he looked like the boy who it. But the one who did the shooting, I saw him come in the building like a week later. PICK UP BELL, with a slight smile and MCARDLE behind knowing and wearied. . HANSEN You saw another person who you thought did the shooting? . LYLES Right. A week later. HANSEN Ms. Lyles, when you talked with the detectives, you never said anything about another... LYLES I tried. I called Detective... RITA LYLES pulls a day-minder, turns to marked page, LYLES (cont.) ...RBarlow on May thirteen at two o'clock, but he didn't call back. HANSEN You called Detective Barlow? LYLES lifts the day-minder, displays it. LYLES Twice. I wrote it down in the log pook we keep at the booth. stands, lLeans over to STRINGER BELL. MCARDLE Nicely done. Very subtle. exits. As STRINGER BELL watches blandly, {CONTINUED him, reads. 13.

“Wnen It's Not Your Turn” 4. T/26/CL {CCNT INUED) : - BARLOW {into PHONE! ...But that's not -pressure-treated, right? I need a price for pressure- treated... {pause) ...That's your price. That's the price that ycu are going to quote me? Disgusted, BARLOW puts the receiver to his crotch. BARLOW (cont.) ...You feel that, Mikey? You feel that? I swear to God that's my dick in your ear. BARLOW turns to MCARDLE, raises an eyebrow. BARLOW (cont.) Hold on, you fucking thief. (to MCARDLE) What's up? MCARDLE You been down the hall lately? BARLOW What? MCARDLE Your case just hit the wall. BARLOW Huh? MCARDLE The Barksdale crew in Part Twelve. They turned it. BARLOW Twc eyewitnesses and a statement. No fucking way, pal. MCARDLE shrugs, smiles, walks toward the door. As BARLOW away, continues phone conversation, CUT TO: EXT. DRUG CORNER/EAST BALTIMORE - DAY wO FEMALES in parked car watching drug activity on corner. he 7er, NARCOTICS DET. SHRXIMA GREGGS, twenty-eight, ctive, well-groomed, serious, dressed in street clothing. \NY, her companiocn, thirties, is a rail-thin addict. TITTANY Use my got dam that dusty bit car to chauffeur n arocund.

‘Anen 7/28/01 (:j\ Ease up. / You don't understand. I did for that man and he do this. GREGGS GREGGS Getting heated up won't change it. A hand-held radio SQUAWKS. GREGGS grabs it. HERC (o.c.) Hey Greggs, we've been in on this for over an hour. ‘What's your bird saying? GREGGS It ain't what she says. what I say. HERC (o0.c.) Yeah? And what do you say? GREGGS We wait. Disgusted, drops the radio. GREGGS (cont.) Shithead. An older Mercedes, with a little shine left in the paint and a little hum in the motor, pulls to drug corner. TIFFANY nearly goes *“hrough the window. TIFFANY That him. GREGGS resaches across to restrain TIFFANY. GREZGGS Zasy, girl. {grabs radio) Herc, ycu got him? in. {CONTINUED

D "When It's Not Your Turn" 16. (CONTINUED) TIFFANY That Ghost. GREGGS That's good, Tiff. Tell me, girl, what I'm seeing. TIFFANY He gonna get little Mike. The RUNNER leaves the car and goes into alley. GREGGS Good. What next? TIFFANY Mike come back with the money. GREGGS (into radio) We're going to wait for the drop. Take the Benz when it's deep in the block. I don't want a foot chase. HERC Copy. B second BLACK MALE, older, twenties, comes out of alley and goes to Mercedes, leaning into the passenger side. EERC {(cont.) Got it. Car tires SQUEAL. The Mercedes is surrounded and blocked by an unmarked Cavalier and two radio cars. UNIFORMS and two plainclothes NARCOTICS COPS jump out. HERC, white, muscular, late twenties, and CARVER, black, late twenties, short, stocky, a hydrant build. The BLACK MALE making the drop races away, two UNIFORMS chasing. HERC and CARVER race to Mercedes, guns drawn. Along with two other UNIFORMS, they the OCCUPANTS and on the ground next to Mercedes, which idles with car doors splayed open. PULL BACK to GREGGS' POV in surveillance car. We SEE HERC put a semiauto pistol -- recovered from beneath the driver's seat -- on roof of car, then high-five and bump chests with CARVER. GREGGS frowns. GREGGS . to Two, Herc. Two. Why he just throw that gun on my car like that? Shit paint. gonna scratch the ives CARVER tc gst out {CONTINUED)

"When It's Not Your Turn" 17. (CONTINUED) TIFFANY (cont.) Tell him to leave my car be. GREGGS gets out, walks down the block. Arrives to find HERC and CARVER, bullshitting with the UNIFORMS as everyone waits for the jail wagon, SUSPECTS on the ground. CARVER Shoulda seen how that motherfucker ‘looked at me, Kima. HERC Ugly little fucker nearly shit himself he was so scared. (turns to SUSPECT) Y'all didn't shit yerself, didja? SUSPECT says nothing. GREGGS sighs, tired. GREGGS Two guns? Remember? GREGGS walks back to Mercedes, roots around in rear seat, comes out with a sawed-off pump shotgun. She puts it gently on roof of car, along with pistol, looks at her CONFEDERATES. HERC Whatever. CARVER t's all good, Kima. [Ease up. Cn GREGGS, for whom good help is hard to find, CUT TO: INT. COQOURTROCM/CIRCUIT COURTHOUSE - DAY % day later. Same PLAYZRS in the same courtroom drama. MZARDLE enters, sits.in back next to BARLOW and watches as STRORS enter from a sidedcor and file into their seats. SJDGE DE2UTY All rise. Part Twelwve of the Circuit Court for Baltimore City is now in session. MCARDLE rises along with the rest of the GALLERY, sits as addresses the JURY JUDGZ WATXINS Madame forelady. You have a takes in the defendant, who K1 e Dliack {CONTINUED!

“When It's Not Your Iurn® 18. { CONT.INUED) CLERK As to the defendant D'Angelo Barksdale: How say you to the charge of murder in the first-degree. FOREWOMAN Not guilty. ' Cautious reaction. CLERK How say you to the charge of murder in the second-degree? FOREWOMAN Not guilty. Courtroom ERUPTS. BARKSDALE embraces his ATTORNEY. Prosecutor HANSEN slumps, disgusted. BELL and the other SPECTATORS high-five. JUDGE WATKINS, clearly concerned but dispassionate, GAVELS the noise down. He spots MCARDLE in the gallery, watches as MCARDLE turns to BARLOW, who has his practiced who-gives-a-shit face. MCARDLE At least you made 'em work for it. BARLOW Fuck 'em all. The JUDGE has already dismissed the JURORS and ordered D'ANGELO released from custody. Now, WATKINS motions to his CLERK, gestures toward MCARDLE and says something. Then, as celebration and general hubbub continues, he heads to chambers. With D'ANGELO in tow, BELL finds himself crossing MCARDLE and BARLOW. D'ANGELO averts his eyes, but BELL actually smiles. BARLOW (cont.) ito D'ANGELQ) Think I give a fuck? be chalking you off one night. ) 5ELL Have a nice day. Cn MCRXILE, who saw it coming, CUT TO: INT. HALLWAY/CIRCUIT COURTHCUSE - DAY Courtroom, walking toward stairs. The Judge's him. CLERX

"Wwhen Zt's Not (CONTINUED; CLERK (cont.) Judge asked to speak with you. MCARDLE §ives a look. As CLERK shrugs, unknowing, CUT TO: INT. CHAMBERS/CIRCUIT COURTHOUSE - DAY JUDGE WATKINS sits behind his desk surrounded by the paraphernalia of a connected legal career. He extends his hand, but does not rise, when MCARDLE enters. MCARDLE Judge? JUDGE WATKINS (gestures to chair) What the hell happened out there? MCARDLE (dry) We lost. JUDGE WATKINS Were you on this? MCARDLE's pager goes OFF. He grabs at it. - MCARDLE The case? No. It was Barlow, with an assist from Mclarney. JUDGE WATKINS Why were you in court on it? looks at pager readout, Ircwns. -k MCARDLE No reason. JUDGEZ WATXINS You just like coming to court on murders you didn't even work. J for a thrill. ust WATXINS (cont.) I knew a2n 0ld whore once who said . . the ne's a cousin {CONTINUED!

D "When It's \CONTINUED) Not Your Turn"” JUDGE WATKINS who? " MCARDLE Aaron Barksdale. Stringer Bell. The whole crew that's been running Latrobe Homes for a vyear. JUDGE WATKINS Stringer Bell? MCARDLE That was him in court. With the legal pad. Scaring the living shit out of every witness he can. JUDGE WATKINS I saw him. MCARDLE And all the rest. Savino, Peanut, Brother Lee -- all of 'em were there, showing. the flag. JUDGE WATKINS I saw them. MCARDLE You think about clearing the court? JUDGE WATKINS Cn what basis? It's an open court in a free nation of laws. MCARDLE No shit. I thought this was Baltimore. Zven WATKINS has to laugh. MCRRDLE {(cont.; (with a shr ] Barksdale has five of the seven towers in Latrobe. That's ten stairwells in five high-rises, going twenty- four-seven for dope and coke. And that's just the The low- rises and.-the Avenue corners are his,

@ “anen Zt's Not Your (CCNTINUED) MCARDLE Everyone on the Westside. Barksdale and Bell are the new power. Have been for like a year, Judge. I mean, they've dropped ten or twelve bodies in as many months. Beat three cases in court doing the same shit they just did to you. JUDGE WATKINS Who's working them? MCARDLE In the department? No one, really. We're a little busy making street rips, you know? Community policing and all that. JUDGE WATKINS So if it's not your case, why do you care? MCARDLE looks at the JUDGE for a beat. MCARDLE Who said I did? Cn MCARDLE, s=nsing he may have said too much, CUT TO: INT. NARCOTICS OFFICE/POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY GREGGS types her arrest reports in the background. LIEUTENANT GERARD DANIZLS, a narcotics shift commander, black, suit- wearing, forty-five, hovers nearby. HERC and CARVER have now abdicated on the case; they are about street, they are not abcut paperwork. They play catch with a tennis ball, on their desks. GREGES You got E.C.U. numbers? HERC Nope GRIGGS Get 'em. {CONTINUED:

"When It's Not Your Turn" 22. 7/26/01 (CONTINUED) - HERC You giving me the stat? GREGGS It's your turn. HERC wings tennis ball at CARVER, jumps up, laughing. CARVER fires the tennis ball back. HERC catches it. HERC What's the number for E.C.U.? CARVER Motherfucker, do I look like a phone book? CARVER gives a small pout, walks over to bulletin-board and checks an extension list, hunting for number. DANIELS moves toward GREGGS. DANIELS Nice rip. GREGGS You know how it goes. A police is only as good as her snitch. The office phone BLEATS. CARVER picks it up, even as HER" is dialing evidence control on another line. DANIELS We taking the Benz? GREGGS Naw. I promised my girl. Car's in her name. DANIELS nods. CARVER Lieutenant. Deputy Ops on line two. DANIELS (picks up phone) Narcotics. Daniels. DANIELS listens. HERC hangs up holding notepad page with numbers, sidles over to GREGGS, who is still pecking on the old typewriter. HERC hands her note. HERC Here you go. GREGGS Fuck me. I cannot type. (CONTINUED)

"When It's Not Your Turn" 7/26/01 (CONTINUED) . CARVER Who the fuck can? GREGGS Millennium been an' gone and we still messin' with Smith-Corona. HERC We need computers. CARVER What the fuck would an ass-ignorant motherfucker like you do with a computer? HERC Dunno. Trade stocks and shit. GREGGS Jerk off, you mean. CRRVER laughs. 'HERC throws tennis ball at his head, misses. CARVER We get a computer up in here, Herc'll be deep into some porn sites and Kima still be pecking out her twenty- fours on that old piece of shit. This time GREGGS smiles. DANIELS hangs up, looks pensive. GREGGS What's up? DANIELS Gotta go upstairs. Deputy is throwing some kinda piss-fit. GREGGS DANIELS How the fuck should I know? starts for deor. N G2ZGGS exits. Wizh 3 mouth Nice - ~

"When It"s Not Your Turn" 24, 7/26/01 (CONTINUED) HERC Like our Captain don't know what it tastes like. Chain-of-command, baby. The shit always rolls downhill. CARVER Motherfucker, we talking about piss. HERC ‘Piss does too. Think about it. CARVER Shit rolls, piss trickles. GREGGS actually stops typing long enough to absorb this level of stupidity. HERC Downhill, though. CARVER You don't know that for sure. Have you ever actually seen piss on a hill? You can't just say... GREGGS (off notepad) Not to change the subject on you two charmers, but why are thers only two E.C.U. numbers? - HERC Dope and guns. GREGGS Two guns. That's three, right? HERC Aw, fuck it, Kima. You want a job done right, you need to the shit yer ownself. CARVER laughs at this. GREGGS shakes her head. CRRVER What he means to say is that we are effective deterrents in the war on drugs when we are on the street. HERC T e Fucking motherfuckers up. CARVER Indeed. ) HERC Tuck the paperwork. Bodies must be collected. Heads must be split. (CONTINUED)

"When It's Not Your Turn" 2%. 7/26/01 (CONTINUED) CARVER Split wide. HERC The Western District way. HERC and CARVER high-five again. GREGGS “You hercic motherfuckers. Winning the war on drugs, one brutality case at a time. HERC and CARVER crack up. CARVER Girl, you can't even call this shit a war.- HERC Why not? CARVER Wars end. A beat until HERC gets it. He smiles, laughs, is joined by CARVER. On GREGGS, who, despite herself, has to appreciate the pitch-perfect cynicism, CUT TO: INT. VACANT APARTMENT/HOUSING PROJECT - DAY MCARDLE passes through a couple UNIFORMS, arrives at low- rent crime scene. Cigar lit, BUNK is squatting over a decomped BODY of a black male. MCARDLE How happy am I to see my pager go off with your call number? tulls a second cigar and tosses it to MCARDLE. BUNK Smoke 'em if ycu got 'em. Motherfucker is as ripe as they get. MCARDLE We aren't even up. Lehmann's squad is up. BUNK MCARDLE 3ut you had to answer the fucking you? (CONTINUED)

. "When It's Not Your Turn" 26. 7/26/01 (CONTINUED) BUNK ( Got to pay down the credit cards. MCARDLE Not off him, you ain't. BUNK nods, puffs. MCARDLE (cont.) ‘Motherfucker, I leave you alone for a minute or two and what do you do? BUNK Awright. I heard you. MCARDLE Say the words, Bunk. BUNK C'mon, man. MCARDLE Speak to me. BUNK You gonna cut and run on The Bunk? Shit ain't right, Jimmy. €§% MCARDLE stares forlornly at his partner. N BUNK (cont.) Awright, then. My case. My file. If this comes back a murder, you ain't got to do shit but stand there gnd laugh at me. You happy now, itch? MCARDLE {rises; lights cigar) This'll teach you to give a fuck when it ain't your turn to give a fuck. BUNK Ain't even gonna be a murder. Motherfucdker probably came in here to take a shit or something and just fell out. I bet you there ain't nothing to it. MCARDLE You hope. MCARDLE heads for door. BUNK you going? | w (CONTINUED)

O "When It's Not Your Turn" 27. MCARDLE Back to the office, where I belong. MCARDLE leaves. BUNK glares at the decomped BODY. BUNK (points cigar at BODY) You mouldering motherfucker. Don't you even think about coming back a ‘murder. Don't even think that shit. On BODY, hideous and silent, CUT TO: INT. NARCOTICS OFFICE/BOLICE HERDOUARTERS - DUSK Evidence from the drug bust is gone. So are HERC and CARVER, leaving only GREGGS, still typing as the workday is all but over. In b.g., DANIELS and NARCOTICS CAPTAIN FRANK FOERSTER enter. FOERSTER, white and forties, looks dour, pissed as he gestures at DANIELS, who nods. FOERSTER exits to his office, DANIELS to contemplate whatever the problem is. PULL BACK to REVERL GREGGS taking this in. DANIELS notices her, walks over, sits. GREGGS Captain's pissed. DANIELS Should be. He didn't have answers for the Deputy's questions. GREGGS About what? DANIZLS ron Barksdale. GREGGS Who? DANIELS That's what I said. GREGGS Who the fuck is Aaron Barksdale? DANIELS According to the Right Honorable Judge Watkins, a major Westside player, who aprarently indulges in the occasional murder. Now, I never heard of Mr. Barksdale, but by tomorrow, I to be the world's foremost authority on the man. Thev share.a lcok, then GREGGS fiirs open her notebook.

O "When It's Not Your Turn” 28. (CONT INUED) - GREGGS do we know? DANIELS According to the judge, he runs the Westside high-rises. Latrobe mostly. GREGGS Sounds like bullshit, boss. DANIELS Maybe so. GREGGS Has to be tonight? DANIELS . Captain needs the file by morning. Call Andrews over at DEA. See what they have on this mope. GREGGS What about Homicide? If the guy's doing murders... DANIELS . Homicide captain was in the same meeting. His people will be scrambling to put something on paper, too. I doubt they're willing to share, but you can try. GREGGS takes this in. She will not be going home. GREGGS (jotting note) Barksdale, Raron. We got a DOB? DANIEL, Naw. DANIELS gets up, gives her a quick look of pity, exits. On GREGGS, alone in the office as night falls, CUT TO: INT. HOMICIDE OFFICE/POLICE HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT MCARDLE enters, checks mailbox, phone messages, prepares to leave at the end of his shift. He's spotted by his sergeant, JOE LANDSMAN, white and mid-thirties. LANDSMAN Where the fuck you been all day? MCARDLE Crzck smcking. Whering myself on the streets of Baltimore. {CONTINUED)

& "wnen It's Not Your Turn" 29, (CCONTINUED) - LANDSMAN Well, okay. Just so you have an excuse. But your fuck of a partner picked up the phone, caught a call. MCARDLE Saw him out there. LANDSMAN ‘Yeah? What'd he get? MCARDLE Decomp in a vacant apartment. LANDSMAN Fuck. Lehmann's shift was up. That one should be theirs. MCARDLE Hey, it's a decomp. Maybe it comes back a natural death. LANDSMAN (hopeful) You think? MCARDLE In the high-rises. No fucking MCARDLE heads for door. LANDSMAN Hold up. Captain wants to talk to you before you roll out. MCARDLE What about? LANDSMAN Fuck should I know. only your sergeant. MCARDLE heads toward Rawls s Offi On LANDSMAN, curious, CUT TO: CFFICEZ/POLICE EZRDQUARTERS - NIGHT Homicide Captain WILLIAM A. RAWLS, white, fifty, an empty suit who has reached as high as the deoartmental Peter 2 e can allow, is ‘behind desk, trying his best to look In front of him are severa‘ stacks of 3x5 cards, info on a recent murder. A KNOCK, MCARDLE enters. RBWLS the fuck down, MCARDLE wrong? (CONTINUED)

It's Not Your Turn" 7/26/01 {CCNTINUED) RAWLS Put your ass in the chair. MCRARDLE sits. RAWLS gives him the finger with both hands. RAWLS (cont.) See these, McArdle? See 'em? These are for you. These are for you for as long as it takes me to get even... MCARDLE Captain... RAWLS ...No... don't Captain me you back- stabbing smartass piece of shit. What the fuck are you doing over at the courthouse anyway? Why the fuck are you talking to some shitbag judge? RAWLS gives him two fingers again, for emphasis. RAWLS (cont.) These are for you, McArdle. This one over here... (a nod to finger left) ...is going up your narrow Irish ’ ass. And this bad boy over here... {a nod to finger right) (jt) ...is in your fucking eye. I'm / upstairs answering questions about some project nigger -I never heard of who's supposed to have beat my unit out of ten murders. MCARDLE Three. They only beat three in court. RAWLS I got the deputy asking about ten. MCARDLE They did ten. We only charged them with three. RAWLS You're full of shit. MCARDLE Captain, you can check the files. -. Maurice Scroggins, Toreen Boyd, Ronald Leggett, whatshername, the girl they found in the stairwell on Saratoga, Collette something or other... I mean, Captain, these guys are real. They beat me up on the Gerard . Washington case just like they did arlow. (MORE) | (CONTINUED) W

3 7/26/01 {CONTINUED) MCARDLE (cont.) Bought off a witness, then came into court as a crew to scare the living - shit out everyone else. RAWLS (rifles index cards) Scroggins? I don't have a Scroggins as an H-file. MCARDLE He was last year. Summer. Dead in the low-rise courtyard. Two to the back of the head. RAWLS Let me understand something. You are having the Deputy bust my balls over-a prior-year case? 1Is this what you think I need from you, you insubordinate little fuck? MCARDLE Captain, I'm sorry. Really. Watkins calls me into chambers and asks what I know about the crew in his court. I didn't mean to cross you up. RAWLS I had to go upstairs, knowing nothing, (T\> and explain to the Deputy Ops why -~ he's getting calls from some judge about murders that don't mean a shit to anyone up here. MCARDLE Look, Captain. This judge -- he fucks me on this. He asks me a question and I answer. I don't know he's gonna call anyone about anything. RAWLS glarss at MCARDLE for a beat, raises both fingers. RAWLS Right now, you have my attention, Detective. You have my complete, undivided attention. MCARDLE PRWLE lowers his fingers. MCRRDLE gets up to leave. RAWLS hers you going? T = MCARDLZ W (CONTINUED)

“Wnen It's Not Your Turn" 32. {CONTINUED) RAWLS gets up, goes to coatrack, grabs overcoat. () RAWLS No. You're typing. MCARDLE Sir? RAWLS ‘Beputy wants a report on all this bullshit on his desk at oh-eight- hundred. MCARDLE A report? RAWLS Clean, no typos. Make it look right, then put my name on it. MCARDLE You want to reference all of the murders? Or should I soft-pedal RAWLS Fucking horse is out the barn door, right? Let's try not to make me look stupid twice. And when you (i\\ list the case, use those little dots next to each. Deputy like dots. MCARDLE I'm sorry, Captain. Really. RAWLS ignores him, exits. On MCARDLE, self-fucked, CUT TO: INT. CHEVY BLAZER/DOWNTOWN - NIGHT D'ANGELC sits in the passenger seat of a 4x4 driven by a man first seen as SPECTATOR #2, who is now identified as an enforcer for the crew named WEE-BEY, black, twenties, fierce. D'ANGELO Niggers in there crazy, yo. Eastside, Westside. Everybody beefin'. WEE-BEY You ain't have no problem, right? D'ANGELO Naw. We deep in there. WEE-BEY They drive in silence for a few beats. (CONTINUED)

"When It's Not Your Turn" 33. 7/26/01 (CONTINUED) D'ANGELO Y'all deep at the courthouse, too. WEE-BEY ignores him. D'ANGELO (cont.) I didn't know what the fuck was gonna happen. I'm wondering how y'all gonna make it happen for me, you ‘know. Lawyer doesn't say shit, you know. But that was slick the way y'all got to that security lady. WEE-BEY turns on the car radio, cranks it, pulls to the curb. WEE-BEY Let's walk. D'ANGELO looks at him, chagrined. WEE-BEY gets out the car. D'ANGELO follows reluctantly. EXT. STREET/DOWNTOWN - NIGHT D'ANGELO follows WEE-BEY across the sidewalk. WEE-BEY looks around before speaking. WEE-BEY What's the rule? D'ANGELO I know. WEE-BEY Say it. D'ANGELO Don't talk in a car. | w 9] =< just looks at him, waiting. D'ANGELO {cont.) Or on the phone. Or in any place that ain't ours. And don't say shit to anybody who ain't us. nods, s:tarts back toward the truck. G 1 1 w < D'ANGELO {cont.) But it was just you, yo. And it's your zruck. - glares 2% him. relents. DTANGELQ Don't talk in 2 car. . - . Z'ANGZLC, CUT TO:

Not four Turn' 34. 7/26/CL INT. ORLANDO'S STRIP .CLUB/HOWARD STREET - NIGHT A private party underway. BELL and the rest of the CREW, including the SPECTATORS seen in court, are at ease, some drinking, some talking, some dancing, some messing with DANCERS and B-GIRLS, most of them black. £ a corner booth, AARON BARKSDALE, maybe thirty, with a commanding air and professional ease, holds court. BARKSDALE is not drinking, nor is he messing with any of the women. He is flanked by another enforcer, previously SPECTATCR #3, who is known as STINKUM, and ORLANDO, thirties, the club owner. BELL pulls a drink from the bar and joins them, nods toward the door where a couple PLAYERS, obviously not tried-and-true members of the crew, are made to walk through a metal detector and then frisked. One of the DOORMEN looks to STINKUM, who taps BARKSDALE. BARKSDALE takes in the new faces and nods. BELL You invite Marcel? BARKSDALE No. ORLANDO You want him out? BARKSDALE I don't give a shit. Make him pay for his drinks, though. BELL laughs. BRRKSDALE smiles at MARCEL without smiling. BELL You remember the police that tried to pin Gerard on Little Kevin? BARKSDALE Which one? BELL Blond detective. The one who was knocking on all the doors. BARKSDALE What about him? BELL Came to court to watch. BARKSDALE He say anything. =TT, BELL Naw. Sat in the back. BARKSDALE nods, notices D'ANGELO and WEE-BEY entering. D'ANGELO is congratulated by CREW MEMBERS and one or two of I He tries to play it but still loocks sheepish. ves meet. eeline for the corner booth. {CONTINUED) e

w w “when It's Not Your Turn” { CONTINUED) <::> Hey: BELL looks at BARKSDALE, then gets up, walks off. BARKSDALE looks at ORLANDO, who gets the message, leaves with his drink. BARKSDALE Must feel good. D'ANGELO . D'ANGELO Well, you know how that go. BARKSDALE Say what? D'ANGELO I mean, jail ain’'t no joke. BARKSDALE I wouldn't know and I don't plan to know. You want to talk shit about can sit down next to Marcel over there. He just came home. D'ANGELO looks over at MARCEL, who is paying the BARTENDER. D'BNGELO You right. BARKSDALE -’ So? . D'ANGELO shifts and bobs. BARKSDALE (cont.) Sit your ass down. D'ANGELO in booth) I know it didn't go sc good. But Pooh, he caught me off Came at me like he crazy and all. BARKSDALE So you shoot the motherfucker. D'ANGELO I'm sayin' he was jumpin' bad. BRRKSDALE You in our kuilding. You got people in both stairs. You got more people | ] out in the court. ANC you got a | gun. Sc how the fuck you end up shooti ‘ securic a nigger in Iront of the y bocth and zll them people? ' D'ANGELO - He was... n w {CONTINUED)

NOT 7/26/01 {CONTINUED) BARKSDALE It ain't about him. Soon as he touched you, he was dead. 1It's about you, Dee. You can't play him out of that lobby. You can't take a beating neither. First thing you do, you get all emotional, pull the gun, do some dumb shit we have to work around. .. D'ANGELO I know. BARKSDALE You ain’t begun to say what I want to hear. . D'ANGELO You right. BARKSDALE looks at his nephew, partially sated. D'ANGELO (cont.) I got to start thinking. You saying that all the time and you right. BARKSDALE shares a look with STINKUM. D'ANGELO (cont.) But I'm saying, unc, what y'all pulled with that security lady. That was tight. I mean, damn. The lady lawyer -- I never seen a white lady turn that red. She was off the hook. BARKSDALE smiles, despite himself. BARKSDALE You family, Dee. But that shit cost money. Time and money. You know? D'ANGELO Huh. BARKSDALE So you gonna make that right? D'ANGELO You gonna see. - I get back to that tower, I'm gonna push them niggers. 'ANGELO gives his uncle 2 little dap of the hand. ets up to go party, INT. HOMICIDE OFFICE/POLICE HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT MCARDLE at his desk, typing the report. As HE CUT TO: (CONTINUED)

‘Nnen Not Your Turn" 37. 7/26/0% {CCNTINUED) He reaches down and picks up an open case folder from several that are spread out on the floor. A midnight-shift detective, RAY COLE, 1is tucked into a chair, a pillow supports his head, his shoeless feet are stretched out on the desk. COLE Type quieter. : MCARDLE throws a look, then continues typing. BUNK comes in looking beat, carrying two evidence bags. He drops them on the desk across from MCARDLE. BUNK You didn't have to wait up, love? MCARDLE Your boy didn't have a heart attack? BUNK I went that way, but Doc Frazier didn't bite when this popped up. BUNK takes a plastic cylinder that contains a small piece of lead from his pocket. MCARDLE Bad luck. Any leads? BUNK gingerly empties the first bag, a couple of beer cans and a box of KFC -- all of it destined for the print lab. BUNK Right now, this is all I got. 3UNK looks forlornly at one of the beer cans, then drops it into a small paper bag. MCARDLE Then you seriously fucked. BUNK Speaking of fucked, why you here? MCARDLE I did bad, Bunk. - BUNK Huh? MCRRDLE It wasn't my fault. ps bagging evidence and gives MCARDLE a look. Fro down the hall, we hear the BELL of the elevator doors opening. MCARDLE Nc realily. (CONTINUED)

<:> & w "When It's Not Your Turn" 7/26/01 (CONTINUED) MCARDLE (cont.) Judge Watkins pulled me up after the jury let the Barksdale kid go. So him being a judge and all, I told him what was up. He raise a stink? MCARDLE Capta;n got busted and I gotta have a report by morning. BUNK There you go, giving a fuck when it ain't your turn to give a fuck. MCARDLE smiles sheeplshly, his own lesson run back on him. LANDSMAN walks in, early relief for midnight shift. He spots his two detectives and addresses COLE is decamping, tucking his pillow into a desk drawer. LANDSMAN Look at 'em, Cole. Doesn't it make your dick pump purple piss to be in the same room with two such noble, selfless public servants. I know I'm proud. COLE doesn't give a fuck, exits. LANDSMAN addresses BUNK. LANDSMAN (cont.) Tell me you put this one down. BUNK shrugs. LANDSMAN (cont.) 'Course not. And of course your partner here has to go over to the courthouse and lay our business in front of Watkins. Are you stone stupid? MCARDLE So you heard. LANDSMAN Canta_n calls me at home last tells me to get in early and read ove: your shoulder. MCARDLE shows him the face sheet of the report. Points to the bulletsd list of murders. MCARDLE It's got dots. Deputy loves dots. LANDSMAN Fuck you and your dots. (CONTINUED)

Anen .T's Not lour 39. VAP {CONTINUED) MCARDLE Look, all I did was answer the man's questions. He's a fucking judge. LANDSMAN the Deputy is the fucking Deputy, dipshit. And he, not the judge, holds what's left of your beshitted career in his hot little hands. MCARDLE Gimme a break. LANDSMAN He says so, you're in the Western tomorrow. MCARDLE Fuck it. I came from Western. : LANDSMAN Well, where don't you want to go, asshole? Evidence Control? Personnel? Headquarters Security? MCARDLE (beat; smiles) The boat. BUNK Marine Unit? MCARDLE Can't swim. LANDSMAN pulls a twenty dollar bill. LANDSMAN Xeep it up. I'll go this against a ten that you ride the boat, midnight shift. MCARDLE smiles. LANDSMAN looks at BUNK, shakes his head, pockets bill, exits. MCARDLE looks at his partner. BUNK Listen to the man, Jimmy. Cn MCARDLE, doubtful, CUT TO: ZXT. COURTYARD/LATROBE HIGH-RISES - DAY D'RNGELO gets off city bus, zips his jacket and strides into The projects. On perimeter of courtyard, he passes young LCOKOUTS who greet him with a ned and a grunt. WEE-BEY, standing by one of the benches, with BELL seated, waves D'ANGELO over. he (CONTINUED)

wnen Not Your Turn" 4Q. «0/va (CONTINUED) - In b.g., other CREW MEMBERS are touting, bringing in'early BUYERS, who turn over crumpled bills and head for high-rises. BELL You here early. D'ANGELO On my game, today. BELL Good. D'ANGELO Eggy put testers out? BELL nods and D'ANGELO starts for the high-rise. BELL Dee. D'ANGELO turns. BELL (cont.) New deal today. D'ANGELO Huh? BELL You going out on point, picking up the business in the pit. D'ANGELO What? BELL You the man in the low-rises. D'ANGELO The low-rises. You got Ronnie Mo in the pit. BELL Ronnie Mo got eight-fifty-one this morning. You in the pit. D'ANGELO Why? BELL Why what? D'ANGELO Why you giving me the low-rises when I had a tower since summer? BELL You had a tower. {MORE) (CONTINUED)

"When It's Not Your Turn" 41. 7/26/01 (CONT INUED) BELL (cont.) You might have a tower again if you keep your mind to-shit. D'ANGELO Naw. That's fucked up. BELL You show us you can run the pit, you back uptown soon enough. D'ANGELO My uncle know this? BELL What do you think? D'ANGELO takes this in. BELL (cont.) (to WEE-BEY) Yo, Bey. Give little cousin a ride down the way. WEE-BEY nods, stréightens. D'ANGELO, pouting, looks over at the tower then back at BELL. As BELL looks away, CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS CORRIDOR/POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY Captain RAWLS of Homicide and Captain FOERSTER of Narcotics exit a door marked "Deputy Commissioner for Operations”, each carrying a file folder, with RAWLS having the fatter £ile. They move silently toward the elevator. FOERSTER Have your people deal with Daniels. RAWLS Right. The eleéétgr arrives. THEY get on. INT. ZLEVATOR/POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY Twc CAPTAINS ride in silence. INT. DCWNSTAIRS CORRIDCR/POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY levator OPENS, CAPTAINS exit and are about to part ways. FOERSTER You gonna send ycur man McArdle? TOERSTEZR {cont.) Tell him abcut the chain-of-command.

“When It's Not Your Turn" 42. 7/26/01 - (CONTINUED) RAWLS Tell him yourself. He's dead to me. On RAWLS, almost amused at the idea, CUT TO: EXT. COURTYARD/LOW-RISES - DAY D'ANGELO walks up to be greeted by a much YOUNGER, more rag- tag collection of DEALER, TOUTS and LOOKOUTS. He takes in the surroundings of a drug market inferior to the towers. Two fifteen-year-old DEALERS, a lanky, sharp-eyed kid named BODIE and a listless tag—-a-long, WALLACE, stroll over. BODIE You lookin' for Ronnie Mo? He uptown. D'ANGELO I know. BODIE You Dee? D'ANGELO nods. BODIE (cont.) You was in the towers. D'ANGELO D Yeah. WALLACE Why they put you down here then? You mess up the count or something? D'ANGELO gives his hardest glare. D'ANGELO I killed a nigger. WALLACE is chastened, but BODIE is not entirely impressed. On D'ANGELO, taking in his new digs, CUT TO: INT. FOERSTER'S OFFICE/POLICE HEADQUAfiTERS - DAY Captain FOERSTER of Narcotics waits a thin file on his desk. A KNOCK. DANIELS enters. - DANTELS - Captain? FOERSTER (holding file) Counting what the DER gave us, how % much did we have on this guy? {CONTINUED) -