All language subtitles for tryr756

All clear.

I ain't gonna be here long, you know?
That's all I'm saying.

They just don't know
who they're fucking with.

Copy. Jenkins for transport.

Now, I'm sure they realize, you know,

you know, by now,
they got the wrong guy.

I mean, phone calls are being made.

Swear to God, man,
my boy's got a game this weekend.

I miss that shit,
I'm gonna sue a motherfucker.

You bet your ass on that.

Stop.

Jenkins, Wayne.
Transport to US District Court lockup.

- Copy. Jenkins for transport.
-Let's go.

You're fucking out of your mind.

Hey.

And every fucking shift
I end up with the piece of shit 14 Unit.

It doesn't fucking matter
if midnight had it in sector one,

by roll call that wreck is back on the lot

waiting for 2-A-15 post.

My heart bleeds for you, Hairston.

Fuck you, man. You don't have to drive
that junk every day.

-You Jenkins?
-Yes, sir.

Come on.

I'm not a "sir."

I'm 2-Baker-23 post
and so are you.

Excuse me?

Sergeant says you ride with me.
I'm your training officer. Eddie Barber.

Okay.

-Tell me something, Jenkins.
-Sure.

-What's your sequence number?
-Sequence number? Henry-383, sir.

I'm sorry, I mean, Ed.

They're popping them out of the academy
with "Henry" sequence numbers?

-Holy fucking Christ. I'm a Frank.
-Okay.

-You need coffee?
-No, thank you.

I fucking need coffee.
No police work without coffee.

Shift attention!

-All right, everyone, find your seats.
-You sit right here.

Today's the same as yesterday, gents.
The brass want bodies. All you got.

All corners are indicted.
All drug-free zones are empty.

All the humbles are in play.
We clear the streets.

Lieutenant, you know this is bullshit.

They cut most of them guys
loose right inside of the jail doors.

So what? We still leave the corners empty
for the night

and if the corners are empty,
they can't fucking shoot each other.

This is the priority.

And if you don't give your shiny
silver bracelets a workout today,

you'll need to see me after the shift
to explain why.

-It's a date.
-I prefer it not be but...

All that shit they taught you
in the Academy

about procedure and probable cause?

Fuck that now.
And what do they call it now,

"cultural sensitivity training"
they give you? Fuck that shit, too.

This is Baltimore.

Jones, Tyler.
Date of birth, March 31st, 1978.

Wanted for heroin trafficking.
Address, 1100 East Fayette Street.

Warrant was issued, August 13th...

You gonna lock me up
for coming out the carry-out?

-Shut the fuck up.
-This is some bullshit, man.

I can't stand the police, man.
Bullshit, man.

Just trying to get
some chicken out here, man.

Come on, man.

If I get stuck with a needle,
you gonna take an ass-whooping.

I ain't got no needle, man.
I ain't doing shit.

I was gonna go see my girl
when y'all roll up.

-Where does your girl live?
-Port Street.

-We're on Milton.
-I was walking there. Goddamn!

Hey, come take him.

What's the charge on that guy?

Loitering in a drug-free zone,
failure to yield, failure to obey.

What's any of that do in court?

It doesn't go to court.
Pulls them off the street

till they see the court commissioner
in the morning,

then they drop the charges.

Or if the ASA cuts him loose
on the jail side,

then maybe he's indoors
till early morning.

-And that's a good thing?
-That's what they want.

Like the Lt. says,

if we clear the corners,
they'll stop shooting each other.

If they stop shooting each other,
the murder rate goes down,

and if the murder rate goes down,
the mayor gets to be the governor.

So, all this is about the mayor, huh?

Fucking O'Malley promised he would get
the murder rate below 200 a year,

but he ain't even close.
So, we gotta clear the corners

so that the governor can't say
Marty runs a shithole city.

We just go and lock anybody up, huh?

Anybody and everybody.

You two wanna ride?

-This my house.
-I don't give a fuck.

You gonna lock me up
for sitting on my own steps?

I am if you're still on your ass
ten seconds from now.

See? Like the bosses say,

them two fellas ain't gonna get shot
or shoot anyone now.

-That's the theory, anyway.
-Yeah.

-I get it.
-What did we do?

We asked you, what did we do?

What's the 20 on the 10-14?

-Five-hundred block of Milton.
-Why am I being detained?

-Back up!
-Back up!

Baltimore is a poster child
for the basic failure

to stop lawlessness.

No justice, no peace!

I've heard your calls for
no justice, no peace.

No justice, no peace!

Where there's smoke, there's fire.

These officers,
they're 1930s-style gangsters.

What's going on, Jemell? You good, man?

Hey. Hey, nothing
but a quick visit downtown for me, man.

-Yeah.
-Yeah, man. I told them nothing.

Don't say shit, ain't gonna be shit,
Jemell. Just keep your mouth shut.

These motherfuckers ain't got
a fucking thing, Jemell.

And keep your motherfucking mouth shut!

Mr. Rayam, you have elected
not to have a lawyer present at this time.

At 500 an hour?

Yeah, fuck that shit.

-Do you acknowledge that anything...
-I got it. Yes.

When we get to the proffer sessions,
you will have an attorney here,

just as federal prosecutors
will be in the room.

The thing is, you can't lie.

You get caught in a lie,
even if you even leave anything out,

you jeopardize any deal
for your cooperation. Understand?

I get it. Just set it up. Damn.

Thing is, though, y'all might wanna
keep Jenkins away from the rest of us.

What's he doing?

Every chance he gets, he's telling us
to hold tight, say nothing.

I just passed him at the detention center,
and he was talking that shit.

Thin blue line, you know?

I mean, he was always talking
that shit, to be honest.

And some of you know me
and the rest of you will get to know me.

For those of you familiar with me

from my stint as Assistant Chief
in Prince George's County,

you know that I back up my men and women
until there's a line that's crossed.

I won't name names,
but there was a recent incident,

in which an officer
in one of our plainclothes units

was banned from the city courthouses

after he was caught filming a witness
and television reporter.

Witness intimidation.

Gangbanger shit.

Unbefitting of a police officer
by anyone's standard.

And that wasn't his only offense,
there are many in his file.

And while I understand that
the work of our plainclothes units

is where we have to
police aggressively...

Free Laronde!

-Yeah.
-Free Laronde.

Officer Laronde...
has been suspended from duty,

and his case will be proceeding
to a trial board.

His behavior was unacceptable,
and it stains us all.

On behalf of Deputy Commissioner Palmere,

I can tell all of you
working plainclothes,

anti-crime, and drug enforcement,

that we understand how hard your work is,
and we will have your backs.

But there is a limit.

That's all for today.

You inspired? Guess we ain't doing

-any police work today.
-Bring me that asshole.

Might as well go to the bar
and work on our fucking tans.

-You wanted to see me, sir?
-The fuck was that?

I... I'm sorry, sir.

Sometimes my mouth just, you know,
kind of gets away from me.

-You're Jenkins?
-I am, sir.

It won't happen again, sir.

I think he kind of likes me.
You know what I mean? Shit.

-What did you want me to listen to?
-Hey.

Check this out.

Sittin' for a house raid
I wasn't even in

Detective Hersl, he a bitch
I swear to God, he ain't right

Heard about my rap career
He tryna fuck up my life

That nigga fucked me over once
He ain't gettin' another

That racist bitch...

-Whose flow is this?
-The rapper?

He goes by Young Moose.
He's calling out Hersl.

So Hersl's so badass, he makes his way
into the local folklore.

How can this guy be
such an open secret?

He hasn't been suspended
because none of the complaints

make it past the trial board findings.

And then he's still working
in plainclothes

because he gets out of his car
and makes arrests. Or so I'm told.

Current high standards of the BPD.

Where you off to?

You're not a hip-hop fan?

Not since they gunned down Biggie.

Anything you want me to ask him?

Just make sure you check his ass
before you sit down.

You might find a third GPS tracker
in between his cheeks.

Look, man, why am I here, bruh?

Look, man, I ain't had shit
in that hotel room.

True. But we've charged you
with possession

in excess of 100 grams of heroin,

that occurred on February 9th, 2015,
by city police officers.

Man. Fuck that, man. That's old news.

Not anymore.
Should've worked that charge off

-for the city while you had the chance.
-See, now we're trading up, Aaron.

And since you blew off those city cops,
for me to even consider

a federal cooperation agreement...

You need to tell us a whole lot
that we don't yet know.

Look, I'll be square.
As long as I don't got to wear no wire.

No promises.

Tell us about Antonio Shropshire.

Man, I cut him loose months ago, man.
He Brill to me.

-I get my stuff elsewhere now.
-How'd you two communicate?

-Call him and we meet.
-Can you go back to him?

Hell, no.

You know, Brill had Twan and Munch
kick my door in about two weeks ago.

That's why I switched up
and moved to the Red Roof.

We saw your door got kicked in.

You think that was Shropshire's people
who did that?

Hell, yeah.

But you know somethin'?

I wouldn't say anything at all
if y'all were city cops.

'Cause Brill? Brill tight with the cop
he grew up with.

Name of G-Money, works in narcotics.

And Gondo was in the car?

Yeah. Gondo was in the car.

How did you know Anderson wasn't home?

His ride was gone. But we knew that.

We had a tracker on it,
so, we been watching him come and go.

We knew he rolled out.

-Nobody else in that crib, right?
-No. Not that I know.

-Watch our six.
-I got you.

Gondo stayed in the car because...

We didn't need him, me and Glen
was enough if the place was empty.

And Gondo didn't wanna risk it. Case,
for some reason, Anderson was up in there.

He thought Anderson might recognize him
or whatever.

Anderson knew Gondo

'cause of how Gondo came up
with Shropshire, Glen, and all of them.

And the place wasn't empty, correct?

It turns out his girl was inside
and it was good we wore masks.

Bitch, where the shit at?
Where the fuck the money, bitch?

-Get yo' ass on the ground.
-Okay!

-What do you want?
-Get yo' ass on the ground.

-She wasn't no trouble, though.
-Don't look at me!

Get on the fucking ground.
Get on the fucking ground!

Okay. Okay! Okay! What do you want?
What are you looking for?

Truth is,
most people answer your questions

-when you put a gun to their face.
-Where is the fucking shit, bitch?

-I don't know what you're...
-Ain't a game, yo.

Okay! Okay!

Maybe G-Money is why Shropshire
can run an open-air drug market.

Slow down, we don't know that.

Look, put in the affidavit
that Anderson said

Shropshire often used the phone
to conduct business.

-Should I use his name?
-Call him Cooperator Number Four.

And do a photo array of Anderson,

show it to any of his customers
who may have OD'ed and lived.

Mr. Drummond, I'm Nicole Steele
with the Department of Justice.

So? What can I do for the DOJ?
Can't be anything to do with

what just happened in Part 23
of the Baltimore Circuit Court.

Although, to be honest, the plea bargain
I just pulled for my client

will one day be the stuff
of defense attorney legend.

I'm not here to poach
from your memoirs, I promise.

You're representing Young Moose?

Someone from the Department of Justice
is actually a fan of hip-hop?

-I'm with the Civil Rights Division.
-Well, that explains it.

So, this isn't about trial work.

This is working
toward a federal consent decree.

And we've at least parsed
the words of your client

-with regard to Detective Hersl.
-You're interested in Hersl?

How could we not be?

I'd like to talk to your client,
on the record, if possible,

and if that's not possible, as background.

I can ask, but I can't promise anything.

But it's gonna be hard to explain to him

that there might actually be a part
of the government

-that gives a damn what he raps about.
-I'm just another lawyer, I get it.

If he talks to you and he decides

he doesn't want you to use anything
he tells you, it stays off the record.

-Got it.
-Okay.

I look forward to your call.

-Fuck me.
-Those lazy sons of bitches

can't even write the damn number
of a parking spot on the log.

-What's the tag again?
-Queen-2-7

Hey. Hey, Sean. What up, man?

I ain't seen you in a minute.

How's Citywide Shootings Unit
treating you?

-Homicide. I just transferred over.
-Yeah? For real?

Hey, what's the angle working bodies?

You can't even make any money
working homicide.

We solve murder cases
and take them into court.

-How about you? What do you do?
-I make arrests and I make money.

Man, my overtime alone? Shit.

Come on, man. I'm fucking with y'all.

Good luck, whatever little shit
y'all working on, all right?

Motherfuckers get reserved parking spaces
to jam up drug addicts

and we gotta hike the fucking garage
to look for a beater to work a body?

-Who was that fucker?
-Name's Gondo, G-Money.

We worked plainclothes together.

Another asshole
who thinks hopping out on corners

and going into everybody's pockets
is the shit.

I've been there, bro.

Who is teaching these idiots
how to do the job?

Intake line is on the left. When you get
to the front, give your last name first.

If your charging document isn't there,
step to the back wall and wait.

If you do have your paperwork...

How come we followed the wagon here?

Part of your training,
I wanted you to see this.

Stay in line.
We gotta keep it orderly in here.

Jessamy is so fucking mad
we're dumping bodies into her courtrooms,

she's planted
an assistant state's attorney

right here at intake.

She takes a look at the arrest reports
and if she sees that it's horseshit,

she offers the sad-ass motherfuckers
the chance to sign one of those waivers.

What are those waivers?

It says if you agree not to sue the balls
off of the city for false arrest,

they'll let you go right now
with the charges dropped.

Really? What happens if you don't sign?

You just have to go to lockup
till tomorrow, maybe tomorrow afternoon,

wait to see the court commissioner,
and have the charges dropped then.

But we're charging bullshit.

Kid, there's no dictatorship in America
more solid than a beat cop on his post.

-Man, this is fucked.
-Come on.

-Let me see your charging documents.
-I thought you were on probation?

Yeah. So, Anderson gave us
Shropshire's phone number

and we checked the logs, and sure enough,

we can confirm that there was
numerous conversations between the two.

Yeah. That, and the times and durations
of those phone calls, plus,

observation of suspected drug activity
should give us enough

to get a wire on Shropshire's mobile.

And we'll get a tracker
on Shropshire's car for good measure.

So, that's the status
of the narcotics probe.

At this point, there's enough for us
to look at the possibility

that we have another investigation
to spin off.

Leo here is gonna be heading up
everything and anything we come across

regarding police involvement
with these guys.

And I've invited Special Agent Jensen,
and Sergeant Sieracki,

a Baltimore police officer with city IAD

and detail to the FBI
public corruption squad to sit in

and begin gathering string.

Great. Well, we got a whole ball
of yarn as it stands.

For starters,
Anderson claims Shropshire has an in

with a Baltimore City narcotics detective.
Name he had was "G-Money."

Anderson alleges that Shropshire said,

he and G-Money grew up together
and were tight.

Specifics?

So far, only that Anderson believes
that G-Money "has Shropshire's back,"

those are his words.

And we think that's why
Anderson was worried

that G-Money might tip off Shropshire
that he was cooperating with us.

And then, of course, the second tracker.

Right. No way yet to know
how this fits in,

but when we retrieved our tracker
from Anderson's vehicle,

-we found a second tracking device.
-Go on.

We subpoenaed the records,
and it was bought by John Clewell,

who happens
to be a Baltimore police officer

assigned to a citywide plainclothes unit
chasing guns.

But what's interesting is
why would a detective's

privately-owned tracker be attached
to a known drug dealer's vehicle?

Well, I do know that the city guys
are often short on equipment,

and they've been known to buy
or rent their own gear.

True, but here's the kicker.

So far, we haven't heard one word
from anyone in Baltimore City.

Not a call. Not a word from Clewell
or anyone in the Gun Trace Task Force.

And it's been weeks
since we arrested Anderson

and found their tracker.

It's still just sitting in my desk.

-Does the tracker have value?
-They're not cheap.

-That says something.
-Sure does.

Okay, you send him onto Greenmount.

-All right, Sarge, I got you.
- All right.

What'd he want?

There's a serious shooting
on Greenmount and 22nd.

And get this,
Sarge wants you to take that one.

I told him that leaves me alone
on my first case.

-What'd he say to that?
-He had faith in me.

He doesn't know my name,
but he has faith in me.

Look, just take it slow.
Don't let nobody rush you.

I'll try to get back to you
as soon as I can.

All right.

Take your time, Sean, it's your scene.

Be advised, 9-Baker-11
had an armed carjacking in the unit block

of east Hamburg street.

Taken was a 2012 Acura
with Maryland tags.

-Hey.
-Hey.

Suspects are three, number one male,
armed with unknown caliber handguns.

If you come in contact with this car,
these individuals,

please approach with caution.

Hold occupants
and contact Citywide Robbery.

He's got working-man calluses.

Excuse me. Can you get a wide shot of this
from behind the fence?

If it was me, I would've parked it
in the satellite lot.

Well, Shropshire doesn't worry
about his budget.

Where do you think he's off to?

A Mensa convention?
How the fuck am I supposed to know?

-All right, I think you're clear.
-What? Why do I got to do it?

You know, seniority.
You got more experience bending over.

So does your mom.

Check this out.

A computer search
for the Gun Trace Task Force

brought this up from Woodlawn.

A 302 based on information provided
by Detective Ryan Guinn of the BPD,

who reported witnessing
a Detective Momodu Gondo,

who he worked with
on the Gun Trace Task Force,

and whose nickname is, wait for it,
G-Money.

Goddamn.

Guinn reported witnessing Gondo
in the company of Shropshire,

who Guinn knew to be a large-scale
drug player in Northeast Baltimore.

Guinn describes the two men as,
quote, "very friendly," unquote.

Later, Guinn said that Gondo told him
that Shropshire and him grew up together

and it was just talk that Shropshire
was a drug dealer.

-Any follow-up by us?
-No, not that I can tell.

This is all that came over
from the field office.

Well, at least,
the information was memorialized.

-Okay, anything else?
-Well, only that I checked and it seems

that Gondo is still assigned
to the Gun Trace Task Force.

Interesting.

-You'll interview Guinn?
-On it.

-Yeah, this is Wise.
-What is this?

-It's Armani.
-Is it?

-No. I lied. I was trying to impress you.
-It worked.

I was at the stove fixing plates.

Kendal heard a noise
and went out back to check.

Then we heard, like, a machine gun go off.
The children ran to the hall closet.

Kendal taught them to do that
because in June,

a bullet came through the window.

I ran outside, he was lying on the ground.

-Did you see anyone else?
-Just Kendal in the alley.

-Do you have family coming?
-They're on the way.

Can you go on?

I saw a partially completed fence
out back. Can you tell me about that?

All set. Any problem, give me a call.

You have authorization for 24/7,

but if after the first month,
you wanna limit your time,

-put it in the court report.
-Got it.

-Hey, baby.
-You in Vegas?

-Yeah. Just got back to my hotel.
-Well, I'mma get my sugar when you back.

-You'll get it.
-Ain't that what the fuck I said?

-Ain't no question. Later.
-Bye, baby.

Cool, I think sugar is code for coke.

I'm kidding. It just...

Girlfriend is non-pertinent.

When things get boring
and you wanna second-guess the tap,

here's something Judge Quarles told me
that might help.

"The bad guy has to be perfect
all the time,

while all we have to be
is lucky, one time."

-Sergeant Guinn?
-That's me.

-Special Agent Jensen, FBI.
-Whatever it is, I didn't do it.

I'm sure you didn't.

And I have to tell you,
I dread this interview.

Whoa! This doesn't sound good.

It's just that we dropped the ball back
at the Bureau, and now I'm back.

My report on Detective Gondo.

Exactly.

All right, but what happened
with all the secret-agent,

-cloak-and-dagger stuff?
-The what?

Two years ago, when I called Woodlawn,

an agent told me to wait outside
of Walters Art Gallery at...

I forget what time, and I did.

A van pulls up, side door slides back
and an agent waves me in.

I thought it was a little over-the-top,

but seeing as you just walked in here
like a normal pedestrian, I know it was.

Well, working back, the feeling, I guess,
is that the heat is off.

But it isn't?
Something happening with Gondo now?

Let's just say that if you could revisit
the concerns you had two years ago,

it would be helpful.

You know that gut feeling you get
when something ain't right?

That's the feeling I got when I saw Gondo
and Shropshire together at Mo's Seafood.

It was that loose-vibe feel you get
with two friends at lunch.

I probably would've let it slide,

but when Gondo ran me this line
on how Shropshire's cool,

you know,
a good guy from the neighborhood,

-a red flag went up.
-Did you say anything to Gondo?

No. I mean, you can't help
where you grew up and all that,

but Gondo was playing it hard
on how Shropshire was a good guy,

and that was some bullshit.

I knew Shropshire was moving weight,
and Gondo had to know that, too.

-Get that article I sent?
-It's right here.

Sean, right?

Yeah, my name is Sean, Sarge.

Looks like your vic was a civilian.

Well, worker and a family man.

So, this guy gets gunned down
for putting up a fence

to keep drug dealers
from cutting through his yard?

I don't know yet.

Well, word from upstairs
is the commissioner

and some City Hall pols are headed over

to Park Heights to finish the fence
for TV cameras.

Yeah, I kind of doubt the fence thing.
I mean, he got shot five times,

so the shooter's maybe got
anger management issues

a little beyond a fence.

Let it play as is.

You never know, maybe it moves somebody
to call in a lead.

Look, a taxpayer murder
rates a second detective and you're new.

You want somebody with you on this?

I'm good.

All right.

We got an outgoing.

So, you still going, are you back or what?

-I'm back. We good?
-I'm up.

Last coordinate?

-Same spot?
-Same spot.

Later.

That's 443-212-9987

Short, sweet drug call.
That's our fourth today.

Yeah, I'm gonna check.

Well, I'll be damned.

Yeah, we got that number
all over Shropshire's phone

in the records dump.

A string of calls going back two months.

No, nothing fresh on the tap yet.

But shit, we've only been up
for a couple days.

So, we'll keep our eyes out for sure.

Thanks.

That was Erika.

This number that's all over
Shropshire's call list?

That's the mobile phone number
of Detective Momodu Gondo

of the Baltimore Police Department.

Well, fuck me.

So, you get that
I'm with the Civil Rights Division, right?

I'm a fed,
but I'm not the kind of fed that,

-you know...
-I get it.

So, I'm not chasing you
or anyone like you.

I don't want you to snitch
or testify in court.

I'm just trying to write some truths
about guys like Hersl, same as you.

I hear you, but what do you want me
to say that I ain't already said?

I mean, I put it all out there
in the song,

and don't think I ain't been made
to pay for it.

Soon as Hersl and his boys heard that rap,
they got on me even worse.

-How?
-More harassment. More charges.

Shit never ends.

Is there anything else you can tell me
beyond the rap? Is there anything more?

-He steals.
-Excuse me?

Hersl steals. He go into your pockets.

You surprised? Shit.
He ain't alone neither.

Okay, bye.

-Hello?
- This Miss Steele?

Yes, this is she.

- My name is Stanley Willis and...
- How did you get this number?

PD, ma'am. I'd like to meet with you
about an incident.

-Where?
- My post.

It's out on the west side,
near the beltway.

Shit. Well, that didn't take long.

-What's that?
-Looks like Shropshire found our tracker.

-Where?
-GPS shows Baltimore City,

-down on 25th Street, near Loch Raven.
-There's a bunch of auto shops down there.

Look, look, it's Gondo.
Fuck me, he's calling Gondo.

-Hello?
-Yo, papi?

-What's up, bro?
-What's good with you?

-Nothin', man. You know Philly.
-You in Philly, huh?

-Yeah, yeah, yeah.
-Well, I got a question for you.

-I'm listening.
-I took the car to the shop.

-The thing is lit, yo. They pulled it off.
-Okay.

What the deal with it?

Hey, yo,
just run that by me one more time.

You know what I'm talking about?

-Yeah, nigga. Let me think.
-All right.

-Yo, this an iPhone?
-Yeah.

Just FaceTime me, yo.

-All right.
-All right.

All right.

I'm gonna call Leo and Erika.

They need to know that we caught Gondo
on the hook with Shropshire.

I wonder why Gondo
took half a conversation

to tell Brill to call him on FaceTime?

He knows we can't track those calls.
Why does he talk on the phone at all?

He got sloppy? We got lucky.

Look he was an innocent person
trying to protect his children.

Okay. This is a devastating crime
for the family.

Mr. Fenwick was a family man, a good man,

a community leader and a friend.
And this was his home,

but he was murdered in broad daylight,
just a few yards

from his property
while building a fence...

Quite a show up the block.

I guess it's that.

-All about the murder.
-Guess so.

Yeah, that's my problem.

I'm the detective
that got assigned the case.

If anyone hears anything
that belongs in my ear,

I can keep a confidence.

Nice.

You don't see too many of these
in this kind of condition. It's a '94?

Ninety-five.
SS only came in black the first year.

Added Cherry Metallic year two.
Family man's 'Vette.

-How many kids you got?
-Three. You?

-Five.
-Got me beat.

I'm buried, brother.

You'd do well to put that Bud in a bag.

I'll think on it.

Stay safe.

Yeah.

-Hey, Dave, they're back up.
-I'll call you back.

Hello?

Yeah, basically when something like that
happens on the other side,

-it's just a loss. You feel me?
-Right.

Definitely, definitely,
somebody's been tracking you. So...

Ain't no question.

I'mma pop it on somebody else's car,
like a working-folk car.

You know, I don't even know
who I'm talking to,

so whatever you do, you do,
but just be mindful.

Just be mindful of that, Brill.
So, whatever you do...

Right.

But, yeah, you definitely
gotta get rid of it, aight?

-Aight. Bye.
-Aight.

Thank you, Officer Gondo.

"I don't even know who I'm talking to?"
Like, what the fuck?

No offense, but can I see ID?

Yeah. There you go.

I guess I haven't learned enough
about Baltimore.

-I didn't know this place existed.
-Yeah, Leakin Park.

Me neither, till I was assigned the post.

It's one of those they usually give
to the burnouts or the OGs.

-And I'm guessing you're neither.
-I got a big mouth.

Would I get your name
and call you otherwise?

Like an idiot,
I made it clear to my sergeant,

my lieutenant, even my major,

that I don't like the way we go
about policing.

So here I am, 32-years-old
and out to pasture.

But a lot of guys feel like me.

We've seen things going on
that'll blow your mind.

Like this, for example.

This happened a few weeks ago.

Young man by the name of Samuels.
Reginald Samuels.

And I wanted you all to know

that even with you people in town,
looking into our mess,

this shit still goes on.
Like we can't help ourselves.

-Why not?
-It's a numbers game.

Squad's numbers were down,
Sergeant wasn't happy.

So, we got our marching orders.
Bring in bodies.

I mean, this happens in every district,
every day, year after year.

Less now after Freddie Gray,
but that's only because the guys

won't get out of their cars
to spite Mosby.

Those shitbirds looked at me
two seconds too long

which is as close to probable cause
as we need.

I'mma go around the block.

-They still there, we jump out.
-Got you.

Look at this shithole.
City doesn't pay us enough to fix this.

-Here we go.
-Yeah.

-On the wall.
-I'm not getting on no wall.

There's always one. Watch them.

-We don't listen to no fucking police.
-Spread them and lace your fingers.

-Hey, man, be cool.
-I'm cool. You cool?

-You ain't gotta do all that.
-Search them.

Man, what you searching me for?

Get the fuck off, man.
I ain't got nothing on me, dawg.

I'm just doing my job, all right?

-Come on, yo.
-He's clean.

Told you.

Wasting my time, bro. We outta here.

Stay right here.

Here we go.

Cuff them. Come on, both of y'all.
Over here on the curb. Sit down.

-What the fuck... That's crazy.
-Down.

-Put your hands behind your back.
-Man, what you doing, yo?

-Man, get the fuck off me, yo!
-Don't resist, man.

Bitch ass, always doing this dumb shit.
Man, get off of me, yo.

Get down. Get down.

I'm tired of you, dawg.

Should have fucking left
when we had the chance.

-I told you let's get out the block, yo.
-Bullshit, man.

You sure he didn't put something on you?

-Over here sitting with you niggas.
-Two-Charlie-11, 10-14.

Need a wagon
at Orleans and Rose for three.

- Copy that, 10-4.
-This crazy.

Nothing better to do, yo.

How about that one?
What's the charge on him?

Well, we could take one body for the weed,
or we could take three.

There's only two ways to add
to your city-scale salary, my son.

First is overtime.

Nobody's gonna approve overtime
for chasing 911 calls

and making street arrests from patrol.

Second is court pay.
You make enough arrests,

you not only get credit for the stats,

you can overfill the day's docket
and get paid twice.

Untie us yo.

Man, you're wasting your time.

-You want this extra coin, or no?
-Shit.

Hey, weren't you on probation?

What's going on, baby?

I'm sorry.
These crabs took longer than I thought.

-You brought Harley?
-No kiss?

One more. Did he shit?

-yeah, I took him out.
-Don't want him shitting on the lawn.

-He won't.
-That's Mike Fries, right there.

I know, man.

-Bro, I'm waiting here like an asshole.
-I'm sorry. I apologize.

My buddy, Jimmy, was supposed to leave
these out for me, he didn't do it.

I had to put crabs, you know.
What's going on, Donny?

-My man, the Rookie.
-It's Donny.

-What's up, baby?
-Hey, this is Mike Fries right here.

He's a legend. I work with him over
in the Southeast.

I'm his bodyguard.

Oh, yeah. Well, I wouldn't mess
with either of you two animals.

I brought crabs for everyone, so...

-Those crabs are small as shit, Wayne.
-No, no. They're mediums.

Crabs are expensive as fuck this year,
man. That's all I could afford.

Yeah. Well, you know what,

money ain't nothing but paper
till you print it, all right?

Come here. Come here.
Let me show you what I bought.

I did the shopping this morning,
all right?

Check this shit.
Oh, man, check this shit out.

-What?
-Yeah, man. That's New York strips,

lobster tails,

-Grey Goose, a little Hennessy.
-Now we're talking.

Yeah, we're talking, man.
Now, we're gonna be eating

is what we're gonna be doing, all right?

Don, I thought you were off
the sauce, man?

Yeah, I ain't had a drop since '96.
But we're gonna party tonight, right?

-Fuck yeah.
-Yeah. Fuck yeah.

-Ain't that the truth. Yeah.
-Fuck yes.

I want you to eat something now, man.
Go on.

-I spent 46 bucks on those crabs.
-I know.

I'm just saying it's a waste
of fucking money, you know?

They look good to me.

-I'll eat the crabs.
-They're gonna sit there

-and just fucking collect flies...
-No, I'll eat them,

and then we'll take them home.

-Hey.
-They just...

Look at me. Relax, you're okay.

Man, you know those things are bad
for you.

Like you give a fuck about that.

Come on, man.

I found a ground-stash
in that vacant lot over there.

Who's this belong to?

All of them.

Hey, come on. They all go.

-Come on, let's go.
-Let's go, fellas.

-You're going for a ride, let's go.
-Come on, big boy.

We still cool, y'all.
We're just going on a road trip.

I taught you well, Jenks.

It's gonna be fun. Say it with me,
"Road trip, road trip."

Y'all gonna be crowded in there.
It's gonna be fun.

Put a fucking smile on your face
for fuck's sake.

Road trip. Road trip

One thing I don't understand.

If policework has become
this indiscriminate,

if anyone and everyone in the city
can get locked up for anything,

who talks to you now?

To the departments? If you need witnesses,
if you need informants?

-It's worse than that.
-Tell me.

Sure, you can talk to the guys
in Homicide or Robbery.

Used to be that every now and then,
the phone would ring,

someone would drop a dime on
who shot Tater,

-or who robbed the Rite Aid.
-Right.

Not anymore. You got that right enough.

But now, even if you find the witnesses
and you make a case,

now when you need to get twelve people
together to make a jury,

twelve people to believe that

you aren't lying
on the witness stand about

who shot Tater or who robbed the Rite Aid,
they look at you

and remember when some other cop
lied on them or their son or brother.

I mean, the lawyers will tell you
we lost the city juries doing this stuff.

-They think police just lie.
-Because now you do.

Now we do.

So, tell me about this Samuels kid.

I wasn't involved.

But I was on the scene
running backup on the call.

And this one here stuck in my mind.
I got a nephew that boy's age.

You got ID?

I just came back from work.
Why the fuck are you stopping me?

You're in a high-crime area,
wearing a hooded sweatshirt.

You stopped me for wearing a hoodie?

Something subtle.
You had your head on a swivel.

Like you were seeking
a victim of opportunity.

I had to look both ways,
so I didn't get hit by no car.

-Bro, ain't nobody out here but me.
-I'm gonna pat you down.

-For what? I... Bro!
-Easy, easy, easy, easy, easy.

-I ain't done shit.
-Let the man do his job.

-I'm not doing shit, bro.
-Easy, chill, ease up, ease up.

What, y'all got nothing else
better to do? I'm not doing nothing, bro.

You ain't doing nothing. You good. Chill.

-Looks like a rigged knife.
-I gotta walk home at night sometimes.

You said it your own self,
it's a high-crime area.

Another smartass.
Cuff this little motherfucker.

No, wait, bro. I didn't do nothing, bro.
Bro, why are you cuffing me, bro?

-Hey, hey. You got it.
-Bro, I didn't do shit.

-It's fine.
-What are you doing, bro?

What am I doing wrong?
I'm not doing nothing wrong.

-You're doing everything wrong right now.
-I was walking across the fucking street.

I'm not doing nothing, bro!

-Chill, bro. Chill.
-Fuck you, asshole!

Get the fuck off me!

That mess got out of hand so fast.

For real.

-Do you think Samuels will talk to me?
-You could try.

-You need me, I'll be with Ballistics.
-You get in on something?

Well, stay on it.

What did they do to you
when you were on the ground?

Whatever they wanted.

Beat me all over.
Stoned me in my face, too.

You spent the night in detention?

Lucky I wasn't on the schedule that day.
I would've lost my job.

I got 12 of these,
that's gonna leave a scar.

You think it's gonna ruin me
for the girls?

I'm guessing you'll be all right.

Looking at this list of robberies
and thefts of confiscated funds,

I didn't see Detective John Clewell's name
anywhere on there.

-Clewell.
-Out of all the officers in the GTTF,

-he's the only one.
-Choir boy?

No, that fool was straight.

I don't even know how the fuck he got
in the unit, to be honest.

Probably Allers brought him from Southern,
or some shit.

Just to confirm,
this is Sergeant Allers, supervisor,

now with the DEA Task Force.

That right there is M.

That's G, and that's A.

It's me, Gondo, and Allers.

-Allers also stole money with you?
-Yes, ma'am. He did.

Oh, shit. So, you think because Allers
was a sergeant, he was immune?

Sergeants and lieutenants
got to do admin work, and guess what?

They don't make overtime
on them office hours.

So, they're hungrier for their share
of whatever cash we pull.

Jenkins didn't invent anything.
This shit been going on for a long while.

Officer Rayam, can you clear
something else up for us?

Happy to help.

We were going back through your IAD files
contemporaneous to your

-time working plainclothes.
-Wow. That must have taken a while.

Do you recall lying to investigators

and failing a polygraph relative
to a 2009 incident

where 11,000 dollars was stolen?

Yeah. Yeah, I do.

It's on my list.
I just haven't gotten to it yet.

That was a car stop off of Barclay.

-'Sup, blood? What we got?
-Seatbelt violation.

Wow. Well, we can't have that, right?
Those motherfuckers save lives.

Hey, sir, step out the car.

Give me them keys.

-Why?
-Give him your fucking keys.

Sit down.

-What the fuck?
-Hey, hey, eyes up here.

-How much you got in here?
-Eleven thousand.

Wow. That's the equity from
when I refinanced my house.

The equity he got
when he was refinancing his house, right?

That's funny. Equity, my ass. All right?

We're gonna go ahead and submit that down
to Evidence Control,

and the only way you get
your little "equity" back,

look at me, motherfucker,
is if you show up with the bank paperwork.

You hear me? Let me see that.

Oh, yeah. That's a lot of refinancing
you're doing, huh?

"Equity," motherfucker. They say anything
these motherfucking days.

So, then what happened?

Sly took the bag,
me and him split it up later.

So, you did take the money?

All of it.

-And you lied about it?
-Damn right, I lied about it.

Look, I've been doing this a long time,
all right?

And them mopes at IAD couldn't catch clap
at a whorehouse.

And when questioned, you even lied to IAD
about knowing Sylvester.

-Yup.
-You were with him in the Academy.

-That's right.
-Did IAD ever confront you on that lie?

Well, they didn't charge me.

And according to this report,

in the four months before and after
this incident, you called him 474 times.

Yeah, I did.

Look, I didn't think
they were smart enough

to pull my phone records.

But y'all were. Weren't you?

You know what, check this out.

Couple months later,
they set up an integrity sting.

They wanted to catch Sly knocking off
some cadet playing undercover.

My man took, like,
70 bucks in marked bills,

and when they popped his locker,
they found coke.

But IAD fucked
that simple shit up so bad,

the State's Attorney's Office
had to drop the charges.

So, even though they had me dead up
because I blew the fucking box,

get this, they only suspended me

for two years. With pay.

And when they reinstated me, me,
they put me in a unit

made up of a bunch of the biggest crooks
in the whole goddamn department.

That's how fucked up this shit is.

I mean, there's all this money to be made,

and I'm somehow supposed to be playing
by the book with these motherfuckers?

Yeah, fuck that. Got me fucked up.

Can I get a call? Hey! Hey!

Signal 13. East Preston and Bond.

Officers in a fight.
All available units. Signal 13.

Two-Charlie-20 responding.

-Hey, man. Get off my friend!
-Get on the ground.

Stop resisting. Police! Stop resisting.

-That's me!
-Shit, Jarrod!

What the fuck? That's me!

Why you wearing those stupid
fucking shoes, man?

I see the fucking Jordans,
I just give it a smack. Man, my bad.

Fucking Jarrod
forgot his department issues.

Came out wearing his tennis shoes.

Come on, man, fuck. Well, I mean...
Are you all right?

Yeah, I'm aight.

Shit, dude. I hit hard
as a motherfucker too, man. My bad. Fuck.

What'd he do?

Told him the corner was indicted.
He's still here when we rolled back.

Damn. Well, you fucked him up pretty good.

-What's the charge on him?
-Loitering in a drug-free zone.

-Failure to obey.
-Considering the damage,

I think maybe you wanna add resisting
to that, yeah?

Say he swung on you. Hey, dumb-dumb.

Never swing on a cop. Okay?
You know what I mean?

-Jenks, you're field training the new guy.
-Fuck me.

Whose daughter did I ass fuck
to get this job?

Yeah, fuck you.

What's going on, man?

-You Yang?
-Yeah, you can call me Tim.

Okay. I'm Jenkins,
you ride with me, your FTO.

Shift attention!

All right, relax, guys.

-Go on, sit down.
-For anyone who hasn't heard,

Constant took an ambulance last night
and was admitted to Union Memorial.

Some kind of heart disease.
He's stable and he's gonna live.

First off, all that shit you learned
in the Academy? Fuck all that.

This is Baltimore.

Man, I took a warrant
on that guy last week.

Yeah, okay. Well, let's look at them.
Wilson George...

Officer Hersl.

That's me.

I'm Nicole Steele with the DOJ,
Civil Rights Division.

Oh, yeah. Yeah.

You're the guys who've come to tell us
how to police Baltimore?

Well...

Hey, I finally get to meet
one of you guys.

-I'm glad to meet you, too. May I?
-Yeah, sure. You want a drink?

-I'm good.
-So what do you want from me?

I just thought it was time that we met.
I could use your insight.

Yeah. About what?

Well, you have an impressive number
of complaints with IAD.

-Forty-six by my count.
-Only one sustained.

-But given the number, it's...
-Ma'am,

do you know what the Baltimore cops

who don't have complaints
are doing every day?

No.

They sure as hell ain't policing.

'Cause if you wanna do this job,

then you're gonna get complaints
for doing this job.

-So, what you're saying...
-I'm saying the reason

so many complaints are unsustained
is 'cause they're coming from criminals

who are being policed for doing crime.
And that's all I have to say.

-Hey, Tommy. Yo.
-Danny.

What's up, cap? Hey, Joey,
get Tommy there his first two on me.

I owe him a good time.

I don't have any other comment for you
beyond that, ma'am.

But you have a fine day.

Officer, I'm not a prosecutor.

I'm just trying to learn about the city
and the policing here to write a report.

This is not a criminal investigation
of any kind.

Ma'am, you have a great day.

Hey, Tommy,
how's your wife and my kids doing?

Come on, seriously,
I wanna know how my boy is.

Joey, he didn't order nothing fancy,
did he?