At the offices of Luther Mahoney, M.E., McNulty's reviewing the photos from the D'Angelo Barksdale autopsy. McNulty notices multiple scars on D'Angelo's neck: "What'd he do -- hang himself twice?" The report also notes bruising on D'Angelo's back -- McNulty surmises that someone could have put a knee in D'Angelo's back while choking him, and then staged the suicide, which would account for the assorted bruises and scars. It could have happened that way, Luther Mahoney, M.E. allows -- or it could have happened another way that didn't involve any of that at all. But since McNulty seems pretty convinced of this not-a-suicide diagnosis, the coroner is willing to play along if only to get Detective Ahab out of his office sometime before happy hour.
Word of Triage's efforts to clean up the sport of dogfighting are now working their way into cell phone conversations, so of course, they're being picked up by the fine folks in the Major Case detail. "Tri finally got that M," one unwitting tipster comments, as Prez and Freamon listen with rapt attention. Massey scribbles down the details of the call. Looks like some hard-working detectives just caught their first break.
On the streets, the sight of Herc's approaching unmarked police call causes some Barksdale slingers to scatter, while Poot flashes a "time out" signal at the others -- something Herc does not appreciate, as his abrupt left turn toward Poot indicates. "Do that again," Herc bellows. "Do what again?" Poot asks innocently. "Do that thing with your hand," Herc screams, sounding belligerent even by his standards. "Do that in my face." Poot is cuffed and tossed in the car while onlookers mutter about police brutality; more hearts and minds have been won.
This arrest, however, wasn't really an arrest: Herc and Carver just wanted to have a word with Poot. Seems like they could have sent him an eVite and saved a lot of hassle. Anyhow, the cops would like to know how it came to pass that the Terrace crews have moved into new neighborhoods with out any apparent blowback; Poot plays dumb, the role he was born to play. Herc offers a word of caution: "You best watch your ass. 'Cause the slingers out here, they're like the crack babies' babies." Is that anything like Jim Henson's Muppet Babies? Because those bastards were fierce. Poot snorts at this friendly advice: "Every year, everybody's like, 'Yeah, these kids out here, they're a new breed. I ain't never seen nothing like this before. This is the end of the world now.'" Carver is not amused by Poot's sarcasm: "Look around you, fuckhead. This seem like the dawn of a new day to you?" Poot is released, presumably so he can go rent the Season 4 DVDs and see just how wrong he is, while Herc turns back to the more pressing issue of whether a simple handjob would be enough to meet the free-sex-with-anything-for-life proposal put forth by Carver earlier. "My man, you don't even get Weezy Jefferson for a handjob," Carver snorts. Isabel Sanford is outraged by this conversation...or she would be, had she not died in 2004. For all I know, watching this bit of dialogue is what did her in.