GAAAAAAAAH! THEY SHOT OMAR! THAT OMAR! RIGHT THERE! DEAD! JEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-SUS!
Okay, okay...deep breaths. We'll get through this somehow.
In this episode of the The Wire...OMAR GOT FREAKING SHOT! HE'S DEAD! HOLY CRAP, WHAT DO WE DO NOW?
I'll start again.
McNulty gets ever closer to capturing Marlo but comes closer to losing his soul in the process. On the first front, with the help of Carver, he gets surveillance teams to follow Marlo and his henchmen around town. And in the course of that surveillance, Sydnor realizes that those clocks Marlo and company are texting back and forth form a code that relates to a Thomas Guide of Baltimore -- the second hand is the page of the map, while the hour and minute hands represent the longitude and latitude, respectively. The noose tightens further when Bunk finally gets the DNA results from the death of Michael's stepfather and discovers that Chris Partlow's DNA is all over the scene. Bunk has enough for a warrant, but McNulty persuades him to hold off in order not to tip their hand to Marlo. Bunk agrees, and I think this is going to be a decision he'll regret...JUST LIKE OMAR'S DECISION TO PAY KENARD NO NEVER MIND, ALLOWING THE LITTLE BASTARD TO WALK AND SHOT HIM IN THE HEAD IN A CONVENIENCE STORE! ARRRRRRGH!
As for the consequences of McNulty's plan, Ray Barlow is the first Homicide detective to figure out that if McNulty turns down your request for siphoned-off serial-killer investigation resources -- even if it's for bullshit -- you can just threaten to rat him out to the top brass and McNulty will fold like a card table. Also, the FBI does a profile of McNulty's serial killer, and damn if the profile isn't a very accurate sketch of McNulty. Also, pangs of conscience cause McNulty to confess his deceptions to both Kima and Beadie. Both of them take the news about as well as...OMAR TAKES A SLUG TO THE BRAIN! WHY, DAVID SIMON, WHY?
At the Sun, the homeless vet Templeton profiled a while back comes a-calling to complain that the reporter embellished details of his story. No! Templeton? No! Gus, however, is not so quick to dismiss this complaint out of hand, and evidence of yet another stunt pulled by Lieman McLiarson emboldens Gus to spike a too-good-to-be-true quote from one of Templeton's stories, much to Klebanow's displeasure. Or perhaps the reason he's upset is...OMAR DYING IN SUCH A SPECTACULARLY BANAL WAY AT THE HANDS OF THE CONTEMPTIBLE KENARD! OH, FATE -- YOU ARE A DOUBLE-DEALING SHE-DEVIL OF CRUELTY!
Elsewhere, Carcetti quells a rebellion among Prince George's County Democrats that threatens his gubernatorial aspirations. The Clay Davis case, apparently dead (DEAD LIKE OMAR? Shut up, you), gets new life when Freamon takes it upon himself to confront the senator with the evidence that he committed fraud on his loan application. And Dukie goes looking for a job, and finds possible job satisfaction in the junk industry.
Also, something happened with Omar this week, but in all the excitement, I kind of forgot the details.
We begin with McNulty holding court at COMSTAT, updating the top brass and ranking city officials as to the progress of his investigation. Ah, but this is not your father's COMSTAT, where Rawls would snarl snide questions at whatever poor dumb major had the podium, forcing the poor bastard to rifle desperately through stat sheets while Rawls and Burrell alternately mocked his competence and threatened his livelihood until he inevitably started crying. No, McNulty is in control here -- though, to be fair, it's a lot easier to have command of the details when you've invented every one of them. For those of you with an interest in fables, the killer is working primarily in the Southern, Central, and Southeastern Districts. Some died at night, some during the day. And since Carcetti asked, there are no leads to the missing homeless dudes' whereabouts, though McNulty offers that they're running daily morgue checks and have spread the word to police departments throughout the mid-Atlantic to keep an eye peeled. For McNulty's sake, let's hope that police in Richmond, Virginia were kept out of the loop. Also, Daniels offers, some people will be heading down to Quantico later that day, so that the FBI can work its profiling magic on the killer. Wonder if the resulting profile will include words and phrases along the lines of "non-existent," "totally fabricated," and "Jesus Christ, how is it possible that you people fell for this crapola for this long?"
"This is a strange one," observes Rawls, positing that normally it's punk-ass teens who go after the homeless, not sexual predators. McNulty allows that it is odd, but that it was the best he could come up with on short notice. (Okay, I made up that last part.) Rawls goes on: "I mean, I'm all for a little kinky shit now and then" -- oh God, please carry this though no further so that the thought centers of my brain don't start shutting down in self-defense -- "but chewing on a homeless fellow?" The other officers chuckle, partly because they are sycophants and partly because laughter makes the sad go away. "You seem to be well grounded in the case file, detective," Daniels says, because who is more familiar with one's own handiwork than the author himself? "What else do you need?" This gives McNulty all the opening he needs to request those surveillance details Freamon's been clamoring for -- it will be done under the guise of keeping taps on all the suspects rounded up down at the pier after McNulty faked the killer's most recent phone call. And McNulty has just the man for the job -- Sgt. Ellis Carver from the Western District. Daniels asks why McNulty wouldn't use someone from one of the districts where the attacks occurred. Because Carver knows enough to keep his mouth shut? "Well, I've worked with Carver on prolonged investigations in the past," McNulty says, "and his familiarity with surveillance tactics is relevant. Also, I would be inclined to trust his objective assessment." That too.
Carcetti pipes up at this point to ask what's being done to protect non-murdered homeless people. Stepped-up patrols in the relevant districts, Daniels says, and undercover officers posing as vagrants working in staggered shifts. Hey, speaking of undercover things, McNulty also puts in a request for some undercover cars, noting that motorpool has been a little stingy with the wheels as of late. "Whatever you need, detective," Carcetti promises before McNulty can even complete his plea, and when Rawls begins to mention that the public works department has put the kibosh on such expenditures, the mayor suggests hitting rental car agencies. There's an Enterprise Rental Car commercial I'd love to see. ("Enterprise? I'm in pursuit of a serial killer." "We'll be right by to get you, detective." Enterprise -- we pick you up!) "People are disappearing," Carcetti adds. "They're dying, for chrissake. Just do what you need to do." And with that, Carcetti scurries off, his flacks and attendants in tow.