We get a shot of all the longshoremen driving to the dock...and right into a traffic stop. Carver saunters up to the first truck in line to explain that it's a DWI checkpoint, and that the driver has to step out of the car for a Breathalyzer. The guy acts all affronted at the notion that he'd have gotten drunk at 8 in the morning, and on the other side, Nick gets out of the car and stands there looking annoyed. Bitch, you ever heard of walking?
Robbie, of the Maryland State Police, has come to appeal to Rawls: "I'm not arguing that the jurisdiction's not technically ours. Patapsco's definitely Port Authority property, and the Port Police have the jurisdiction. That's not in dispute here." "Good," says Rawls smugly. "But they're not equipped for a death investigation," adds Robbie. "You dump thirteen bodies on them, you're dumping them on us. MSP is gonna have to pick up that slack, overburdened as we are." Rawls leans forward, smirking insufferably, as he tells Robbie, "I have fought and scratched and clawed for four months to get my clearance rate up above fifty percent. And right now, it stands at exactly 51.6." Hardly makes all the fighting and scratching seem worth it, does it? If Rawls takes these bodies, his clearance rate will drop to 39.4%. Robbie starts to protest again, but Rawls smarms, "We did not get to be colonels by being complete fucking idiots, right?" Robbie chuckles bitterly, punching his own thighs. Rawls faux-sympathetically tells Robbie that he looks like he needs a cup of coffee. Rawls gets up, seemingly to fetch him one, leaving Robbie fuming stiffly in his chair.
Rawls steps out of his office and walks through the bullpen, past Lester (first appearance this season! Hi, Lester!), Cole, and Bunk, who watch him curiously. Jay trudges after him, waiting to see what he's going to do, but Rawls just pours a cup of coffee and walks past them all again, to his office. At the door, he stops, and raises his right fist, causing all the cops to melt with relief. Meanwhile, the Black Panthers file a copyright-infringement suit against Rawls for misusing their symbology so flagrantly. The detectives all laugh and shake hands, as Jay murmurs, "The man is a god." The door closes on Rawls -- and on all of Robbie's hopes and dreams.
Prison. Avon is sitting on the bed in his cell, eating KFC, when a screw leads Wee-Bey down the hall to see him. The guard -- nothing at all like the hard-on who was tossing Wee-Bey's cell earlier -- says that he has to get Wee-Bey back to the maximum-security area of the facility by 6 PM. Avon waves Wee-Bey in, offering him some food. Wee-Bey, clearly distressed, declines. Avon guesses what's bothering him and tells him not to stress out about whatever the guards are doing, saying that if they tear down Wee-Bey's stuff, they'll just bring in more, until it gets so they can't tear it down fast enough. Wee-Bey angrily says that the guy fucked with his fish, though: "He ain't have to go there, man!" Avon asks what's up with the hard-on guard, and Wee-Bey asks him, "You remember LeDante? Burner from over the Poe Homes? Caught him over at Carver parking lot after school?" "We did that?" asks Avon quizzically. Wee-Bey says that Tilghman was LeDante's cousin "or some such," and since he found out that Wee-Bey was in prison, he's been busting Wee-Bey's chops. Avon still can't even remember this LeDante character: "You need a score card to keep up with your lethal ass." Wee-Bey says that this Tilghman is "fixing to stay in [Wee-Bey's] shit." Avon confidently says that he will talk to the guy and "set it straight." Wee-Bey sort of jitters his legs, not looking like he's quite sure it will work, but he repeats the salient information: his name is Tilghman, and he works the day shift on J tier. Avon squints, saying he's seen the guy around. Wee-Bey complains, "All these COs are fronting and shit. You got the guards bringing your meals in. This punk motherfucker Tilghman running around acting righteous...but he bringing shit in here, steady slinging on the side." Avon, chewing, firmly tells Wee-Bey, "Don't fret. All right?" Wee-Bey doesn't answer, and Avon insists, "It's nothing. I'm gonna take care of it." Uh-oh, Tilghman. Hope you weren't really attached to your ears or anything.