D'Angelo comes back down the stairs to the party, a box of liquor in his hands, only to see that the party's broken up. Wee-Bey and Stinkum are watching TV, the latter lying on his stomach on the floor like they're having a sleepover or something. Little Man lumbers over to the couch. D'Angelo asks what happened to everybody, and Wee-Bey mutters that the "party broke." D'Angelo complains that the party broke up in the time he was out getting more booze, but the guys have turned their attention back to basketball coverage on TV, and D'Angelo crabbily puts the box on the bar, whereupon he glances into a doorway and sees a naked stripper on the bed, his face turned away from him. "What's with her?" asks D'Angelo. "Oh, fucked her silly -- what can I say?" says Wee-Bey cheerily. The other guys laugh. D'Angelo slowly moves into the bedroom, looking with some alarm at her splayed-out limbs, as we hear Wee-Bey adding, "She snorted half the shit we brought up in here, too, that greedy bitch." As D'Angelo's view of the girl pans up to her face, it's clear from the slack in her face that she's not just passed out, but just in case, he puts his hand in front of her face to feel for breath, and then turns her head, which flops loosely to the other side. D'Angelo slowly backs out of the room, not taking his eyes off the girl: "Yo, Bey." Wee-Bey blearily looks back. D'Angelo, alarmed, looks meaningfully into the room, and back to Wee-Bey, who rolls his eyes like, "If it's not one fucking thing, it's another." D'Angelo looks from the girl back to Wee-Bey again, apparently frozen in horror.
Kima and McNulty enter Judge Phelan's chambers, expositing as they do that he summoned them there. "What the hell is this?" demands Phelan, holding out a sheet of paper. As Phelan sits, McNulty glances at it, and says, "It's just what it looks like -- a memo signed by the Deputy Ops, Rawls, and Foerster, telling us to pack it in and come home." Kima exposits the details of the dissolution of the detail, ending with the order that they charge whomever they can within the week. Phelan asks whom they can charge. McNulty says that they're all mid-level guys -- Stinkum, Bird. "That's it?" spits Phelan in disbelief. It is, pretty much. Phelan asks why this is happening now, and McNulty tells him about Day-Day. Hearing about the Davis connection, Phelan raises his eyebrows, and finally asks what Daniels could do. "Not a fucking thing," says Kima, sounding resigned. She says that everything Burrell told Daniels is in the memo Phelan has. Phelan yells to his assistant to get Burrell on the line. Phelan, getting sly, takes the long way around to exposit that his office gave them the wires for sixty days, and that it's only been forty. Phelan's assistant comes in to say that Burrell's on the line, and Phelan picks it up, greets him perfunctorily, and gets into it: "Kiddo, you're fucking with me, here." There's some back and forth, and then Phelan reminds Burrell about the sixty-day wiretaps. On his end, Burrell protests, but Phelan pulls rank: "The Circuit Court for Baltimore ordered sixty days on this tap. The Court wants its sixty days. Now, if you take this wire down on Friday, you'll be in contempt of court on Monday. Understood?...And all the best to Arlene and the kids." He hangs up and smiles at McNulty, not bothering to wait for his props: "Who's your daddy now?" McNulty and Kima look at each other and squirm, not sure that this isn't just going to result in more shit rolling downhill and onto themselves.