The members of the Baltimore contingent all briskly finish up their notes, while D'Angelo glances at his own lawyer, transfixed by all the crime-scene photos her client's attached to. Finally, D'Angelo breaks the silence: "Y'all don't understand. Y'all don't get it." There's a beat, as everyone waits to be educated, and D'Angelo proceeds: "You grow up in this shit. My grandfather was Butch Stamford." At the name, Ronnie looks like her heart's just leaped into her throat, and the cops look to one another. "You know who Butch Stamford was in this town?" Bunk and McNulty indicate that they do. D'Angelo: "All my people, man -- my father, my uncles, my cousins...it's just what we do. You just live with this shit, until you can't breathe no more." By now, he's turned Wallace's photo over again, forcing himself to look at how this poor fucking kid's life ended. "I swear to God, I was courtside for eight months, and I was freer in jail than I was at home." Such a poetic phrase for such a horrible existence. D'Angelo's a poor fucking kid, too. Ronnie gently asks what D'Angelo's looking for. Frowning, he replies, "I want it to go away." Misunderstanding, Ronnie starts to tell him, "I can't--" "I want what Wallace wanted," says D'Angelo more forcefully. "I want to start over. That's what I want. I don't care where. Anywhere. I don't give a fuck. I just want to go somewhere where I can breathe like regular folk. You give me that, and I'll give you them." Not really such a tall order, in the grand scheme, and yet...no one seems to optimistic about it -- including D'Angelo himself.
In a plush alcove of his impeccable home, Daniels is on the phone, getting good news about something (for a change). Quiet jazz tootles as we see him pacing through the halls, and then Marla's in the foreground, at the dinner table. When Daniels sits again, she looks pleased and perhaps a little alarmed to see him actually smiling, and he tells her, "We broke it open tonight. Wide open. I'm bringing this case in big." Marla shakes her head in disbelief, and Daniels grins as they clink glasses on it. She asks whether this squares things for Daniels with Burrell, and Daniels takes a moment, and a sip, before shrugging, "To hell with the man. But I think we might have enough to reach out to the feds, try to run this thing through them." "Cedric!" yelps Marla, dismayed, and Daniels calmly tells her, "He knows about the money...I wouldn't be surprised if it's why he picked me for this case." Shit, I totally forgot this part; I don't know if I can handle knowing that Daniels really did do something bad for whatever money he mysteriously came into. It's still ambiguous, though Marla strikes me as a bit Carmela at the notion that the origin of their fabulous lifestyle might be exposed. Anyway, Daniels says that Burrell has him if he wants him, but he doesn't think Burrell does want him; there's too much at stake. With Marla still reeling, Daniels adds, "Kind of like this case."