Philadelphia skyline, by helicopter. On the ground, the Detailettes are getting ready for a raid, assisted by some unis. They move into position as a hoodied Carver pulls out his baton and bashes in a car window, setting off the alarm. Before too long, Wee-Bey opens the front door the cops are flanking, and has to suffer the indignity of being apprehended in his drawers. While Lester and McNulty are occupied with the flailing Wee-Bey, Daniels rushes into the house. Wee-Bey bitches, "You didn't have to fuck with my ride," and as he's led off into a waiting squad car, he shoots back over his shoulder, "Motherfuckers got lucky." Yeah, that co-ordinated operation -- IN ANOTHER STATE -- was total chance, douche. Go play with your fighting fish. Carver grins as Daniels emerges from the house in time to watch Wee-Bey get into the car. Well done, lads.
The next day, Ronnie's having lunch at an outdoor café when she gets a phone call. She listens, smiles, and tells Nathan, whom she's sitting with, "Podunk lawyer in Denton's giving the guards a hard time about moving D'Angelo from original jurisdiction." Into the phone, she confidently says, "Put the call through," and leans back to ask an Officer Mace what the problem with the lawyer is.
Jail. A guard hands a phone to Levy. Hey, that's no podunk! Through the glass, we see D'Angelo cursing his own weak will in the visiting room, while Brianna stands over him, making sure he doesn't change his story back. No one can lay a guilt trip like a mom.
Homicide. McNulty hesitantly enters Rawls's office, where the man himself tells him, "You do not make it easy, Jimmy. I have to admit, I am deeply ambivalent." McNulty doesn't know what he's talking about, and Rawls tells him to sit. McNulty, suspecting a trap, doesn't move, so Rawls has to order his ass down again. McNulty hands a paper to Rawls, who says that Rawls told him about Wee-Bey's arrest in Philadelphia: "Great work. You all did great work. And the number of clearances I'm looking at here, I mean, Christ -- for the first time this year, we got the clearance rate up over 40%." McNulty seems to sense that for Rawls to lead with the good news is the worst possible sign, and of course, he is right, as Rawls goes on: "That's on the one hand. On the other hand, I know the Deputy Ops got a call from the first deputy U.S Attorney this morning asking whether an asshole such as yourself really works for us." McNulty braces himself for whatever's coming. Rawls: "Of course, this is the first the Deputy hears his troops are creeping behind his back, trying to take a case federal when they've already been told the case is closed. You're a good detective. And I've got to admit, you got some stones on you. Did you actually call the first deputy an empty suit?" Rawls chuckles at this, and McNulty dares to allow himself to snicker inaudibly in response; needless to say, it's a bad move. Or else McNulty just figures the die is cast and doesn't care anymore, and sure enough, Rawls gets to it: "I want to see you land okay, Jimmy. So tell me: where don't you want to go?" McNulty smiles to himself, perhaps thinking that whatever shit job they're sending him to, at least Rawls probably won't be all up in his grill there.
Downtown Baltimore. In a musty-looking conference room, Levy and some other stooge from his firm are meeting with Daniels, Ronnie, and Nathan, and we join Levy in progress, trying to minimize the state's case against D'Angelo. Ronnie declares, "It's not just talk on the wire. We've got seized money and a lot of dope on the table." Nathan adds that there's a lot of violence, too, but Levy dismissively says that all of that stops well short of D'Angelo. Daniels reminds Levy that D'Angelo can't skate on the New Jersey bust: "That one he eats." Levy will only allow that "maybe he does," adding, "Maybe he pleads to one count of attempted possession and takes, I don't know, maybe three. Four. Maybe he can arrange for everyone you have on those tapes to follow suit." Ronnie and Daniels are quietly disgusted at this suggestion, and Levy goes on: "Maybe you get five-year pleas from those with no prior felony convictions. Ten years for those with one prior, fifteen for two or more." Nathan wants to know about the murders, and Levy smugly replies, "Maybe we acknowledge you've got Mr. Brice cold for the murder of Orlando Blocker and wounding of the police officer." Ronnie doesn't recognize the name, so Daniels helpfully reminds her (and us) that "Mr. Brice" is Wee-Bey. The stooge beside Levy is, apparently, Wee-Bey's lawyer, and he pipes up to say that, to avoid the death penalty, Wee-Bey will "proffer to at least a half-dozen" open murders. Levy spreads his hands, like, "Everyone wins!" "Naming co-conspirators?" asks Nathan, looking to Ronnie. "For that kind of co-operation, I'd be willing to consider straight life." However, Levy, faintly amused at the idea she's suggesting, says that Wee-Bey will take "sole responsibility for all of his crimes." Ronnie and Daniels wilt in defeat, while Levy needles, "Still, you walk away with at least a half-dozen clearances!" Ronnie wants to know about assets, and Levy says that the cops can have Orlando's, "whatever trucks and cars [they] can link to the drug trafficking," and whatever cash the cops already have. Daniels exposits that Avon has tons of other properties: "The funeral parlor. The towing company." But Levy's not having it, explaining that the cops can have the vehicles because they can be tied to crimes: "But there's nothing else in his name to take." Ronnie sums it up: "You keep most of the money, most of the real estate, and Stringer Bell stays on the street with his hand on the throttle?" Levy disingenuously says that if they have a charge on Stringer, they can file it, but that as far as he knows, nothing on the tapes implicates Stringer. Ronnie sits back, huffs, and spits that three or four years is not enough: "Not for Avon Barksdale." "No?" smugs Levy. He looks at Stooge, Esq., and tells Ronnie, "Make an offer." That's sporting of him.