Out on the sidewalk in front of "Carleton C. Tomkins Funeral Service," Brianna's giving Avon and Stringer shit for being paranoid: "Y'all ain't even been up in there before." Avon says, "This shit is different. We are not going to talk about nothing indoors. It's a new day." Brianna nods, still looking like she thinks it's overkill. Avon says that they need to get back on their feet: "The longer we hold off, the harder it's going to be to maintain them Towers." Brianna says that if he wants to get back up, he should lean on her and Stringer. Avon cockily tells her, "I ain't down yet," but Brianna says that he needs to step back, and Stringer agrees: "You can't take a second chance here...Until you fixed, Sis going to handle that money, I'm going to handle the products. We're here for you." "All right," says Avon. "But you tell Roberto he got to make it a serious smoker. I mean, I want them motherfucking fiends in the Projects -- I want them dropping like flies. You feel me?" But dude, that's your product base! Short-sighted! Avon adds that Stringer needs to send out the word: "We ain't dead yet!" Stringer nods. After a moment, Avon asks Brianna about D'Angelo. "Don't fret," she says reassuringly. She says that she'll deal with Roberto and D'Angelo, in that order. Avon seems genuinely regretful as he asks Brianna, "Tell him I'm sorry for putting him out there like that, and that I'm going to make it up to him." "You gonna make it up," Brianna ruefully agrees. "Most def." She exhales a puff of smoke at him and heads off. Look out, Roberto! I would not want to be on the receiving end of a Brianna talking-to today, I tell you what.
New Jersey. At a detachment of the State Police, D'Angelo's officious lawyer is saying that D'Angelo's co-operation is contigent on a decent proffer from Ronnie. Beside her, D'Angelo sulks in his orange jumpsuit. McNulty and Bunk keep their eyes on D'Angelo as Ronnie, confident and hot and in her element, agrees that D'Angelo has been helpful, and exposits, "He's indicated a willingness to testify that he was a lieutenant in Avon Barksdale's drug distribution organization, sold large quantities of drugs for his uncle. Delivered money, attended organizational meetings, and on one occasion made a trip to New York on the behest of his uncle -- all of which corroborates much of what we already know." Hee, I know what she means by "organizational meetings," but I can't stop picturing D'Angelo with Avon and Stringer at, like, a wooded country retreat, shoring up the organization with Creative Problem Solving sessions and trust falls. Anyway, D'Angelo asks, "What else is there?" "The murders," says McNulty, leaning back like he's waiting for D'Angelo to impress him. As Bunk steps out of the murk and slides a folder in front of McNulty, D'Angelo bitches, "Why do you keep on that? I already told you, I don't know nothing about that witness being killed." "Which witness?" asks Bunk ingenuously. "Remember her?" asks McNulty, setting a photo of Nakeesha's corpse in front of D'Angelo. "Jesus," murmurs D'Angelo, possibly at the impressive amount of blood streaming out from under her head. "They did her?" "Yeah, about the same time they did the boy," says McNulty briskly, producing a print of Wallace's corpse. D'Angelo tries not to be affected by what he's seeing as Bunk prods, "All them bodies." D'Angelo turns the photos over and sighs, "They covering up, man." "Yeah, that's what we think," says Bunk, like, duh. "No loose ends." McNulty, turning the first photo over again, says that he can understand killing Nakeesha -- "She got paid, so she had to go." We see a shot of Orlando's corpse in the car as McNulty goes on: "He knew too much, got to snitching, so he had to go." He turns over the last photo: "But then there's the kid. Wallace." D'Angelo blinks as McNulty turns on the recording of Poot telling some girl how upset Wallace was about Brandon. McNulty snaps the recording off as soon as it's over. "You got that shit on tape?" says D'Angelo, like, no, they're incredibly tiny re-enactors. McNulty nods.