Bunk has gone to see Lex's parents, who are predictably unco-operative. Lex's mom insists that she doesn't know where her son is, until Bunk tells her he knows Lex is selling drugs, and doesn't care -- he's there about a homicide. This doesn't unstick her or her husband's lips either. Man, even parents don't snitch? Sheeeeeeit.
Fraternal Order Of Police. Carcetti's politely being told that the cops aren't going to be endorsing his campaign, since the polls have Royce in the lead, and if they come out for one of his opponents and he wins, they'll be fucked. Valchek leans in to try to argue for "getting in on the ground floor of something better," because he's in favour of the white guy even if he is what someone of Valchek's persuasion would probably call an "eyetie" (or worse), but the head union guy tells Carcetti, "If you were me," and Carcetti says he'd cover his ass, just as the teachers and firefighters have done. He adds, though, that it's not quite kosher to have off-duty cops manning Royce's phone banks and monitoring polling places. The union guy says that the cops won't be "too aggressive for anybody." Well, all right, then! By the way, this is probably a good time to put in a plug for Street Fight, a great documentary about a mayoral race in Newark that could almost be the source for a bunch of different crooked campaign tricks on the part of the incumbent. Also, Cory Booker is cute. You won't regret it!
After the meeting, Valchek walks out with Carcetti and Norman, telling Carcetti he did the best he could, but that Royce has everyone running scared. He takes off, leaving Carcetti to mope, "Yeah...best I could do." Chin up, little camper! And I mean that -- pick your chin up before I have to punch you in it. Norman tells Carcetti to call it a night, since he has a debate to prepare for, and nothing matters more at this point. Carcetti: "Let the truth set you free, Norman -- nothing matters at all." The car pulls up to distract Norman from showing Carcetti what real problems might be like by giving him a swirlie.
Cutty's gym. The man himself is training kids when Sharon Johnson, mother of Spider, strides in and makes a beeline for Cutty. She starts right in with the flirting, and seriously, I have a message for all the neurotic white girls out there. You're worried about talking to dudes because you think you need to lose a few pounds? Take a leaf from the black lady's book: Sharon cuts a very womanly figure, but she obviously is fine with it and could not be more confident, telling Cutty how much Spider loves him and offering to cook him dinner to thank him for his kindness to her son. Cutty begs off, saying that he has four boys boxing this weekend and can't spare an evening. Sharon says that he spends all his time at the gym, and that he has to know, looking at her, that she throws down in the kitchen. Cutty relents by saying that she can bring him a plate at the gym, and she happily agrees. So if this ex-con can get a woman to make him food and bring it to him in a sweaty boxing gym, we can probably surmise that there's a shortage of decent guys in the neighbourhood?