It's our friend, Judge Phelan, whose busy woofing down prescription pills and fielding wiretap requests from Pearlman and McNulty. The judge seems to think the wiretap on the killer's cell phone should be more than adequate. McNulty says the killer is using a burner -- yeah, sure, whatever -- and that he's taking out the battery between calls. Guess this is McNulty covering his tracks with more wiretap requests, per Freamon's suggestion. Or maybe McNulty just likes requesting wiretaps. Anyhow, what he and Pearlman want to do now is tap Templeton's phone. Oh, there would be some calls I would not want to listen in on. Anyhow, Phelan's not inclined to go along with that request, and McNulty demands to know why. "Never pick a fight with anyone who buys ink by the barrelful," Phelan says. McNulty curses under his breath -- perhaps he dislikes clichés, too.
"How many enemies do you need?" Pearlman seethes to McNulty as they leave Phelan's chambers. How many you got? Seriously, Rhonda -- are you new to the show? Just introduced to McNulty five minutes ago? Shouldn't you know how he rolls by now? Before she can answer any of the questions I just shouted out at my television set, they run into Daniels. Pearlman looks pointedly at McNulty, who stands there dumbly for a moment before realizing that these two might like to have a chat without him in earshot. Brilliant detecting there, James. Once he's gone, Daniels sternly and silently hands over a folder to Pearlman, which she thumbs through with a growing degree of confusion. "Where did you get all this?" she asks. "Darling, you do not want to know," Daniels responds. So that's likely all the sealed indictments that turned up in Proposition's Joe possession. Or perhaps Pearlman's unfinished novel. It's sort of hard to tell.
Bunk strolls back to his cubicle to find Kima admiring his stack of folders -- and adding to it. That triple homicide she's investigating has been linked back to Marlo on the say-so of an informant. "Says one of my vics was talking bad about Mr. Stanfield, who took it personally," Kima explains. "Killed him, his girl, his muscle. Left the little kids alive, so I guess he ain't all bad." The only hitch in Kima's investigation -- no one's all that eager to testify against Marlo, what with his habit of shooting people who say unflattering things about him. But enough about that impossible-to-crack case, Bunk -- how are your twenty-two other impossible-to-crack cases going? Bunk notes that he's only 8-for-22 on labwork for his victims, even a year after the fact, and Landsman just stashes all his requests in the Desk Drawer Of Unspeakable Indifference. Kima suggests that McNulty would have gone to the press over that effrontery. "I am not him," Bunk says swiftly and angrily. And thank Christ for that. "Well, what would the Bunk do?" Kima teases. "Take no for a fucking answer?"