If, as Freamon observed earlier, the coming out tells the tale, then the tale did not go well for Clay Davis. He walks out of the grand jury room clearly shaken, having to grab on to a railing to steady himself. He takes a moment to gather himself, and then slinks out, never making eye contact with Sydnor or Freamon. "Damn," says Sydnor, chuckling. "And that was just a love tap," Freamon replies. "Think of what'd happened if we hit the good senator with the whole shebang?" Well, there's no chance of that happening, thanks to Bond, now is there?
Clay Davis's no-good, very bad day is just about to get worse, if such a thing were possible. Because waiting for him on the steps of the courthouse are a bunch of TV camera crews, miraculously dialed in to his under-wraps appearance before the grand jury. Clay looks startled for about a minute, looks down, and then slips easily into the "sheeeeeeeee-it, partner" character we've come to know and only mildly despise. Is it true you appeared before the grand jury, one newswoman demands to know. "Jane," Clay lies, "I insisted that I be called." And about being the target of a probe into theft and fraud? "Nooooo," Clay purrs. "Pardon, nooooooo. Some people are confused about some things. But that's why I came down here today -- to set 'em straight. Happy to do it, too." By now, Sydnor and Freamon have emerged from the courthouse themselves to soak in this scene. Say, aren't grand juries supposed to be secret, Sydnor wonders? Indeed. Which would suggest, Freamon points out, that Bond might have called a news van or three to make sure they were out in front of the courthouse at the same time that Clay was. "Laying claim to the senator before anyone else can," Freamon murmurs. Looks like someone just figured out why the dirt on Clay's falsified loan application won't see the light of day in that grand jury hearing.
The New Day Co-Op is having a meeting, and Fatface Rick -- it's not just a nickname, it's a vicious commentary on his body type -- is going on about his lucrative financial dealings with the city. And he's going on a bit too long for Marlo's tastes -- Marlo interrupts Fatface Rick and Hungry Man in the middle of their CNBC-style exchange of investment strategies to tell each to "shut the fuck up. ...Have we got business? If we ain't, we gonna bounce." Ever the diplomat, Prop Joe notes that Marlo "seems pressed for time," and suggests that Fatface Rick and Hungry Man table their discussion until after the meeting. So, to business: Hungry Man is a bit miffed at Cheese for making what he calls "incursions" into Baltimore County territory earmarked for him and his people. "'Incursions'?" Cheese says mockingly. "Ain't you the articulate motherfucker?" The debate gets quite heated from there, as you can imagine, so Joe steps in, reminds Cheese that he's not a charter member of the co-op, and assures Hungry Man that in the future Cheese will abide by the boundaries set by the co-op. The meeting adjourns, which is Cheese's cue to storm out of the conference room and Marlo's cue to observe said storming before making meaningful eye contact with Joe. Turns out he just wants to show Joe the laundered funds from last episode's Caribbean adventure, and ask what he should do with his newly cleaned cash. Joe suggests that they meet on this tomorrow and offers one bit of parting fatherly advice: "You need to focus a bit more on what can be gained by working with people. That's just a thought now." Marlo's all, "Yeah, yeah, focus on menacing people to make them work with me. Got it." Anyhow, I'm not sure he got the message, and I'm not sure Joe's sure either.