McNulty and Nancy are leaving breakfast, and they find Lester waiting on a street corner. "I've been waiting for you, Jimmy." McNulty introduces Nancy Porter to Lester, and she thanks Jimmy for the scrapple and takes off. Lester speaks what's on his mind: "I spent last night sittin' on that same McCollough St. lot." "They went back there?" "Twice. Once in the early evening, and once again after three. They're getting sloppy, Jimmy. Especially now: they think we've backed away." Lester goes on to say that they don't need many resources to finish this case: "A couple bugs, some small surveillance cameras. Two weeks -- three, tops -- that's all this case needs!" McNulty reminds him that Daniels said it wasn't possible. "Then we go elsewhere." Whaddya have in mind, Les?
Opening day for the Orioles is proving fruitless for Templeton. He interviews a disgruntled fan about steroid abuse, and tries to get some quotes from other passers-by, but he can't seem to find anything worthy of the color piece (except maybe "Fuck baseball!"). ["Which, given how the Os' season went last year, is about the only story he's got to look forward to." -- Sars]
Bubs is over at the local soup kitchen, and a guy comes out and calls his number, so he heads inside without a word. He takes a seat at one of the tables, and notices a young child screaming at the threshold of pain at a table across the room. As he tucks into his food, he continues to watch as the child's mother threatens to beat the child if it doesn't find a suitable decibel level. A woman walks over and asks the mother if she needs some help, "because we don't do that here. In our house, there's no hitting anyone, especially children." After the reprimand, Bubs pensively looks back down at his food.
On the roof of a parking garage, Lester and McNulty pull up to a Crown Vic. As soon as Fitz starts to apologize for being late, Lester pulls away, fucking with him. Fitz gets the joke right away, and reverses to meet them again, but Freamon does it over and over as he and McNulty cackle with glee. Props to Fitz for his usage of the word "fuck-holes." "Why can't we go to my office and do this like grown-ups?" he asks once the game is over. Lester asks if they still make people sign in at the front desk, and Fitz gets the picture: "Who'd you knuckleheads piss on this time?" "We're still working the edges of something the bosses shut down," says McNulty. "Yeah? What're we talkin' about?" "The bodies in the vacants." "They shut that down?" Fitz asks, not believing what he's hearing. "Twenty-two murders doesn't rate?" "Not anymore," is Lester's response. "You know Marlo Stanfield? Chris Partlow? Snoop Pearson?" "Those names ring out." "Well, we got nothin' back from any lab work, no witnesses, nothing to make a murder prosecution, so we settled in. Sat on 'em for about a year." "There a pattern?" "Good one," says McNulty. "Two or three weeks with some good FBI cameras and wires, maybe a half-dozen agents --" Fitz interrupts him to explain that the Feds don't really focus on "ghetto drug shit" anymore, because most have been moved over to counter-terror. "But we already did all the long leg work," says McNulty. "Two or three weeks, you guys end up with a big headline. You Federal fucks like headlines." Fitz says he'll run it up the flagpole and see if he can make it stick. "I'm gonna drive away now, if it's okay with you two fuck-holes." He pulls away, and Lester reverses to keep up. Mildly amused, Fitz flips them the bird.