Beadie doesn't seem to be buying Frank's outrage, and counters, "Of all the cans on the terminal, that's the one you lose in the stacks?" Frank loses it, leaping up from his chair, smacking both palms on his desk, and spitting, "We didn't know shit, goddammit! You want us to dance with a Grand Jury, we will! What do you say, Johnny? What do you say to any question?" "I take the fifth commandment," Johnny Fifty malaprops (though raising his hand is a nice touch). Frank: "And if they offer you immunity to testify against your union brothers?" "I don't remember," says Johnny Fifty dutifully. "Don't remember what?" bellows Frank. "Nothing," says Johnny Fifty, possibly now getting uncomfortable at the rageaholic display spooling out in front of him. Frank turns back to the cops: "What you're forgetting is that every I.B.S. local on the east coast has had its ass in front of a federal Grand Jury two or three times already." That's...something that probably hasn't been printed in the union newsletter. Frank: "You want to throw your summonses? Throw them. You want to subpoena our records? Shit, you don't even need a subpoena no more. Our books have been open to the Justice Department for eight years! We're here through Bobby Kennedy, Tricky Dick Nixon, Ronnie 'The Union Buster' Reagan, and half a dozen other sons of bitches, and we'll be here through your weak bullshit, no problem." Bunk looks at him balefully, totally unimpressed, and Frank holds up the summonses left in his hand, smirking again: "These four ain't working today." He quietly says that if Bunk wants to leave the summonses with him, Frank will make sure the guys get them and "go downtown on them." Bunk snatches them back, and beckons at Johnny Fifty to come with him. "Today?" asks Johnny Fifty. "NOW," clarifies Bunk. Johnny Fifty complies with the order, looking back to Frank for reassurance. Frank manages to smile at him until the cops leave, and then his face quickly falls and he shits a brick.
S.A.'s office. As McNulty sits at the end of a conference-room table, reading Boating World magazine -- possibly to educate himself about knots -- Ilene Nathan preps Omar to testify. She says that he described the weapon used to kill Gant as a .380 semi-automatic, described the make, and even suggested that it might be "Australian," or from another "A" country: "Is that correct?" "Indeed," sneers Omar. Obviously. Nathan asks if he was approximately fifty feet from the shooter, and Omar says he was: "You know, give or take." Nathan asks how he was able to determine the manufacturer of the gun from that distance, and Omar smirks, "I wasn't...Bird showed it to me." Nathan clarifies that Bird showed Omar the gun before the murder, and Omar starts snickering, even involving McNulty in the hilarity. Nathan doesn't get it, and Omar grins, "Which murder we talking?" "Bird committed more than one murder?" says Nathan, with surprising incredulity, given her occupation. Omar: "Fish gotta swim, you know what I'm saying?" McNulty giggles to himself. Omar says that Bird was showing his gun to everybody, "talking about this deed and the next." Omar says he never paid much attention to Bird until the cops started asking about him. Nathan, trying hard to maintain her patience, asks Omar to wait in the hall while she speaks with McNulty. Omar shrugs and takes off, giving McNulty a "Good luck" look. Nathan turns a withering gaze on McNulty, who says that he thought Omar "did good." Nathan asks McNulty to imagine the mileage Levy would get out of Nathan putting Omar on the stand. McNulty: "You got to admit, it'll be different." Ha! Hard to argue that. "Dress him up, at least," spits Nathan. She writes McNulty a voucher for court clothes, so that Omar has something to wear other than his size 48 jeans and XXXXXXL jean jacket.