Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

-Why was he in Casualty Section? -He shot up his own car.
Okay, so the thing to do is reassure the judge...
We're just talking about how things go, right?
I don't want to hear shit about you writing nothing to no one.
-He's blind in one eye. -Who?
Really? I got nothing for you.
Three kids. Young, too.
What if it's true?
Y'all weren't the only lawmen down in the Canyon today.
Armoire. Louis Quatorze.
o o
Dragging me from the Levy family preserve on a Friday night.
-What the hell was that about? -Nothing.
Shit, I'm sorry, lieutenant.
you'll get OT...
-You need some privacy? -No, it's all right.
How did you handle the judge?
-Something's up. -What?
"So, I'm gonna write my clowny-ass name on this fat-ass check for you."
and they got suction with the Mayor, and I'm the runt without a tit here.
Only time his name pops up on the courthouse computer...
My man, Dee. What's up, man?
-You gonna spoil him with that shit. -I respect the work.
Also got handed some kid named Prezbelowski or Prezbelewski--
Officer down, Officer down!
This case, it's just....
maybe you elected to approach the youth, ordering him to drop the bottle.
-Got it? -Yeah.
Yo, you see how shorty favor your nephew here?
We free on this.
-What you got to do with them, Dee? -Yeah, that's what I said.
-Any charge here? -No charge.
If they in the mix, they get another color.
-How y'all doing? You doing good? -Yeah, we all right.
It's sad enough with the kids being orphaned and everything.
I'm working drugs in West Baltimore, I need a black guy for surveillance.
You Western knockos come here, picking shit up off the ground...
and you let them know you're sorry...
For talking to you, my major is ready to cut my throat.
-Change it up, Bubs. -Yeah, yeah.
He doesn't testify, those kids still got a daddy to lean on.
getting their fingers all greasy.
it's bad protocol for me to ask for help and then trash the help I'm given.
Shut it down!
Worked every goddamn day of his life. You know that?
Got a visual?
Ain't so good with names, but, you know, faces I keep in my head.
He's one hardheaded fuck in the Terrace you can't run off or buy out, right?
Shoot up a barber shop?
keep him off his damn soapbox.
The kid. The 14-year-old.