WA YE news time, 8:05.
It's gonna be partly cloudy, breezy and warm today with highs around 80.
Right now in Baltimore, sunny skies.
And here's one of my morning favorites.
Yo, Ott.
Santo Rey's late? Squall last night off of Hampton Roads.
KGA, go ahead, 76-72.
Notify Homicide and the OCME.
We got a floater at Patapsco Terminal.
Copy that.
Nothing at Vondopoulos's house? He's not going back.
He's dumped his Benz and our GPS device in the downtown garage.
He's off the cell phones.
And there's no text messaging in Greek either.
The raids, the follow, one or both sent him underground.
This guy, Stephen Rados? What's he? He rented the hotel room for the meet with Vondopoulos.
But checked out right after.
Fitzhugh's running him through every database.
So far, nothing but a driver's license in D.
C.
Lester.
Homicide for you, line 2.
Maybe Sobotka knows him.
When Sobotka comes in today, maybe he gives us a line on every last Greek.
Freamon here.
Thirteen or so coming across the fax from VICAP.
All of them John Does.
And that's just headless and handless in the mid-Atlantic region.
If you wanna go nationwide, you'll be up over four dozen.
- Fuck me.
- What can I tell you, kiddo? We are policing a culture in moral decline.
So, you want to come get these? Or should I have a uniform run them over to Southeast? - Run them over to Southeast.
- Okay.
- Have a seat.
- I can't.
Gotta get back out there, take care of business.
Just wanted to make sure they were treating you right.
Making the most of it.
I'm catching up on my reading at least.
I just want to let you know that we got your back.
You know, whoever did this, we'll find them.
We got you, you understand? I appreciate the offer, but that won't be necessary.
Inform Mr.
Barksdale that any obligation he feels he might have with regards to this incident it's absolved, along with our agreement.
All I'm saying is- I understand perfectly well what you're saying.
What I am saying to you is: I will take care of them myself.
Them? Who came at you? Thank you for your concern.
Easy, Nick.
Easy.
I'm gonna kill them.
Fucking Greek bastards.
Get out of my fucking way! Get off of me! Fuck all of you! He was there for all of you, and now you're nowhere for him.
What the fuck you gonna do? Get a gun? Go play gangster? Like your fucking cousin? Let's go.
What was she firing, yo? Dirty Bomb, with a red-top chaser.
Damn, yo.
The bomb is the bomb.
Opportunity knocking.
Keep a lookout.
He just boosted the whole fucking truck.
Good looking out, Johnny.
At least I remembered to call.
Stabbed repeatedly.
Torso, abdomen, and they cut his throat to be sure.
Single-edge blade.
He fought, too.
Defense wounds on both hands.
Ligature on both legs.
Weighed him down with something, but it slipped off in the drink.
One, two, three.
Fuck it.
This Sobotka kid knows there's a warrant.
He either turns himself in or not.
Who gives a fuck? Either we get to him now and roll him, or he comes into the district with a lawyer.
He comes in with a lawyer, he's less likely to go for something in the box.
You sound like McNulty now.
We stay with these guys on their cases, we ain't never gonna get no respect.
You know this.
I figure when the detail's over, I go back to straight narcotics.
Try to get over to Dawson's shift, find a new rabbi.
What about you? Don't know.
I mean, you gotta admit, Daniels has been okay for us.
I mean, he's there for his troops.
- You gotta be shitting me.
- I just came from the crime scene.
He was coming in as a cooperator.
Offering up the drug-and-prostitution ring he'd been smuggling for.
The guy lays down with gangsters, gets up with his throat cut.
Almost feel sorry for the son of a bitch.
You were right about Sobotka.
Case had enough legs on it that I've got Burrell committed to keeping my crew together as a major case squad working out of CID.
If you are gonna charge him I'm gonna charge his narrow ass.
You're gonna do your son-in-law? You don't think I didn't tell her not to marry that brain-dead son of a bitch? I'll tell you the truth, Major.
Everyone who saw the punch wrote on it.
And they've all got Prez throwing the punch, no question.
But they've also got you addressing a subordinate officer as a What was it? A shitbird? Fuck you.
This is the Baltimore Police Department, not the Roland Park Ladies' Tea.
I'm just saying, the other detectives the FBI agents, they gotta write it the way it happened.
I mean, I could probably get my own people to cheat it for you, but the FBl You know how tight-assed they are.
Roland Pryzbylewski rides the Southeastern desk on midnight shift for two months.
During which time he writes a personal letter of apology to everyone seen that punch throwed.
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