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“The Wire” notes and analysis for Episode 58 – “Clarifications”

Please note that this episode is available only at HBO On Demand and has not yet aired; it will premiere on HBO on Sunday, February 23^rd. Also be forewarned that as “The Wire” contains adult language and themes, my post will reflect these elements; reader discretion is advised.

Finally, this post contains spoilers about episode 58; please do not read further if you have not yet seen it and do not want details about this episode.

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Episode 58, “Clarifications,” takes it name from the “Corrections and Clarifications” that appear in the newspaper, usually on an inside page, addressing errors or omissions from previous editions. Here, the word refers to individuals clarifying their actions or intentions (McNulty to Kima, McNulty to Beadie, Scott to Gus), clarifying their futures (Carcetti, Duquan), or unexpectedly bringing clarity to an otherwise muddy and frustrating situation (Sydnor, Kennard, Bunk). It had some shocking content, so I’ll say again that if you don’t want to know, stop reading now.

[A note: on the Wire message board early today, it was alleged that as of this episode, “The Wire” had “jumped the shark.” This phrase, derived from the “Happy Days” episode when Fonzie literally jumped the shark on waterskis, refers to the moment when a previously hip or outstanding program becomes irretrievably cheesy or poor. I’m not sure why folks may be feeling this way, though a couple of developments in this episode will be upsetting to many. A show like this, which depends on a vast ensemble of writers, directors, crew, and actors, cannot easily “jump the shark.” I think there have been plot contrivances that stretch credulity (homeless murders, among others) but over all it’s been a solid season and has not diminished my love for the program.

In fact, in another strain of discussion on the message boards, someone brought up the question of how “The Wire” stacks up against the greatest works of literature in the history of human expression. It’s apples and oranges to get into comparing “The Wire” with Richard Wright’s Native Son, or any written work, really. But I think the thing about the show that gets people thinking along these lines is its universality. “The Wire” is about Baltimore, but it could be about any city—or really, any time, or any place. It’s about hypocrisy, cynicism, thirst for power, change, violence, incompetence, passion, apathy, corruption, despair. It’s about life, and the skill with which it’s all wrought places it in the pantheon of artistic achievement for me.]

Episode 58 opens with McNulty briefing an array of police brass, including Rawls and Daniels, as well as Carcetti. Though he is clearly nervous—nearly everything he has to tell them, after all, is a fabrication—he handles himself pretty well. Rawls has a nice little snarky comment: “I mean, I’m all for a little kinky shit now and then, but chewin’ on a homeless fella?” The ensuing laughter seems a little knowing—as if some in the room may actually know that Rawls really is “all for a little kinky shit.” McNulty takes his opportunity to ask for surveillance teams (organized by Carver) to keep an eye on the “persons of interest” questioned at Pier 5, as well as sex offenders.

Carcetti asks, “What are we doing to protect people?” and McNulty further sees his opening to ask for undercover cars, since the fleet they have is not being repaired in a timely manner. Carcetti’s response as he leaves the room is, “Go to Avis if you have to … Hertz. I don’t give a shit. People are disappearing—they’re dying, for chrissakes. You do what you have to do.” We get the sense that now Lester is going to finally get the sustained surveillance he needs to crack Marlo’s code.

Rawls closes the meeting after Carcetti’s departure with another of his wry observations: “Bad news, gentlemen, is that we’re actually gonna have to catch this motherfucker. Good news is, the mayor finally needs a police department more than he needs a school system.”

Opening credits roll (I still don’t like Steve Earle’s version of “Way Down in the Hole” and fast-forward through it); tagline is “A lie ain’t a side of the story. It’s just a lie.” – Terry Hanning. Hanning, the homeless Marine that Scott profiled in The Sun, will make an angry return later in the episode.

But the tagline calls to mind one of the great fallacies of journalism: the “both sides” approach. Since news reporting is always supposed to be objective—free from bias or agenda of any kind—it is often said that a reporter must represent “both sides” of an issue equally (presenting pro-life and pro-choice viewpoints in an article about abortion laws, for example). But there are two problems, as I see it, with this approach. First, it assumes that both sides of an issue are equally valid, and that reporters have no right or ability to favor the more reasonable or widely held of the two. (This is the case in articles about the so-called “intelligent design” theory of biology, which is but a baby step beyond creationism. When some religious zealots begin pushing ID on a school district, as they did in nearby Dover School District in York, PA, the attendant coverage is obsessively “fair” in covering both the ID and evolution “sides” of the issue. But evolution is widely accepted and supported by overwhelming evidence, while ID is a trick of fantasy supported by no evidence, but rather by faith. When a reporter, in seeking to be “objective,” affords equal coverage to both evolution and ID, he or she lends undue credence to the weaker of the two positions.) The other problem with the “both sides” approach is that it implicitly assumes that there are only two sides to any given story. This is a short-sighted and parochial point of view that limits the breadth of coverage that can be applied to an issue or event.

Back to the episode, though…we see Duquan wandering around the city throughout the episode inquiring if any positions are open and coming up mostly empty. His first stop is Foot Locker, where he encounters Malik “Poot” Carr (Tray Chaney), who has apparently given up slinging for the black-and-white stripes. “Yeah, I just got tired, you know?” Poot explains of his decision to ultimately leave the game. “Shit got old.” Duquan’s turned down repeatedly throughout the episode until finally he sees a junkman, helps him out, and lands $10—it’s not the best prospect he’ll have, and it certainly doesn’t utilize his brainpower, but it’s keep him out of a drug game for which he’s sorely underequipped, and he seems like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

On to McNulty, who is obviously the feature player this season. It’s been nice to see him back at the center of the Wire universe after being a peripheral player last season. He’s meeting with Carver about the surveillance he needs, and when he closes the door conspiratorially, I think at first he’s going to spill everything to a sergeant, which would be a wildly risky move. Carver predicts that it’s going to be “some fucked-up McNulty shit,” but McNulty limits his disclosure, telling Carver only that so much has been allocated to the homeless murders, McNulty can’t use it all. Carver seems uneasy at first, but eventually admires (what he knows of) McNulty’s ability to work the system. When Carver asks about vehicles, McNulty replies, “Departmental account at Enterprise downtown.” We later see some detectives in a new rental car on surveillance, fiddling with the GPS unit and satellite radio like kids in a candy store.

Health Care for the Homeless (an actual organization that’s been around for more than 20 years, as we’d expect from “The Wire,” built as it is on authenticity) has asked the mayor’s office for permission to use city hall’s steps for a candlelight vigil for the homeless victims of the serial killer, and to raise awareness of homelessness in general. The mayor’s office agrees, on one condition: that Hizzoner can then use the event for political gain, giving a speech during the vigil.

Carcetti is running into trouble from “P.G.” (mostly black Prince George’s County) because he has not been meeting with black leaders; now an African American contender or two may be emerging for the Democratic gubernatorial nomination. “I gotta kiss a ring, don’t I?” Carcetti asks Norman, who replies with a grin, “More than a ring, actually.” Later in the episode Carcetti finds himself meeting with Nerese and Clay Davis, damn near begging for their support. “Maurice Dobey? For governor? Of my state?” demands Clay. “Sheeeeeeeeeit. That’s some cynical politics right there.” Clay also laments the “shameful” fact that Dobey was playing the “race card,” a statement whose irony is so thick it scarcely needs comment.

Out by the loading docks of The Sun, Gus is having a smoke with Bill Zorzi and Jeff Price (Todd Scofield). “It’s weird shit, I gotta say,” Zorzi muses to Gus. “Talking to a psychopath like that.” Price quips, “I interviewed Dick Cheney once.”—great line.

Zorzi asks Gus, “Are we hyping this thing, or is Templeton writing it as it lays?” His question derives from a golf term “to play it as it lays,” meaning to hit the ball based on where it lands, and not where you might have liked it to land. He’s asking whether Scott may have been massaging the facts or inciting some of the events, but Gus, despite the reservations we know he has, says it all plays pretty well. “I guess we’ll have homeless stories till December,” Zorzi says. When Price asks why they’ll stop in December, Gus reminds him (surely he’d already know this, having been to journalism school) that Pulitzer Prize submissions are for the calendar year. “Anything a newspaper cares about at Christmas, they give a fuck about by New Year’s,” Gus cynically observes.

Michael is seen meeting with Chris and Snoop; he’s clearly anxious about Omar’s rampage and still reeling from his narrow escape in the confrontation on the stoop in the previous episode. Chris and Snoop are preoccupied by Omar’s actions and even seem a bit worried, as is evidenced by their snippy responses to Michael’s questions. “That nigga gonna get got,” Snoop assures him, but there seems to be more anger than confidence in her voice.

Omar , for his part, is continuing his campaign of upsetting Marlo’s world by raiding his corners, his stash houses, and dropping the drugs down the sewer. He even approaches a surveillance team (sitting in a rented car) and tells them the location of the drugs and money at a corner down the block. “You workin’ a Stanfield corner,” he shouts at one point after chasing away the corner boys and robbing the stash house, “which means you workin’ for a straight-up punk. You feel me?” But no matter how vociferously Omar tries to call out Marlo, it doesn’t seem likely that Marlo will respond.

While Omar walks through a vacant lot, we see (but he hardly seems to notice) a group of boys apparently torturing an alley cat. As the boys see Omar, they all scatter—all except Kenard (Thuliso Dingwall), who gives Omar the stinkeye as he continues to pour an unidentified substance on the yowling cat. After last episode, which Kenard was clearly unimpressed with the mythical Omar, this seems like further foreshadowing that Kenard may go after Omar.

Back in the Homicide unit, Bunk prepares paperwork for DNA analysis of the murder of Michael’s father and presents it to McNulty for his signature—he’s finally going to avail himself of the glut of resources being thrown at a nonexistent case. He’s clearly not happy he has to resort to this, which is clear when McNulty grins sheepishly—but triumphantly—up at him. “Just sign the motherfucker and shut the fuck up,” he says. Soon he’s down to the medical examiner’s office asking for Lowenthal and presenting him with the order for DNA analysis. Near the end of the later scene, Bunk’s phone rings, and the ringtone is “You’ll Never Find (Another Love Like Mine)” by Lou Rawls, whose voice is actually rather similar to Bunk’s. I love these revealing little touches on “The Wire.”

In the next scene, we see Omar buying a pack of Newports (“soft pack”) at a Korean-run grocery store. The pedestrian nature of the scene gives it a sense of foreboding—why else would we need to watch him buy cigarettes? And then it happens: Kenard comes in (obviously dismissed with barely a glance by Omar, who only sees a little kid) and drops Omar with one shot to the back of the head. Kenard, who seems shaken by what he’s done, drops the gun and flees at the Korean shopkeeper screams desperately. Omar is gone. (And the internet rumors, based on an apparently leaked video clip, were right in both the timing and manner of his death.)

I gasped and froze when Omar was shot—it just didn’t seem possible. As I digest it, I wonder if he had to die in the service of the story (and we know that “The Wire” and David Simon have always elevated story over character, hence the earlier deaths of popular characters like D’Angelo and Stringer). His reckless pursuit of vengeance against Marlo certainly cried out for repercussions. Flushing drugs down the toilet and dropping them down the sewer is not going to affect Marlo; he controls the flow of drugs to all of Baltimore now. And Marlo is too smart and well-insulated to allow himself to be drawn down into a street battle with Omar. But I so enjoyed him driving off into the sunset with Reynaldo last season. Perhaps he could have hobbled into the path of Lester or McNulty and helped bring Marlo down (which he still might, from the grave). As much as I am devastated by Omar’s death, I can see why it happened—and why it happened the way it did.

In terms of upsetting scenes in the history of “The Wire,” I would put it just below Wallace’s murder at the end of the first season. Omar, after all, had dodged this fate with increasing improbability throughout the series; Wallace was a relative innocent, a child, and it was one of the first murders of a character on “The Wire” we had gotten to know well.

After Bunk gets the news of Omar’s death, we head to the paper’s conference room and a meeting between Terry Hanning (the homeless Marine who had been the subject of Scott’s article) and Scott, moderated by Gus. Hanning insists that Templeton invented additional details about a firefight surrounding the circumstances of Hanning’s story in Fallujah. Scott, who is getting quite agitated, asks to be permitted to tell his side of the story. “A lie ain’t a side of the story,” Hanning corrects him, providing the show’s tagline. “It’s just a lie.” Scott tries to mollify Hanning by saying, “I believe that you believe,” but his attempt at conciliation is nakedly patronizing. “I wrote what Mr. Hanning told me,” Scott tells Gus.

Outside the meeting room, Gus tells Scott to call Hanning’s Marine unit, reach out to the guys he served with and see what can be confirmed. “If it went down the way you said, we’ll let it be,” meaning his original piece will stand. “But if not, we’ll chalk it up as a misunderstanding.” Despite his suspicions, Gus is admirably protecting his reporter. But he’s also protecting his own ass, and the collective ass of The Sun: either way, the paper will print a correction. Scott is incredulous.

Bunk, who has been summoned to the crime scene by Norris and Crutchfield because Bunk “knew this mope,” is intrigued by the killing. He seems to well up as he looks at Omar’s body, and when watching this I was reminded of the two really powerful scenes Omar and Bunk shared in previous seasons. Bunk has to be feeling like everything is changing—two fixtures of the game, Prop Joe and Omar, have now died, his best friend Jimmy has gone apeshit and made up a serial killer, and even the level-headed Lester has gotten himself involved. According to the Korean shopkeeper, Omar was shot by a “short little fella with a big gun.” Bunk pulls a list out of Omar’s hand—why hadn’t it been taken by the area hoppers who raided his body looking for souvenirs?—of members of Marlo’s crew. Each name—Marlo, Chris, Monk, Cheese, Snoop, O-Dog, Cherry, and Vincent—was accompanied by an intersection. “On the hunt again, were you,” Bunk mutters.

The next scene illustrates how much can be accomplished with the right equipment and manpower: Sydnor gives instructions to a group of eight or nine police, each of whom will be assigned (some in pairs) to various members of Marlo’s crew.

Marlo summons Chris and Snoop to a meet, and when the two arrive, Marlo is all smiles. “I thought you were going to tell me,” he says. Omar is “bagged up.” Chris and Snoop, for their part, are stunned.

Gus is hard at work line editing Fletch’s homeless article (“in at 30 inches”). On his computer is taped a headline: “Many are Trapped for Hours in Darkness and Confusion.” It’s a headline that was used for an article about the 1993 World Trade Center bombing, but it’s unclear why he has the headline taped there; perhaps it’s to remember an event he covered when he was a reporter, and perhaps it’s because it describes the climate of the newsroom on many days. Fletch talks to Gus about his “tour guide” under the bridge, who is named Reginald Cousins (and nicknamed “Bubs”). It’s strange to know his full name, but it is hopefully a sign of good things to come for him. Fletch feels as though Bubs is the story, and he wants to do a profile on him. This has the potential to make Fletch’s emerging career and at the same time allow Bubs to purge some of his guilt and shame about Sherrod’s death and move on with his life.

Gus is wrapping up the Metro Digest, an area in the Metro section in which several briefs (blurbs of three or four paragraphs each) appear, usually focusing on mayhem (fires, traffic accidents, murders, robberies, etc.). He calls to Dave Ettlin (a former Sun reporter playing himself, apparently) that “we’re shy one brief in the Metro Digest. Four paragraphs should do it.” Due to space restrictions, the murder of a 34-year-old black male in a convenience store will be scratched. Despite being the talk of the Black community—and despite its importance to city and us, the viewers—Omar’s death will likely never merit even a passing mention in The Sun.

Kima and McNulty have traveled to Quantico to discuss the personality profile on their serial killer. On the way, they talk about their respective relationships, and Kima admits that it was her own fault that the relationship died, not Cheryl’s. Kima also says she’s got “too much dawg” in her to settle down!

The scene in which the FBI agent reviews his profile is a classic. The serial killer is a white male in his late 20s to late 30s who “has never been to college, but feels nonetheless superior to those with advanced education.” He is “likely employed by a bureaucratic entity” like civil or public service, has a problem with authority, and harbors a “deep-seated resentment of those who he feels have impeded his progress professionally.” Finally, he has a problem developing lasting relationships and is probably a high-functioning alcoholic. Jimmy is openly squirming during this litany, since it actually describes him with cutting precision. As they’re leaving, Kima asks McNulty what he thinks of the profile. “They’re in the ballpark,” he says, unnerved.

Speaking of McNulty’s character flaws, he comes home to a note from Beadie, who has taken the kids and left him. Her note reads: “Jimmy – One possible future. Be back tomorrow or the next day. Or not. Think about it. B.” He’s upset by this—but could he reasonably be surprised? His own out-of-control actions, he obfuscations, his absences have virtually guaranteed this result.

Dismayed at the relative ease with which Clay Davis slipped the charges brought and prosecuted by Bond, Lester takes the case to the FBI hoping for a Federal prosecution. He runs into the FBI special prosecutor who’d had a run-in with Carcetti earlier in the season, who says, “After you city sons of bitches have managed in a single week to transform Clay Fucking Davis into Martin Luther King Jr., you now come to me with this?” A “whiter” jury in a Federal case would likely have been less readily swayed by Clay’s playing of the “race card,” but his answer in an unequivocal no. Lester will have to “come at” Clay another way.

Speaking of coming at things a different way, Bunk’s DNA analysis is back—and Chris Partlow’s blood is all over the crime scene in the killing of Michael’s stepfather. Bunk shares this news with McNulty and also gives him the paper listing Marlo’s people found on Omar. Could Omar actually end of helping to catch Marlo and his crew posthumously? In the coming attractions, Marlo appears to be in the “box,” so it could be so. (I’m staying away from spoilers and rumors on Ain’t It Cool News and other online locations that purport to have definitive information about the last two episodes. This is the last time I’m ever going to have the opportunity to be surprised, shocked, and moved by new “Wire” episodes, and I’m going to leave that potential intact.)

Kima has gathered information about sex offenders and is about to review their case files and begin canvassing—work that will take her away from her own triple murder for days. McNulty, who cannot bear to see this happen, takes her into the “box” and tells her about what he’s done. “It ain’t right,” she tells him. “You can’t do this,” she says several times. She is clearly not fine with any of this. Coupled with a scene later when she chastises Lester and Sydnor for going along with McNulty’s fabrication, I’m beginning to wonder if her conscience may prod her to reveal this to someone.

On the flip side, as Sydnor orchestrates his far-flung surveillance, he has to consult a Baltimore city atlas (or is it southern Maryland, since it includes places outside Baltimore?). While looking up a street, he breaks the code Marlo and his crew have been using to communicate. On the clock faces, the second hands represent the page of the map (for example, 35 seconds is the east side, and indicates that Cheese will be involved in the meet), while the hands correspond to the points on the grid where the meet will take place.

At the Health Care for the Homeless vigil, Carcetti gives an incendiary speech about the scourge of homelessness and how it demands our attention. As a result of the current Republican gubernatorial administration and its policies, he asserts, “more and more of our fellow citizens found themselves living life at the broken edges, in the street.” The connection is clear, and wholly benefits his gubernatorial campaign: the current governor doesn’t care about ordinary folks. “Well I say that this is not only tragic, it is unforgivable,” he adds to thundering applause as we see Scott Templeton taking notes. The homeless, Carcetti insists, will no longer be invisible.

Lester sees Clay in a bar-restaurant and decides to blackmail the senator with the threat of a Federal probe Lester knows is never going to materialize. It seems Lester is hoping Clay will either provide further information that will enable Lester to bring him down, or—more likely—that Clay will lead Lester “up the chain” to see who is really behind all the dirty dealings.

Meanwhile at the newsroom, Scott has filed his piece covering the homeless vigil and Gus is discussing Scott’s lead with Metro editor Steve Luxenberg (Robert Poletick). Both Gus and Steve agree that Scott’s anecdotal lead is inappropriate, and Gus calls Scott over to tell him that he’s “spiking” (deleting, reworking completely) the lead because it contains anecdotal material attributed to an anonymous source. At such an event, where the homeless in attendance have come voluntarily and could reasonably expect media coverage, Gus argues that there should have been plenty of homeless individuals who would have allowed The Sun to use their names. But “it’s a perfect quote,” Scott whines. “Better than I could ask for, and that’s my concern at this point,” Gus replies.

When an editor is seeing perfect quotes over and over—polished, insightful, and succinct—from anonymous sources, an editor has every good reason to worry. The vast majority of real quotes a reporter gets from real people are in some way inarticulate, meandering, or coarse, but Scott’s a spot-on every time, fitting wonderfully into the narrative strain he’s created.

Scott angrily replies, “To hell with you if you think I made it up.” Gus, who remains calm and eminently reasonable throughout the exchange, states, “We have a standard that we follow here. And I’m gonna follow it.” Scott stomps back to his desk and punches his desk chair, which attracts the attention of the fawning Managing Editor, Thomas Klebanow (David Costabile). Soon Klebanow is heading over to Gus to demand answers: “You’re retopping Scott’s vigil piece?” he asks, referring to Gus’ planned replacement of Scott’s lead. “Anonymous attribution in a public setting – there’s no need for it,” Gus says, as if he’s reading out of The Sun’s style manual. “We have a sourcing policy here and I know it, and I do not feel comfortable bending the rules in this instance,” he informs a silenced Klebanow as Gus gathers his things and leaves for the evening. Those in the newsroom who resent Scott’s hot-shot style, the favoritism shown by the editors toward him, and the suspicious elements of his work, are impressed with Gus’s outburst. The matter is unresolved as the scene ends, and the viewer is left to assume that once again, Klebanow will move to support Scott and reinstate the anecdotal lead.

At Beadie’s house, Beadie finally comes home and informs McNulty on her doorstep that next time he’s out, because after all it’s her house. She asks him who is going to be at his wake—surely not the buddies he drinks with or the women he sleeps with, since they don’t know his last name. It’s family that’s most important, she says. She’s clearly gotten to him because he tries feebly to explain himself, then blurts out that he made up the homeless serial killer. His meandering explanation of this indefensible act mentions his uncontrollable anger, the good it’s doing in diverting resources to other departments, etc. “How dare you?” asks Beadie. “This is my life too.” McNulty stammers, “You start to tell the story, you think you’re the hero; and then when you get done talking, you—” and he’s cut off by Beadie, who has gone inside and slammed the door.

The show’s final scene is a bit cryptic, but I think what happened is this: someone in the morgue notices that the ID tags on Omar’s body and that of an older white man who died have been mixed up, and corrects the error. Omar Little’s body bag is zipped up, and that chapter of “Wire” history is closed, or seemingly so.

It may have been deliberate, but when Beadie asked McNulty who would come to his wake, that question lingered with me when I was watching Omar be zipped into the body bag in the morgue. Who will come to his funeral? Butchie and Donnie are dead, having been killed by Marlo’s crew. Reynaldo? It’s not clear where he is. Who else does he have? I’d say it’s a sure bet that Bunk will be there, and it’s bound to be a poignant scene.

The previews for Episode 59 look pretty intense, and everything’s coming to a head. Does Michael commit a murder? Is that Marlo in the box?

Speaking of speculation—which I’ll engage in more fully before the final episode—I recall hearing at some point during production that there was a police funeral near the end of the season, perhaps in the last episode. (If anyone else recalls hearing that, let me know.) I’ve been wondering who that could be—McNulty, particularly given what Beadie said to him about his wake? Bunk, brought down somehow mistakenly by McNulty’s bullshit case, and McNulty has to live with that? Kima, same thing?

I can’t wait for the final two episodes…

END OF EPISODE 58 NOTES