Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Don't use the phone.
of the security officer that was on this pier that night?
-Tape is fucked up. -It's multiplexed.
They killed my uncle.
Our old friend.
Anything we could lift from the docks went straight to his store...
What was she firing, yo?
that if there's no cleaning up in here...
What I am saying to you is: I will take care of them myself.
-What's the verdict? -He did good for us.
Look at this, Kima.
"What about Kima? What's up with my girl?"
They said that whoever did that to them girls was dead.
In Philly, they said.
This guy, Stephen Rados? What's he?
Under the Key Bridge.
By the plan, it's a hot box, but there's no one on a pick-up.
I don't know.
Okay, listen.
No use in dragging a headless torso around further than you need.
He put himself in, talked about buying the gun.
Port cops are sitting on a can that came off the Adriatica.
You're gonna do your son-in-law?
I figure when the detail's over, I go back to straight narcotics.
Instead of your union running out of this office...
You gotta do better than that, Lester.
Okay, thanks.
I'm gonna charge his narrow ass.
The raids, the follow, one or both sent him underground.
You want a coffee? Soda?
Him and the other Eastsiders moved into the Terrace...
He had to die.
That was Walt. Walt Stokes.
he was a dead end.
Defense wounds on both hands.
Good looking out, Johnny.
You wanted us to get a place, right?
No one fucks with us on our turf.
And what happened?
I mean, about Frank.
What the fuck you gonna do?
I guess we could offer up Dixon and Prop Joe to Narcotics.
In all likelihood, Frank Sobotka was going to speak to that.
What's gonna happen, Nicky?