At the precinct, Jane and Maura are getting coffee. Maura wants to leave a $20 in the “Don’t be a jerk” jar. Jane grabs her hand and tells her leaving a $20 makes her a jerk. Touching! Listen, people, it’s going to be a plot-heavy episode; we’ll take our subtext where we can get it.
Both women are preoccupied, though. Maura is worried about Bass, who won’t eat anything. She has brought him with her to work to hand feed and generally baby. I’m not sure about the wisdom of bringing something to the morgue to get better, but her concern is cute nonetheless. Jane, meanwhile, is salting her coffee. She says it is about Bobby, but really it is about Tommy. Maura knows, a girlfriend always knows.
They leave to head their separate ways — Jane upstairs, Maura downstairs. They pause in their respective elevators to gaze at one another. Maura tells her, “If you want to talk about your brother, or just avoid the subject, I’m here.” And then they give each other intense eye sex. What? You know that’s true.
Jane interviews Bobby, who was partners with dearly deceased Danny for nine years. He says he thinks Danny was a dirty cop. I feel like I should say something about casting the first stone here. Oh well, I’m sure the feeling will pass. Frankie interrupts them to say they found the crack smoking girl, who for clarity’s sake I’m going to call Itty Bitty. Jane puts her gun in her desk drawer before she goes in to interview her. Pens go in desk drawers, not guns, Jane.
In the interview room, Itty Bitty is a twitchy mess. Drugs are bad, m’kay. She gets even more twitchy when Jane tells her the shooters she can identify killed a cop. Itty Bitty can’t decide if she should take her chances with the killers or with the cops. Look at this lady’s face, Itty Bitty. Go with Jane.
But then, in the most polite terms possible, all hell breaks loose. The heavy from the warehouse shows up at the front desk which, remember, that one lone cop is manning. Bang, bang, the body count rises. He brings in his crew of gun-toting baddies who set up a cellphone jammer, take out the antenna and cut the power. We could get into a drawn-out discussion about how ridiculous it is that five or six guys can take over an entire police station. But then they shoot Frankie and you’re like, “Dammit, he was the good brother.”