FAQ for
"Homicide: Life on the Street" (1993)

Before mentioning suspects in Adena Watson's murder, it must be noted that the fictional Watson's death was based in part on the real-life slaying of 11-year-old Latonya Kim Wallace. Hers was one of the many cases recounted in David Simon's "Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets," which Baltimore-Sun reporter Simon wrote while trailing the city's squad of detectives for the duration of 1988. Wallace's murder was never closed and so, presumably out of deference to the Wallace family, neither was Adena's. The television show "Homicide: Life on the Street," the NBC adaptation of Simon's book, presented its viewers with two suspects in the Adena case: produce vendor Risley Tucker (played by Moses Gunn) and, introduced in a s4 episode, a pedophilic murderer named Carver Dooley (played by Chris Rock). For most of the duration of s1, Bayliss's sights are set on Tucker, a lonely, alcoholic, late-middle-aged man who'd hired Adena to clean his barn. The help Adena afforded had seemed largely unnecessary, and Adena's mother had expressed reservations about Tucker's true intentions. Eventually, in episode 1.6, "Three Men and Adena," Pembleton and Bayliss subject Tucker to a twelve-hour interrogation; this decision to bring Tucker in is predicated by the crime-lab's finding that a smudge of soot discovered on the skirt Adena was wearing at the time of her death turns out to be an exact chemical match to soot produced in the wake of a recent fire at Tucker's barn. Bayliss and Pembleton--who, incidentally, had discounted Tucker as a suspect until the indentification of the soot--go at Tucker full-bore for the entire twelve hours but fail to get a confession. The only "sin" to which Tucker admits is his love for the prepubescent girl, an emotion he finds shameful but impossible to deny. Yet he doesn't stray from his contention that he never even touched Adena, let alone hurt her. By episode's end, Bayliss and Pembleton have switched roles: Pembleton goes away convinced of Tucker's guilt, while Bayliss now has his doubts.

These doubts would resurface in s4's "Requiem for Adena." Janelle Parsons, a similarly young, African-American girl is found murdered, molested, and left in an alley. Bayliss immediately takes note of the circumstantial similarities between the cases and finds his obsession with the Watson killing activated again. Pembleton considers this sentimentality a threat to this new investigation and demands to work alone. It isn't long before a suspect in the Parsons case is apprehended: a moronic degenerate named Carver Dooley. Although ostensibly Pembleton's case alone, Bayliss takes an opportunity to slip into The Box and demand that Dooley "say the words" and confess to Adena's murder. Dooley claims ignorance, and before the matter can be persued any further, Pembleton arrives and forcibly drags Bayliss from The Box. Outside, Pembleton convinces Bayliss that dredging up Adena Watson will only distract from his pursuit of a confession to this latest of crimes. Bayliss reluctantly agrees, Dooley confesses to the Parsons murder, and again Bayliss is left without closure.

As for the question of who ultimately did the deed, it's more or less assumed by the rest of the detectives (and most of the viewers) that Risley Tucker was guilty, although, other than Bayliss, none seem to regard it as anything more than a case gone astray--something that could have happened to anyone--and certainly none dote on it to the extent Bayliss does for the duration of the series. Bayliss would later reveal that his obsession with such cases stems from the sexual abuse he himself endured as a child.

Much like the question of who killed Adena Watson, that of who did Gordon Pratt remains a mystery. If nothing else, however, the producers of the show have afforded the viewers a few subtle hints as to which character they'd have us *believe* was most likely responsible.

The events leading to Pratt's demise begin when Detectives Howard, Bolander, Munch and Felton enter an apartment building with a search warrant for the room of Glenn Holton, lead suspect in a recent child murder. Because of a typographical error on the warrant, though, they arrive at the wrong room, that of nearby resident Gordon Pratt. As they reach the door, someone from a stairway leading up to the next floor fires at them with two handguns. The fusillade of bullets rains down, wounding three of the detectives, Howard and Bolander critically. Holton is hunted and brought in, but during an interrogation with Detectives Pembleton and Bayliss, it becomes obvious that he's not the shooter. The detectives switch tacts to the investigation of the person whose room they'd accidentally approached--Mr. Pratt's.

Gordon Pratt is revealed to be an Oswaldesque loner who's frustrated by his lack of success in life and who believes that affirmative-action run amok is to blame for his various failures. He harbors a dislike of African Americans, one which he vents in passive-aggressive fashion, with snide remarks and "Bell Curve"-reminiscent assertions that it's a matter of biological fact that Blacks are, on average, less intelligent than Whites. Despite attempts to belittle Pratt to the point that he breaks down, the detectives fail to ellicit a confession. Pratt demands an attorney and is let free. It's not long thereafter that Pratt is found murdered near a pay-phone inside his apartment. Bayliss is unfortunate enough to wander into the squadroom at the time the call comes in and so becomes the primary.

Tim is hindered from the start, as the rest of the detectives on the shift, not surprisingly, either refuse to partner with him or quickly take other calls and vanish. Not only is he alone in the investigation, but the unpleasantness of the task multiplies when Lieutenant Giardello orders him to question the most likely suspects--his co-workers. Meldrick says that he was asleep ("Climbing into a bed with a poker pal," as he puts it), and, after some thinking, Pembleton that he was getting gas. Munch--who seems to resent even being asked at all--staunchly avers that, after visiting Detective Bolander at the hospital, he went to breakfast at Ikaros, a Greek restaurant. Bayliss remains suspicious of Munch and even goes so far as to talk to the Ikaros staff present on that morning. Those who were there on the morning in question can't recall him. Finally, armed--or burdened, rather--with this new information, Tim gently presses John, who hands his Glock over the Waterfront counter to his fellow detective, daring him to smell the chamber and see if it's been fired lately. Bayliss can't bring himself to do it, however, and hands the gun back to Munch, who takes it before stomping off to "make a call." It's all very suspicious appearing, at the very least.

Even unto the very last episode ("Forgive Us Our Trespasses"), Munch's name comes up in association with Pratt's murder. He tells Bayliss in no uncertain terms that killing someone like Pratt and getting away with it would be morally justifiable, and Bayliss mentions that, for all of these years, he'd always figured Munch the shooter. Executive Producer Tom Fontana mentions in his audio commentary to "Trespasses" that Richard Belzer believed the same, as well, and wanted viewers to draw that very conclusion.

Homicide is based on a non-fiction book "Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets" by then Baltimore Sun reporter David Simon.

Fans of the show like to consider it one of the more accurate depictions of police investigation. However, like any work of fiction, Homicide diverges from reality in a number of ways.

Many of the elements, cases, and even quotes, used on the show are ones taken directly from actual events which did happen, or were reported to have happened, in the Baltimore homicide unit. For example, up through the 1990s the homicide department did use a dry erase board to keep track of indivdiaul detectives performance at solving cases. The practice was discontinued due to publicity from Homicide, and the fears of the BPD that the cold attention to clearance rates projected a callous image of the department.

Much of the terminology of the show: such as "red ball", "dunker", "stone cold whodunit" etc is taken from actual slang used by the Baltimore homicide unit in the late 1980s when David Simon covered them.

Some of the depictions of the day to day life of homicide detectives is also accurate, as reported in Simon's book. Like the sitcom Barney Miller, Homicide was unusual in depicting the everyday work of policing as being fairly routine and dull. Shoot outs and violent confrontations were pretty rare. Indeed, the sound of gunfire was not heard on Homicide in the first few seasons. Homicide is also fairly accurate in reporting the seemingly callous, often joking, attitude which homicide detectives take at crime scenes.

However, Homicide also was innacurate in some respects. One of the most obvious, although perhaps least consequential, was the size of the department. Homicide had two shifts of about seven or eight detectives who worked under a Lieutenant (and later, when Kay Howard got promoted, a Sergeant). The real life Baltimore homicide unit of the 1980s was orangized into three shifts, each covering eight hours of the day, and the shifts were considerably larger, being more than twice as large as depicted on Homicide. Also, while the real life squads were lead by a Lieutenant, they were also broken down into sub-units which were supervised by Sergeants. The unit which Simon covered had three or four Sergeants.

David Simon has also pointed out in interviews that the actual homicide detectives rarely, if ever, engaged in the metaphysical soul searching which their TV counterparts did. They were mostly working class men who wanted to do their jobs and make their city a little safer.

Occasionally the differences between reality and fiction caused angst for real people. Retired Baltimore homicide detective Tom Pellegrini objected to what he saw as "his" characterization on the show. Pellegrini is widely recognized as being the inspiration for the character of Tim Bayliss. Both men were young inexperienced investigators who came to the unit from the Mayor's security detail and both became stymied over the burtal sensational murder of a little girl, murders which went unsolved even after marathon interrogation sessions with the suspect. However, after the first season, the portrayal of Bayliss diverged more from that of the real life Pellegrini. In service of the story Bayliss did numerous things which Pellegrini felt reflected poorly on him: Bayliss became interested in kinky sex (including having sex in a coffin), he got into a physical confrontation with another detective over a woman, he revealed that he had been molested as a child, while drunk he attempted to hold up a convenience store, he dabbled in Buddhism, revealed that he was bisexual, and, ultimately, murdered a suspect who had been acquitted.