The city of lost children

The fourth devastating season of "The Wire" leaves America's doomed urban youth far, far behind.

By Heather Havrilesky

Read more: TV, Arts & Entertainment, Reviews, Heather Havrilesky

Paul Schiraldi/HBO

Duquan (Jermaine Crawford), Randy (Maestro Harrell), Michael (Tristan Wilds), Namond (Julito McCullum).

Dec. 11, 2006 | "Lambs to the slaughter here."
-- Assistant principal Marcia Donnelly, "The Wire"

"They don't see innocence in our behavior. They do not think that what is being done to them is a mistake."
-- Jonathan Kozol, "Amazing Grace: The Lives of Children and the Conscience of a Nation"

At the start of the fourth season of "The Wire," we meet four boys on the brink of becoming teenagers on west Baltimore's bleak streets, four children with distinct charms and talents and qualities that might bring them happiness and success in any other setting. By the season's final episode, only one of them appears to have any chance of a future that doesn't include incarceration or death. What happens in between is an exercise in frustration and hopelessness, a confusing cavalcade of wasted opportunities and escapable misfortunes, a series of missteps that, even with the intervention of several concerned adults, leads down a ruinous path. In the end, every system or institution that is supposed to shield these innocent lives from danger fails to protect them; in some cases it even places them in harm's way. At the close of the episode, three boys we've grown to care about, to believe in and to cheer on are left to tragic fates.

If Sunday night's finale of "The Wire" didn't leave you unsettled and depressed, you might want to check your vital signs. The bleakness of David Simon's award-winning HBO series comes as no surprise to loyal viewers, but this season, it was impossible not to hope for some happy endings, given the vulnerability and powerlessness of its young protagonists.

Of course, a sugarcoated, uplifting ending wouldn't honor the countless kids in our country who are let down by the system and left to fend for themselves. Simon captures the myriad ways this can happen through four children, all of whom we quickly recognize have heart and soul and loads of potential. Michael (Tristan Wilds) is alarmingly self-possessed and principled ("Big paws on a puppy" is how drug kingpin Marlo Stanfield puts it) and looks out for his younger brother with tireless ferocity and affection. But when his mother, a drug addict, invites the man who abused Michael back into their home, Michael turns to the only people he knows can do something about it: Marlo (Jamie Hector) and his crew. From there, Michael's slide into the criminal life seems inevitable. Interventions by boxing coach and youth mentor Dennis "Cutty" Wise (Chad L. Coleman) are rebuffed, and Cutty ends up getting shot twice in the leg for his efforts.

Randy (Maestro Harrell) is clever and charming and extremely grateful to his foster mother, the only foster parent he's had so far who's been good to him. But when he mentions to a teacher, in passing, that he might know about a murder, he's passed into the hands of a police department that wants information in exchange for protection that it's incapable of giving. Targeted by Marlo's people as a snitch, Randy is harassed, then his home is burned down and his foster mother lands in the burn unit. Sergeant Ellis Carver (Seth Gilliam) makes several calls to keep Randy from landing in a group home -- he even offers to foster the boy himself -- but he's told that the process takes three to four months, too long to keep Randy safe. Finally Carver drops Randy off at the group home, then sits in his car and beats his fists against the steering wheel in frustration over what will become of the boy. Sure enough, the last we see of Randy, he's being beaten up by four teenagers who've heard the rumors that he snitched on Marlo.

Duquan (Jermaine Crawford) is shy and dorky, but he's loyal to anyone who'll give him a moment's notice, since his home is a revolving door of drugs and desperation that leaves him unwashed, unfed and lonely. Former cop turned teacher Roland Pryzbylewski (Jim True-Frost) notices Duquan's sorry state and arranges for him to shower at the school, plus he hangs out with him each day during lunchtime. In the middle of the school year, though, the school decides to send Duquan to join kids his age in the ninth grade, even though he's not performing with them academically. Pryzbylewski tells the administrators that Duquan will get eaten alive if he's sent to the other school, but the school simply doesn't have the space to accommodate him or other students his age regardless of their proficiency levels. Even worse, the school principal lectures Pryzbylewski for being too involved in Duquan's life, so when Pryzbylewski finds the boy lingering around his old school, he hesitates to offer his help, even though he can see that his former student is rudderless and desperate. Making a concerted effort to be somewhat remote, Pryzbylewski tells the kid he can stop by anytime, but we can see from the boy's face that this isn't enough. Soon after, Pryzbylewski spots Duquan, after years of avoiding the corner, selling drugs with Marlo's crew.

When we meet Namond (Julito McCullum) he already has a swagger in his step. His mother wants him to get a package and start dealing full time like his father, Wee-Bey (Hassan Johnson), an imprisoned member of Barksdale's crew. But despite his outward boasting, Namond is shaken by Michael's sudden brutality, and he quickly shows that he can't stomach street life. Seeing that the kid clearly wants an exit from this path, Howard "Bunny" Colvin (Robert Wisdom), a former free thinker in the police department who was forced to leave after his experimental reforms were called into question, approaches the boy's father in prison and convinces him that the kid has the potential to succeed at more than a dealer's life. In the last scene, we see that Namond is living with Colvin and his wife; he's one boy who was essentially rescued from a doomed existence on the street.

Next page: Simon: "Good and evil at this point bores the shit out of me"