Part 3: Series 2 Episode Guide

This series consisted of just four episodes, which were originally aired out of production order, the last episode shown first to capitalise on Robin's Williams' guest appearance. The Fremantle disc retains that screening order, while the A&E release restores the series to the production code order.

The spoiler warning from series 1 goes for here too.

10. See No Evil

Screenplay: Paul Attanasio | Director: Christopher Menaul

Series 2 kicks off with a notion that might once have seemed fanciful but has become wearily familiar in all walks of business and public service, as the squad are ordered to attend sensitivity training with the attractive Kerry Weston. Kay opens up, Bayliss sucks up, Munch gets boastful about his sex life, and Bolander finds every excuse he can, including accepting suspension, to avoid it. Out of the squad room, Beau visits his childhood friend Chucky, whose father, a proud man known as The Admiral, is terminally ill and is clearly planning to commit suicide. Beau and Chucky intervene, but when Chucky later carries out the old man's last wish and shoots him, Beau is left with a personal dilemma that puts him into direct and compelling conflict with case primary Lewis. The ending takes Homicide into intriguing and difficult moral ground, and it's typical of the show that it doesn't flinch here.

Internal politics and personal conflicts rear their head again when Pembleton investigates a police related killing in a black neighbourhood and demands that all of the cops on the scene turn in their weapons for examination. Gee is livid and refuses the request, so Pembleton goes over his head, further infuriating his captain. Beau, now in marriage counselling with his wife, tells Chucky at one point that "I'm a cop, not even a very good cop," the first sign that he recognises his own limitations and possible failings. In the later bust-up with Lewis, this large man comes across as surprisingly weak, a testament to Baldwin's handling of the character. It's possibly an in-joke that has Plan 9 From Outer Space playing at the small cinema opposite the station. Jean A. Segonzac takes over from Wayne Ewing as DoP.

11. Black and Blue

Screenplay: James Yoshimura, Tom Fontana | Director: Christopher Menaul

Pembleton's relentless investigation of the police-related shooting further alienates him from Gee, who is mad from the start and only gets angrier. Frank's outsider status is enhanced when he finds Kay and Beau drinking with the very cops he has been aggressively interviewing – Kay and prime suspect Lieutenant Jimmy Tyron are old friends and she is in danger of crossing the line by keeping him informed of their progress. Gee is convinced that Frank is blind to the idea that it may have been a civilian who fired the fatal shot, so when Bayliss brings in a possible suspect, Pembleton enters the Box and, in a brilliant, terrifying scene, bullies the man into confessing to something he is clearly innocent of, purely to make a point to Gee. This is Homicide at its best again – get Pembleton and a suspect in the Box and the drama catches fire.

In the background, a rather obviously structured but still engaging story sees Bolander and Munch swap places in the happy relationship stakes, prompting the latter to complain bitterly to his partner, "You don't deserve to be this happy if I'm this miserable!" A charged, emotive moment of musical bliss for Bolander breaks a little with the show's handheld aesthetic, but it works and that's all that counts, and a final backward drift through the squad room makes for a classy ending.

12. A Many Splendored Thing

Screenplay: Noel Behn, Tom Fontana | Director: John McNaughton

Pembleton and Bayliss investigate the strangulation of a girl, a case that leads them into the world of phone sex and S&M, something that brings out a puritanical, self-righteous streak in Tim and lands him in idealistic conflict with his more open-minded and liberal partner. Stan Bolander, still basking in the glow of his new age-gap relationship, is full of the joys of life, which is driving Munch to distraction and prompts him to complain at length about Stan's good mood to everybody, even requesting that Gee order him to revert to his old unhappy self. "There's got to be something in the books to prevent happiness," he moans. "It's unprofessional."

Lewis and Crosetti investigate a killing in a library ("Either it's murder or this library has a very strict overdue book policy") that took place over a $1.95 pen that the victim wouldn't sell to his killer, recalling Bolander's observation back in Episode 4 that people will kill for any reason. It leads to a police raid and a superb bit of production design that once again foreshadows Se7en. Meldrick cannot understand the killer's thinking, using his own gold-plated writing implement, bought for him on his grandmother's dying wish, as an example – "I love this pen," he tells the more sympathetic Crosetti, "but not enough to die for."

Stan and Linda double-date with Kay and Ed Danvers, a meal that is inevitably interrupted by Munch, outraged that his partner hasn't told him about his new girlfriend. Invited by her to stay, he depresses everyone, prompting Stan to warn him "I'll deal with you in the morning, and DON'T look forward to it!" and leading to an outdoor scene that flirts with romantic cliché but never misses a step – you genuinely smile for the characters. An equally effective ending of a different sort has Tim accept an unexpected present, then take his emotional hang-ups to the sleazier side of the city to contemplate his partner's words of wisdom. Once again, a terrific character episode, directed with assurance by John McNaughton, of Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer fame.

13: Bop Gun

Screenplay: David Simon, David Mills | Director: Stephen Gyllenhaal

Example number two of why Homicide: Life on the Street was the greatest show on American television, this brilliant, emotionally overpowering episode marked a change of direction for the series and foreshadowed the slight stylistic shift of the third season in a number of ways. Originally screened to open the insanely short second season, it was actually shot last (the production code is 204 – season 2, episode 04) and is restored to its rightful place as the series closer on the A&E DVDs. There's no doubt that it belongs at the end, as a season-closing humdinger and a cinematic precursor to season 3, which it could almost be part of.

From the first second of the pre-title sequence we are on new turf, and those familiar with later episodes will recognise the style. Instead of natural sounds and dialogue, the soundtrack is dominated by a music track (Killer by Seal), over which plays out a prelude to a terrible inevitability, as three street punks play basketball and mess around with a handgun, while a sightseeing family from out of town unknowingly wander into an area any local could have told them is best avoided. As the punks spot the family and head after them, the picture and music fade, and we don't need to see what happens next to know where we will be after the title sequence. This rock-scored prologue may hint at an MTV influence, but is too purposeful, too foreboding, too well ingrained into the texture of the show itself to feel like a music video bolt-on. It was to crop up again later, most memorably in the superbly edited prologue of season 5's Prison Riot. Source music is also used later in the episode (Feels Like Rain by Buddy Guy) to accompany Beau and Kay's end-of-episode prison visit in a manner that would become part of the signature style of season 3, and contribute to some of its most memorable sequences.

More crucially, this was the first episode to feature a single storyline rather than multiple cases and the first to focus on the emotional consequences of the crimes the unit deal with on a daily basis, on the husband and children of the victim and what the sudden, senseless killing of a loved one does to them. Now if the thought of Robin Williams – yes, THAT Robin Williams – playing the part of a grieving husband makes you groan then I am telling you right now to put those prejudices aside and just watch what the man does with this part, giving a performance that may just count as a career best. It's inspired casting – Williams perfectly captures not just the pain of loss, but the anger at the detectives' seemingly flippant handling of the case and the sense of isolation he feels as the only helpless figure in the machinery of investigation. Indeed, there are times when you sympathise so strongly with his emotional state that you share his fury at characters you have previously been rooting for. But Williams is not alone – everyone hits the right note here, right down to Ellison's two young kids, the small age gap between them proving the dividing line between the expectation of a mother's return and the realisation that she's gone forever. The very real grief expressed by the 14-year-old Matt is especially heartbreaking – look closely and you'll realise that he is played by a young Jake Gyllenhaal, and the observant will have spotted that the episode was directed by his father Stephen. The investigation of the crime remains a compelling component, and a dual interrogation of two suspects prefigures a similarly sneaky approach employed by Ed Exley in L.A. Confidential. This episode was co-written by David Simon, author of the book on which the series is based.

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