
Our Gang (S01E02)
Airdate: March 19th 2002
Written by: Shawn Ryan
Directed by: Gary Fleder
Running Time: 45 minutes
Shawn Ryan’s audacious crime drama The Shield barely allowed its audience to catch its breath following the seismic shock of its pilot episode. Our Gang, the second instalment, plunges viewers directly into the suffocating aftermath of Detective Terry Crowley’s execution-style murder. It opens with the chilling audio of Vic Mackey’s strained voice on a 911 call, meticulously detailing the fabricated narrative of Crowley’s demise – a rookie caught unawares by a dealer during a botched drug bust. This auditory prelude masterfully sets the stage for the emotional devastation that follows: the near-total congregation of the Farmington precinct ("The Barn") outside the hospital, a grim vigil punctuated by the palpable dread of the inevitable. When Captain David Aceveda emerges to deliver the crushing news of Crowley’s death, Vic’s immediate, public declaration – "I’m responsible" – lands with Ryan’s signature, devastating irony. In that raw moment, the entire grieving unit interprets it as profound, albeit misplaced, remorse; the veteran cop burdened by the tragic loss of the inexperienced partner he led into danger. The audience, privy to the pilot’s truth, recognises the horrifying duality – Vic is responsible, not through negligence, but through cold-blooded, premeditated murder.
This duality forms the episode’s corrosive core. Aceveda, acutely aware of the sinister truth behind Vic’s words, finds his path to justice obstructed at every turn. The Internal Affairs Division, under the watchful eye of Assistant Chief Ben Gilroy (John Diehl), conducts a perfunctory investigation that swiftly exonerates Mackey and the Strike Team. Aceveda’s frustration mounts as his own detectives display institutional reluctance to pursue their colleagues, compounded by the Department of Justice’s abrupt disinterest following the loss of a key witness. Yet, Aceveda’s sharp instincts identify the Strike Team’s critical vulnerability: Detective Shane Vendrell (Walton Goggins). As the sole Strike Team member present during the shooting, Vendrell is visibly burdened by guilt. His raw anguish during Crowley’s funeral, culminating in a heated, accusatory confrontation with Vic that Aceveda observes from afar, marks him as the potential fracture point in Vic’s carefully constructed wall of lies.
Aceveda seizes this opportunity, initiating an informal interrogation assisted by the deeply uncomfortable Dutch Wagenbach. Predictably, Vic, a master manipulator with his defences permanently raised, denies any wrongdoing with plausible deniability. However, Aceveda’s tactical shift proves shrewder: catching Vic and the team mid-deployment, he isolates the rattled Vendrell. In a tense, claustrophobic scene, Aceveda confronts Shane directly, revealing knowledge of the Strike Team’s collusion with drug dealer Ronnie Rondrell, exposing a lie, and dangling the prospect of absolution in exchange for Vic’s head. Goggins portrays Shane’s agonised near-collapse with visceral authenticity – the moment where he seems seconds from breaking is one of the episode’s most compelling. Vic’s explosive re-entry into the station, abruptly terminating the proceedings, underscores his dominance but also his profound vulnerability to Aceveda’s pressure. The subsequent revelation that Gilroy himself was the source warning Vic about Crowley’s informant status deepens the institutional rot, painting Gilroy not just as a protector, but as a compromised figure anxiously monitoring whether Vic’s actions have jeopardised his own position.
Amidst this high-stakes internal warfare, the relentless grind of policing continues, providing a crucial thematic counterpoint. Officers Sofer and Lowe stumble upon a critically wounded churro vendor, José, whose son reveals the shooting stemmed from José’s refusal to pay protection money to local Black gangster Marlon Demeral (Guy Torry). The subsequent investigation, leading to Demeral’s arrest and the apprehension of members of the encroaching Hispanic gang "Los Magnificos" during a joint raid, reveals the brutal reality of street-level crime. The case hinges on the manipulation of Olman (Pablo Santos), a young initiate who carried out the shooting. Claudette Wyms’ ethically dubious tactic – falsely claiming Demeral took credit for the killing to extract Olman’s confession – brilliantly mirrors the Strike Team’s own moral compromises, blurring the lines between police procedure and gangland tactics. Meanwhile, rookie Julien Lowe’s coerced participation in the degrading "B&B" initiation ritual (beer and sexual favours from Betty, played by Dianna Miranda), reluctantly facilitated by Sofer, starkly illustrates the insidious, gang-like culture within The Barn itself. Michael Jace powerfully conveys Julien’s internal conflict, the devout churchgoer stripped of his moral compass by the pressure to conform.
Ryan’s script excels in this dual-layered character exposition. Far from the invincible unit presented initially, the Strike Team is revealed as deeply fractured. While Vic and Shane are bound by the terrible secret of Crowley’s murder, Ronnie Gardocki (David Rees Snell) and Curtis "Lem" Lemansky (Kevin Johnston) operate under the official narrative. Lem’s genuine, explosive grief – shattering glass in a bar upon hearing the news – is a poignant reminder of the human cost Vic’s actions inflict on those who believe the lie. The episode meticulously establishes Aceveda as a man consumed by his singular mission to bring Vic down, a focus so intense it drives him to bend protocols and alienate his own detectives, positioning him as a potentially tragic figure whose righteous crusade risks mirroring the corruption he fights.
The title "Our Gang" proves profoundly apt, weaving a central, unsettling theme: the parallel structures of loyalty, secrecy, and initiation rituals binding both street gangs and The Barn. The episode relentlessly draws comparisons between the codes governing the police and the criminals they pursue. However, Gary Fleder’s direction occasionally stumbles into heavy-handedness. The parallel editing of Crowley’s police funeral with the gang funeral for his alleged killer, Tee Tee – both sequences of mourners paying respects – feels overly schematic and pretentious, straining for "artistic" weight it doesn’t earn. Similarly, the inclusion of unnecessary flashbacks to the shooting and lingering scenes of Crowley awkwardly trying to bond with the Strike Team prior to his death feel like redundant exposition, diluting the narrative tension rather than enhancing it.
Ultimately, Our Gang succeeds in sustaining narrative momentum and deepening thematic complexity after a staggering premiere. It expertly leverages the fallout of Vic’s act to expose the fragile, often hypocritical, bonds of loyalty within the police force, presenting a world where the line between protector and predator is terrifyingly thin. While Fleder’s direction occasionally overreaches, the strength of Ryan’s writing, the uniformly exceptional performances – particularly Goggins’ haunted Vendrell and Jace’s conflicted Julien – and the unflinching exploration of institutional corruption cement this episode as a vital, morally complex cornerstone of The Shield’s enduring power.
RATING: 7/10 (+++)
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