Darryl Jr., needing you and trusting you are two altogether different things.“
"An’ I hope one day you stop thinking of us as partners, but family.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah, man. I don’t want all this mistrust to go an’ poison the well.”
“Well, I’ll bear that in mind. And you bear in mind that I just executed the last blood relative that I had.
Boyd Crowder (Walton Goggins) lays it all out for Darryl Crowe Jr. (Michael Rapaport), in “Justified” S5E8 (“Whistle Past the Graveyard”)
Boyd: Actually, we might have a job opening. All you got to do is kill this fella right here, agree to ten percent, and you can become our new smugglers. Darryl: Man, is you out your mind? Ain’t nobody doing shit to me. Boyd: Or better yet! Why don’t we all just pull right now. Shoot this shit out. See what’s what when the smoke clears, huh? Darryl: Boyd, cool out, man. I’ll take ten percent. Boyd: Shut up, Darryl. It’s already too late for that. Darryl: Okay. Boyd: Come on, boys. Who’s in? Raylan: Miller? Would you call this a herd, a gaggle, or a flock of assholes? Miller: I’d call this a United Nations of assholes. Boyd: Well. That’s funny, because we were just discussing ratifying some shit.
“Got that good Elmers T for you,” Darryl says, but Boyd’s got a rule about that: “I only drink with people I like, or I pretend to like.” He sure starts drinking, though, as soon as Dewey crashes the party. If it’s impossible to get Darryl to incriminate himself on the record, it’s more impossible to get Dewey to stop.
Dewey: Oh, I will shoot! The way I shot Wade Messer! I killed his ass good, man! Two shots! PCHEEOWW! PCHEEOWW! Me! Dewey Crowe! Boyd: God damn it, son. Darryl: Shit, Dewey. What the shit, Dewey? Dewey: Yeah! That’s MY heroin! MY future! MY dream!
We are two weeks out (!) from season six. There are thirteen episodes of season five. I’m ready to let tradition stand in watching the one season to count down to the other— in fact, so ready I may have gotten a head start.
Because I’ve been curious to see how season five would wear in the wash. Critical reception was mixed— at least, that’s what I’ve gathered, that’s not something I pay attention to when I’m watching a new season and once it’s over, I have little interest in going back to catch up— but by the time it ended last spring, it was my favorite season since the second. (So far.) Re-watching it shortly thereafter only confirmed that, and I’ve been wondering if that would hold up after some time had passed.
It has. For me, it has. Whatever season five did with the Crowes and the Crowders and the Deputy Marshals, it may not have been flawless (what’s more boring than something that’s flawless?) but it was just my thing, and it’s only grown on me in the year since it aired. I think it was a darker departure. I think we flat out dealt with some shit. I think the first two thirds of the season especially spin a lot of plates all at once… and I love it. We were able to go that dark without going grim and that is no small feat. Every bit of it is still Elmore fun.
I took a few months off from watching any of it. I’m coming back to it with fresh eyes, and so far (four episodes in) fresh eyes and knowing what the season does as a whole is making me enjoy the hell out of it even more. It just clicks with me, and as ready as I am to see how season six drops the gear and brings us in for this landing, I’m up for one last lap in the sky first.
“So, what? You figured you’d drive south anyway, rip off the simple people? Well, we ain’t that simple.”
“Darryl Crowe? I know him. I don’t like him. You want him? I’ll find him.”
Like every other antagonist on every other season of Justified, the season’s winding down and I realize, I’m going to miss them. Whether I want them to meet whatever glorious end they’ve got coming (Quarles, Augustine, Darryl), or whether I’m irrationally hoping they don’t (Mags), the chaos and personality they’ve brought to the show will leave a vacuum to fill just the same.
Darryl has turned into one crafty son of a bitch with a Florida cracker accent and however shit goes down next week, I’m gonna miss the hell out of Rapaport. The whole Crowe clan, really, but he in particular has brought Darryl to life in a way that Elmore would love, and a way I’m going to treasure myself for a long time. Now, whenever I’m reading Elmore and I come across a Crowe, I’ll get to laugh and remember the Crowes we had for a while.
Darryl: Now, let me get this all straight. We got US Marshals banging on doors all over town, plus Dewey and the dipshit we sent him to kill are both MIA? Is that about right or am I leaving something out? Danny: Well, we are outta Wild Turkey.
“Y’all understand how that’s bad, right?” Darryl says, and I don’t think he’s even talking about the Wild Turkey. Dewey’s hitting the bottle, their bar manager is in a body bag, but at least Raylan is dropping by to help keep down the demand on their supply: “Party’s over, revelers. Leave your drinks where they are. Get the hell out.” All because they’ve got a minor tending bar with a baseball bat— and soon a sawed-off shotgun— when, clearly, the minor is the most responsible Crowe here.
Kendal: We are outta Wild Turkey. Darryl: Yeah. I heard as much and I’m gonna file that under least of our goddamn problems.