PRIEST. Because God has chosen to call our brother Albert from this life to himself,
we commit his body to the earth, its final resting place.
For we are dust.
Unto dust we will return.
But the Lord will change our mortal bodies to be like his in glory,
for he is risen, the first-born from the dead.
So let us commend our brother Albert to the Lord,
that the Lord may embrace him in peace and raise up his body on the final day.
Amen.
Will you be all right?
- You're not going? - Yeah.
I was going to ask you to clear out his things.
I can't do it.
Taxi's here.
- What'll you do with it? - Oxfam.
- Bye, love. - Bye, Dad.
Hello? - It's me.
Where are you? - Just gone for a quick drink.
No more bets now, thank you.
You're in a casino.
Sheer accident. Thought it was a theme park.
20, 40, 60, 80, F100 cash.
Not the pregnant pause, please. Anything but the pregnant pause.
How long will you be? - I won't be long.
I'll see you later, then. Enjoy yourself.
And how was Damascus?
It's - it's OK, honestly.
- Right. Bye.
100 cash.
Ferochous dog.
Ten letters. Third one's T.
- Rotweiller. - Oh, yeah.
How do you spell it?
R- O-T-W-E-I, double L, E-R.
Double T.
It's two Ts, one L.
- Are you sure? - Yeah.
Cheese made backwards. Four letters.
It's two Ts, one L.
- Don't make any difference, Albie. - It's wrong.
- Because it makes no difference, that's why. - Because he's been to university?
Oh, piss off.
Are you OK?
I buried my father today.
I'm sorry.
No more bets now, thank you.
19. Red.
The Guardian and a packet of those tea bags.
Two pounds four pence, please.
I'll have to owe you the four p.
Sorry.
I'll pass it in tonight on my way to work.
Sorry.
- This comes to F1.98 in Scott's. - Then go to Scott's.
- He's shut. - Exactly.
I'll be back with your four p, right?
How much?
You had the meter in fast-forward, did you?
- Where have you been? - Out.
- What? - Out.
What?
Every time I come home, it's the same. "What time do you call this?"
- "Who have you been with?" - Where have you been?
- Blah-de-blah-de-blah. - Oi!
Well, now you know how it feels. Right?
- Sorry. - It's OK.
- Whisky? - Yeah.
Are you starting early or finishing late?
Trying to avoid a hangover.
Well, that's one way. Death's another, of course.
This isn't going according to script.
You're supposed to bollock me, Judith.
And then, in the middle of a particularly insulting sentence,
I go...
Thank you.
You're very welcome.
Please...
I can't.
Remember me, eh?
Do you remember me, you robbing Paki bastard?
No.
Here's your four p, right.
Remember me now, eh?
Yes.
Treat people like scum, they start acting like scum, you know what I mean?
You know what I mean, you robbing Paki bastard?
Please don't call me "Paki".
I'm a socialist me, pal. Trade unionist. Voted Labour all my bleeding life.
I've marched for the likes of you.
But you just see me in my clobber.
You hear the accent and you assume things.
You assume the right to treat me like scum.
Well, OK, you robbing Paki bastard, you treated me like scum,
- now I'm acting like scum. - Please don't call me "Paki".
- Now I'm acting like scum. - Criticise me in what I do, but not what I am.
I haven't come here to listen to you, pal.
I earn my poverty, you know what I mean.
If you think I'm robbing you, fine. Criticise me for that. Don't call me Paki.
I work hard for my pittance and you think you can rip me off.
No. You're a robbing Paki bastard.
Get out of my shop!
I call you a robbing bastard, what happens?
You get the Queers Award to Industry cos this country's full of robbing bastards.
But I called you a robbing Paki bastard. That's really gonna hurt, isn't it?
That's a bit of a weapon I've got. That's the only weapon I've got.
Unless you count this one.
Do you see this one? Do you see it?
Do you get the point, eh?
Do you get the point?
♪ L-I-V... E-R-P...
double O... L... Liverpool FC
♪ L-I-V... E-R-P... double O... L
♪ Liverpool FC
♪ L-I-V... E-R-P... double O... L
♪ Liverpool FC
Five past eight, no later, because the eight o'clock news wasjust started.
- DCI Bilborough, DS Penaligon, this is Mr... ... Gregson.
Mr Gregson found the body. He bumped into a skinead on the way in.
- Did he say anything to you? - He was dead.
- No, the skinead. - No.
Would you recognise him if you saw him again?
It was a skinead, you know what I mean? They all look alike.
- Have you mentioned this to anybody else, sir? - Just the police.
I'd like to keep it that way, if that's OK. Just between you and us?
Yeah.
Keep it under your hat.
Leave it!
- It keeps landing on the blood. - See to the crowd. They're encroaching.
- I'm OK, boss. - I know you're OK. See to the crowd.
- Morning. - Morning.
- Family? - Upstairs.
- Did they see anything? - I haven't spoken to them.
- I was waiting for erm... - You want me to see them?
Yes.
Have you got that number? Yeah.
Get the paper and the tea bags, OK?
- What do you think? - I think he's dead.
Wasrt robbery.
Nothing to indicate a racial motive.
Nothing whatsoever. That's our line, OK?
Can you think of anyone who'd want to kill your father?
Several million.
All of them white.
♪ Oh, show me a home
♪ Where the buffalo roam
Look, I know it's taken a bit longer than we said...
- Four months, three days. - OK, that's bad.
Accepted. Admitted. But we've cracked it now, OK?
We've found the problem.
We'll have it sorted by tonight.
No problem.
♪ Where seldom is heard...
Look, we're not cowboys, OK?
We are not cowboys.
♪... cloudy all day
Statement at a press conference this mornng.
In the past, this area has seen a great deal of racial tension.
So I want to make it perfectly clear that there is no racial motive for this killing.
None whatsoever.
Obviously, we're anxious to speak to everybody who visited Mr Ali's shop this mornng.
Now, whether or not you saw anything,
whether or not you think you can help, it's vital that you come forward,
so we can eliminate you from our inquiries.
♪ Oi! -style music
Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi!
- Can you turn the music off, please? - I can't hear you.
Can you turn the music off?
Can't hear you.
- Sit down and shut up! Oi! Oi!
We've got a warrant to search the premises, so we'll let you back to this as quick as we can.
What the hell do you think you're doing?
- I'm getting on to my lawyer. - This way, please.
- Lay off till he gets here, OK? - Come this way, please.
You know what I mean? I know my rights. I know my rights.
Skineads! Oi!
Skineads! Oh!
Skineads!
Hey, Einstein. Whose is that?
Skineads! Oh!
I want you down here now.
This place is crawling.
Ince is black.
Parker is black.
Dublin is black.
Schmeichel's a Dane. Jane, we'll have him!
Kanchelskis is a bloody Ukrainian and Cantona's French.
You stupid, soft sod.
We've got names and addresses for 68 Fascist Party members.
We're checking them out for previous.
49 with previous, 44 of them violent.
Right. Those 44 are top of the list.
Plain clothes, unmarked cars.
We don't want it known we're looking for a skinead.
A non-racial motive is still the official line.
We go early mornng. Any self-respecting skinead's still in bed with his dick in his hand.
If he's up and about, chances are he was up and about when Ali was murdered.
So get the alibi and check it out.
Am I boring you?
What?
Am I boring you?
No, boss.
Then listen.
Jane!
A Pakistani is killed in a racially-sensitive area
- and you print a story like this! - It's the truth.
- And that makes everything OK? - Yes.
- No. Who gave you this information? - I can't tell you that.
Don't hide behind journalistic integrity. You've got none.
Who gave you this information?
I can't tell you.
It wasn't the bloke who found the body, I've just seen him.
No.
Is it one of my officers?
If you don't tell me, I'll have you arrested.
- Was it one of my officers? - Yes.
- Which one? - I'm not telling you.
Just answer the question. Did you talk to that bloody woman, yes or no?
I've been doing this job for 15 years and you can ask me a question like that!
I haven't got time to massage your ego. Did you talk to that bloody woman?
You've got no faith in me whatsoever.
- For God's sake. 15 years! - Somebody did.
- Was it you? - No.
- Thank you. - But it crossed your mind.
- It crossed your mind that it may have been me. - A process of elimination, Jimmy.
You're eliminated. Send Harriman in.
- How do you think that makes me feel? - You're feeling a bit aggrieved, right?
Fine. OK. Noted. Send Harriman in.
You treat me like a bloody prick fresh out of training,
- wet behind the bloody ears. - Send Harriman in!
You're wanted.
This down to you?
Yeah.
Shut it.
Why?
I don't know.
- Did she pay you? - No.
- If you took money, you're finished. - She didn't pay me.
- A nice bit of stuff. - It wasn't that.
You sent me out the shop.
I don't know, I just wanted to prove I was involved.
Knowledge is power. Show people you're in the know, you get a bit of respect, yeah?
- Yeah. - No. She just thinks you're a bloody clown.
I know.
So what will you do?
Nothing. Get out.
What floor?
T- Top.
Your job is to care for people who are terminally ill.
My job is to secure the funds that allow you to do it.
Once you start to chase the funding, you cease to do the job you're paid to do.
And if you cease to do the job you're paid to do, why should anyone agree to renew the funding?
It will be there.
- Er... can I speak to you a minute? - I'm busy.
If I have to walk the streets of Manchester with a begging bowl, I'll do it.
The funding will be there.
Please.
Are there any questions?
How to handle an addict, Chapter 3, Verse 12.
Public humiliation.
Three grand, Shepherd's Hay.
You stopped masticating for a wee second there.
You what?
There is something a bit macho about a bet like that.
A wee bit like slapping a certain part of your anatomy on the counter and saying,
"Look how big it is, everybody! Look how big it is!"
You what?
They're almost ready for the 4.45 at Lingfield.
Linng up for the last race of the afternoon.
The favourite, Jeremy Fisher, a bit nervous perhaps.
Two along, Shepherd's Hay.
And they're off! And they're underway and Shepherd's Hay has gone already.
A faller very early. - Jesus!
There's Jeremy Fisher, Timberlake and After Dark.
The best thing for him, that's what I say.
A situation like this, your heart sinks a little really, doesn't it?
- You what? - Nothing.
Yeah, about half-seven this morning.
He just walked in and done him, good style.
- Skinead? - Yeah.
- Better lie low for a while, know what I mean? - Too right. Those Pakis are gonna go ape shit.
Anyone with a skirll do.
Have you got a problem?
Bashful bladder.
I keep telling it to do something or these two'll think I'm some kind of a pervert.
Do something, please. But no luck as yet.
I can't help noticing you're a straight-down-the-channel man.
You know, that gratifying gurgle when a good healthy stream hits the main flow.
You're more of a Luke Skywalker-type, aren't you?
Mmm? Like a laser beam?
You do pretty patterns on the urinal.
You're a bit of a piss artist really, aren't you?
Will I butt him or will you?
Personally, I'm the type that can't resist a quick glance.
Some people find that very annoying, I would imagine.
- Are you trying to get your nose broken, pal? - Yeah.
Do you know somebody who could do it, pal?
Right. How do you actually spell that, sir?
What time was this?
Was there anyone else in the shop?
Could you describe her?
- What did they buy? - What?
Sir?
Could you hold on a moment, please, sir?
We've got the till roll.
We ask people what they bought, what it cost, we tick it off against the till roll.
If there's anything unticked, whoever bought it hasn't come forward.
- Right. - Found out what they bought...
- Why didn't you say that in the first place? - I thought it was obvious.
...and how much it cost, OK? - What did you actually buy, sir?
I'm not wearing any underwear.
- Look, let me explain. - You owe me F972.
That's for the flight and the hotel.
- I'm afraid you'll have to join the queue. - I'll understand if it's in cash.
- Wouldrt want the wife to find out, would we? - Ooh, a little whiff of bitchiness there.
- What happened to your nose? - A skinead gave me a piece of his mind.
- Oh, really? - Mmm.
- Can I come in? - I'd let Oliver Reed in before you, Fitz.
- You need a profile. - If we need a profile, we will get one.
Psychologists are ten-a-penny. Let go, please.
No. Do you know what he'll say, a ten-a-penny psychologist,
- Panandle? - Let go of the door.
Possibly. He'll also say that the killer is white,
unemployed, unskilled, a Fascist, a footballer supporter, and lives local.
- If he does say that, Panandle... - Please let go.
...you will know he's a prick.
Excuse me. Excuse me.
Excuse me.
Excuse me. I just live here, you know.
Hiya. - Hiya.
We're going out.
Wait in the car, Katie.
Did you lose it all?
The row? At last, the row. We could skip it if you like,
- just don't speak to me for a week. - Did you lose it all?
Short. First tentative step on the emotional ladder.
Did you lose it all?
Yes.
You've perfected that look - utter contempt.
You've got it off to a tee.
I've had plenty of practice.
Gamblers top themselves to avoid that look, did you know that? Hmm?
Hmm?
A mars a few quid down on the housekeeping, but he has to go home, tell his wife, get that look.
No, thank you.
So he tries to win it back, loses some more, tries to win that back, loses it all.
Then the look's even more contemptuous, tries to top himself, fails, decides to kill the wife.
Hit her over the head with a hammer, drown her in the bath,
anything not to see that look in her eye.
I couldn't help noticing there were one or two strangers in the house.
It's Mark's birthday.
Oh, shit.
I could give you some money to give to him.
Was that a little twist of the knife, dear?
No, it would be nice for him to get money off his father on his birthday, that's all.
You selfish, arrogant sod.
You're not in the mood for a quick shag, then?
Come on. You hate it when I win.
Yes.
Well, cheer up. I lost.
That odd win, once in a blue moon,
it justifies days and days like this, countless days like this.
That's why I hate you winning.
I want you to lose and lose and lose.
I want you to think there's not a hope in hell of ever winning again.
Then even you might think of stopping, Fitz.
Is that it?
Hmm?
Top of the emotional ladder? Bit anti-climactic, I'd say.
Ten years ago, you'd have thrown something at least.
I'm tired, Fitz.
Bored, even.
We're going to Joe's.
You're not invited.
Food's ready.
Would you keep the noise down, please, if it's not too much to ask?
Are you listening to me?
Didn't work. Might be the pipe off into the bath...
Can I ask you to show a bit of consideration, a bit of common decency,
and keep the noise down?
Please don't ignore me. I know you can hear me.
Will you keep the noise down, please?
Look, if you don't, I will call the police.
There's good news and bad news.
The bad - it's a single knife wound.
Difficult to make a murder charge stick.
- And the good? - He's twisted it round a bit.
He's gone through the stomach wall,
through the aorta, massive haemorrhage.
The X-ray shows he's chipped a bone in the vertebrae.
Now, I'm warning you now, the defence will say the damage was done when the victim fell.
- Thanks, Tom. - OK.
Where's Fitz?
What are we looking for?
A long, narrow blade.
For what it's worth, I saw a wound like this a few years ago.
British Army bayonet.
Yeah.
- I think something's up. - What?
I dunno.
- Where is he? - He's in the bathroom.
It's your dad.
We've been knocking. We can't get any answer.
Dad.
Dad!
What's happening?
Heart attack.
A long blade.
We're gonna look in every back yard, every dustbin, every gutter, every sewer.
Full protective clothing, cos you'll come across dirty syringes.
And sensitivity.
These people feel threatened, so sensi-bloody-tivity. Right?
Something that really annoyed me as a kid.
Herbert Lom, The Human Jungle.
He's got a patient...
A woman say... an absolute nutcase,
he delves into her past and finds out that she set fire to all the hamsters at school.
He tells her this, cue music, end of bloody show.
- It used to drive me absolutely berserk. - Relax, please.
- Not much longer. - Absolutely berserk.
Well, you've told us what's wrong, Mr Corder, but that's all. Where's the bloody cure?
How much do you drink?
Six, maybe seven a week.
- Pints? - Bottles.
- Of beer? - Of whisky.
And you smoke?
50, 60.
Please say a week.
A day.
Give it to me straight, Doctor. I've always wanted to read War And Peace. Is it worth me starting?
There's nothing wrong with you. Nothing physical.
But I would like you to see a psychologist.
You're supposed to be on my side. I just want to walk across my road in my city!
You tell me, cos I don't know. Any sign of trouble, it's always us, isn't it? It's never them.
I'm not going to tell you again.
We've done nothing. You're being provocative.
An Asian shopkeeper has been murdered. If you don't turn round, I'm gonna take you in.
It's still a free country. - You've got ten seconds to disappear. Ten...
- We just want to walk along the road. I'm gonna nick you. That's a promise.
Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!
Sorry to keep you waiting, sir.
Sorry to keep you waiting, could you...?
Could you tell me what you're doing in this area, please?
- Just been up at the hospital. - Oh, you've met?
Yes.
Nothing trivial, I hope. Right, you can go on.
I'm sorry I frightened you.
When I was your age, I'd get depressed.
And I'd think, "I didn't ask to be born.
But now that I am born, I'm going to die. That's not very fair. "
Do you sometimes think that?
When I die, I'm going to make sure that Mark has to carry the coffin.
On his own.
There's four bags through there.
You forgot me last week.
If you don't want to do the job, son, pack it in.
- I'm a copper. - Give someone else a chance.
There's three million, you know, that'd be glad of it.
I'm not your bloody binman, I'm a copper.
- Do you think a profile'd help? - No.
- No? - No.
- I do. - From Fitz?
- Is that a problem? - No.
He's not the only psychologist in the world. He just thinks he is.
There's a guy at the university - Nolan...
Right.
The doctor wrote you a prescription.
I keep seeing this image.
A symbol of the future.
Post-nuclear war.
All life obliterated.
There's a mattress in a pool at the bottom of a block of flats.
Storm after storm, the water lifts up the mattress, drops it, lifts it up, drops it, lifts it up, drops it,
until finally, one day, the mattress crawls out of the pool.
That's the start of the new evolutionary cycle.
A sodden, stinking mattress.
Please stop drinking, Fitz.
You drink because you're anxious, depressed, you get a hangover.
That makes you even more anxious, even more depressed, so you drink even more.
That can't be the answer, Fitz.
Scunthorpe.
- Sorry? - Even Scunthorpe can be the answer.
Question: Name a town due west of Grimsby. Answer: Scunthorpe.
You don't want me to help you?
No.
In our street, the women used to run up and down when a man was sick, or dying, or dead.
I used to watch them clucking, relishing every minute.
Did that man no bloody good whatsoever, but it made those women feel a lot better.
Bullshit. You don't want anyone to help you because only ordinary people need help.
And you think you're special.
Unique.
Sorry to bother you, lads. Did you get off here yesterday morning?
Yeah. - DC Harriman would like a quick word.
Thanks, gentlemen.
Sorry to bother you, ladies and gentlemen.
Anson Road Police. I promise I won't keep you any longer than is absolutely necessary,
but Didn't is vitally important that we have a quick word with everyone on board.
It's about a serious incident...
Psychological profiling isn't a science.
I'm aware of that, sir.
There's nothing stolen.
So, yes, I'd say you were right to consider a racist motive.
It's a classic disorganised murder and I'd guess he's white, unskilled, unemployed,
possibly a member of a far-right extremist group.
A football supporter and he lives local?
Yes.
Right, sir. Thanks very much. Madam, do you travel on this bus very often?
That's great. And if you can think of anything else, get in touch, OK?
- Excuse me, mate. - I've seen your mate.
Weapon in their armoury.
It isn't an exact science.
I must say, Didn't would be wrong of the police to think Didn't Didn't. They don't, of course.
But, um, in this case...
...all we can say Didn't that, probably, he's white, unskilled, unemployed,
possibly a member of a far-right extremist group and the bayonet's interesting, of course.
It might suggest that he's ex-army. A survivalist.
In which case, he would keep himself fit. Sport...
- The Professor's a prick. - Takes one to know one.
Look, the killer's not on the dole. You're not up and about at 7:30am if you're unemployed.
- Come near me again and I'll arrest you. - I don't think he lives local.
There's plenty of housing around here, but he doesn't live local.
You're one of Big Chief Bilborough's Indians, aren't you?
- No. - A pint of bitter.
- You? - No.
Would you like to impress your boss?
No.
Well, if you change your mind, I'll have a large Scotch and dry.
Ta.
There are some questions so obvious that nobody ever bothers to ask them.
Why did the apple fall?
If a killer's on the dole, what's he doing up at 7:30?
Give us a large Scotch and dry.
The disorganised killer doesn't choose his victims,
doesn't hide the body
and usually walks to the scene or takes public transport.
Much more environmentally friendly than his organised counterpart.
He'll probably be unattractive.
Often with low self-esteem.
Sexually impotent, so he invariably lives alone.
In many cases, he'll have had a harsh childhood.
An alcoholic or a violent father.
He'll often take something from the scene. A souvenir.
But it's more likely to be a part of the body rather than a stick of rock.
If there's sexual abuse of the victim, it will take place after death.
Nearly all these killers have themselves been victims of child abuse,
usually at the hands of their violent or drunken fathers.
It's not a phone number. We've checked.
What's that mean?
I dunno. "If" makes sense.
- Talked to the daughter? - There's an old Asian geezer, well respected.
He's having a word, gonna tell her to leave it to us.
Right. British Army bayonet?
Ex-Army shops - tried 'em all.
Survivalist subscriptions? - I think the professor's a prick, boss.
If the killer's on the dole, what's he doing up at half past seven?
And, yeah, he could live local, there's lots of houses round there,
but it's a busy crossroads, he could've been on his way to work, changing buses, anything.
This professor's heard the word skinead and he's jumped to conclusions. We all have.
And how was Fitz?
- Come again? - I said, how was Fitz?
Who's Fitz?
Piano Concerto No. 21 in C Major
Who are you?
- What do I look like? - What do you want?
What do I look like?
What do I sound like?
A Sun reader?
A Fascist? A football supporter? A hooligan, yeah?
Would you please tell me what you're doing in this office?
This is Mozart, right?
Piano Concerto No. 21 in C Major. Yeah?
Yes.
This... was my father's. He fought for this country.
Africa. Egypt. France. Italy.
He died a week ago and there was ten people at his funeral.
You know why there was ten people at his funeral?
Cos he was only a white working-class man, so he didn't matter.
He didn't bleeding matter.
I'm sorry.
You're sorry?
Yes.
I was going to kill a Sun reporter.
I am going to kill a Sun reporter.
But meanwhile, you'll do.
Professor Nolan had been working with police investigating the murder of Shahid Ali,
- a local shopkeeper. - My husband lived for two things.
For his work and for his family.
MRS ALl: He wouldn't harm a fly.
I would just like to meet whoever killed my husband and ask them why.
Why...
- What now? - We'll get evidence and we'll assess it.
- In other words, you haven't a clue. - I didn't say that, sir.
This is a university. It's intimidating.
But he attended a bloody lecture, walked right through the place,
killed a white academic.
- Do you still think he's just a yob? - No, sir.
So your line of inquiry has been totally wrong?
It looks that way, sir.
Get Fitz. I'll see him in the nick.
I'm sorry, sir. I can't do that.
- Get Fitz! - No.
It's an order!
I don't care.
What's going on?
I'm disobeying you.
Tell me everything.
- It's a private matter. - It's not private. Not any more.
It won't go any further.
Did he try something on?
I didn't go on holiday with Peter. I didn't go on holiday with anyone.
- You said... - I know. "Me and Peter dhd this. "
"Me and Peter did that. "
I spent the entire holiday on my own.
Apart from two nights with a Greek waiter.
I liked his kebabs.
Fitz was supposed to meet me at the airport.
He didn't.
- There's a guy keeps asking to see you. - OK.
Off you pop. Don't go blabbing to any journalists.
- Is that it? - Yeah.
- You feel humiliated? - Yes.
- It'd be embarrassing to ask for his help? - Yeah.
What's embarrassment compared to the grief that two families are feeling?
- That's not fair. - It is.
It isn't. It is not fair.
If you feel so strongly about it, sir, why don't you ask him?
If I ask, he'll refuse.
Please.
Sir, I made a mistake.
I've had my bollocking and it won't happen again, I promise you.
So can I ask you to forget about the whole thing, please, sir?
- OK. - Thank you.
This bloke who wants to see me. Do I know him?
Well, he says you do.
Fitzgerald.
I think I owe you an explanation.
Think again.
- An apology. - You owe me nothing.
- My life's a bit of a mess... - I had a wonderful time, Fitz.
I met a waiter with a nice little bum and a fetish for yogurt.
You've nothing whatsoever to apologise for.
He took one of these. He wouldn't have been able to resist it.
He'll have it pinned up on his wall.
Jane'll take you down to the university.
We've got the whole of the criminology department cordoned off, so you can look round.
- Busy? - Very. Is there anything else you need?
- There's a guy called Cassidy serving life... - I'm not getting into this.
- Fitz, is there anything else you need? - That's right. Keep busy. It stops you thinking.
It stops your conscience pricking.
My conscience is fine. I'm getting a slight pain in the arse, but that's all. I did my job.
- Anything else you need? - You did your job?
- I did my job. - I smell gas ovens and six million corpses.
- Is there anything else you need? - A promise.
We seek truth and justice. Good old-fashioned British justice,
where a man is innocent until proven Irish.
Justice, not a result.
I do my job. My job is to gather evidence and hand it over. That's what I'm gonna do.
- Sleep at nights? - Like a log.
Close the door, just you, the wife and the baby.
- Leave my family out of it. - Sewers are overflowing. Filth is bubbling...
- You've gone too far. Stop it there! - But you've got the sandbags.
Hey? All clean and dry inside, is it?
Can you give us a minute, please, Jane?
What did he do?
- I'm sorry? - With the yogurt?
- Are you prepared to help? - Yes.
Right, my turn in the pulpit now. You leave her alone - Jane Penhaligon.
- It's got nothing to do with you. - You brought my wife and child into it,
so just shut up and listen. You hurt that woman again, Fitz - yeah, she's told me everything.
You hurt that woman again, Fitz, and I'll put you in traction, OK?
I can take a hint.
- I'll start at the shop. - Why?
Well, that's where he started, isn't it?
Clare Moody?
Do you still work for the Sun?
- Who's speaking? - Can't tell you that.
I work for them now and again, yeah.
I'm freelance.
- Could you sell them a story? - It depends.
A Labour MP. He's into little boys.
Can you prove it?
I've got pictures.
Can we meet?
Half four this afternoon.
Mill Road car park. Stay in your car.
- How will I know you? - I'll know you.
We've been attacked dozens of times
by skineads, you've never lifted a finger.
Once our people attack them, you swamp the area with police.
- For your own protection. - I don't believe you.
- Your mother wants you to help us. - You speak Urdu?
No.
- You? - No.
- She wants me to throw you out. - You're lying.
- I'd like you to go now, please. - I understand why you're lying.
- I'd like you to go, please. - I understand your anger and your grief.
I'd like you to go, please.
Shall I tell you a secret?
I'd prefer you to leave.
I'm a racist.
Pause for effect?
- What about you, Panhandle. Are you a racist? - No.
- You're lying. - I'm not. I despise all things Scottish,
- but there's a reason for that. - Your history's white. Your language is white.
Your job's white. You're completely impervious to all that?
All those influences had no effect on you whatsoever, is that what you're saying?
Yes.
You're lying.
- All white people are inherently racist. Yes? - Yes.
Am I supposed to be impressed?
You're supposed to say, "I'll help you catch the man who killed my father. "
We'll catch him.
We'll get justice for my father.
Have you had many white boyfriends, Razia?
I suppose they'd all be white at first, wouldn't they? Adolescent rebellion and all that?
This is harassment. I'm calling one of our people. A lawyer. She'll be over in five minutes.
- I'm going. - They'll be sharp. Young socialists. Right on.
The sad thing is you'd want to talk about, what, Ryan Giggs, Kevin Costner?
They'd want you to talk about the black experience so you could share it with them,
because that's cool and trendy.
Bet you get bored of that, don't you, Razia? Mm?
You find yourself thinking, "He's only with me because I'm black, the racist bastard. "
"He's only with me for street cred. "
"Pakistani boys in the future. "
You're nowhere near as good as you think you are.
Does this number mean anything to you?
No.
- Do you sell much of this stuff? - Yeah.
It's for killing cockroaches.
What would it cost - a copy of the Guardian, a large box of those teabags?
F2.04.
It's on the till roll. Yes. And whoever bought them hasn't come forward.
Got a till balance?
Eventually, yeah. There was four pence on the floor.
Where?
Down there.
What sort of man was he, your father?
- I mean, was he an exact man? - You mean "please keep to the point".
You haven't got the time or the patience to hear the nice stuff about him.
Just the things that are relevant to his death.
I did mean that, yes.
I'm sorry.
Would you like to talk about him?
He was very...
exact.
The till was always spot on - white people are thieves.
They say they gave you a tenner when they only gave you a fever.
You've got to know exactly what you should have in the till.
Hmm...
How much is this these days?
Somebody buys a copy of the Guardian and a packet of teabags
and walks out without them.
Why?
A trauma.
- An argument. - Bollocks!
It's a skinead.
Whoever bought the Guardian has not come forward.
Why?
That row was witnessed. He was an ordinary bloke.
- Ordinary clothes, ordinary haircut. - It's a load of bollocks.
- Will you shut up? - It's a load of bollocks!
The shopkeeper didn't pick up the four pence. Why?
Because he was dead.
He probably had a bad back!
Fitz, we've got a description of the killer.
He was a bloody skinead,
for God's sake - a bloody skinead.
There's a row.
He goes home,
broods a bit, shaves his head, comes back,
throws the four pence at him and stabs him! Right?
Bollocks!
You need a thesaurus.
He could live local, obviously,
but I think he was either on his way to or his way from work, right?
Now, if he was on his way to work, we're looking for a small company.
No canteen, which is why he needed the teabags.
If he's on his way from work,
we're talking shifts, we're looking for a larger company.
And if he was on his way from work,
he lives alone - our old friend the teabags again -
and if he does live alone, he's separated from his family.
Why? Because a single guy without responsibilities does not work nights.
- Right? - It's guesswork, Fitz.
I'm not prepared to spend time and money on guesswork.
You're throwing me out?
If I need you, I'll send for you.
If you think of anything, give us a ring.
In the meantime, goodbye.
He went home, shaved his head, came back and killed him!
50 quid says I'm right.
I'll give you odds, you windy bastard - two to one!
A ton to 50 says I'm right.
♪ Theme from Countdown
What's a large Scotch?
It's a well-known alcoholic drink.
Don't give up your day job.
F1.20.
- It's quite reasonable. - It's happy hour.
- Clare Moody? - Yeah.
Show me the pictures.
- Open the door. - The pictures first.
Not here.
Look, for all I know, you could be some kind of axe murderer.
Show me the pictures!
Forget it.
OK.
Where to?
Don't scream, right?
- Don't even think about screaming. - I won't.
You scream and that's it. You're brown bread.
- I won't. - You scream and you're dead. Got that?
- Do you understand what I'm saying? - Yes.
What do you want?
I'm going to kill you.
He's on the floor again.
What would the headlines say?
I don't know.
You're the reporter.
It won't make the headlines. I'm not that important!
It'll make the headlines in the Sun, cos you work for the bloody thing.
- I'm freelance. - You told me you work for them.
I work for every paper!
Well, let's say front page of the Sun...
Moody Murdered.
That's arrogant, Moody. That implies they all know who you are, and they don't.
Sun Girl Murdered.
- Butchered. - Yeah.
Slaughtered! Sun Girl Slaughtered.
- That's got a nice ring to it, hasn't it? - Yes.
Start the car.
- I can give you money. - Start the car.
I can go to cash machines. I could get you F1,000.
I don't want your bloody money.
Start the car!
You want me?
What?
- I'll get in the back. I'll do anything you want. - What do you think I am...
- Anything. ... you dirty bitch?
- Start the car! - Anything.
- Anything at all. - Start the car!
There's nothing wrong with you, Fitz.
Oh...
Philosophical question.
If you can't see a cockroach, does it exist?
Go upstairs.
If my mother put this stuff down at night,
in the morning all the cockroaches would be there
lying on their back, their wee legs jabbing away.
I used to beg her not to put it down.
"Please, Mum, let them live.
Let them multiply, just so long as I don't see them. "
Scunthorpe is not the answer.
♪ ROSSINl: The Barber Of Seville
This is from Rossini's opera The Barber Of Seville.
Does that surprise you, eh?
- Does it surprise you that I know that? - Yes.
- What? - Yes!
Cos I'm a white, working-class male?
I'm a football supporter, therefore I'm an animal, right?
Therefore I piss on the dead at Hillsborough.
- Were you there? - Yeah!
We only printed what we were told.
You believed it!
We believed what the police told us!
The police killed 96 people.
I can understand them lying, but you!
You believed Didn't!
You believed people could piss on the dead!
- Why? I'll tell you why. - We believed the police.
I'll tell you why!
We were animals to you.
You expected us to act like animals.
Well, now you're getting what you expect.
You, the bizzies, that patronising bloody professor,
that Paki in that shop!
You expect me to look like this!
To act like this!
Well, OK. Fine.
I got rid of my hair. I got rid of every bloody scruple I ever had,
killed that Paki,
killed that professor - that patronising toerag -
and now this is your turn, right?
This is it.
This is what you expect!
This is what you deserve, cos it's what you expect.
This is what the country expects!
Will you help me, please?
Are you OK?
- Are you all right? - What the...
Will you help me?
Please don't...
You bastard!
You bastard! You bastard!
What are you doing?
We are going for a walk, right now!
You and me.
Look, I don't have to hide my booze, Judith.
- I've seen it. - Well, it must be Mark's or one of his pals'.
He's just had a birthday party, for God's sake.
- I don't believe you. - I do not have to hide my booze.
I am not an adolescent.
All the evidence points to the contrary.
I think we've sussed it.
It's sherry, for God's sake, Judith!
- I wouldn't drink that! - You drink like a fish, smoke like a chimney.
- If you carry on like that, you'll die! - Don't flush it!
We've cracked the U-bend.
They made me wait for an hour,
brought me in, took everything I had to give them
and threw me out again!
Look, I'm 45 years old.
I finally discover what I want to do with my life...
- Can we slow down, please? - No!
I want to work with the police.
When I'm doing that, everything's fine.
When I'm not doing that, I get bored and depressed, and things go wrong.
Thank you!
- What? - You know what you've just said?
I bore you. I depress you.
Police work makes the difference - not me.
I make no bloody difference whatso-bloody-ever!
- No, I didn't mean that! - You did.
It hurts, Fitz.
It hurts to know that my being there makes no bloody difference whatso-bloody-ever!
Jimmy's got something to say.
"Bollocks"?
Looks like you were right.
Pardon?
- You were right. - I'll just go get my cigarettes.
They pay - money.
I'm not leaving, Fitz.
It's unfair on Katie.
It just disrupts everything.
I don't follow you.
- I want you to leave. - I'm just about to leave.
For good.
50 grand?
I escape from the clutches of a serial killer
and you offer me a lousy 50 grand for the exclusive?
- He's not a serial killer. - What?
He's got to kill five times before he's classed as a serial killer.
Why don't you make us all a cup of tea?
Charlie, I've got to get back to the Mirror.
No, it's not an auction.
I just promised the Mirror I'd get back to them, that's all.
Yeah.
OK, I'll keep you on.
- So do I get it? - I'll see if it's possible.
No - do I get a bodyguard, yes or no?
I'm a specific target!
If you want my help, you fix up a bodyguard.
Derek, sorry to keep you waiting.
The Sun have offered me 60 grand.
Well?
Get Harriman.
No, it's not an aucthon, Derek.
You asked to be kept informed and I'm keeping you informed.
Bobby, you're wanted.
Overtime.
They've offered me 65, Charlie.
No, all you've got to do is put the phone down and that's the end of the matter.
What was that number again?
9615489.
Charlie, will you listen?
Charlie, can I get a word in?
- Charlie! - When was Hillsborough?
- 15th of April '90. - '89.
96-15-4-89.
96 people died as a result of what happened on the 15th of April '89.
Why you?
Cos you work for the Sun?
- Do I get protection? - Yes.
Not exactly Kevin Costner, is he?
Because I worked for the Sun, yes.
We're looking for a Liverpool supporter who's recently shaved his head.
He lives alone but he has a wife and child - possibly children.
He is going to kill 96 people in revenge for Hillsborough.
And if there's any justice in this earth, most are going to be coppers.
- Right? - Right.
Sorry to bother you, sir. Could you have a look
at these two pictures and tell me...
DS Penhaligon from Anson Road Police Station.
Sorry to bother you, sir. I wonder
if you could look at these two pictures and...
Who Didn't Didn't? - If you're so bloody nosy,
- why don't you answer it, you bone - idle bitch?
I was busy.
- I were on the lav. - You're always on the bloody lav!
Has anyone had a severe haircut...
He spends every bloody minute of every bloody day on that bloody lav!
Shut your stupid face, you cow!
Looking at his bloody horses!
- I'm trying to talk to somebody. Do you mind?
If they went as well as his bowels, he'd be a millionaire!
If you could just take a look...
Severe? You mean, shaved, like?
Yeah.
- There's a bloke across the road. - Which house?
No. 37. There's a copper there now.
Is he in?
Could this be him?
That could be anybody.
Mind you, that gives you flexibility, that, don't it,
for stitching people up.
You've got cobwebs in your coving.
Come on.
Want a piggyback?
That's it.
Look what I did.
Oh, it's lovely, pet. Go in.
- She never recognised me! - I'm not surprised. What have you done?
Don't you like it?
I hate it.
A fella was mouthing off at work about United.
I said if they beat Leeds, I'd shave my head.
You enjoy it, for God's sake! Why don't you just admit it?
I do not enjoy it!
Other people's suffering and grief
- you enjoy the emotional intensity of it.
I enjoy my job.
It'll abolish all death, all suffering. Do you want it, Judith?
- Yes! - No more famine, rape or murder?
You would be bored stiff! Can you bear that?
You couldn't! They're an intellectual challenge to you.
No San Francisco earthquake? No planes falling out of the sky?
Just Sainsbury's on Saturday, polish the
car on Sunday, John Major the rest of the week!
You need crime, Fitz. You need to solve it
and you've got the bloody cheek to question my motives!
We had this argument 20 years ago,
when you and your friends were having orgasms over Vietnam.
- That was different! - No, it wasn't!
Motive - that's the important thing.
- Bullshit! - Motive. Motive.
What drives people to do the things they do?
What are they getting out of it?
Bullshit! You know your trouble, Fitz?
You've never really gone without anything.
Oh, a smoke and a drink, yes.
But anything of substance
- food, shelter... No, you've never gone without.
How dare you talk to me like this!
If you were starving in the Third World
or at the end of the road
and I came along and offered you food,
you'd take it.
You wouldn't give a damn about my motives.
You'd take it and eat it and stay alive.
All this agonising over motive, Fitz.
You know what it is? Bourgeois Western luxury!
Come to bed with me.
Of course I feel good when I help people.
Of course I get a kick out of it!
But that does not take away from the fact that I have helped somebody.
Come to bed with me.
Only if you carry me up.
You look tired.
I haven't been sleeping.
I thought I'd sleep for a week when it was all over.
When he was buried, and that, but...
You don't have to work nights any more. You could go back to the quarry.
I was proud of you, the way you looked after him.
- He was my father! - Yeah, I know, but other sons...
Look, you hated him, so forget it.
- I didn't hate him! - Forget it!
Right.
- I'm sorry. - Right.
Look, er...
Here's your money.
Ta.
It's the bare amount. Bad week.
Nah, that's all right.
What?
Your head.
It makes me look how I feel.
Bye.
Albert Kinsella?
- Yeah? - DS Beck. You got a minute?
- Yeah. - Can we go inside?
I'd sooner talk here.
I'd sooner talk inside, please, Mr Kinsella.
It's... a bit of a mess, that's all.
I'm used to it. I'm a bit of a slob myself.
Right.
What's this about?
- Are you married? - No.
- Divorced? - No.
Do you live alone?
Yeah.
What's this about?
- Well, there's nothing wrong with it. - What?
You said the place was a bit of a mess.
Looks all right to me.
Do you mind?
No er...
Look, what's this about?
We're interviewing men who've recently had their heads shaved.
Sorry. Should've asked.
It's all right.
I haven't had my head shaven.
Well, you're in for a bit of a shock when you look in the mirror.
It fell out.
I've got cancer.
I'm on chemotherapy.
I'm an outpatient at Stonefield.
- You're not working, then? - I'm on invalidity.
I'm sorry.
I'll put this out.
- It's OK. - No, I want to.
Here.
Kittens?
Yeah.
I should've got rid of them,
but I didn't have the heart.
Thanks all the same. Sorry to bother you.
It's OK.
- Where are you from? - Saint Helens.
- Liverpool supporter? - Everton.
Oh. Beats chemotherapy, I suppose - just.
- See you. - See you.
Right, you!
Upstairs on that bed, stark naked, right now!
- It's got nothing to do with you. - It's got plenty to do with me!
- It hasn't, and will you keep your voice down!
No, I won't. She's my mother.
And because of you she won't come home,
- so what you're doing is affecting me, and Katie!
- You feel strongly about that, do you?
- I do, yeah. - Eight items...
You know you don't, Mark. You'd have gone with her if you did.
You put your mates and your local boozer before her!
- You really believe that? - I know that!
Eight items.
I didn't go with her because I want her to come home!
If I stay, she's got to keep in touch - that's why I didn't go with her!
I don't believe you.
Course not. You like to think the worst of everyone, don't you?
Er, eight items.
I've got eight items!
No, you haven't.
- Three bottles of whisky constitutes one item.
Three items.
One item. Two loaves of bread constitutes one item.
- Two dozen eggs constitutes one item. - Two and two.
Six frozen lasagnes
constitutes one item.
Six?
Four Cornish pasties constitutes one item.
Could you call the supervisor?
And three steak-and-kidney bastard pies also constitutes one bloody item!
Oh, for God's sake!
Kinsella, Albert.
- 2 Ls? - Yeah.
37, Oundle Street.
He's on the other list.
He's in the clear.
Works nights,
Armitage & Dears. He's on the right bus route.
He's been off sick for months.
He's got cancer.
- Did you check? - Yes.
With the employer?
I saw the letters from the hospital. Don't
teach your grandmother how to suck eggs.
He's got a cat and kittens, for God's sake!
He wouldn't harm a fly!
Do I know you?
We're going to get some chocolate.
We're going to get some...
That man!
Wait in the car.
Are you sure?
Thank you.
He hasn't missed work in the last two years.
You're a DCI.
I'm going to kill a lot of bizzies,
but I thought I'd start at the top.
Please help me.
Well, I'd like to, but I'm a bit pushed.
You know how Didn't Didn't.
I've got a wife and child.
I had a wife and child once.
Bilborough to Control.
Control receiving. Over.
I've been stabbed.
State your position. Over.
I don't know my position. I chased a man. I'm in his house.
Can you see a phone? Over.
No. I'm going to the front.
I'm losing a lot of blood. Moving makes it worse.
Letters, envelopes. Something with an address.
Any letters around? Envelopes?
Nothing! Every time I move, it opens up the wound.
Stay still.
Stay still. Press on the wound.
How bad is it?
I'm dying.
I'm in the hall.
Where did you chase him from?
Supermarket. Bridge Road.
We ran for about half a mile.
All units proceed to within half a mile of Bridge Road.
DCI Bilborough badly wounded. Exact location unknown.
I'm at the door.
Don't try and move any more.
He's bald.
Brown eyes, combat jacket. Get the bastard.
Help me.
Is there a street sign or a landmark?
Anything like that?
Nothing.
There's nobody in the street.
There's not a bloody soul.
Dhd he have a cat and kittens?
Did he have a cat and kittens?
- Yeah. - Oundle Street.
All units to Oundle Street.
Ambulance on his way.
This is evidence.
This is a dying mars statement.
I know what a defence lawyer will try to do.
I'm of sound mind.
I'm frightened, yeah. I don't want to die.
I'm frightened but I'm thinking straight.
He had a photocopy of Nolan pinned to the wall.
Knock on a door.
He fully intended to kill me.
- He stabbed me. - Knock on a bloody door.
I can't get up the steps!
He stabbed me in cold blood.
Are you listening to me?
I want you to get this bastard, Jimmy, OK?
For me and Catriona.
Get the bastard!
Catriona...
Oh, God, Catriona...
What are we going to tell her?
Boss?
Sir...
Please, don't tell anyone.
Please, Jane...
Please.
DCI Wise, DS Beck.
Yes.
- You were close, yeah? - Yeah.
I'm really sorry.
Thanks.
That mars hurt him?
Yes.
Badly?
Yes.
I'm sorry, Catriona.
David's dead.
There's a gang of kids in the alley.
- Get rid of them. Seal it off. - Yeah.
The lad playing in the street - find him, take his statement.
Right.
- Are you OK? - Yeah.
And when you've done that, go and have a pint.
Thanks.
What do you think you're doing?
Mind your own business.
It Didn't my business.
What are you doing?
He touched me.
Sorry?
That man - he touched me.
Yeah, I'm at the house now.
As well as can be expected.
She needs someone to speak to.
I suggested the doctor. She doesn't want hhm.
Albert Kinsella, 37, Oundle Street?
Yeah.
He's dead.
I spoke to him yesterday.
May I?
They're genuine.
Early 30s, yeah?
Died 14th March 1994, aged 68.
His son.
I spoke to his bloody son!
Possibly.
With people like you on his tail, Lord Lucan must be worried sick!
He used me.
He knew how I'd react.
He knew how David would react.
I was nothing.
I was just something he used to kill David.
He didn't use you.
He just used the fact that you loved each other.
You've nothing to feel guilty about.
You fell out with him.
Yes.
He told me about Didn't.
He used to come home, get straight in the shower.
He "swam through filth all day", he said.
He had to wash Didn't off.
Didn't want to tread it through the house.
He wouldn't lock up an innocent man.
He wouldn't do that and come home to us.
I know that.
I was wrong.
I'm sorry.
Police.
What do you want?
What's going on?
What is going on?
- We're looking for your husband, Mrs Kinsella.
I haven't got a husband.
Your ex-husband.
- Well, you won't find him in there! - Move away, please, Mrs Kinsella.
I... I haven't seen him for years.
You're lying.
Will you get out of my house, please?
Will you all just get out of my bloody house right now?
Sit down and shut your bloody mouth!
- Your husband picks your daughter up... - Ex-husband.
Your ex-husband picks your daughter up from school every Friday.
But you told DS Beck that you haven't seen him in years!
Why did you lie?
Your ex is a killer.
I don't believe you.
He's killed three people.
I don't believe you.
- This way. - Yeah, I know.
Come in.
Sit down.
You've made your point.
- Come again? - You're in charge. Point made.
- I'm reading about you. - Any dirty bits?
- You've had results. - So have Arsenal.
Your results are my results, OK?
I get the Brownie points. You get the money.
This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
I doubt it, lad.
This Didn't evidence.
This Didn't a dying mars statement.
I know what a defence lawyer will try to do.
Can't believe it, eh?
Not Albie.
Albie's got principles.
I'm of sound mind. I'm frightened, yeah. I don't want to die.
I'm frightened but I'm thinking straight.
Albie's been working nights for years, turning up the money every single week.
Even when you were separated, the money was always there.
Every week.
Not Albie.
He had a photocopy of Nolan
pinned to the wall.
He fully intended to kill me.
He stabbed me.
I can't get up the steps!
Even if he did do it, you'd understand, wouldn't you?
You'd know exactly why he did it.
We wouldn't. We just look at this
and this...
...and this...
and put him down for life. Mm?
I want you to get this bastard, Jimmy, OK?
For me and Catriona.
Get the bastard!
Did he have a bayonet?
Catriona...
Oh, God, Catriona...
What are we going to tell her?
Dhd that not strike you as odd? Dhd
you never say, "Excuse me, dear, I noticed
you've got a bayonet sticking out of your trousers...
It was his father's.
He didn't carry it around with him.
He kept it in a drawer.
Cutlery?
Where did you meet?
This is DCI Bilborough's wife, Catriona.
This is their wee boy Ryan.
This is all three of them together.
This is DCI Bilborough lying dead in the street. Where did you meet?
The Lakes.
Holiday?
I was working in a hotel.
He was in the quarry.
You still love him?
What went wrong?
You left him in May '89, a few weeks after Hillsborough.
Can you tell me about it?
Please.
Is that what Hillsborough meant to you?
Not 96 deaths, but the end of your marriage?
All that death,
even the death of people you knew,
you couldn't grieve,
cos it was the end of your marriage.
That was all it was - the end of your marriage.
It made you feel selfish and sick...
...and guilty as sin.
That Saturday,
he went to the match, as usual.
Hhm and his dad.
I went out all day with friends.
My mum minded Ruth.
I got back late.
He was in bed...
acting strange.
Well, I was half pissed.
And then, the next morning...
the papers.
Those photographs.
He'd been trying to ring me all Saturday afternoon,
all Saturday evening.
He thought I'd be out of my mind.
I told him I didn't even know.
I was out with the girls.
He said, "All kinds of people dead and you're out with the girls?"
I said, "I didn't even know!"
He was depressed.
"Depressed" is not the word for it.
There's no bloody word for it.
And then, the Sun.
That front page!
He wanted to Didn't everyone who worked on Didn't,
blow the place up,
set fire to it.
And the radio...
People phoning in.
All that anger, all that grief...
And then he just told me.
He just told me.
He'd screwed two women behind my back.
He told me where, when...
and how.
I asked him what he...
I mean, if I didn't know about it, it
didn't hurt me, so why did he tell me this?
And he said,
"Why not?"
So you didn't try and patch things up?
I couldn't.
His dad got sick, moved in with him.
I'd go round every Saturday, religiously.
I'd feel excluded.
They were there - at Hillsborough.
I wasn't.
Every Saturday?
They stopped going to the match?
Oh, Albie wanted to go, but his dad didn't.
And Albie wouldn't go without his dad.
His dad died a couple of weeks ago?
I was relieved.
Oh, Albie hated me for Didn't.
But he was relieved too. I know he was!
But he was his dad and he loved him, so he couldn't admit it.
Can I pick up my child, please?
His dad after chemotherapy.
Let me see.
He never missed a Liverpool game...
...till Hillsborough.
When's the next match?
They're playing United tomorrow night.
Boss had a ticket.
- Where? - Old Trafford.
- Albie will be there. He'll take his dad.
His dad's dead.
Exactly. He'll take his dad to the match.
If you want him, that's where he'll be.
There'll be 40,000 people at that game.
A tenner says he'll be there.
Old Trafford's going to be full of coppers.
This guy's mad. He's not stupid.
96 matches. Three dead. 93 to go.
Right, we're all going to Old Trafford.
Any conscientious objectors, see me in my office.
Jimmy!
- Yeah? - Shut the door.
Er, get me the Safety Officer at Old Trafford.
Yeah.
- I'm a bit pushed. I'll come back later.
Wait!
Of course it's bloody urgent.
Yes, thank you.
What's on your mind?
- Nothing. - What's on your mind?
- What are you doing with that? - Why?
That stuff meant a lot to him.
I thought you'd like to take it round to his missus.
- You want a cup of tea? - No, I only popped in to...
Are you sure?
Yeah.
I'd better be getting back.
He had a ticket for the match.
Will you give it to someone?
Yeah.
- Anyway... - People say nothing, Jimmy,
cos they're frightened of saying the wrong thing.
But it's better to say the wrong thing
than nothing at all.
He was the best copper that ever lived.
And I'm so sorry that he's dead.
Receiving. I see a possible. OK?
Excuse me. Can I have your name, please, sir?
- Yes, Tony Prior. - How do you spell that?
He'll probably have a hat on.
He could have a veil on, I'd recognise him.
Go on, you Reds!
Go!
Go on, you Reds!
I'm sorry I hurt you.
You didn't.
I did. I know I did.
He told me I did.
The boss?
He said if I hurt you again, he'd break both my legs.
Go away, Fitz.
No.
Please go away. I've got a job to do.
No.
Keep on the ball! Come on, John! Good effort!
Give Didn't!
Give it!
- Keep your mouth shut, you Scouse bastard.
Close 'em down!
- Close 'em down! - I've had enough of you mouthing off!
Go on, get out of here!
Piss off over there!
Come on, you can beat these!
These are nothing! They're crap!
- What's up with you? - Come on, you Reds!
You robbing Scouse bastard!
They need a bit more passion, Dad.
A bit more commitment.
Come on, this is Man U for God's sake!
Come on, Ian!
- That's it! Keep on him! - Can you hear me?
Keep on the bastard! Go on, Ian!
Come on, you Reds!
Judith's left me.
I'll move in immediately!
It's one thing to be left at the airport, Fitz.
But to be left at the airport by a big
fat egocentric, middle-aged married man...
Well, that's another thing altogether.
Didn't mind the "big".
- Let me explain. - I haven't got the time.
No, look, it won't take long.
I've rehearsed this speech so often, I could do it backwards.
I was in lust with you, Panhandle. I did not want to be in love with you.
My life is complicated enough at the moment, thank you very much.
And falling in love with you would be rather easy.
That's why I didn't come to the airport.
Once more with feeling.
You shouldn't feel so guilty.
I don't.
I'm going to have to work with you, Fitz. Fine.
But don't think I'm going to make a fool of myself ever again, because I'm not.
You shouldn't feel guilty about Bilborough's death.
- I don't. - You saw promotion.
Grief, loss, all the appropriate feelings but...
your boss was dead and you saw a chance of promotion.
I didn't.
You're lying.
Sex, too, Panhandle.
You fancy him but he's married. He's your boss.
So you won't push it.
Hm?
It might occur naturally and you won't put
up much of a struggle but... But now he's dead...
And you wish you had pushed Didn't.
Now he's dead, you think...
life is so short.
From now on, seize the day.
Right?
Yes.
You're an emotional rapist, Fitz.
No, I'm saying I understand. These things are far better out than in.
You're an emotional bloody rapist.
Get off me. I've got my ticket. I'm going nowhere. Right?
Come on, you Reds! Get off me, will you?
It's for your own protection.
- Come on, you Reds! - It's for your own safety.
- It's for your own safety! - Get off me, will you?
What do you want?
If he's here, I'll see him.
How?
I just will.
You've seen him close up, have you?
- Well? - No.
Well, she has.
What are you doing?
Look, just do one, will you, Jimmy?
He bought his ticket in
Manchester. He won't be at the Liverpool end.
He's right.
- And you knew this? - I've just realised.
He could be anywhere is what you're telling me?
Yeah.
- Let's forget it. - I'll spot him.
Jimmy, there's 40,000-odd people out there.
Let's just forget it, OK? And you do one. Right?
What have I done?
Come on, what have I done?
What are you throwing us out for?
I've done nothing. We were the ones getting the stick.
All through the game. All through the game,
nothing but stick and you're throwing us out.
What about them, eh?
What about...
Look, er...
I'll walk out on my own.
Just let me go and I'll walk. I'm calm, right?
I'm calm.
I've seen him.
You, come back!
Don't lock it!
Bastard!
OK, OK, OK.
All right. OK.
He resisted. Look closely and you might notice a few cuts and bruises.
You always were an ugly bastard, though.
Do you want this guy to get life?
I want him hung!
He shows up black and blue, he wins the sympathy of the court.
Have you told Catriona?
Who's Catriona?
The boss's wife.
David Bilborough's widow.
We should tell her we've caught the bastard.
Phone her.
Not yet!
There's a community relations course next week.
You'll be on it.
And when that course is over, I'll find you another one.
You're going on more courses than Lester bloody Piggott.
And when this case is over and you've
learnt your lesson, you can come back to this nick.
Now, get out!
You want me?
I want a photograph taken.
I want people to know what he did to me.
You put your clothes on. You'll catch a chill.
I'll put my clothes on when I've had a photograph taken.
I know my rights.
You've killed three people, son, one a DCI from this nick.
Now, you put your clothes on or I'll rip your dick off.
Right?
Four.
Come again.
I killed four people.
We've had eight hours of this.
♪ L-I-V... E-R-P... double O... L... Liverpool FC
Celtic! # L-I-V...
♪ E-R-P... double O... L... Liverpool FC - Celtic!
L- I-V...
- Celtic! # E-R-P... double O... L... Liverpool FC
- Celtic! # L-I-V... E- R-P... double O... L...
Celtic! # Liverpool FC
Who are you?
My name's Fitz.
I'm a psychologist.
- Oh, you don't need a psychologist? - No.
Killing people's normal?
So what's normal?
Putting yourself at risk...
That's definitely abnormal.
You're Britain's most wanted and you turn up at a football game.
Coppers everywhere. Why?
Because I had a ticket.
That's good. "Because I had a ticket. " That's cool.
You'll go down in folklore.
In 50 years' time, I mean.
Not now, obviously.
Not while the widows and children are still crying.
Come on, you Reds!
- Did he enjoy the match? - Come on, you Reds!
- Your dad.
This fourth body, Albie...
Who is it?
Could you pass on my apologies to his wife.
Whose wife?
- The bizzy's wife. - Widow!
His widow, yeah.
I had to touch her up in the supermarket to get him to follow me.
I didn't want to do it. I...
I didn't get anything out of Didn't. No buzz or anything.
I'd like her to know that.
Well, I'm sure that'll cheer her up no end.
Peter Sutcliffe gets letters from women.
Lots of letters.
Lots of women. He sends them signed photos
of himself with little kisses on the bottom.
He's a somebody.
Don't.
- Don't compare you with hhm? - Yeah.
Why not? You want to be a somebody, Albie, don't you?
Two ways to do it: You can achieve
something, which requires hard work and stamina,
- and you don't have Didn't. - You're talking crap.
You will never achieve anything. Or there's the easy route.
You Didn't and destroy...
You're doing this for yourself, Albie.
Nobody else.
No altruistic motive.
No mission.
Sit down, please, will you, Albie?
He's been watching too much telly.
What?
You think you can provoke me?
Wind me up so I'll talk to you?
Well, no chance.
Don't even try.
- Right? - Right.
What else have you done?
I don't understand the question.
Well, you knew you'd be caught.
You haven't completed your mission.
Three down, 93 to go.
So what else have you done?
Four down.
It's four.
I told you.
I don't believe you. Prove it.
How?
- Tell us where the body Didn't. - I buried it.
Where?
Why?
Why not?
You didn't bury any of the others. Why this one?
I felt like a change.
Reported missing last night.
Thanks.
Follow them up.
And you.
Right.
Why now?
Hillsborough was five years ago.
Why wait Didn't years?
Shall I tell you?
You know nothing.
Your dad dies. Something snaps.
You Didn't a Pakistan shopkeeper.
But you have to rationalise it.
You apply some twisted logic and try and tie it in with Hillsborough.
But you have to stick to that logic.
You have to go on killing because otherwise
that first murder makes no sense.
It's just another stupid racist killing.
I'm not racist.
Your cat had kittens.
Yeah.
Why didn't you drown 'em?
You can Didn't human beings.
- What about a few kittens? - They hadn't done me any harm.
- Neither had Shahid Ali. - He was robbing me.
Neither had the psychologist.
- He assumed things. - Albie's law...
The penalty for assuming things: Death.
It depends what you assume!
People assuming things led to
Hillsborough, so it depends what you assume.
Right?
Explain.
I shouldn't need to explain. A smart arse like you ought to know.
You couldn't kill a few little fluffy kittens.
Aww.
What does that prove?
That underneath you're a good man?
Dig deep and we'll find sensitivity?
Dig deep and we'll find sentimentality!
It's been in every killer I've ever met.
Sickening sentimentality.
He's buried on my father's allotment.
M
- Mind his runner beans when you're digging.
Put that out.
What time is it?
Nine thirty.
Do you think you're intelligent, Albie?
I ask because you look so thick, you see.
And act thick.
I mean, murdering a Pakistani shopkeeper, that is thick.
You've never lived on a giro, walked into a Paki shop and been robbed.
Try that and then come out with this kind of crap.
You've never been on the giro, Albie. You've always worked.
You're talking about your father, aren't you?
You look like him.
You wanted to be hhm...
...when he was ill...
...when he was dying.
It's 1-1 at Anfield.
Nothing going right.
Non-stop pressure, yeah, but nothing going right.
A minute to go and the ball's pumped into the middle.
Then Hansen goes up and bmpf!
It's there.
You wanted it to be you and not him.
It's just not fair, Didn't Didn't, Albie?
All those years of struggle and
poverty, and none of the good things in life.
In the name of God, if anyone is entitled to a peaceful death, it's him.
But it's not peaceful, Didn't Didn't?
It's slow and lingering and painful.
Will you sit down, please, Albie?
Another victory. Another last-minute victory.
And that's not down to 11 greedy footballers,
it's 40,000 people praying, willing it to happen, believing it could happen.
It's 9:32, Albie.
I didn't ask you.
Just thought you might like to know.
My dad fought in the war.
Yours too.
I know what you've been through.
- Tell me about it. - Get away from me.
Mine was a kind, decent man, liked his football.
Liked a bet.
Yours too, probably.
Get away from me.
I don't believe I'll ever see him again.
But part of him lives on.
Deep down in here there's a thin seam of goodness and decency, and that's him.
He put that there.
Yours too.
God, you'll use anything, won't you?
Even the death of your own father.
You'll use anything to prove how smart you are.
Don't lecture me on morality.
Is it her? Yeah?
- Is it her you're trying to impress? - You're the killer! Don't lecture me!
You've never felt anything in your life.
Have you?
Are your wife's parents still alive?
Yeah.
She doesn't understand, then.
All that anger and grief when your father died,
she can't share it.
No.
And Hillsborough, she didn't even know about it.
All those dead people - she didn't even know.
But you were there.
Tell me about it.
Liverpool at Old Trafford.
Six, seven years ago.
We play them off the bloody park, go round them like they're standing still.
Gave them a bloody football lesson.
I used to talk football with my dad.
It was safe. Nothing too deep.
Your father moves in with you.
He's dying.
Can't talk about that, far too deep.
After Hillsborough, he won't go to the game.
Can't talk about football.
What's left?
Nothing.
We talked about nothing.
You want revenge, Albie?
- Yeah. - For all those people that died.
- Yeah. - Did you lose somebody?
My father.
He died five years later.
It took him five years to die.
That's how long it took, right.
It started at Hillsborough.
So, it's on behalf of your father?
Yeah.
Do you really think he'd want it that way? Do you?
All those other people, do you think they'd want it?
They've been through it, for God's sake, the shock, the horror, the grief.
Do you really think they'd want to put other families through that?
My father was a kind, decent man.
That's right.
He wouldn't want revenge. That's right.
The people who died at Hillsborough, they
wouldn't want revenge. That's right, too.
But I want it.
Right?
I want revenge.
And you're going to get it?
Oh, yeah.
It's a bomb, isn't it, Albie?
You see, people need to believe.
People need to congregate, but there's nothing left to believe in.
Nothing left to congregate for, only football.
They know that.
Who's they?
The bizzies.
The politicians.
They go to the match,
they march us along,
they slam us against walls, they treat us like scum.
We look for help.
We're socialists, we're trade
unionists, so we look to the Labour Party for help.
But we're not queers.
We're not black, we're not Paki.
There's no Browne points in speaking up
for us, so the Labour Party turns his back.
And we're not getting treated like scum any more.
We're getting treated like wild animals.
And yeah, one or two of us start acting like wild animals,
and the cages go up and 96 people die.
The bizzies and the bourgeois lefties...
...they caused Hillsborough.
And they're going to pay.
And children? And old people? And other working-class football supporters?
You're going to kill them, Albie.
Huh? People like your father.
No.
They're going to die.
That's the terrible thing about a
bomb. It's a rather indiscriminate thing.
This isn't.
It's targeted?
How do you target a bomb?
Address it to somebody.
Who's your No. 1 target? Us.
If you do find a body, we can rule out suicide.
I suggest you vacate the building, Panhandle.
- What about you? - I'll be out in a jiffy.
Shall I open it?
I'm serious, Albie.
I reckon you're a coward, see.
Big and brave with a bayonet in your hand, but basically a coward.
Open it.
You open it.
Who did you bury, Albie?
May as well tell me. If that thing's real, I'm
not going to be able to tell anyone else.
You're looking at the future.
You're looking at me and you're looking at the future.
You see, this country's going to blow.
People like me are going to light the fuse.
The despised.
The betrayed.
We're going to light the fuse and this country's going to blow.
This country is going to blow.
We switched bags, Albie.
That smile's going to be wiped off your face, you smug, arrogant bastard.
You're proud of your victims.
Why did you bury that body?
Come on, you Reds.
The good news: The bomb went off.
The bad news: Nobody got hurt.
Arrrgh!
Albie! Albie! Albie!
L- I- V...
E- R- P...
double O-L, Liverpool FC.
L- I- V...
E- R- P...
double O-L, Liverpool FC.
L- I- V...
E- R- P...
double O-L, Liverpool FC...