01x02 - Episode 2

[bunniefuu]

HOBAN: 'At : this morning,
the body of a -year-old woman,

'Wilma McCann, was found
on the Prince Philip Playing Fields

'behind Scott Hall Avenue
in Chapeltown.'

She were a mother. Of four kids.

"prost*tute" doesn't come into it.

You got a place where we can go?

£ , Sydney. For how long would it
have been, five minutes?

No. You're my wife.

Mother of my children.

And someone has to provide for them.

Well, I find if you don't solve a
m*rder in the first couple of days,

it's an uphill struggle after that,
in't it?

How many men do you know
don't own a hammer?

Look, you'll catch him.

You always do.

There you go.
I said I didn't want toast.

Just eat it for me.

POLICE RADIO CHATTER,
DOOR CLOSES

FOOTSTEPS ON STAIRS

Dad.

Dad! Dad!

Better be bloody good.

Police are downstairs.

Get up!

DOORBELL RINGS

HE GROANS

Sydney Jackson?

As in husband to Emily Jackson?

Aye.

I'm afraid we might have
some very sad news.

'All we're after at this stage
is identification.'

Just a quick look
to confirm it's her.

It's not her.

Mr Jackson...

She'd have stopped out.

I said that, didn't I, in t'car?

She'd have stopped with a mate.

Well, if that's what happened,
and it's not your wife,

we'll still need that confirmation.

Dad...
I can't.

But what if it's not her?

Me?

Neil, is it?

Neil.

You're only going to see her face
today. All right?

In you come, lad.

BREATHES SHAKILY

Neil?

Good lad.

Brave lad.

'Irene or Eileen?'

Irene.

I've been a nanny twice before now.

One family had four children,
so three's no bother.

You can cook?

Mm-hm.
And clean?

I've been a chambermaid. In hotels.

When would you be needing
someone to start?

Well... there's other lasses to see.

And I'll need to speak
with my husband.

The whole thing could take weeks,
love.

Well, you want the very best person
for the job.

That's important.

Yes.

If you just take a seat in there
for me, please, Mr Jackson.

The Jacksons' neighbours say they
lost a teenage son a few years back.

Family's not been the same since,
apparently.

Right.
So what d'you reckon?

Professor Gee
reckons that they're linked.

Same injuries, same type of weapons,

same clothing removed as McCann...

Right.

Give us a nod when you
hear about the boot size.

Right.

We're roofers. Me, our Neil...

we do it together.

And Emily?

She did t'books. And driving.

Driving?

I-I don't drive. So she drove t'van.

Picking up, dropping off...

Bit like when your mum takes
you to school, that kind of thing?

She were hit in the head
with a hammer, Sydney.

That's what we think happened.

Then she were gone over
with some sort of implement,

a screwdriver, or chisel.

You being a roofer,

you'd have a tool bag yourself.

Aye.

Hmm. Does it have a hammer?

A screwdriver? Chisel?

What is this? What shoe size
are you there, Sydney?

Eh?
Answer the question.

But why, what's it to do wi'?

What's it to do wi'?

It's to do with the fact that we
found a footprint on Emily's thigh.

Someone stood on her.

Stood is wrong.

Stamped would be a better word.

And whoever did it was wearing
some sort of work boot.

So that's why he's asking.

So what shoe size are you?

Er...

..ten.

Let's have a look.
Eh?

Show us your foot.

Where were you last night, Sydney?

We went drinking. Me and Emily.

Where?

The Gaiety. Chapeltown.

But you left her behind. Went home.

She wanted to keep drinking?

So you had an argument, yes?
No.

No?

So you just left t'van in car park
and went home?

How?

Taxi.

If you'd have waited until you got
home before you k*lled her,

you'd have saved yourself the fare.

Water under the bridge now,
though, eh?

How did you meet Wilma McCann?

Who?
Work, was it?

If I open these books Emily keeps,
will they tell me

all about the roofing jobs
in Scott Hall Avenue?

Where?
Or were you a punter?

Is that why you drank in Chapeltown?

Wilma McCann had four kids, Sydney.

One more than your Emily.

That's seven kids without a mum.

Did you want her
all to yourself? Wilma?

That it?
SYDNEY SNIFFLES

Did you pick her up on October th

and k*ll her with tools
from t'back of your van?

I don't drive.

So you keep saying,
but we don't know that, do we?

KNOCK ON DOOR

It's a Wellington boot.

Dunlop Warwick, size seven.

SYDNEY: I don't know who that is.
Cheers.

Or did Emily go off with another
fella? Was that it?

It weren't like that.
Right, well, what were it like?

People weren't paying.

We'd all...

We'd all these bills.

We were... We were going under.

It were her idea, you know,
not mine.

Her idea?

To go with men.

She'd only done it a few times.

And you went wi' her?

Why?

Dunno, to be nearby.

So she knew I were in t'pub.

You know, in case.

In case of what?

In case summat happened.

Another woman has been
brutally m*rder*d in Chapeltown,

wounds in total.

Hammer to the head -
same force, same ferocity.

Followed by a sustained as*ault
to the neck, the body and the back,

with what the lab now thinks
is a crosshead screwdriver.

Whoever did this
m*rder*d Wilma McCann,

of that we are now certain.

He were also wearing
a size seven Wellington boot.

But at this stage, we're
keeping that detail to ourselves.

Right.

Let's start on Spencer Place,
Leopold Street, and t'Gaiety.

The drinkers - see who saw what.

And I want us logging plates
of any cars

seen cruising those streets over the
next couple of weeks.

If we head over to... So we had
it right the first time, sir?

Go on.

It's the whores he's after.

Well, we don't know...

Well, Wilma McCann was a prost*tute.

Emily Jackson was a prost*tute.

I don't know about you, sir,
but I can see a pattern emerging.

Well, if that's where evidence
is leading us,

then that must be the conclusion.

Right, as I said,
we'll head to the Gaiety first

and we'll go from there, please.

Thank you.

Back again?
What's that?

I didn't recognise you.
In your uniform.

Very funny.

I want you reading this.
Or at least looking at t'picture.

Don't tell me you don't know 'er!

I can't believe they're out already.

Not as many as normal
cos we're here.

'We now believe that this man
is targeting prostitutes.

'I'm sure this even stretches
to women who go in public houses.

'Women of rather loose morals...'

What's he on about?

'The victim was found
in an industrial area

'just off the Roundhay Road,

'an area prostitutes
are known to take their clients.'

Why's he saying that about me mam?!

'She had severe head injuries.

'There are other injuries.

'I'm not prepared to elaborate on
those at this time.'

'And you believe this man
will strike again?'

No, no, go back upstairs.
'That's not something we can say.

'But certainly, while this man
is at large, no prost*tute is safe.'

He's been through before, him.

Let's have a check.

Right, this'll do.
No-one's gonna see you here.

Were she a friend of yours, then?

Not really.

I'd seen her a couple of times.

She were old enough to be me mam,

but I were one who looked out for
her cos she were one that were new.

D'you know what I mean?

Last thing I remember,
she were gettin' into a car.

What kind of car?

I let her have it
cos I never liked the fella.

Not at all.
What kind of car?

A Land Rover.

Green.

No. We've got him.

He's not the man we're looking for.

Is it true he never even had
sex with her, just wanted her dead?

Where d'you hear that?

I'll take that as a yes, then.

Listen, Nicola,
we need you to think now.

Think about who you've gone with,
who you might've seen.

We're after a bloke you find
frightening.

Maybe not at first,
but when you're alone with him,

in his car or... wherever,

you start to realise,
this is a bloke who might lose it,

get violent, a bloke who puts
the fear of God into you

because he's got it in him
to hurt you at any time.

You know a punter like that?

We all do.

Well, it's all of them, in't it?

It's every bloke. Every...

Every time.
Every night of t'f*cking week.

HE BREATHES HEAVILY

DOOR OPENS

VOICES DOWNSTAIRS

VEHICLE STOPS OUTSIDE

DOORBELL RINGS

Mr Jackson... Mr Jackson, are you
a suspect in your wife's m*rder?

Did you not know she were on t'game?

Not many women of that sort
live round here...

Does that mean you've been cleared,
Mr Jackson?

Eh?
Have you been officially ruled out?

This is a respectable neighbourhood,
Mr Jackson. Are you her pimp?

Mr Jackson...

We can pay money, Mr Jackson,
let me know if you want to talk.

Who knows what the average
man gets up to,

left to his own devices.

And any fella who uses a prost*tute
doesn't go round bragging about it.

Doesn't go home to the wife saying,
"Guess where I've just been?"

Doesn't tell his workmates.
Doesn't tell his friends.

Oh, mate.

Are workmates not real mates
any more, Dennis?

Tells nobody is t'point.

And the prostitutes won't talk to us
cos they're worried we'll nick 'em.

And even if they did, they'd be
no use anyway cos the only way

they know this bastard
IS this bastard

is when they're on their own
wi' him.

By which point, it's too late.

Aye.

Coroner's opening the inquest
into both murders, Monday.

It's been four months.

People are going to
want an update, Dennis.

I'm aware of that.

So, what have we got?

Wellington boot, size seven.

Not many men take a seven.
Thousands do.

Yes, but tens of thousands don't.
And we can rule them out.

Not necessarily. Dunlop are saying
the rubber they use is flexible.

He might be a seven.
But he could be an eight.

And if he wears thick socks,
he could be a six.

If he's a six,
why does he take a seven?

Because a lot of these boots
belong to the workplaces,

not the workers themselves.

Farms, factories -
you use whatever pair's available.

So, what have we got?

Jim?

'Starting the inquest Monday.'

For both murders.

For Wilma and for Emily.

They'll be
wanting to know where we're up to.

Bound to ask.

Well, that's all right, isn't it?

Oh, aye.

You've done plenty of 'em.

Aye. Plenty.

And they'll want to know
if we're any closer to catching him.

There'll be that.

And?

And I'll just have to say, "No...

"..we are no closer."

I keep having
this terrible thought, Bet.

I shut it out, but...
it keeps coming back.

When I'm in the car,
all during the day.

If I'm going to catch that man,
I need more clues.

And the only way to get more clues
is for the bastard to do it again.

PHONE RINGS

Police. What's your emergency?

CHATTERING

Just slow down for me, love.
Slow down.

Talk a bit slower, then I can...

OK. I'm gonna need an address
to know where you are.

OK, you're at the park?
As in Roundhay Park?

OK, and what side of the park?

Chapeltown side.

Yeah, I'm still here.

Phone box.

White pointy tower.

Yep, Chapeltown corner. OK.

Yeah, and what's your name?

He's hit you on the head?

He's hit you on the head
with a hammer?

Feels like water in your head? OK,
and is it bleeding now, Marcella?

Yeah. OK.

We're gonna get an ambulance and
police officers to you now, OK?

Shouldn't be more
than a couple of minutes.

No, no, no, stay sitting for me,
darling. Stay sitting.

Keep your knickers on the blood.

Scrunch 'em up and hold 'em on
the bit where it's bleeding. OK?

Was it somebody you know, or...?

No. A stranger?

No, no, no, he's not coming back.

No, if he's left you alone,
he won't be coming back...

Mar...? Marcella?

Marcella, can you hear me?

Yeah, nice clear words for me.
That's it.

That's it...

He is coming back?

He's driving back
towards the phone box?

Same white car?

And has he seen you?

OK, I need you to stay down.

I need you to stay sitting for me.

No, stay sitting. Stay. Stay.

I'm right here. I'm here.

He's gone?

He's gone past. He's driving past.

You can see him in the distance.
That's good, that's good.

Oh, no!

Nobody's gonna mind that you've
got blood on the phone,

that's not your fault,
that's not your fault.

You can see the blue lights?

Yeah, you can see them? Good.
That's...

Yep. They know where you are and
they know that you're poorly, OK?

You just keep holding your head.

Yeah, I can hear them.
Yeah, that's them.

I'm gonna hand over, OK?

There's no need.

You're very welcome, Marcella, love.

PHONE RINGS

SHE SIGHS

Police emergency. How can I help?

'Can you describe him for us, love?'

'Smart.'

Smart clothes. Dark hair.

Crinkly hair.

A Black man?

No.
A white man?

A white man with dark, crinkly hair?

A white man in a white car.

He stopped. He took my hand.

He drove me to the park.

To Roundhay Park,
where you were att*cked, yes?

And you made the call after that?

Where'd he pick you up from?

Chapeltown.

At five in t'morning?

Well, you must've been drinking?

So, he gives you a £ note,

then he gives you a whack
on the back of the head and then...

what?

Does he try to have sex with you,
or...?

Go on, just...

..finish your story.

He stood there.

Stood there, how?

He stood over me.

And he played with himself.

SHE SOBS

How long you been on the game,
Marcella?

That's not what I do.

No...

Just... every now and again?

I wanted a lift.
I needed a lift home.

That's all it was, darling.

Right, I just...

Why did he give you that fiver?

All right. All right.
CLEARS THROAT

I tell you what,
I'll send someone down, a WPC,

and a sketch artist to get
a description of "this man".

And then if anything comes up,
we'll be in touch.

All right?

All right.

Listen, love. It were late.

You've been drinking,
you've been clobbered on the head.

The mind can play tricks on you.

You sure it weren't a Black fella?

No Black man
would've done this to me.

All right. As long as you're sure.

All right, love.

I'm so sorry, darling.

I've just heard about the baby.

Is there anything you need?

What happen now?

We need to find you an appointment,
love.

To see the doctor.

We need to take it out.

GAVEL BANGS

Detective Chief Superintendent
Dennis Hoban.

You are the detective
tasked with finding the individual

responsible for these att*cks, yes?

That is correct.

And there is a dual m*rder
investigation ongoing?

That's right.

As is clear from the postmortem
reports, both Emily Jackson

and Wilomena McCann were
the subjects of wilful m*rder.

Therefore, unless you need me not
to do so for investigative purposes,

I hereby give permission
for both bodies to be buried.

Thank you.

How's that going, by the way?

Sir?

The investigation.

A case of this magnitude
requires considerable...

..work to be undertaken.

We're in the midst of that work.

Very good.

Sir.
Dennis.

You don't mind me stopping by?

Not at all.

I'm sorry I missed it.

Erm, if you've got a moment,

there's something I've been
wanting to show you back at HQ.

'So what d'you reckon?'

Well, she tells us she's after
a lift home.

But she brings him here.

Hookers bring their punters here
all the time.

Now, I know this because t'people
in those big houses over there

are always complaining.

So she were definitely hustling?
Oh, aye.

Like Emily and Wilma were hustling?

Yeah, but that's where
the similarities end.

Oh, aye?

No, if this were our man,
he'd have stood here -

and it'd have been pitch black,
remember -

and he'd have done what
forensics have been telling us.

He'd have gone at her, with that
Kn*fe or that screwdriver of his.

Right.

So who att*cked her?

A pimp. Or a punter.

Maybe she's taken a punter's fiver,
she's run off with it.

Hide in the shadows.

Right.

And then he's... he's caught her.

He's caught her.

And he's taught her a lesson.

He's realised that he's gone too far
and he's scarpered.

Right. Well...

..we'll get no prints from this.
It's like concrete.

DOG BARKS

Right. No need to type it up. I'll
tell Dennis when I next see him.

I don't think you'll be
seeing much of Hoban.

Not if you believe the rumours, Jim.

I shouldn't have said owt.

Just ask the girls
back at the office.

Terrific windows
in a building like this.

I always think daylight
is such an asset.

For example...

Very good.

I thought you'd like it...

DACC Dennis.

Deputy Assistant Chief Constable.

I'm in the middle
of a double m*rder investigation.

The role spans
the whole of West Yorkshire.

The combined force.

This man needs finding.

And he will be.

With respect, sir, you've never
caught a man like this before.

With respect, Dennis...

you haven't caught him either.

I don't want this.

Oh... I believe you want it.

Those murders are still
West Yorkshire, Dennis.

Still within your purview.

You just won't be
in day-to-day charge is all.

Then who will?

Don't say Hobson.

I respect Jim, but you need someone
experienced on this one.

Unless it's done?
You've already decided.

Dennis, this is a promotion.

It's unbelievable.

Ah, there it is.

Pam said he'll need somewhere
to hang his hat, so...

HE CLEARS THROAT

'So... what does that mean now?'

It means...
this is only going to get bigger.

More police.

Better resourced.

I'll still have an eye on things,
and then you've got

Detective Chief Superintendent
Hobson in active command.

And, like, he's good, is he?

You know, like, you rate him?

He's a very experienced detective.

I need you to know, Sydney.

We never thought it were you.

Since we spoke that morning,
I never...

WE never thought that.

All right?

Who were it?

Well... that's what we're
going to work out, in't it?

For Emily and Wilma,
and all the kids.

KIDS CHATTER

SHE GROANS

SHE GASPS

SHE SOBS

DUCKS QUACK

Morning.
Morning.

Quiet.

Sunday.

After he made a big point
about getting us in

to discuss these budgets.

Mr Gregory rang to say
he's on his way.

He just needed to speak to
Mr Hobson first.

Hobson?

I thought you knew.

They've found another body.

David?

What we looking at?

Early s. Dark hair.

He's dragged her,
in full view of the houses,

placed her face down
in a specific...

What do you call it?

..arrangement.

And it's linked, yes?

We don't know that yet.

No, but it's the same style as...

Dennis, I'm sorry.
Would you just give me a moment?

Linked?
Dennis...

Not treading on any toes, Jim.

You can't turn up like this.
It's not your case any more.

Well, think of me
as a fresh pair of eyes.

Dennis...

..everyone's wondering
what you're doing here.

Boss?

DOORBELL RINGS

Good morning.

I'm Detective Inspector Les Hanley.

The victim's name
is Irene Richardson,

of Cowper Street, Chapeltown.

After months of failing
to find work,

she fell into selling
herself for money.

Irene is now the third victim
of this k*ller,

a man intent on slaying prostitutes,

a man who has just made
a very significant mistake.

He left tyre tracks at the scene.

Now, details of those impressions

are gonna be with each of you
very soon,

but I need a big effort
from you now.

I need you to help me
identify that vehicle.

We find that car,
we find the k*ller.

Yes?

Yes?!
ALL: Yes, sir.

Good, right. Thank you.

Right, I want a presence
at Roundhay Park.

Question everyone.

Right, let's get on with it.

Jenny, do you remember Claxton,
the Black lass att*cked in Roundhay?

That wasn't linked.

Well, do we have the file?

Erm, I could try and find it,
I suppose.

Yeah, yeah, please.

January, we saw a slight increase
in the crime overall.

Crime in our police area is going
down, so made a start with that.

SPEECH FADES OUT

KNOCK ON DOOR

She gone. Afraid.

Because you people not believe her.

You got an address? Oi!

John?

Got that file for you.

All right. Cheers.
That's all right.

KNOCK ON DOOR

Because I think he probably would,
especially if he's married.

Stop his wife from asking questions.

Who did this?

Claxton. The Black lass
we saw in t'summer. You remember.

Who's this?

What d'you want me to do with this?

Well, there can't be too many fellas
look like that, Jim.

The crimes aren't connected.

Will one of you tell us
what's going on?

There were a prost*tute att*cked
in t'park last year in t'summer.

And we ruled it out.

And now Richardson's been k*lled.

Right.
In exactly the same spot.

In exactly the same spot

that prostitutes
take their punters all the time.

I told you this, John, at the time,
do you remember?

People in those big posh houses
always complaining? I told you.

You don't think
it's a coincidence, Jim?

I do. I do think it's a coincidence.

We ruled it out then
for the same reason

that I'm keeping it ruled out now.

She were att*cked,
hit on t'back of t'head.

That is it,
that is the only connection.

Not like these others.

And she were lying.

She were lying, and she were pissed.
Yeah, but, Jim...

Just... Just think,

what would happen, on a case like
this, if someone puts out an appeal

on a man who has absolutely nothing
to do with any of these crimes?

We'd send everybody
off down the wrong road

to create space
for that bastard to k*ll again.

And we'd k*ll our careers, an' all.

Look, we have to work
with the facts.

The fact that he's a seven.

The fact that he drives a car.

The fact that that he's left
distinctive tyre marks in the mud.

All right?

Yeah. Yeah, you're right, Jim.

Come on, John.

Cheers, Les.

PHONE RINGS

Yep?

Right. Put him on.

Hello, Mike.

Hi, Jim.
We're doing a layout right now,

so I just wanted to check
if you had anything to add.

No, I don't think so, no.

OK. Understood.