03x01 - King of the Lake

[bunniefuu]

Ah!

Ah!

Come on!

Come on. Come on!

Step up now. Now!

Ah! Step it up you weak bastard!

Step it up!

Now! Now!

Ah! Sorry, mate.

Yes!

Yes! Yeah!

Come here, come here.

What about a kiss
for the camera?

Oh, go on. On the lips?

I told you, 200 yards out!

- I... I'm sorry, Dad.
- You nearly lost it for us, yeah?

All right?

Good race. You almost had us.

- What's that all about?
- Don't give me that.

You're bloody cheats, OK?

- You got a problem, Bates?
- Lads!

Right.

College! College!
College! College!

Rachel!

- Thought you might be thirsty.
- Thanks.

- Does this look all right to you?
- What do you mean?

I don't know. Does it look a little
weak, like, not yellow enough?

- It's fine.
- Come on, photo time.

John? Now, where's Arnie?

Arnie!

Arnie, come on.

- Here you go, boys.
- Thanks, Dad.

College! College!
College! College!

Quickly, someone! Quickly!

Lucien?

Lucien?

You can't hide,
you know. Lucien?

- Mattie.
- You asked him to move in,

so go and sort it out.

Oh, they'll be fine.

Oh, honestly!

Mrs. Beazley, I promise,

- I'm being extremely careful.
- I know.

- It's just...
- These boxes belonged

to the doctor's father. Wait!

This one is extremely fragile. Only
the doctor is allowed to move them.

- It's just down the hall.
- Yes, I know Charlie,

but that's not the point.

- Charlie!
- Give this to me! Ah! Oh!

- What's the problem here?
- Your boxes.

Well, just shift them.

You said no-one was
allowed to move them!

Pop them in the surgery.

He's got to be able to get in
and out of the room somehow.

Yesterday, you said no-one
was allowed to touch them.

And today I've changed my mind.

You're angry because I offered
him the room without consulting you.

It's your house, you
can do what you like.

I thought you didn't trust him.

Well, I didn't. Not entirely.

But I felt for the boy.

But you're quite right. I should
have discussed it with you first.

Could I get a hand?

You seem to be doing fine.

Dr. Blake's surgery.

Yes, one moment.
Charlie? It's for you.

Thanks for the room, Doc.

Is Mrs. Beazley all right
about me being there?

Oh, Mrs. Beazley's ecstatic.

Monica?

Monica Parker, is that you?

- Lucien.
- Well, goodness me,

what are you doing here?

That's my son.

Doctor.

I am so sorry.
I... I had no idea.

If there's anything I can do,
anything at all, you let me know.

That went well.

What have we got?

Dennis Goodman.
Seventeen, Ballarat College.

State schoolboy, rowing
champion two years running.

Father told me he was going to
be selected for Rome next year.

State swimming champion,
freestyle and butterfly.

State team for cricket.
District for football.

Witnesses said two boys went
into the water, only one surfaced.

They also said he was only
under the water for 25 seconds.

Any attempt at resuscitation?

Three trained
lifesavers in the crowd.

They took turns until
the ambos got here.

Something's not right here.

What are we
dealing with, Lucien?

At this moment, I
have absolutely no idea.

He's quite the
platonic ideal, isn't he?

He was an athlete. And
a very good one, too.

That explains the
muscle definition.

Must have taken some work.
See the shape of the pectorals?

And the abdominal
oblique? It's perfect.

Quite a student of
the male form, Doctor.

- I studied classics at university.
- Mm.

Ahem! Slight acne
on the shoulders.

Well, not surprising
in a teenager.

There's no sign of any trauma,
apart from a likely contusion on the jaw.

Yes.

Might need to let the blood settle
on that overnight, see what forms, eh?

You didn't find anything he
could have struck under the water?

No. No, not yet.

Doug Ashby's got a police
diver coming in tomorrow.

- How about the upper airways?
- As you suspected.

Contained an unusually
large amount of water,

despite the
resuscitation attempt.

Not quite adding up, is it?

No.

But he can't have drowned.

We don't know for sure,
Rachel, but it's still our best guess.

He was so strong.

You were with him
just before he went in.

Did he... did he say
anything, do anything unusual?

No.

Anything at all?

Well... he asked
about his drink.

He said it didn't
look yellow enough.

But he seemed fine.

He seemed...

Here you are, my dear.

- Oh, thank you, Doctor.
- Of course.

Charlie?

They took our photograph,
then a few of the other students

picked us up and
carried us to the water.

Go on.

- Don't tell them a drowning, not yet.
- What?! Why not?

It's tradition. You win your
race, they throw you in the lake.

You've both swum
in the lake before?

We've won a lot of races.

Excuse me.

What is that?

The contents of
Dennis Goodman's lungs

after 25 seconds
in Lake Wendouree.

- Well, the boy drowned.
- Not from water in his lungs.

When you're drowning,
typically, the larynx clamps shut.

It's a protective measure.
Prevents more water coming in.

You continue to struggle,
but the lungs are sealed.

Basically, you asphyxiate.
It can take quite some time.

That's what we
call a dry drowning.

Now, alternatively, the larynx
shuts and then briefly releases

after an individual
has fallen unconscious,

allowing a small amount
of water into the lungs.

That's what we
call a wet drowning.

And in this case?

Well, that's far too much water.

So this is neither a wet
drowning, or a dry drowning?

Exactly. The larynx failed to
close, water rushed into the lungs.

Dennis Goodman was
dead either just before,

or just after he hit the water.

- How?
- I don't know,

but he didn't drown, as such.

- All because of the boy's larynx?
- Yes.

I mean, try breathing in next
time you're sipping a cup of tea.

Are you suggesting foul play?

Sorry.

I'm not suggesting anything.

Well, the father is
demanding answers.

Accident, manslaughter,
m*rder, I have to put a name to it!

At present, causes unknown.

Acting Sergeant, make a note.

Until the doctor signs
off on cause of death,

the body will remain
in the Ballarat Morgue.

You feel like explaining
that to the parents?

You don't know?

The autopsy was inconclusive.

But I have to
organize the funeral.

And I understand
that, but until we know...

They're doing what they can.

Our boy is in the morgue.

Now, we want him back so we
can say goodbye. Is that so hard?!

- Darling!
- Is it?!

At the moment?

Yes, it is.

Mr. Goodman, until we
know how your son d*ed,

we can't officially
release his body.

Can you think of any reason why
someone might want to hurt Dennis?

Did he have any
enemies? Rivals, perhaps?

To your knowledge, did
anyone ever thr*aten him?

- I'm sorry, Monica, I have to ask.
- I'd like you to leave.

- Now!
- Mr... Mr. Goodman, please!

Mr. Goodman, I
have to ask the...!

My son had viral
meningitis when he was six.

The doctors said
he wouldn't live.

But he ended up inspiring
more people in 17 years

than you'll do in a lifetime, and
you ask me if he had enemies?!

Mr. Goodman, as Monica said...

That's Mrs. Goodman to you!

Mr. and Mrs. Goodman,
thank you for your time. Go.

Foxglove, from the garden.

- Foxglove.
- Mm.

- Very medicinal, you know.
- Really? Mm.

And I just thought
they were pretty flowers.

I put your father's
belongings in the surgery.

I don't know what you
want to do with them.

That makes two of us.

Oh, Charlie told me about the
Goodman boy down at the lake.

Yes.

I knew his mother years ago,
before I left to study in Scotland.

She was the first
woman I ever...

..courted.

Oh.

The night before I
was leaving, we had a...

Oh, we had a silly
argument about something.

Believe it or not...

I was thinking about
proposing to her.

Instead, I left the next day
and never saw her again.

Joined the army, eventually
got posted to Singapore.

It's funny, isn't it?

How your life can turn on a
single moment, on a single decision.

Yes, it is, isn't it?

Well, good night, Lucien.

Good night, Jean.

Did I leave you with enough
hot water this morning?

Ah, nearly. It was better
than yesterday, at least.

- Morning, Mattie. Charlie.
- Good morning.

- Mrs. Beazley.
- Oh!

There's a patient to see you.

It's a bit early
for that, isn't it?

You'll want to see this one.

Why would anyone
want to hurt Dennis?

- I was hoping you could tell me that.
- Everybody looked up to him.

I... was so proud of him.

Even Patrick Tyneman
sponsored him.

Sponsoring? I thought
Dennis was amateur.

There was some way
around it. I don't understand.

I'm sorry Herbert was
rough with you yesterday.

No!

- He was a sportsman, too, wasn't he?
- An Olympian.

He could be very tough on
Dennis, said he had to be.

- Thank you, Jean.
- Not at all.

- If there's anything else you need...
- Yes.

Now, you have
another boy, don't you?

- Yes. Lucas.
- An athlete, too?

Oh, he tries.

He's more of an academic
than Dennis ever was.

Ah! Well, I do
approve of scholars.

Herbert didn't.

Lucien?

- If you have any regard for me...
- Monica?

Monica, this is my job.

And I promise you, I'll find
out what happened to Dennis.

Thank you.

I loved my son, Lucien.

His memory is all I have left.

Well, look at that.
Absolutely right.

You can just see the
beginnings of a circular imprint

just above the carotid artery.

Meaning if the artery was damaged,
it could have caused him to drown?

May well have done, Charlie.

Might leave it a while
longer to settle, eh?

Do you have the
stomach contents?

- You can see the redness, can't you?
- Yeah.

Ah!

Oh!

Well, that is
interesting. Charlie?

- Oh! What am I meant to be smelling?
- Alcohol.

You can definitely smell it.

Mm. And I presume alcohol
wasn't available after the race?

It wasn't. I know
that for a fact.

Dennis didn't drink.
Never has done.

I understand that, Mr. Goodman.
I only ask because...

Well, on occasion,
boys will be boys.

I know my own son, Blake.

And I'm telling you, there
must be some mistake.

He was a good
boy. He trained hard.

I'm sorry.

Dad?

I can't find Dennis' sports bag.

For God's sake, Lucas, it doesn't
matter. Come on, we're going.

Bloody hell. I've just spoken
to the boy's father, again!

He's furious.

I mean, the boy drowned
in front of 40 witnesses.

You know, the family's actually
more worried about the boy's funeral

than if he had a
quiet ale on the side.

Only they say he
never touched the stuff.

And I still can't work out why
his body reacted the way it did.

- Charlie?
- Yeah.

This bruise.

- You said there was a scuffle.
- Mm-hm.

Talk to the boys involved.

And some other argument
he might have had,

according to the girlfriend.

- Find out who it was with.
- Yes, boss.

And before you do any of
that... better check that lake.

Will do.

You really think this is m*rder?

Yes.

You've got 24 hours. That's it.

- In the water?
- Yes.

- In the water?
- Yes.

Blake, you could have told me
you wanted me to go in the water.

You heard the superintendent. I
wanted divers, we don't have time.

Now, Charlie, 10,
15 minutes, tops,

then hop out, rug
up. It's bloody cold.

Thanks for that. Any chance of
a swig from that flask before I do?

No, I wouldn't, Charlie. It
increases the risk of hypothermia.

Quite right.

Deep breath, Charlie!

Heh-heh! Welcome to the Ritz.

Bit different to what the
College Toffs have, eh?

Oh, it doesn't seem to have slowed
you down. Not too much, anyway.

Yeah. We almost did them the
other day, and in last week's qualifiers.

Only I got stuffed
towards the finish.

We just kept going out
too fast, too early, that's all.

Right.

Now, you and Dennis had something
of a to-do after the race, I gather?

Oh, just stirring, then he broke
it up. No-one landed nothing.

Pity. Bloke had a face you'd
never get tired of punching.

So tell me, if you win at
the State Titles next week,

you might be selected for
the Olympic squad, yes?

He might, I won't. Timmy's
the g*n, I'm just the grunt.

He ought to, at least, after
all the yakka he's put in.

He's going for some
scholarship overseas.

- Ah!
- It's a Rhodes Scholarship.

It's pretty competitive, though.

Ah, he'll get it.

He's a bloody genius. Just a
shame he's a rubbish bloke.

Oh! Is that right?

Here you are, boys. Just
something to keep you going.

- Smashing, Mrs. Webb.
- Thanks, Mum.

You'd better pack up soon, love.

Dr King's got some
deliveries needing to be made.

Yes, Mum.

I remember making the same
deliveries for my father's surgery

from time to time
when I was your age.

Dr Blake, this is Beth
Webb. I trained under her.

Pleased to meet you.

Absolute pleasure.

Now, Mattie, we'd best be going.

Boys, good luck at
the State Titles, eh?

Anything from
the other students?

It sounds like the
girlfriend, Rachel,

and Arnie Ross were a bit of an
item before Dennis came along.

- Ah!
- It's probably just teenage gossip.

- What about you? Anything useful?
- Not a lot.

Let's see if Charlie's
managed to find anything, eh?

Thanks for your help, Arnie.

Hey, Doc, turns out there
was something down there.

So I see.

Arnie, those shoes of yours,

were you wearing them
yesterday when you were thrown in?

Yes, sir.

Looks like you didn't have to
go swimming after all, Charlie.

I knew I must have kicked him.

I felt something
after we hit the water.

And you didn't think
you should tell us?

It's all right, Arnie. You
gave Dennis a bruise,

it isn't what k*lled him.

Then why are we here?

Tell us about Dennis.

Great sportsman, very
dedicated, trained real hard.

Glad we were on the same team.

Yes.

You know, I noticed
in the newspaper,

it mentioned he'd won
the Wendouree Classic.

It didn't mention you.

Did that happen often?

Yes.

Gosh, that must
have been difficult.

Well, he was the successful
one, I was just there to help out.

Oh. And did you
always think that way?

Son?

I used to think I could
make it professional.

That was before Dennis
and his dad came along.

- His dad coached you both?
- Dennis mostly.

And how did that make you feel?

Dennis always got
whatever he wanted.

The best of everything.
Took all the glory, took my girl.

Then he starts cheating on her
with someone behind her back!

Honestly?

I won't miss him.

It's a good thing young
Dennis was winning races,

because he certainly
wasn't winning many friends.

We had a phone call while you
were out, some joker in a phone box,

saying, above all things...
You're going to love this.

Tyneman tried to fix
the Wendouree Classic

so that Dennis
Goodman could win it.

Of course he did. I
shouldn't be surprised.

They were anonymous,
they just phoned in.

You used to be involved with
Monica Goodman. Weren't you?

I've been around this town for a
lot longer than you have, Lucien.

That has absolutely no bearing
on this case, Doug, and you know it.

But you have to admit,
it complicates matters.

- Excuse me, sir.
- What?

It seems one of the
college teachers has found

a half-empty bottle of spirits in a
visitor's locker at the boathouse.

Spirits?

Whose locker, do we know?

Les Bates.

Who was also seen outside,
just before the presentation.

All right, bring him in.

And this time, Dr Blake, Charlie
and I will ask the questions. OK?

Vodka? You're
kidding, aren't you?

What would I be doing
with that top-shelf stuff?

You were seen around
the time of the refreshments.

So? I went to pick
up my pocket Kn*fe.

I thought I might have dropped it
back there, or in the change rooms,

but I couldn't find it.

And you didn't
see the bottle then?

I reckon I'd remember.

Did you see anybody
there at the time?

No, nobody, except Arnie.

Arnie Ross?

He was dropping his
bag off as I was leaving.

Do you know Patrick Tyneman?

Who?

Patrick Tyneman.

He's a local businessman.

Did he ever talk to you before
the race about deliberately losing?

Give it a go, we're both
bloody brooded. Even Tim.

If we'd tried any harder, we'd
be in a bloody box ourselves.

If you're dead-set on finding
someone who had it in for Dennis,

maybe you should
talk to his old man.

We already have, Les.

Well, then, you know Dennis' dad
used to rough him up before a race.

- Just to get him angry.
- How do you know that?

I saw him do it plenty of times.

Is that right?

Show me, Les.

It's all right.

- Oh.
- Like this.

How hard? Like... like that?

Show me.

Then he'd shake him and
sometimes he'd hit him.

It's all right. Go on.

Yes. Pretend I'm
Dennis for a moment.

Bates! Bates! Bates!

- Sorry about that, Doc.
- No, not at all, Les.

Bit more conviction
there than I expected.

Oh, well spotted, Charlie.

I was tempted to
let him keep going.

Did you know anything
about this before he started?

No, not really.

Certainly puts him in the
frame now, though, doesn't it?

You'll be wanting to
talk to the father, then.

Charlie can do
that, without you.

I haven't finished!

I don't like surprises, and I
don't like being kept in the dark.

I want to know what you're doing,
and why, every step. Understood?

- Understood.
- You want my advice?

I instinctively know you don't,
but if you did, I would tell you,

stay away from the Goodmans!

I still haven't found
Dennis' sports bag.

I gather there was some
petty theft at the college.

A stopwatch went missing.

Maybe someone took his bag, too.

He rows well for a scholar.

Yes. It's his first year
on the rowing team.

He tries very
hard for his father.

When did you meet Herbert?

During the w*r.

We met at a dance. Hm!
He was a great dancer.

He made me feel safe.

He was going to take
me away from all this.

It's funny how life
turns out, isn't it?

Yes.

I remember I wrote to
you from Edinburgh. I, um...

I didn't think it was fair
to ask you to wait for me.

Ah, here's Lucas.

So, tomorrow morning, we can
start making the arrangements?

Yes. Providing the lab
reports are as expected.

I'm just sorry I...

I can't tell you anything more
right now about how he d*ed.

- Have you met Dr. Blake?
- Lucas.

I'll go get the car.

Well, looking good out there.
Quite a rower, from what I can see.

I'll never be as good as Dennis.

I am ever so sorry for
the loss of your brother.

Don't be.

Patrick.

Lovely morning. Please,
don't let me stop you.

I'll be in touch.

And... don't trust this one.

Thank you, Mr. Tyneman.

So, you're sponsoring
Tim Webb now?

All strictly non-professional.

What happened to, um...
sponsoring Dennis Goodman?

Sadly, the boy's dead. So
now I'm sponsoring Tim Webb.

I gather there are still questions
about Dennis Goodman's death.

You wouldn't be sniffing
around if it was accidental.

Personally...

I couldn't stand the boy.

No principles.

But he was the
ideal type to promote.

And that's what matters.

This is a young country, Blake.

For the next few hundred years,

all our heroes are going
to be sportsmen or clowns.

Takes a long time to
develop anything else.

Patrick, tell me...
how's your boy?

Still in jail.

But thanks for asking.

Alice has verified the contusion

on Dennis' throat and
jaw was only superficial.

The lab estimates his blood
alcohol at one part in a thousand,

to be confirmed tomorrow
with their final report.

Including test results
for poisoning of any kind.

So, the fact is that neither
the bruise, nor the vodka,

nor the shaking, nor
anything else we're aware of

caused the boy's death?

- I'm afraid not.
- So now you know.

Given the pressure I'm
facing from Melbourne

and subject to the
lab's confirmation,

unless you release the
body, I will have no option

but to review your
position as police surgeon.

Understood?

Understood.

- Alice.
- Doctor.

I did as you asked, ran
further bloods on him.

There's no presence
of any medication.

No detectable presence of SGOT.

But elevated levels
of testosterone.

Yes. Elevated beyond
reasonable fluctuations.

Also, levels of hemoglobin
far above what you'd expect.

And I found evidence of injection
marks on the gluteus medius muscle.

See? Here and here.

You can just see them.

- He was doping himself.
- Yes.

- No wonder he was so...
- Physically perfect?

- I was going to say impressive.
- Mm.

I asked the family doctor to
release his medical records.

He refused. At the
father's request, apparently.

- The father again.
- Yes.

Are you any closer to
finding out how he d*ed?

No.

But I do have a long list of people
who would've wanted him dead.

You shouldn't be here.
Herbert will be furious.

Did you know Dennis
was taking testosterone?

- What?
- An anabolic steroid.

Enhances performance
and recuperation.

Well, possibly.
I... I wouldn't know.

Herbert looked after all
of Dennis' medical issues.

It's potentially very dangerous.

Herbert would never do
anything to hurt our son.

- How would he know?
- Monica, where are you?

Look, I have to go.

Some of the boys from the
other team called Dennis a cheat.

My son was never a cheat.

He was an inspiration.
A special boy.

He was doping.

You again! I thought
I made myself clear?!

Mr. Goodman, please.

I know Dennis was using some
kind of steroid or testosterone,

and I think you know that, too.

Now, we need to find
that missing sports bag.

Do we?

Lucas, get your brother's bag.

There is no missing
sports bag, Dr. Blake.

We found it at the
school this afternoon.

Here. Take a good look.

You happy now?

Herbert, I am so sorry...

I say this one final time.

Leave me and my family alone.

Testosterone?

- Male sex hormone, Jean.
- I know what it is, Mattie.

It's cheating.

Well, is it? I mean, they
take vitamin supplements

and some of them are on
special diets. That's not cheating.

Actually, steroids are
frowned upon in most sports,

but you do have a point.

- Finished?
- Yes, thank you.

What about the teams
that aren't taking it,

or can't afford it?
Is it fair on them?

And I don't think his fans in
the town would be impressed

that he's taking male sex
hormones to improve his stroke.

Oh, for heaven's sake! It's
like living with a pair of children.

Well, if you ask me, I'd put my
money on the rowing partner.

What about the brother? Hm?

Permanently
overlooked, sibling rivalry.

Let's not forget about
the father in all of this.

Oh? Why?

Because he married the girl
you were fond of as a boy?

I think he knew about the doping

and I don't think he
could tolerate failure.

Well, I feel sorry
for him, actually.

You know, he went to
Berlin for the Olympics,

but he had to drop out
because of some injury.

Maybe he's reliving the glory
days through Dennis. Mm.

But what the rival
on the other team?

I mean, doesn't he benefit now
that Dennis is out of the way?

And if Dennis was on testosterone,
where did he get it from?

On the father's instructions,
the family doctor,

you know, Dr. King
from down the road,

- won't release his medical records.
- Mm.

And I felt certain everything
would be in that bloody sports bag.

Charlie! Your dinner
should still be warm.

I've got some studying to do.

Thank you.

I thought you might need this.

Lovely.

This boy had seemingly
so many enemies.

The problem isn't so
much why, it's how.

How did someone do this to a lad
in such supreme physical condition?

I'm sure you'll work it out,
Lucien. One way or another.

Thank you, Jean.

- Morning!
- Morning.

Er... your friend Patrick's
put himself on the front page.

Hm. A roast tonight,
if that's agreeable.

Oh, sounds great.

Blake's residence.

He said it didn't
look yellow enough.

Yes, sir, I'll tell him.

Doc, boss wants to see you.

Immediately.

So yesterday was strangulation
and alcohol, today it's bodybuilding?!

Huh! I take it you're no
closer to a conclusion?

- No.
- All right.

I have a regional command
meeting later this afternoon.

And I have to tell you,

you're apparently now
on the official agenda.

So if you've neither
released the body

or provided grounds for criminal
charges by the time I return,

four o'clock, you
leave me no choice.

I have to submit this...

seeking your formal suspension.

So go!

Foxglove. Hm?

Foxglove.

What are you doing?

Yellow.

Foxglove.

Foxglove! Yellow!

You're sure about this, Doc?

I'm telling you Charlie,

we missed something more
important than we realized.

Now, when's Ashby due back?

About four. Why?

Do you think you could get
someone to go and search

in and around the
boathouse for Dennis' bag?

The sports bag? I thought
the Goodmans already found it.

Charlie, they showed me a bag.

I'm not so sure it was Dennis'.

So, his bag might
still be out there?

Sergeant? They're here.

Thanks.

And you can't recall
anything else he said,

either just before, or just
after the presentation?

No.

I was really angry with him.

He was going behind
my back with another girl.

Any idea who that was, Rachel?

No! We were in love!

He was going to get
me out of this town!

Sorry, that must sound
really stupid to you.

No, not at all, Rachel.

That's why I put the
vodka in his drink.

After the race.

Drinking's against
college rules,

but I wanted him to be
punished for what he'd done.

Rachel, on the day Dennis d*ed,

you mentioned he asked you
about his drink, about the color.

Yes, I think that's
what he said.

Had he ever spoken
before of things looking...

unusual, or... or a bit odd?

No.

Had he ever mentioned
anything about dizzy spells?

No.

Is it my fault?

Please tell me
that I didn't k*ll him!

You did not.

The alcohol had absolutely
nothing to do with Dennis' death.

There you are, confirmation that
Rachel was responsible for the vodka.

- We're going to have to release them.
- Yes.

Is Rachel still here?

Arnie, yes. We just needed to
ask her a few more questions.

Well, what sort of questions?

I mean, I know I
may still be in strife,

but if I can help, I will.

Yes. You've helped
her before, haven't you?

You helped Rachel
spike that drink

and plant the bottle in the
boys' change rooms, yes?

Arnie, did Dennis ever talk to
you about things looking strange,

or what about feeling
dizzy, perhaps after a race?

You mean the yellow thing?

Yes, the yellow thing.

For the last two or three weeks.

The bloke was obsessed!
"Is this yellow? Is that yellow?"

Anything else,
Arnie? Anything at all?

No, I don't think so.

You mentioned he was
seeing someone else.

Do you think he
could have told her?

I said I didn't
know who that was.

Yes, but you have a
pretty good idea, don't you?

Does Rachel know?

No. Nor should she.

We'd had a row.

Rachel was with her dad
in Melbourne that weekend.

Dennis didn't know
and dropped by.

By then, I'd already had
a few glasses of wine.

It's not until the
men stop looking

that you realize you've
become... invisible.

It's not an excuse,
just an explanation.

Dennis had left well by morning.

I should have known
he'd tell his pals.

No. No, no, no. I...

I think Arnie was the only
one who suspected it was you.

And he didn't know for certain

until he saw you arguing
outside after the race.

After the first time, Dennis
thought he was on to a good thing

and threatened to tell Rachel
if I didn't keep seeing him.

I begged him to let it end

and he just laughed at me.

In the time you... knew Dennis,

did he ever talk of
things looking yellow?

Did he ever mention
having fainting spells?

He was dizzy once.

But he took something from that
sports bag he always had with him

and later, he was fine.

Dear God!

Dear God!

Watch it, mate.

Is that what I think it is?

Yeah. I found it at the college
boathouse, hidden up on the roof.

Well, if that is, in
fact, Dennis' bag,

inside, I'd expect to find,
amongst other things, a syringe,

a file labeled testosterone
or anabolic steroids,

and some digoxin tablets.

They're derived from
the foxglove plant.

And if taken regularly, they
make things appear yellow.

Used to treat
diabetes, epilepsy.

Ah!

And in Dennis' case, I suspect it
was used to treat heart arrhythmia.

- Arrhythmia?
- Yes.

Bit young for heart
problems, wasn't he?

It can happen at any age.

In fact, it's a condition
that's often inherited.

But the question is this:

why did the digoxin
fail to protect him?

If, in fact, this is digoxin.

Why did you lie about finding
your son's bag, Mr. Goodman?

Why? Because I
was sick and tired

of my family being
harassed by this lunatic!

Of course. And the fact that
no-one would connect you

to the missing dr*gs had
nothing to do with it, I suppose.

Let me ask you this,
Mr. Goodman. How's your heart?

Lucas? The car.

It was my bag we showed you.

He was taking something.

Dennis.

I'm not sure what. We
never talked about it.

But I remember Dad reminding
him once he needed to take it.

But you don't
know what, exactly?

No. I was afraid Dad
would make me take it, too.

I don't even like rowing.
Dad doesn't want to hear that.

Lucas, what have you
done? You can tell me.

I told one of those other boys.

Last month, at
the school trials.

Right. Which other boy?

Oi! Boys!

Oi! Stop!

All right! They can have it
back if they want it that bad!

- Get up.
- Argh!

It's only a bloody stopwatch!

You'd reckon I'd
robbed a bloody bank!

Where's he reckon he's going?

Move. Move!

You know, I used to come
here as a boy, to this very spot.

To watch the rowing. I
loved it. Really loved it.

I would just marvel
at the freedom of it all.

You've lost all that now.

One decision.

One decision has the
power to change everything.

Come on, son.

When his brother told me he was
on something, I didn't believe him.

Not until last month's trials when
I saw him trying to hide his bag.

I waited till he went out on the
water and then I had a quick look.

That's when I found the
testosterone and the digoxin.

Did you know what they were?

Not at first.

But I did my homework.
Found out all about them.

The heart pills were one thing.

I could understand that,
not wanting anyone to know.

But the testosterone?

The steroids?

I mean, it actually
makes me feel sick,

thinking about all the
years and all the effort

taken from me by a cheat!

So, you swapped the pills.

Yeah.

For slimming tablets that
looked much the same.

I knew that when he won the
race, he was going to get thrown in.

And without the digoxin,
his heart couldn't take it.

Cold water would do the
rest, causing his heart to stop.

I wasn't wrong, was I?

How'd you know they'd win?

Because I let them.

Les never even knew.

What's this?

That's the stopwatch
used for your practice run.

And looking at the time there...

I'd say you would have
won easily next week.

Maybe.

But why leave that to chance?

You've got some explaining
to do, Mr. Goodman.

It's all my fault.

If it wasn't for this...
condition of mine...

Dennis wouldn't have d*ed.

I think there may
be other reasons

for you to take
responsibility, don't you?

Your son left a trail of
damage, I'm afraid to say.

Winning was the only thing
that mattered, nothing else.

Not the teammates he pushed
aside, not the opposition he cheated.

Not the girlfriend
he was unfaithful to.

I'm sorry, Monica,
but that's the truth of it.

The young man who did this...

what's going to happen to him?

He'll be charged as a youth.

I hope they hang him.

- Monica!
- Jealous.

Couldn't cope with the fact
that my boy was better than him.

It's not about being
better than anyone.

What kind of a memory am I
supposed to have of him now?

I should have
expected this from you.

I asked you for help.

What made me think
you could help me?

You'll just walk away now,
never mind the consequences.

You have another boy.

You be kind to him.

A word, Doctor?

Melbourne's been on the phone,

asking why my police surgeon
appears to have been involved

in the pursuit and apprehension
of an underage suspect.

I told them it was on
my orders and, of course,

the boy was not the
suspect, but the perpetrator.

You've got a lot
of enemies, Lucien.

I'm not one of them.

Thank you, Doug.

My wife and daughter are gone.

Before I was called
back here, I was...

..sitting in my empty house...

watching time disappear.

You keep finding answers, maybe
I can keep this job a little longer.

So, for my sake...

try not to stuff up.

Your father was a good man.

But we all loved your mother.

Lucien, you all right?

Did you know my mother
was friends with Doug Ashby?

Your father talked about it.

She had a miscarriage
when I was two.

Was diabetic.

I had absolutely no idea.

So much I don't know.

Well, you seem to
be managing very well.

Thank you, Jean. One thing I didn't
manage well, Monica Goodman.

I treated her so badly.

That's not really
any of my business.

I knew she wasn't the one.

And I raced off halfway around
the world before I told her.

- In a letter.
- Yes.

I should have told her
in person, of course.

I wouldn't like to
be treated like that.

Well, somehow, I can't imagine
you'd ever be treated like that, Jean.

That medicine that boy was
supposed to be on, the digoxin.

- Yes, you mentioned it.
- Foxglove.

- Derived from digitalis.
- Hm!

It was right under my nose.

It often is.

I'd best put the roast on.

Charlie! What on
earth are you doing?

You said we were having a roast.
I thought I'd get it ready for you.

And what do you
know about roasts?

I used to help Mum.

I've got brothers.

- Oh!
- Is that all right, Mrs. Beazley?

Yes. For now.

Sorry. I just find it hard
watching you do everything.

Well, it's my job,
Charlie, but thank you.

Here you go.

Off the table, Mattie.