03x03 - This Time and This Place

[bunniefuu]

(Birdsong)

(expl*si*n booms)

MAN, VOICEOVER: Remember, remember
the fifth of November.

(Crackling)

Gunpowder, treason
and plot. (Boys laugh)

For I see no reason why
gunpowder, treason,

should ever be forgot.

CHILDREN: Blessed art thou among
women, and blessed is the fruit...

ALL: Guy Fawkes, Guy,
'twas his intent

to blow up King and Parliament!

Three score barrels lay below to
prove old England's overthrow!

(Laughter)

(Firecrackers pop)

By God's mercy, he was catched

with a darkened lantern
and burning match.

So, holler, boys, holler, boys!
BOY: Let the bells ring!

Holler, boys, holler,
boys! God save the King!

OK, you've had your fun! Get
these darkies out of here!

Fun's only just started
Mr Van de Heyden.

Is your friend right?! Talk
to her! Make her see reason!

Your definition of 'reason' being?

Remember, remember,
the fifth of November!

Gunpowder, treason, and plot!

We see no reason for gunpowder,
treason to ever be forgot!

(Folk music plays)

You should have worn a coat!
Flak jacket, more like!

You stay here.

What is going on?!

These children are out
without my permission!

(Indistinct arguing)
It's not his fault.

(Plays tin whistle)

It's alright, Gracie. He's
just having a bit of fun.

Mary! Mary, it's time we
left. Have you seen Emma?

Mary? (Boom!)

Gracie!

She's alright. She's fine.

(Woman screams)

Stay here.

MARY: Come on, let's go that way.

Oh, no! MAN: He's got a g*n!

Emma!

VAN DE HEYDEN: Get him!

Oi, Tommy! Lights!

MAN: k*ll the little bastard!

Oh, you're gonna cop it now, boy!

MAN: cr*ck him one!

Leave me alone! Get off me!

Get in there, you black bastard!

And no more lip!

Just about bloody time, Doc.

Bill Hobart. How lovely to
have you back with us(!)

Doc, she's over here.

Don't keep him yakking, Davis.
We'll be here all night.

I take it that's our... k*ller, yep.

Oh! Just a boy.

16. Winston Cummings.
Part of the orphanage.

Dear, oh, dear!

I told you all I know. Now I
need to get the children home!

Can I help you take the children
back to the orphanage?

I can manage. Come on,
Mary! We're leaving.

Mary! Gracie, come with me.

Damn fool of a girl.

Should never have taken
those children out.

Emma Kenneally, 22 years old.

Straight-up sh**ting.

It would appear so, Charlie. I
trust you have the w*apon there.

Ah! Luger PO8.

A highly sought-after souvenir
for returning soldiers, the Luger.

Where would he get his hands
on something like this?

Boy's probably a little too
young for active service, eh?

Mmm.

Oh! I found some spent
shells over there.

Here.

This - this is where
he fired the g*n.

Well, look, Charlie - perfect cover.

Do you have your torch handy? Yeah.

Ah, yes! Now, I don't think
our sh**t was standing.

I think he was kneeling.

A right-hander, if sh**ting
from a kneeling position,

would typically put his
right knee on the ground

and step his left foot forward.

You see?

Now, looking at the impressions
in the ground here,

I would say the opposite applies.

I think our sh**t
favoured his left.

Right.

Well, we found a third
shell over here.

Well, there was a third sh*t?

Yeah.

Right there.

Did anyone actually see
him fire the w*apon?

No.

Well, forgive me, Charlie, but
look - imagine this, if you will.

Here I am under the
cover of darkness.

I kneel, sh**t, fell my target.

Why on earth do I then move
forward into the light

and what - take another sh*t?

Maybe you try to dispose
of your g*n in the bonfire.

Well!

Lucien, when you're finished here,
I wouldn't mind a lift home.

Yes, Mattie, of course, of course!

Ouch!

You're hurt.

No, it's nothing. It's just
a burn. That's not nothing.

Let me sort you out.

One minute there were people
singing and dancing,

and... and then suddenly
there was a boom.

And where was Emma
when this occurred?

I'd lost sight of her.

She'd gone off to talk with Winston,
and the next time I saw her, she...

Yes. I'm just glad you're alright.

I still don't understand
why Winston sh*t Emma.

He... he looked up to her.

If anything, I think
he had a crush on her.

Really? Was she aware of this crush?

She played on it.

Well, well! Quick or
the dead around here.

I was obliged to start without you.

Your new boss, the Superintendent,
has been badgering me for my report.

Munro called you? Three
times in the past hour.

Catch me up.

Two g*nsh*t wounds to
the upper left thorax.

Entrance wounds through the second
and third intercostal space.

No surrounding stippling
or soot deposition.

She's lost an earring - torn lobe.

Quite recently too, by the looks,
and blood under a broken fingernail.

No exit wounds. Both b*ll*ts
have been accounted for.

Alice, two wounds,
very close together.

Two b*ll*ts lodged
very near the spine.

Someone was a very steady sh*t.

(g*n fires)

Bloody hell!

Out of practice, Major Blake!

(g*n fires) What on
earth are you doing?!

Conducting a little experiment.

That was dinner! Right.

I thought it past its
prime. Well, it is now.

(Sighs)

Ah, Charlie, do you know if Winston

had any access to g*ns, arms
training - cadets, perhaps?

Well, he's not answering
any questions at the moment,

but I doubt it.

Why?

Well... Doc, he's black.

Plenty of Aboriginal soldiers
served, Charlie.

What's your point?

Look, I made the distance he
supposedly fired that g*n at

to be around 25 yards.

Now, I'll grant you conducting a test
without the actual m*rder w*apon

is flawed science, but...

Forgive me, I'm waffling.

Look, I consider myself an
accomplished sh*t, Charlie.

I've had training, experience.

I had a devil of a time hitting
anything at that range,

whereas our k*ller managed to fire
off two sh*ts in quick succession.

Both sh*ts bang on
target. Impressive.

'Impressive'? Damn near
bloody professional!

Oi! Get off my desk!

Your desk?

Blake, what are you doing here?

Er, a copy of the autopsy
report on Emma Kenneally.

I asked the forensic registrar
to deliver it directly to me.

Oh, more than happy
to do it in person.

Good to toss ideas
around face to face.

You know, more collegiate.

I am capable of reading a report.

Yes, yes, of course. As you wish.

I would like to see young
Winston, however, if I may.

I don't see why.

Well, he may be carrying injuries,
and it's my job to ensure

he remains in good health
whilst in police custody.

Charlie, you fancy doing the honours?

Sgt Hobart, escort
Dr Blake to the cells.

Winston. WINSTON: Go away!

Doesn't like the look of you, Doc.

Winston, I'm a doctor.
My name's Lucien Blake.

I'd like to take a look
at you, if that's alright.

You're not police?

No. No, I'm not.

You took quite a knock, I'm told.

I'm alright.

Yes, well, how about we take
a quick look anyway, eh?

Now, a couple of deep breaths
for me in and out.

(Winston breathes deeply)

Good, and one more.

(Breathes deeply)

I don't think anything's
broken. That's a good sign.

Just bruised, I think.

What time is it? Well, it's...

It's 9AM.

12 more hours, then they have
to charge me or let me go.

You cheeky bastard! You fancy
yourself as a lawyer, do you?

Why not, eh?

You'll see the inside of a
courtroom soon enough, son.

You won't be the last
blackfella to hang for...

You know one day you're not gonna be
able to do whatever you want to us?

One day you're all gonna pay!

Yeah, well, till that day comes, why
don't you shut your boong mouth?!

Bill.

We just got a call. There's
a witness to the sh**ting.

I saw him standing up by the trees.

He had something in his hand, and
then I saw two bright flashes.

How can you be sure it
was Winston Cummings?

I'd recognise that
Abo bastard anywhere!

Um, Tommy goes to school with him.

Why didn't you tell us last night
when I first interviewed you, Tommy?

I thought what I saw was one of
them Roman candle firecrackers,

you know, the ones that
sh**t out coloured balls?

It wasn't until I thought about
it later that I worked out

that must have been the
moment that he sh*t her.

You were in the car
listening to the radio

while all this was
going on, weren't you?

Yeah, that's right. Quiz Kids was on.

How'd you see Winston from
inside the car, Tommy?

Here's you.

Here's the bonfire.

And that's where Winston
was standing.

Your view is completely
obscured by the bonfire.

You're wasting our time, Tommy.

I was only trying to help! Everyone
in town knows he done it!

It's alright.

Sister. What do you want?

Er, I'm meeting District
Nurse O'Brien here.

We were chatting earlier.

I offered to do some free health
checks on the children.

Did you indeed?

Good! Very good.

Well, you can hop
down now. You ready?

One, two, three! Good girl.

Well, collectively
they lack vitality.

They share some other
symptoms as well.

Might pay to make a trip to the
greengrocer, pick up some oranges.

We lost our fruit trees to the
birds. We're doing without.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Ah! Well, hello there!

I suppose I'll have to have
a look at you too, eh?

The baby's already had her health
checks done... last week.

Sister Frances, please get
the children ready for chapel.

Thank you.

Come on! Everybody out.

That must be you done, Doctor.

I think Nurse O'Brien is gathering
up the last one or two.

This, um... this business
with Emma Kenneally

is just... just terrible, isn't it?

Do you have any idea what might have
driven Winston to want to k*ll her?

Are you a copper or a doctor?

(Crying)

Hello? Who's there?

Mary!

(Cries)

What are you doing in here? Isn't
this the boys' dormitory?

This is Winston's bed.

Come on. Dr Blake is
waiting to see you.

BLAKE: Mattie? In here, Doctor.

Stride Toward Freedom
- Martin Luther King.

It's Winston's.

Proud young man, by the looks. Mmm.

'Consider this a call to arms.

Warmest regards, EK.'

EK. May I? Of course.

Oh! Here. Thank you.

It's a love letter.

It seems young Winston had more
than just a crush on Emma.

Well, why would you k*ll someone

if you thought you were
in love with them?

If they were spurned, perhaps... Oh!

Oh! Who was spurned?

Oh, nothing, Charlie. Pure
conjecture at this point.

Are you joining us for lunch?

No, I've got a sandwich
made up somewhere.

On the sink.

Jean, is everything OK?

(Breathes deeply) Yes, wonderful!

I received a call
from Christopher Jr.

Apparently I'm going
to be a grandmother.

No! Congratulations!

Oh, wonderful news! Thank you!

How about that? Bravo!

Well, out with the
old, in with the new.

(Crash!)

I'll pick up a new letterbox
in town, shall I?

Lovely! (Knocking at door)

That'll be your one o'clock.

Right.

Mrs Goldsmith, why don't
you have a seat there?

Now, what can I do for you?

Well, I have this cut and
I fear it's become septic.

Goodness me! I think
you might be right.

That does look nasty,

and... there appears to be
something lodged in there.

Well, you've been
at w*r, haven't you?

I'm sorry?

That - that is a piece of shrapnel.

Now, that's going to need a stitch.

I'll have to give you a local.
Are you alright with needles?

There we are.

Mrs Goldsmith, tell
me, that expl*si*n...

.. do you recall whether it happened
before or after Emma was sh*t?

Erm... no.

Sorry, things were all rather
chaotic at that point.

Yes. Yes, I'm sure.

I believe your husband
knew the deceased.

Yes, Emma was Ian's protege. He taught
her at Melbourne University.

Oh. And she followed him up here?

(Laughs) People tend to
gravitate towards Ian.

Goodness! You both
must be devastated.

And your husband knows the other
boy, doesn't he, Winston...

I'm wondering if your housekeeper
would mind calling for a taxicab?

I walked here, but I'm not
sure I have the energy...

I tell you what, I have
to drive into town anyway.

Why don't I drop you home? No,
I'm happy for a taxi, please...

Honestly, I insist. It's
no trouble at all.

Well, of course Winston's innocent.

It's a ludicrous
suggestion otherwise!

Ian and Emma successfully campaigned

to get Winston and Mary into
the local public school.

We were on the League for
Aboriginal Advancement together.

We went in hard, we won our case.

School's P&C were furious.

The thought of their
precious children

sharing the same seat as coloureds!

Yes, I can see how that would
earn you some enemies.

Well, it was worth it.

That boy, Winston, he's something
special - a smart lad!

He'll be the first man of colour
to make the Bar, you mark my words!

Dr Blake has better things to do
than listen to your raves, dear.

Oh, thank you.

Tell me, you don't recall
speaking with Emma

on the night of the bonfire?

No, no, sorry.

I was quite preoccupied
with my work, I'm afraid.

Your work? I'm a cultural anthropologist.

I was making sound recordings
of the evening -

part of my study into pagan ritual.

Really? Mmm.

Oh, how fascinating!

I find it so.

It'll be published one day soon,

and lost in a library
soon after, no doubt,

but that's how I fill my days.

Ah, just one more thing, if I may?

The expl*si*n - what
colour was the flame?

Blue... bluish-green. Why?

(Sniffs)

(expl*si*n)

Incandescence, Charlie.
Light produced from heat.

Heat causes a substance
to become hot and glow,

initially emitting infra-red,

and then red, orange,

yellow,

and white light as it becomes hotter.

Are you with me so far?

Yeah, I don't think this
is a good idea, Doc.

Now, luminescence, on the other hand,

light produced using energy
sources other than heat -

chemicals, Charlie...

What the hell are you doing?
Ah, just in time, gentlemen.

What the bloody...!

Colour, Charlie? Definitely
blue towards the end.

'Caused by the addition
of copper chloride.

You won't find that in
a regular 9mm round.

Davis, explain the meaning of this.

It's alright, Charlie.

You said the boy reeked of gunpowder.

There's a reason for that, but
not because he fired a w*apon.

He'd been playing with firecrackers
- specifically, I think you'll find,

he was responsible
for the homemade b*mb

that caused the expl*si*n
in the bonfire last night.

I found this in the
ashes of the fire.

The fire you raked out, Davis.

Bring in the suspect. Hop to it!

Sorry, Bill.

You wanna tell me about this?

I've already told you, I
didn't k*ll Emma Kenneally.

That's not what I'm asking you.

We're talking about the jam tin
that you packed with gunpowder

from the emptied-out firecracker...

Don't put words in his mouth,
Blake. Guy Fawkes night.

Good way to draw attention away
from the sound of a g*n going off.

No, I was making a statement...

You used it as a
distraction, didn't you?

Probably thought you were
being clever about it.

No!

Well, makes sense.
You're a smart kid.

Wait till everyone's focused
on the expl*si*n, then pop! Hmm?

Winston, catch.

Here, what about this?

You see? No attempt to catch
until the very last moment.

You better be going
somewhere with this.

Alright. Winston,
I am terribly sorry.

Just one more test, alright?

Can you tell me, in order from
your left to your right,

who's standing where?

Well, you're in the
middle, but I can't...

No. No, it's alright.

It's over, and again, I am so sorry
for putting you through that.

Have you ever worn spectacles
- glasses - for your vision?

No, never had any.

No, but you can read, obviously,
so your short-range vision is fine.

Superintendent, two sh*ts
fired in quick succession,

25 yards, thereabouts,

pinpoint accuracy at night,
a moving target, I mean...

Look, confirm it with an
ophthalmologist if necessary.

You can bet your life his lawyer
will if you put him on trial.

Release him.

(Children cheer)

Now, hang on a tick - before you
go, these used to be my father's.

Just until you get yourself
your own pair.

Let's see how they look on, eh?

Ah! Pretty good, I'd say.

You know, that was fairly dangerous,
what you did with the jam tin,

packing it full of gunpowder.

People could have been k*lled.

Do you know who the Wathaurong are?

It's the name of the
tribe of this area.

How many do you see
around Ballarat today?

'Smoothing the pillow
of a dying race,'

that's what you lot call it.

You know what we call it?

Genocide.

Should learn some local
history, Doctor,

before you start lecturing
me about people dying!

BOY: Winston! CHILDREN: Winston!

(Children cheer)

DR BLAKE: It was the Parents
Committee, I understand.

How are you? Good. Can I help you?

Yes. Two double malts, thank you.

Afternoon, Doc. Back
for more fireworks?

Oh, Kevin, no, thank you. I think I've
had plenty of fireworks for now.

It's funny, you know -

I remember your mum and dad
coming in here as a wee kid.

Well, that's funny - I don't recall
ever coming here with my parents.

Oh, no. Never said you did.

Every Friday night they'd come
in, just like clockwork.

Your mum would order a
slice of poppy seed cake

and Dad would heat it up
in the salamander for her.

Every Friday, you say?

Yep, they'd sit in that
table right over there,

and he'd always make sure
it was available for them.

Right.

Great tackle on Winston Cummings(!)

Yeah, well, er, just doing
what needed to be done.

Did you see anything else, Kevin,

when the, er... when
the sh*ts were fired?

No, no, I was too busy
loading up the bonfire.

Look, Miss, I know she
was a friend of yours

and I don't like speaking
ill of the dead,

but that Emma Kenneally,
she could be a right...

Tough little negotiator.

(Huffs) Yeah.

She and Goldsmith caused an
almighty mess at our school,

letting those darkies in.

It's not fair on anybody -

the black kids more so, setting
'em up to fail like that.

Winston Cummings was
a gifted student.

Look how that turned out.

Well, it's not their fault.

Genetics. They're equipped
with a much smaller brain.

Scientific fact - correct, Doc?

Well, I haven't read
that particular paper.

Anyhow, look, what do we owe you?

No, er, no charge, Tommy.

You know, it's Olivia
Goldsmith I feel sorry for.

Why is that?

Well, er, Emma and her husband, they
worked really closely together,

if you know what I mean.

Ah! Great minds think alike.

Doc, you can't keep doing this.

Come on, Charlie. We're all family.

Hey, if Munro finds out you're
here, he'll have my bloody head!

In your own little world, as always.

Have a look at this.
It's Emma's diary.

'IG such a hypocrite.'

IG?

Ian Goldsmith?

Why is he a hypocrite?

Yet to find that out, Charlie.

Doc, you should know,
Olivia Goldsmith -

she's been a member of the local
g*n club since she was a kid.

Her father's the club president,
said she's a hell of a sh*t.

Is that right? Thank you, Charlie.

'SJ BH Mooroopna, July 17.'

SJ - Sister Josephine?

That's what I was thinking.

And who's BH?

Bill Hobart! You let them in here?

Now, look, Bill... Let me explain...

Get out!

Bill, tell me, what
is your connection

to Sister Josephine at the orphanage?

Do I have to cuff you, Doc?

Come on, what happens at
Mooroop... (Cuffs jangle)

Mattie, I was wondering -

do you think you could
chase something up for me?

Yeah, of course.

The minutes from the
last couple of meetings

for the League for
Aboriginal Advancement.

Yeah, I can do that. Wonderful!

Jean? Mmm?

The Goldsmiths - how
old is their baby?

Baby? They don't have any children.

Really?

Well, I couldn't help but notice

a bassinette and some nappies
and so forth at their place.

She was having trouble
falling pregnant.

I know she saw your father about it.

I see.

Well, it certainly doesn't get
any easier, the older we get.

Anyhow, what's for dinner?

Well, it was going to be
roast lamb and three veg.

Now it's just the three veg.

Yes, quite.

How difficult would it be... Mmm.

.. to turn that into a pot of soup?

A very large pot of soup.

Well, hello there! Dr Blake.

Thought we'd say a quick hello to
Winston, see how he's getting by.

Marvellous news about his release.

Yes. Yes, it is.

Mrs Goldsmith, how's that
arm of yours healing?

Oh! Fine, thank you.

Well, cheerio.

Ah, Sister! Now, I
took you at your word.

Where are we with the
fingerprint analysis?

Uh, still waiting for
it to come back, boss.

Take a walk with me, Davis.

Are we... are we here to
interview a suspect, sir?

Do you have a suspect for me, Davis?

No, sir.

Or are you waiting for
your landlord, Dr Blake,

to provide you one, perhaps?

I'm having the sirloin.
What about you? My shout.

Well, Jean, I'd say
your soup is a hit!

Hmm.

It's very much
appreciated. Thank you.

It's my pleasure.

Now, kids, when you've
finished your dinner,

we've got something very
special lined up for you.

(Children exclaim)

Ah, but... but you have to finish
your dinner first, alright?

May I leave the table, Sister?

Yes. Take your dishes to
the kitchen sink, thank you.

Not you, Mary. You're heading
the washing up team.

Sister, erm, young Winston,
he's left-handed.

He's ambidextrous.

Nice crockery, Sister. Brought
them back from China.

Ah, you were in China.

A decade back. I was part of
a Catholic mission in Shandong.

Ah! What's your connection?

I have a daughter there. How old?

She's 21.

She's a long way from home.

There's something you
need to hear, Davis.

Your father - I knew him back when
I was a young copper at Richmond.

You did?

We worked the b*at together.

Took me under his wing

while I was still trying to
work out which way was up.

He was a good man, your dad.

His own man.

JEAN: Have you been here long?

MARY: Eight years.

I see, and how do you like Ballarat?

It's nice.

(Crockery smashes)
Stupid! Stupid girl!

Stupid Aboriginal!
It's alright, Mary!

It's my fault! It's alright.

It... it's not that nice here.

No.

They cry every night
before they go to sleep.

And what about you?

I stopped crying a long time ago.

Sister, tell me, what does
Mooroopna mean to you?

It's the town where the vast
percentage of our orphans come from.

So, all their parents are deceased?

Families break down
in different ways.

Very hard to lose your children.

I don't make the rules!

The State's neglect laws determine
whether I receive children or not.

All I do is open my doors. Quite.

Tell me, who transports
the little ones?

The police.

Bill Hobart?

Sometimes.

(Baby gurgles)

And the baby, when did she arrive?

Last Tuesday.

Lucien, would you mind
coming with me, please?

Of course.

Those are my old glasses!

I gave them to Winston weeks ago.

BLAKE, VOICEOVER: My dear Lee, I know
we didn't part on the best of terms,

but I simply can't leave
things as they are.

I know it may not be easy, but please
take the time to write back.

I miss you more than you
could possibly imagine.

All my love, your father, Lucien.'

I'm off to bed, Lucien.

Jean, would you... would
you mind terribly

popping that in the post
for me in the morning?

Of course. I'll do it first thing.

Thank you.

Goodnight. Goodnight, Jean.

Did young Mary say anything else?

Not much. She's scared, Lucien.

Scared of what? Of us.

She's just a girl,

and she's trapped in this town
where nobody seems to like her.

No family. It's just dreadful.

Yes. Yes, it is.

I wish there was something
more I could do to help.

Well, you certainly helped
last night, and I thank you.

Just a delight to
see those young ones

tucking into some good,
healthy food for a change.

Wasn't it?

Seemed like a rather
empty gesture to me.

(Sighs) You're quite right.

Let's organise for a delivery
once a week to the orphanage,

plenty of fresh fruit and vegies.

Perhaps you could sort
out the details for me.

Ah!

I have been in contact with the
League for Aboriginal Advancement,

and they're involved in
some very important work,

if the minutes of their last few
meetings are anything to go by.

You've read the minutes?
Oh, I did better than that.

I hope you can read my shorthand.

IAN: So, it just records
from the reel-to-reel,

and this one does exactly
the same thing,

only it's just, you know,
much more compact.

BLAKE: I mean, it's so portable.

You could take this
anywhere, couldn't you?

Oh, it's remarkable how small they
can get these days, it really is.

Oh, Olivia!

The doctor's here, talking
the latest technology.

He's looking at getting
a reel-to-reel of his own.

Yes. Do you know, I
just had a thought.

You were recording the other night
at the bonfire, weren't you?

I wonder whether you might have
picked something up on tape -

the sh**ting, perhaps.

The tape was ruined, I'm afraid.
The flare from the expl*si*n.

I see.

Just one more thing, if I may.

Ian, you're a member of the League
for Aboriginal Advancement.

Mm-hm. We both are. We've
attended every meet.

Really? That's not what's
recorded in the minutes.

You sent your apologies
at last week's meeting.

Why did you fail to attend?

I don't see what relevance
that has to this.

The baby at the orphanage -

she was supposed to be delivered
to you, wasn't she?

You've been waiting for
just the right child -

a baby that was... just white enough.

Emma found out and she threatened
to expose you to the League.

That child was deemed under
neglect by the State!

I had every right... Yes, yes, yes.

Emma put the brakes on
your plans, didn't she?

Is that why you two fought
that night at the bonfire?

Is that how you got that
scratch on your neck?

OK, that's enough!
That's quite enough!

Do you own a g*n, Mr Goldsmith?

I only ask because the police already
know that your wife's been a member

of the local g*n club
since she was a girl.

Get out!

That fight, Mrs Goldsmith
- you were angry, furious.

Furious enough, perhaps,
to sh**t Emma?

Get out of my house!

Ian, be a man for once in your
life and get him out of here!

Ian, it's alright. I'm leaving.

Lovely day!

Cheerio.

I hope that's a new letterbox.

(Popping)

BLAKE: How about that?
JEAN: Marvellous.

Oooh, here we are! They're noisy.

Yes. No, careful! Oooh! (Bang!)

Marvellous.

And what about halfpenny bunger?

Now, these are the ones...
(Firecracker pops)

Oh! There we are!

(Firecracker pops) There we go!

(Bonfire night recording plays)

MATTIE: That's a penny bunger.

That's the man with
the penny whistle.

Excellent. Now, keep listening.

(Banging and popping on recording)

What's that? I don't recognise
that sound at all.

Shh, wait.

(Banging and popping
on recording) g*nshots.

No! It was barely audible.

No, wait a minute. Play it again.

Now, listen carefully.

(Recording plays)

Roman candle. Jumping Jack.

Penny bunger, and... (Banging
and popping on recording)

There - all three g*nshots
accounted for.

Well, where was the expl*si*n?

It doesn't come for another
seven or eight seconds.

We've all been assuming
that the jam tin b*mb

was used to disguise the
sound of the g*nshots.

This proves they're separate
events entirely.

The penny whistle.

At the bonfire, the penny whistler,
he scared little Gracie.

Then Mary left. She'd seen
Emma and Winston together.

Well, where was she when
the sh*ts rang out?

I don't know.

She... she was by my side when
the expl*si*n happened, but...

By then, Emma was already dead.

We need to talk to Mary.

Righto, Mattie.

Charlie, what's going on?

Winston lied to us
about having glasses.

The nun confirmed they're his.
She's the one gave them to him.

What are you doing with him?

He's being charged with the
sh**ting of Emma Kenneally.

Oh, come on! What possible motivation
would he have for k*lling Emma?

Well... Davis found
a love letter too.

Seems the kid was love-struck and
she didn't want a bar of him.

It's lucky we found him before
he went bloody walkabout.

Let's go.

Sister.

We need to have a quick word
with young Mary, if we may.

That will be difficult. Mary's gone.

Her bed hasn't been slept
in and my bike is missing.

Where would she go?

(Sighs) She has brothers
in Mooroopna.

Right.

Thank you, Sister.

Come on.

HOBART: 'When I look
at you sometimes,

you make the sun... shine?'

Very sweet(!)

'You're always so smart.

The prettiest girl I know,'
spelt P-R-E-T-T-Y-E-S-T.

I didn't write that letter.

And those weren't
your glasses either.

What are we meant to
think, Winston, hmm?

You're not saying much.

So you can twist my words
and use them against me?!

And you were wanting
to go to university.

The irony.

You know what Wendouree
translates as in our language?

When the white settlers first
came across the lake,

the local Aboriginal people told
'em, 'Wendouree, wendouree!'

The white fellas must have thought
it was the name of the place,

when really they were wanting
them to go away, go away!

That's irony!

Wendouree!

Enough! Stop it!

(Wheezes)

Wendouree!

Arggh! Enough!

(Coughs)

Wendouree.

BLAKE: Now, Mattie, you
think that's her bicycle?

I think so, yes. There she is!

Mary!

Oh, goodness! She's cold.

Suffering from hypothermia.

We'll need to get to
a hospital, Mattie.

Help me get her up, would
you? That's the way.

That's the way.

Well, that's unusual. What?

Look, this mark here. That...
that's a b*llet graze.

Lucien, Mary wasn't
running to someone,

she was running away from someone.

I can't believe she'd come
out here without a coat on

on such a bitterly cold night.

Because she'd given her coat to Emma.

What?

Emma came underdressed on
the night of the bonfire.

Mary must have lent her coat to Emma.

Emma was wearing it
when she was sh*t.

Oh! Of course.

(g*nf*re)

(g*n fires)

(Telephone rings)

Ballarat Police.

Charlie, it's me. Listen,
he didn't do it.

We've had it wrong all along.

Emma wasn't the intended
target - Mary was.

Doc, I...

I need you to bring me the m*rder
w*apon and the love letter,

the one you took from my desk.

Gee, you don't ask for much, do you?

Thank you, Charlie.

Oh, we're just about to close.

Oh, damn! I was afraid we'd
left our run too late.

(Chuckles) What would you like?

You're a good man, Kevin.

Just my usual double-malted,
and one for Sgt Davis.

Er, Tommy, Andy - good boys.

Mr Van de Heyden, do
you own a handgun?

Oh, it's in my safe. We'd have
to go through to the back.

Great. Alright.

Just keep at it, boys.

Just mind your step there.

There we go. It's all above board.

What do you use it for?

Oh, me and the boys are
in the local g*n club.

Yeah, we're aware of that.

Actually, it isn't the.45
we're interested in, Kevin.

It's the Luger your father
brought back from the w*r.

Oh! Erm, yep, that's
in here somewhere.

It's, er... it's gone.

Is this it?

Yes, it's, erm...

That was the g*n used
to k*ll Emma Kenneally.

Well, someone must have, uh, broken
into the shop and stole it.

How did they get access
to the safe key?

Oh, I'm sure they...

Can we do this down the station? Dad?

Er, Tommy, just go look
after your little brother.

I did it. I sh*t her.

Someone had to stop her,

otherwise the blacks would
be running this town

if Emma Kenneally had her way.

Dad! Stay out of it, Tommy.

I suppose you wrote this
love letter too, did you?

To young Mary Jackson.

No. No, of course you didn't.
That's not your handwriting.

You see, Mary was the k*ller's
intended target, not Emma.

It was a case of mistaken identity...

.. wasn't it, Tommy?

Mary rejected your advances because
she's in love with Winston.

Now, in a moment Sgt Davis will check
the handwriting of this letter

against the handwriting
in your schoolbooks.

I'm sure he'll find a match, just
as I'm sure he'll find a match

between your fingerprints
on those milkshake glasses

and the spent shells we found
at the m*rder scene...

.. and the grip of your
grandfather's p*stol.

I never meant to sh**t
Miss Kenneally!

I only meant to knock the darkie off!

Why, Tommy? Why?

I paid her all that
attention at school.

I was so nice to her! She still
preferred that Abo bastard to me!

Come here.

Bit early for the post, isn't it?

(Chuckles) Just a tad.

Thank you for sorting out
the letterbox, by the way.

Perfectly fine. This
one's much nicer anyway.

Yes, very smart.

You know, Jean, those children
at the orphanage...

.. that place... seeing them...

.. I see my daughter alone, barely
able to speak the language.

Her mother dead, her father... gone.

Half-white, half-Chinese.

Her life... (Tuts)

Her life must have been unbearable.

Well, you can't blame yourself.

Winston, Mary, all the little
ones at the orphanage.

They've already gone through so much.

(Cries) Children... children just
want to be with their parents.

Come inside. I'll make
us a cup of tea.

That'd be lovely. I'll be in shortly.

MAN: Today marks the anniversary

of the Rebellion at
the Eureka Stockade,

the day miners fought for...

Leave us alone! Get out of it!

What were you doing wandering around
the memorial that night, eh?

Stop pretending you're a policeman
and get me an autopsy report pronto!

Of course.

I thought you'd got lost.

You keep files on people?!

Don't be so bloody naive, girl!

Arggh! Oh!

I've never been disappointed
in you, not for a moment.