28x09 - I Believe in Love - Part 1

[bunniefuu]

This programme contains some violent
scenes, scenes which some viewers

may find upsetting
and contains some strong language

..delays going up towards the
Sidwell interchange heading into London.

Stowerton High Street, that's closed
eastbound, still, from Forth Road...

..later today, and this

afternoon should see sunny spells
and highs of eight...

..Nine Elms, and also severe delays
on the Northern Line...

Oh, my God! No!

No! Stop! No!

Down!

Don't sh**t. Don't sh**t!

♪ Testator silens

♪ Costestes e spiritu

♪ Silencium

♪ Testator silens... ♪

I have no friends.

- Hmm?
- None.

Not one.

- Really?
- Really.

Wow. You are a tragic case.

Yes, I am.

How many friends do you have?

Everything all right?

Billy No-Mates has no mates.

How was Marsham Street?

Er...

- You were at the Home Office?
- Yeah.

A nonevent.

What did they want?

I'm not entirely sure.

- It felt like foreplay.
- Steady.

- How many friends do you have?
- They're mostly dead.

- Mm. Hmm?
- Oh, I don't know. Five... six hundred?

Who asked you?

Why are we counting friends?

I need a best man.

Ah, yes. Yes, well, at least one
would be useful.

I sent out notes to eight,
I think eight, yeah, eight guys.

- No-one answered.
- None?

- Not one!
- Oh, Jack.

It's a very stupid tradition.

I mean, do we seriously expect
the bride to marry the best man

because something's happened
to the groom?

Mind you, Anthony Simpson might have
been worth a scandal.

- Anthony Simpson?
- Yeah.

Anthony Simpson, my husband's best man.

I daren't think of him
stepping into the breach.

Steady! I won't sleep.

So, how many? Hmm?

Well, I mean, everyone here
is my friend.

There it is. No friends.

I have friends.

Oh, this is too sad.

OK, so, the world's
going to be destroyed.

You can save ten people in your
special superpower basement.

Who do you take?

- Ten?
- Struggling, aren't you?

Yeah? I couldn't do it either.

Start with Cara and then sort of
run out of ideas.

Oh, come on. Oh, it's true.

We know more dead bodies
than we know people.

What are you going to do
about bridesmaids? Ah!

Hello?



Do we believe any of the deceased
is the sh**ter?

No. The sh**ter's not here.
We need to find them.

Possibly first victim shot.

Didn't have a chance to move
once the sh**ting began.

- Hi.
- Kit?

I've got CCTV and credit
card reader data coming over.

Sure.

Yeah. I need the info on the last
transactions. OK?

- Will do.
- Yeah. Bye.

Shot in the chest.

That would fit with the blood and
ballistics here. Mm-hm.

Overkill b*ll*ts,
drifting down to the left.

Where did we go wrong, eh?

Where did we go so wrong?

It has now been
confirmed that five people

have been k*lled in the Baharat
restaurant sh**ting earlier today.

We do ask residents to stay indoors

and be aware.

Some schools have been closed
and activities cancelled.

When it's closer to home,
it's troubling.

Well... well, it's frightening, really.

There's an entry wound
in the left temporal area...

..with a corresponding stellate,

everted exit wound in the
right temporoparietal area.

The second entry wound is oval

and within the submental triangle.

There's a reddish-brown abrasion ring.

There appears to be no soot
deposition or stippling.

It's a perforating wound...

..with the exit wound
at the back of the skull.

Have you recovered any slugs?

We'll need the striations
of a b*llet to match to a g*n.

OK. Got it.

There's a third entry wound

penetrating the lower outer quadrant
of the left breast.

We only have audio.

There was a camera.
You have the data files, so...

There are no security camera images.
All I have is a black screen.

I need to get someone who knows
what they're doing.

Yeah, you absolutely should do that.

But it's not going to change
what's on this screen.

I can enhance the audio.

Erm...

No! Stop! No!

Down!

Don't sh**t. Don't sh**t!

Yeah, well, that's going to
catch us a k*ller, isn't it?

- That's good for bugger all!
- Ivor?

You're the Detective Inspector,
are you?

And your friends call you Ivor?

We don't know each other.

No, we don't.
It's very nice to meet you.

My name is Harriet.

OK... Harriet.

You're frustrated.

Yes. I am.

You really shouldn't
take it out on Kit,

who will be,
though you don't realise it now,

one of your best allies.

I think that you should
apologise to her...

..and get your relationship
back on a better footing.

- No. No, it's OK.
- It's all right, Kit.

There's a g*nman loose in London.

Police across London are looking for
him...

- and you want to...
- All the more reason for you

to bring your team with you,

working hard, together.

- Sorry.
- It's OK.

Good! Onward.

- Wha'...?
- I know.

She's, like, totally and
irritatingly... reasonable.

I've got something else.

Credit card transaction,

cross-checked against the time stamp
on the audio.

Went through around one minute
before the sh**ting began.

Someone called Doug Nicholson
bought two Syrian pizzas,

two houmous and pitta
and four beers. Listen.

When the front door opens,
there's a bell.

Do you hear it?

Yeah.

There's no sound of the door opening
before or after the g*nf*re,

no sound of it opening
at the time of the transaction.

Doug Nicholson didn't leave
through the front door.

If Mr Nicholson isn't dead,
then he left the scene another way.

If the g*nman isn't dead,
then he left the scene another way.

So it begs the question,
is Mr Nicholson the g*nman?

Do you want some more?

Oh, yes, please.

We've got a credit card
which will get me

a mobile number
for a Douglas Nicholson...

It's a common name.
There'll be dozens of them.

..that I can place in the mobile
cell at the time of the transaction.


a range of about 600 metres,

not the one to three miles of 4G masts.

When I find him in the cell,

I'll know I have the right
Douglas Nicholson.

Then we track him down cell by cell.

Are we good?

So good I think I might say
something inappropriate.

- Oh!
- Hey, brother.

You all right?

Got to earn a livin', yeah?

Mm. Ain't that a b*tch?

- Let's go f*ck something up.
- Shut up, you d*ck.

- How's your little girl?
- Beautiful.

This the one getting bullied?

- I had a word with the school.
- They won't do sh*t.

Well, they said they would.

What are you going to do if they don't?

How old is she?

Ten. Just turned ten.

Nice age. Goes fast.

Do anything for her.

She keeps me young. Huh.

If anyone touched my daughter...

Just saying.

West? Where's west?

Sun sets in the west, Jack.

- Don't start with me.
- This way's west.

Keep walking.

Where am I going now?

You have arrived at your destination.

His phone is somewhere in this cell.

Do you see a house or a flat?

Not exactly.

What do you see?

- An industrial site.
- Ah, well, he doesn't come out.

Or the phone doesn't come out.

Well, yeah, or that.

OK. I've got it from here.

I'm going to need PolSA officers,
dogs...

Jack? Jack?

Yeah, sorry. We're good.

We need more of you, more MO19s...

Good...

Yeah, with me.

More MO19s. Get me half a dozen,
at least.

- Steak?
- Nah.

Burgers, man.

Crisps?

Perfect.

Buns?

- Mustard.
- Treats.

Ah, yeah, come on, boys.
You lot grab the whisky.

Brilliant.

- Come on.
- Look at them sweet young things.

Let's go f*ck 'em up!

Leave it, lad. You don't need
to be dealing with the police.

C'mon, it'll be fun!
They think they're so hard.

Make 'em bleed a bit, force
them to say sorry to everyone.

Put them on their knees,
grovelling, crying like girls!

"Don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me."

What the hell do you think
you're doing?

- Get out my bloody shop!
- Get off me, man! Get off!

Yes, boys!

I'm calling the police.
Get out of this shop.

Er, I think you forgot to pay.

Get out of the way or I'll cut you.

Ah, there's beautiful.
I'm so f*ck' scared.

I'm going to give you another
chance, because everyone deserves...

..another chance.

He is so f*ck' stupid.

Come on, man! Fun and games!

Hey, don't... don't blame yourself.

It's the world we live in.

It's not right, though, is it?

Who's going to put it right?

Riddle me that one.

Hmm...

Oh!

I'm good.

Hmm.

Intact.

You beauty!

They're all the same-sized
projectile wounds,

likely the same g*n.

OK. I'll check to see
if the b*ll*ts match.

What did the Home Office want?

I'll talk to you about it later.

What's the big secret?

I don't want to talk about it here.

Is there a problem?

Jack!

OK. You coming home?

In a bit. I have some notes
to write up.

- Hmm.
- How did you get on?

- They find the g*nman?
- Not yet.

- Any idea what happened?
- Not yet.

You should go home. There's
no point in hanging around here.

I can see one point.

Yeah? Well, she needs a shower
and some new headspace

before she'll be worth
hanging around for.

I was thinking, I should ask
if they could

put in one of those what do you call it,
conjugal rooms?

Like they have in prisons!

They're not permitted in the UK.

Plus, I think you have to be married.

I'm embarrassed.

Although I am prepared to consider it.

See you at home.

Oh, Jack, that's so sweet,
but I'm busy tonight.

Workplace harassment.

How many left?

One.

- Tomorrow?
- Yeah.

Er, Nikki, erm, I was hoping
I could, erm,

get hold of you before
the end of the day.

- The day's long gone.
- Yeah.

I just wanted to say...

..how much I have enjoyed
working with you.

It's meant more to me
than I think you can imagine.

You're not the only one
who speaks to the Home Office.

Reel it in! He's stressed!

He's the most stressed fisherman ever.

You couldn't catch a fish
in a fishmonger.

That's cos of you talking all
the time, scaring them away.

That's rich, from you.

Men and fish both get into trouble
when they open their mouths.

Message for Stuart. Shut yours.

If wishes were fishes,
we'd all cast nets.

To fish...

..is to hope.

To fish is to hope.

Still water.

All that man can ask for, yeah?

Yeah.

- Still f*cking water.
- Hmm.

Sometimes you got to
take the ripples away.

Yeah.

Sometimes it's the only way.

Yeah. Still water.

Still water runs deep.

Yeah.

Runs deep.

Hmm...

Hey. Hey, with me. With me.

OK, we're going to need two of you
round that side,

two of the other guys round that side.

We're going to find this guy, OK?

No. Nothing so far.

We've got to get across that water.

There is an active manhunt ongoing
for the person or persons

responsible for the sh**ting
in East London.

Until the perpetrator of
this shocking crime is found,

please be on your guard.

Be assured we do have
Armed Forces on the streets,

and the search will continue
until he is apprehended.

I must be dreaming.

You are.

Mm.

It's a good dream.

Think I'll just keep going with it...

..see where it takes me.

Hmm...

It's Chalky.

You answer that, I will k*ll you.

He's a potential best man.

He'll be even better tomorrow.

I could give him a call tomorrow.

That sounds like a really good idea.

I'll call him tomorrow.

- Clear.
- Clear.

All clear.

All clear!

What did you want to
talk to me about later?

What?

Your big secret. Home Office.

Didn't want to talk about it at work.

Oh, that. Nothing.

If it was nothing, we could
have talked about it at work.

They were sounding me out about
setting up

a new forensic centre of excellence.

Just pathology?
Or science and pathology?

The plans were unformed.

They sound you out? Not me?

You're intending to be excellent
all on your own?

You want to know the honest truth?

Is the truth ever dishonest?

They asked me about you.

I told them I knew you.

They said, "Oh, my God!
You know Jack Hodgson?"

I said, "Yeah."

They asked, "How well do you know him?

I said, "Yeah, pretty well."

They said, "Could you help us
get to him?"

I said, "Yeah. I know how
to get to him."

Yes, well, that's all true.

Where is this... centre of excellence?

The Bowman Laboratory,
Birmingham General Hospital.

So, what's the catch?

They haven't thought about it enough.

- What haven't they thought about?
- Everything.

But they thought about me.

Yeah.

Really.

Police have entered the second day

in their search for a g*nman
who m*rder*d five people

in a Syrian restaurant in East London.

The Home Secretary
is aware of the situation

and extra police resources
have been requested

amid fears he may strike again.

The name of a man, Douglas Nicholson,

has been released as the hunt goes on,

now into its 20th hour.

There's been no confirmed sightings
of Nicholson whatsoever.

[i>In a statement...[/i>

- Did you make me some?
- On the counter there.

Thanks.

I'm well trained.

[i>..please make contact
with the police via 999.[/i>

Hey, Chalky!

Oh, hello, Mrs White.

Yeah, sorry, er,

Chalky called me last night,
and I'm just calling him back.

Yeah.

Yeah, I'm trying to reach him
cos I'm getting married.

Yeah. Thank you.

Yeah, she's, er, she's pretty nice.

"Pretty nice"?

- I'm lucky.
- Yes, you are.

Yeah. Uh-huh.

Yeah!

I'm sorry.

Uh-huh.

Er...

I'm really sorry.

Say hi from me. Yeah.

Thanks very much.

OK, you take care. Bye-bye. Bye.

What is it?

Chalky, a boxer I used to train with.

I've known him 20-odd years.

He can't remember things.

He's losing his memory.

- How old is he?
- My age.

[i>..First of all, tell us what you[/i>

[i>really know about this case.[/i>

[i>I've been hearing from local residents[/i>

[i>who are very worried, and schools
are almost on lockdown...[/i>

Good morning! Goodbye. Go on.

Come on. Get in there! Come on. Yes.

Come in!

Good morning, boys. How are you doing?

Come on.

Love you. Take care.

Yeah, off you go now.
Yeah. Love you. Quick, quick.

Cal?

Morning. How are you?

You're not meant to come here, Cal.

- I was worried about you.
- Don't worry about me.

I can't help it.

Calvin, this is not OK.

I was worried about Dawn.

Dawn's fine.

She didn't come to school.

She wanted to stay home
with me this morning.

Right. Well, she needs to go to school.

Yeah, and she will.

Just... you know, don't tell me
how to raise my daughter.

She's our daughter.

But she needs to be in school.

School's good for her. It's important.

Yeah, OK, Calvin, thanks.

And we ought to get rid
of her mobile phone.

Kids don't need phones.

Social media messes 'em up.

OK.

I don't want my daughter
getting bullied,

and they get bullied
on that social media.

Do you want me to sort that out?

I don't want you to do anything
except go. Just go.

But I can sort out the bullying.

Don't! Don't sort out anything.

Well, thanks.

Thanks for checking on us.

We're fine, OK?

Calvin, you need to go.

Please go.

You got someone in there?

No!

That boss of yours in there?
He's always sniffing around.

- No! No.
- That...

- ..Akram.
- No!

Please!

You know I love you, don't you, Peggy?

And I can't help it. I just...

I can't help it.

I know.

- Hi, Dad!
- Hey, pumpkin! Love you.

Love you, too!

- I'm closing the door.
- Go to school.

- Closing the door.
- Get rid of your phone!

- Everything OK?
- Yeah.

She's not telling you everything,
is she, brother?

There's going to be
some other bloke in there,

eating your porridge.

I love her. What else can I do?

Come on, man.

You going to go through
your life being a cuck?

Sort yourself.

Right? You've got to sort yourself.

I'll see you later.

Yeah, yeah, I'll let you know.

- There you go.
- Great. Er, sauce in there?

- Yeah, there's sauce in there.
- Cheers.

Guv'nor! We've found something.

- Can I make it safe?
- Mm-hm.

Russian-made p*stol.

Makarov PM.



Eight-round magazine.

Weapon safe.

Same stamp on the cartridge.

- You can search him now.
- OK.

Anything?

No.

- Well, was he robbed?
- Can't tell.

Are we sure it's our man?

I'll take prints and DNA.

Hopefully, we'll be able to
identify him quickly.

There's a g*nsh*t entry wound,
close-range,

in front of the right ear.

There is stippling in a roughly
oval-shaped area

in front of, above and behind
the entrance wound.

This is crazy.

Never known the world to be this crazy.
I mean...

the crazies are taking over.

You... walk down the street,
drive through town, it's everywhere.

Crazy, deranged people.

Yeah? What's happened to us, eh?

Name from the prints confirmed.

Douglas Nicholson.



Worked for TfL
then became an Uber driver.

Nicholson was arrested a month ago

for a Section 4A
disorderly behaviour offence.

Was he drunk or on drugs when he was
arrested?

No.

What about when he took his own life?

There was nothing in the MPT toxicology

to indicate that there was alcohol
or narcotics present

in his system when he died.

How long had he been dead?



- He died the same day as the sh**ting?
- Likely.

The sh**ting? You mean the murders.

The destruction of innocent life.

Would you like me to be more emotive?

I'd like you to say what it is!

Are you OK?

No. I'm not OK.

Why should anyone be OK?

Why did he do it?

Why?

Do we have any connection between
the victims and the sh**ter?

I've started victim
and suspect profiling.

I'll set up an association chart.

Is there any physiological
explanation for his behaviour?

- Yeah.
- Why did he have a Russian p*stol?

And why that restaurant at that time?

I'll send over an intelligence
gaps analysis.

Thank you.

You see...

..we all want to know why.

It's called a Pistolet Makarov.

A Russian bloke designed it
named Nikolai wait for it...

- Makarov?
- Oh, you're very clever.

It replaced the 1930s
Tokarev TT-33 p*stol.

- He won a competition.
- A competition?!

A competition.

Makarov designed it to use
a Walther 9mm x 18mm cartridge,

rather than the 9mm x 19mm
cased parabellum cartridge.

So captured Russian ammunition
couldn't be used in NATO weapons.

You knew all of this already?

Maybe.

Ah.

The Makarov was replaced 20 years ago,

but it's still used in
conflict zones by t*rror1st groups.

Hmm...

This one looks like
it may have been deactivated

and then reactivated.

How can you tell?

Looks as though
they welded the slide to the chamber

and then ground the weld off.

Where would you get a g*n like this?

There's a black market.
Criminals buy from criminals.

People buy them deactivated
on the internet

and try and reactivate them.

They're made in Russia. How do
they get them into the country?

Smuggled.

Some come in as trophies.

Trophies?

Yeah. Conflict tourists.

Soldiers deactivate them...

and bring them home.

[i>I can inform
you that earlier this morning,[/i>

[i>after an exhaustive search,[/i>

[i>the body of a man was discovered
in the East London area.[/i>

[i>But at this moment in time,
armed units are no longer searching[/i>

[i>for any further suspects.[/i>

Hey, sweetie! Sw...

Sorry. Sorry, excuse me, sir,
who are you here to pick up?

- Oh, er, my daughter. Dawn.
- Oh!

Oh, Daddy!

- Hey! You OK?
- Love you.

I love you.

- Um, want to go fishing?
- Yeah.

Yeah? You got any homework?

- Maths.
- Oh.

We can do it together, if you want.

- Yeah, that'd be great, thanks.
- Yeah?

Yeah?

Yeah, seat-belt. Good.

Let's... go... fishing!

Yeah!

Hiya. Erm, daughter, right?

Yes. Dawn. Dawn Ream.

She normally goes home with a friend.

Erm, yeah. Her dad picked her up.

What?

You know he is not to collect her!

How could you do this?
Do you realise what you've done?

I'm sorry. I-I-I-I... I didn't know.

What do I do now?

What do I do now?!

Do you still love Mum?

Of course.

She doesn't love you.

Well, if she doesn't...

..it's... probably my fault.

Sometimes things happen.

You can't always control them.

It's like the water's
not always smooth.

Right...

now...

..try this out.

Try and cast it out.

Hold it.

Remember...

Wrists!

Snap!

OK, and back.

Oh!

That's it.

Now, leave it now
and see if we get a bite.

The association chart.

- It's a blank.
- Yes. We drew a blank.

I like props. As far as we could
see, there's no connection.

I wanted to tell you
before I spoke to Ivor.

First-name basis?

His first name really isn't Ivor.

It's Gordon. He likes Ivor.

Does your mate "Ivor" have any idea

why Nicholson was in that restaurant?

No. Wasn't a robbery or anything.
Nothing was stolen.

Except five lives.

Is it OK if I come in,
or is it single-sex only?

- Ha-ha-ha, funny!
- It's who I am.

Yes, come in, Jack.

Now you know how I've felt most
of my career, walking into rooms.

Your chip is showing.

Oh, dear. I thought I was doing
so well!

- Douglas Nicholson postmortem?
- Shortly.

- Have we seen the medical records?
- Uh-huh.

Chronic pain in the right hand,
carpal tunnel syndrome.

He had mental health problems?

Er, PTSD.

He left the Army eight years ago.

He was diagnosed in 2019.

He stopped treatment in 2021.

Covid.

What PTSD symptoms did he have?

Nightmares? Flashbacks?

No. No shame, no guilt. Oh...

..he had trouble sleeping.

I have trouble sleeping.

Where did he serve?

Doesn't say.

He's wearing the Operational Service
Medal for Operation Shader.

He served in Syria.

The Makarov PM was the service
p*stol for the Syrian army.

And !sis t*rrorists.

Was it his trophy?

The Wolf. 9mm b*ll*ts.

American company,

but two factories in Russia
made them for the Syrian army.

- The restaurant!
- Syrian.

Maybe THAT'S why.



What's 12 times three?

Oh...

Got it.







..remainder...

- ..two?
- Oh! Perfect.

I think I got a bite.

No. It's gone.

That friend of yours
called Mum again last week,

trying to find you.

Says he needs your help.

Yeah. I helped him.

You're nice.

Yeah.

Is that Melissa still giving you
trouble at school?

Hmm... Do you want me
to sort it out? You know I will.

It's OK. I can do it.

Just remember,
me and you against the world.

Your nan used to sing that to me
when I was little.

Don't sing it, Dad!

You'll scare the fish.

Matt Monro. Your nan loved him.

I'm serious, sweetie.
I don't want you missing school

because of other girls
who don't treat you right.

I didn't miss school cos of them.

Last Friday?

I stayed home to make Mum feel better.

- OK, darling. Whatever.
- I'm not lying.

She lost her job cos of that man.

What man?

That... AK Rat.

Akram? Her boss?

The one who screamed at her
all the time.

He was crazy, shouting cos
she wouldn't say she liked him.

Then he fired her.

It wasn't fair.

Mum looked after me when I was sad.

I wanted to look after her.

That's why I stayed home.

To look after her.

Dad, I think I got one!

Oh, erm... Yeah.

Here, pull him in. Look...

- I caught one!
- Yep.

Hey! Look at that!

I did it!

I don't know where he could have
taken her. I don't know where he lives.

He knows he's not meant to do this.

- Bye, sweetie. Love you.
- Love you, too, Daddy.

See you soon, yeah?

Look both ways!

Mummy!

I caught a fish!

You're safe!

Of... course.

Thank God, thank God!

I caught a fish.

Come on! Come on, my brother.

You weren't put on this earth
to be a victim.

You going to let someone
take what's yours?

But she didn't go with him.

She still loves me.

Cal, you're fooling yourself.

She's gone.

She doesn't want you.
You need to face it, accept it.

Bollocks! Nothing's gone for ever.

- We've got a plan.
- Leave it, pal. Leave it.

Come on. Come on, let's do it.

Let's draw a line under the ratbag.

- She's not your wife.
- You've got to stand up.

Not any more.

I don't want to see you cucked.

No-one wants to see you cucked, mate.

I got your back, mate.

It needs to be done.

Let me sort it for you.

I'll do it cos I love you, brother.

I've put James on it.
You can step back now.

The deceased has been
identified as Douglas Nicholson.



The projectile perforated
the right side of the skull...

..on a path through
the right temporal lobe...

..through the left temporal lobe,

exiting through the left temporal bone.

- Harriet?
- Yes?

I need to show you something.

There's residue
on his right hand and fingers

consistent with firing a p*stol.

So he could have fired the g*n
in the restaurant?

He could have, yes.

But he didn't sh**t himself.

- What?!
- Look.

If he had shot himself,
there would also be

blood spatter on his hand.

There isn't.

Nicholson may have shot the g*n

and he may have shot it
in the restaurant...

..but someone else shot
Douglas Nicholson.

So, we're still looking for a k*ller.

♪ Testator silens

♪ Costestes e spiritu

♪ Silencium. ♪