01x06 - Episode 6

[bunniefuu]

His wife lived for 90 days

in a women's refuge.

- Do you come here a lot then?

- Yeah, I find it calming.

The cemetery?

Have you been listening to what I've said?

Someone inside the Crown Office told

Graham Finch about your witness,

and he's had her k*lled.

Almost k*lled.

I'm listening.

Looks more like you're eating your lunch.

- I'm eating my lunch so no one kills you.

- Excuse me?

If what you're saying's true,

then you're talking

about pissing off some powerful people.

Since you're clearly an amateur at this,

setting a meet in a place you frequent,

I'd imagine

they have an idea of what you're up to

and are, in all likelihood, watching you.

I'm not the one investigating

mobsters and murderers.

I've worked really hard

to have zero profile

on the worldwide f*cking shite bucket

that now feeds

every wannabe Trotskyite under 30

a steady diet of absolute certainty.

Has it ever occurred to you

that staying off the internet

can make someone

just as paranoid as being on it?

Not off it entirely.

Just the parts where you post

pictures of your glittered ba*ls

alongside the odd Negroni or

epic slice of carrot cake.

But, hey,

what's the, uh the saying?

"Just because I'm paranoid

doesn't mean folks aren't after me."

I think maybe we've digressed.

Been getting any nasty emails?

Maybe some threatening texts?

Well, after you're gone,

car accident,

stumble in front of a moving tram,

there'll be a report of some nameless,

faceless psycho that was stalking you,

as opposed to a pro in a suit

that's working for your betters.

Here.

Throw me a dirty look.

- What?

- Do it.

Then pick up the rubbish,

put it in the bin, and walk away.

Is there a secret message

stuffed inside your bacon butty?

Walk away quickly,

like I've pissed you off.

No problem.

And, Merritt,

next time, pick a better spot.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

La, la, la

La, la, la

La, la, la

So this has all become

a giant f*cking melodrama.

You need to come home, Jasper.

I want you to come home.

I propose that we meet up

and have a proper talk.

What's that place that we'd get ice cream

back when we were normal human beings,

near your school?

I'll meet you there tomorrow

at four o'clock, and we can have it out.

In public

so that we don't hurt each other.

That last part was a joke.

Okay, bye.

Did you walk

down the middle like I told you?

Yes, right down the middle.

Good.

In my experience, it's usually better

for the surveilled not to know

they're being surveilled.

Yeah, sometimes it's better

to give the cage a good rattle

to see how the tiger responds

when it wakes up.

This is how many animal trainers

have lost their arm.

Morck.

I'm in the middle of something.

Why can't you tell me now?

Fergus.

My doctor once told me

I've got a tortured liver.

Yeah, you'd think they would have invented

a safer pint by now.

It's so far gone,

I don't even get drunk anymore.

Got that from my da.

Fergus, your message said

something happened.

You know, if you'd told me three years ago

that up until yesterday I'd stay sober,

I'd have spat in your face.

What happened yesterday?

Jesus.

Who'd you bump into?

I was hoping you'd tell me.

Me? How do I know?

You were mentioned.

One of them says, "Next time Morck

comes to see you, tell him to f*ck off."

- "Give him nothing."

- One of them?

Cozy wee threesome.

All tooled up under their suits.

- Sounds like they came worried.

- Too f*cking right.

That was the sucker punch by the way.

I think they thought

I'd stay lying there in the car park.

- But?

- I got up.

- And?

- I left them lying in the car park.

All three?

Yeah, that sounds

like the Fergus Dunbar I remember.

Brawn over brain always. Well played.

So are you gonna tell me what jackpot

you've got me in the middle of?

I f*cking wish I knew.

Outside the bulges in their suits,

what was the vibe?

Ex-law? Military, maybe?

Who the f*ck are you?

I am Akram.

My bodyguard.

You'll need him.

Vibes? They were bad ones.

The kind of guys

that when they came into a pub,

you either got up and left

or called for backup.

So you've no idea who sent them,

but they know

you and I have spoken about Merritt.

Yeah, they probably know

we're talking now.

I've been getting followed

since you came to see me.

- Are you sure?

- I do have some instinct left.

Don't doubt it, but if you're right,

somebody inside tipped off

somebody outside.

Maybe it's your f*cking bodyguard.

Whoever it is,

they assume you know something.

If it was somebody on the inside,

they would've known I'd been working

on the case for eight months

and didn't get anywhere.

- Someone thinks you got somewhere.

- They were wrong.

Moira was right

to take me off the case when she did.

How about we give you a lift home?

I'm all right.

It'd be a shame to throw away three years,

abandon these nice kids

who seem to think you're really cool.

Carl, don't act all human.

Doesn't suit you.

Makes you look like a bigger arsehole.

If that's possible.

Thanks for the heads-up.

What?

I think if you were allowed to continue,

you would've solved the case.

- What makes you think that?

- I've read your file.

And everywhere we go,

you have already been.

We're following

in the footsteps of your investigation.

Great minds, eh?

I think you did such a good job back then

that someone was very afraid of you.

And that they are still afraid.

Good night, sir.

All right?

What?

- We've arrested someone for the sh**ting.

- My sh**ting?

I'm not sure

you can claim exclusive rights,

but yeah.

- Who is it?

- No one you know or know of.

- What's his name?

- We can't tell you.

Uh, not until

you've identified the sh**ter.

We need you to come in for a lineup.

- Me?

- Well, Jim can hardly do it, can he?

Neither of us can,

given the f*ck was wearing a mask.

You saw his eyes.

You said so in the report.

Okay.

When would you like me to come

and look in some bloke's eyes?

The sooner, the better.

Today, if you could.

- Can't. Fully booked.

- Okay. When?

I'll consult my calendar.

- Right.

- Right.

You looking at Graham Finch?

Looking at everybody.

Don't touch anything.

Amazing mentor you are.

I know. It's a gift.

D.C.I. Morck?

What are you doing here?

Walking it all through once more.

You want me to ID someone in a lineup.

I need to remember their face.

What are you doing here?

D.C.I. Bruce asked us to

watch the place, see who showed up.

What, he's got you sitting outside all day

in the vain hope of bumping into

someone useful four months later?

Either he has zero faith in either of you,

which is possible, or

you're not telling me the truth.

We thought we'd come

and see if we missed something.

See if something new

didn't occur to us this time.

Did anything new occur to you this time?

We think you are right.

That whoever stabbed Mr. Allen

left the flat, but not the scene.

That maybe the stabbing wasn't

the actual crime.

Stabbing a bloke in the head isn't

an actual crime?

- He meant not the actual objective.

- Yes, that's what I meant.

What was the actual objective,

do you think?

- To k*ll a cop.

- Just any cop who showed up?

Maybe someone

with a grudge against the police.

That's pretty much everyone around here.

What makes you absolutely sure

that Archie Allen wasn't

the actual target?

He was a petty criminal

of no real weight or consequence.

The morgues are full of petty criminals

of no real weight or consequence.

I seem to remember there was

a journalist at the press conference

who mentioned something

about him being an informant.

Dennis Piper, Scottish Telegraph.

Can you tell us if it's true

that you and D.I. Hardy knew

the victim, Archie Allen,

and if he was

a paid confidential informer?

He hadn't been registered.

Victim's full name was

Archie Arran Allen, the man from Arran.

You know how I know this?

It was in the file.

I didn't know it until I read it,

which for me is very strange

'cause I love names.

Love 'em. Names are like dogs.

Often resemble their owners.

I don't forget names,

but I had to read

Archie Allen's name in a file.

P.C. Anderson never said

the victim's name.

All he said was he was here on

Routine wellness. Your man's daughter

in Lancaster called in.

Said her dad hadn't returned her calls.

And what he never said was

was big f*ck in the chair,

bayonet in his head,

that's f*cking Archie Arran Allen.

Maybe he didn't know that.

- Oh, the daughter would've told him.

- He forgot to mention it?

He was nervous, so maybe,

but let's say you're right

that Archie was bait for a bigger fish.

It's only a matter of calling in

something as innocuous as,

oh, I don't know,

a routine wellness check.

Then this way, boom,

someone finds the body,

the cavalry don't appear right away

gives you time to

do what you need to do.

The sh**ter was here

for you or D.I. Hardy?

No, no, no, not at all, no.

We had zero connection with the man.

We were here by chance.

Conversely, young Officer Anderson was

probably around here quite a bit.

This was his section.

I bet he'd been inside

this f*cking house a few times.

You think he knew Archie Allen?

I think it's entirely possible

that if you look,

P.C. Anderson

and Archie Allen had an overlap.

That journalist was off by a little bit

but not by much, and f*cking Anderson

How long you been on the job? A month?

Three, sir.

Anderson was

top of his class at the academy.

I looked it up.

So he wasn't dumb.

But he made a big play of acting like it.

- Think the weapon came from here.

- Don't

Touching all the furniture,

so his prints would be written off

as a rookie move.

Hardy and I surprised him.

He didn't know his own story yet.

He'd seen the body, but he was thinking

about how to distance himself from it.

I mean, do we even know

if Archie Arran Allen has a daughter?

That would be good for you to find out.

Got the feeling when I picked up

the keys that, uh, they knew you here.

I come here sometimes.

Oh?

Mm. When I need some space.

Mm. It suits you.

What is it, exactly,

that you want to know about my department?

I couldn't tell you exactly.

Something must've made you get in touch.

As I'm not very high up, I'm

guessing it's something specific.

I'm a reporter, not a cop.

But in my job,

planting ideas often backfires.

Someone knows something or they don't.

When we first met,

I thought you looked familiar.

Oh?

Actually, I knew.

- Really?

- Mm.

You were at the Finch trial.

Almost every day.

The reason I know that is

you were sitting right behind my boss,

the lord advocate, Stephen Burns.

Good memory.

So my question is,

is this to do with Graham Finch?

Or maybe Stephen Burns?

Or maybe both.

You understand I can't trust you.

Well

trust works both ways, doesn't it?

Your proximity to Stephen

makes me nervous.

As I recall seeing you two chatting.

Mm. Chatting about the weather.

- You could be setting me up.

- For what?

I didn't know Stephen Burns then,

and I don't know him now.

- I am hoping you can help me with that.

- So it's Stephen you're looking at?

I would think

you two would be on the same side.

Aye.

You'd think so.

Well, back to my first question.

How can we trust each other?

You wanna pat me down?

Make sure I'm not wearing a wire?

There's lots of places

you could be hiding a wire.

So how can I be sure?

For example, you could be hiding

your own wire. Somewhere.

Why would I do that?

Same reason you're wary of me.

- Sure Stephen Burns would love

- Don't say his name.

Kills the moment.

There's a moment, is there?

Make me trust you.

Well, go on, then. You too.

Your eyes are two different colors.

Mm.

Does that make me

more or less trustworthy?

I'll let you know.

At it again, eh, Merritt?

Ugh, no.

Now I'm gonna have to wash ya' joggies.

There was a witness Merritt wanted to call

to the Graham Finch case.

Which witness?

It's your job to decide

on witness statements, isn't it?

Yes. Which witness?

She would've came to you

and asked for her to be admitted.

Yes, which witness?

Prior to witnesses

being declared to the defense,

who else would know their names?

- Just us.

- "Us" meaning you and Merritt?

Aye. What is this? What witness?

Apparently someone could've swayed

the verdict the other way.

Who? And how?

Kirsty Atkins.

She met Andrea Finch

in a domestic violence shelter.

I've never heard of her.

Sure? Shouldn't you check the file?

It was four years ago.

I worked on the case for months

before Merritt was appointed.

- I'd remember.

- Hmm.

Merritt was appointed

lead counsel over you, right?

- She was considered the best fit.

- And you were okay with that?

We work as a team.

Doesn't matter who leads.

But we found that in cases like Finch,

a jury's more affected by a woman's voice.

Mm.

Merritt's voice could be quite affecting.

Excuse me?

Your relationship with Merritt went beyond

the boundaries of professionalism.

- It's relevant to the investigation.

- Not to me, it isn't.

We've discussed

all there is to discuss on that front.

How well did you know Finch's advocate,

Robert McDonald?

- Well enough.

- Well enough to feed him information?

- Why would I do that?

- To give them an advantage.

Is she having a laugh?

We're having difficulty believing

Merritt never mentioned

Kirsty Atkins to you, her trial partner.

- What makes you so sure she wanted to?

- What makes you so sure she didn't?

Again, asked and answered. I'm very sure.

At the time,

Kirsty was in Saughton Prison.

Merritt visited her

in week one of the trial. This we know.

Why would I sabotage my own case?

Because, as you said,

this wasn't just your case.

Ah, okay.

So this was revenge?

I was angry with Merritt

for not running away with me?

Were you?

I was f*cking furious at the time,

and for about a month.

And then I woke up embarrassed

at myself for being such a cliché.

If there was any witness

that could've changed the outcome,

any witness that could've helped put

that b*stard away, I would've welcomed it.

Kirsty was threatened

right after Merritt visited her in prison.

She was attacked. By some miracle,

they didn't k*ll her. She was transferred.

Now she's out in a month. My guess?

She'll be dead

by some mishap a few days later.

And this is all on Graham Finch?

We can't say without knowing

who it was that fed the defense.

So, if the personal stuff

did feed into the trial,

we need to know now.

You think I'd risk my career for her,

or let someone go free

for throwing their wife down the stairs

'cause my feelings were hurt?

- You risked your marriage.

- You're young.

Get married, and we'll talk in ten years.

Okay, let's just say that Merritt

brought this up with you hypothetically.

You're hypothetically asking

about a hypothetical?

Indulge me.

Might you tell Merritt

that Kirsty wasn't the best witness

because of her background?

Not to mention

her desperation to get out of jail.

- A jury sees through that.

- You'd have stonewalled her?

I would have asked

to speak to the witness myself

and made my decision

based on how credible I thought she was.

- So by the numbers?

- By the numbers.

Okay, so what would Merritt's next move be

to get Kirsty admitted as a witness?

She could go above me, but it would likely

just get kicked back down to me.

No. You're wrong.

You just said she'd go above you.

It doesn't mean that she did.

You get me worried

about my relationship with Merritt

just so you can play your real card,

which is Stephen Burns?

Oh, excellent. Hats off.

Be careful what you learn from this man.

There's practiced,

and there's reckless.

Stephen Burns brought Merritt

into the department.

He was invested in her success.

There's no way he would do anything

but help her, or at least try.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I'm late.

Thank you, Liam.

Jasper.

How you doin', buddy?

Fine.

Carl Morck's kid, right?

D-do I know you?

Not by name.

But you can feel who I am, can't you?

Or what I am.

Course you can. You're a smart kid.

- Carl's on his way here right now, so

- Aye.

So where is he? 'Cause frankly

Sit.

Do not cry or whimper

or make any kind of sound.

Imagine this was your young ba*ls

I'm doing this with.

'Cause if you shout or if you scream

or if you do anything outside of

just sitting there quietly looking at me,

I'll ruin you.

Okay?

Okay.

There's a good lad.

I mean, I'm not so bad to look at, am I?

No.

No what?

No, you're not that bad to look at.

Thank you, Jasper.

You're very nice to look at.

I know some people

who would pay good money

just to look at you.

All of you.

I know some others

who would pay good money too

to put things inside you.

Things human and not.

Both wet and dry.

See, and they would get off

not just on your nice face

but on all that fear

and the blood that comes out of you.

And they would film it all.

So after they dropped you at the hospital,

'cause these are just men with appetites,

they're not animals,

they could relive those moments

over and over again.

Just like you'd be doing

in your own mind

for the rest of your life.

So here's what I'd

like you to do for me.

I'd like you to pass on

everything I've just said to you

in exactly the way I said it to Carl

when he gets here.

Speak of the devil.

Nice kid you've got there.

Oi.

Easy, tiger.

I'm not resisting.

- What did you do to the kid?

- Nothing. We were talking.

I like kids.

- You f*cking tell Finch that if he wants

- Who?

Tell Graham Finch,

the next time he wants to send a message,

to get his f*cking arse

down here himself, yeah?

f*cking c**t!

Carl!

Move.

Keep pressing down

until you feel

all your weight along the floor.

- Wow.

- Exactly.

What did you say

this technique was called again?

It's mine. It's a Dr. Loo technique.

This isn't what it looks like.

- Too bad.

- Eh, eh, eh.

And press.

Now try and lift your legs.

All right. Good boy.

Let's get him into the chair.

Ready?

- Sit up.

- Okay.

And three, two, one, lift.

Whee!

Lift yourself up. Come on, push.

Let's try and keep you out of bed

as much as we can.

Thanks, boys.

Be nice to your father.

He's worked hard today.

Oh, I'm always nice to my father.

- How's your day, Dad?

- f*ck off.

Why are you haunting me?

I know you're in love with me.

In love with my own dad?

That's disgusting.

f*ck's wrong with you?

Don't you have a life?

Now you sound like my mum.

- I don't want to go home.

- Why not?

'Cause I don't like being alone.

I keep seeing dead old people.

Hmm. PTSD? You thinking

about that old couple you ran over?

I knew you'd comfort me.

Well, seeing as you're here,

you might as well help me.

Do you need the loo?

Do you want me to get you a wee bowl?

No, I don't need the loo.

So I've been reading old news.

Every wee thing that happened in Edinburgh

around the time

before and after Merritt went missing.

Everything from the opening

of a new pie shop up the Mile

to various pub fights

to the death of a Chinese medical student

who somehow confused

formaldehyde for vodka.

- There's a new pie shop?

- Four years ago, dimwit.

Right, yeah. Sorry.

Nothing all that interesting

except for a story

about a gentleman named Ned Finkle.

Ned Finkle?

- Some handle, eh?

- Ooft.

He was released from this very hospital

two weeks after being run over

by a young lawyer named Julia Montgomery.

- Mm.

- Sorry, did that trigger you?

I'm medicated.

So he's out jogging when the Fiat

driven by 28-year-old Julia Montgomery

suddenly veers across the street,

puts poor Mr. Finkle up in the air.

Lost both his legs.

Jesus.

What happened? Did she fall asleep?

Mrs. Montgomery claims

she was forced off the road

by another vehicle

that came up alongside her.

But seeing how she smacked him from behind

and there were no witnesses,

it was her word against his.

What, so she she just got away with it?

Well, only if she was lying.

How'd you mean?

Julia Montgomery was born Julia Burns.

She married an oral surgeon

named Robert Montgomery two years before.

- Burns?

- His daughter.

So someone sent a message

to Stephen Burns?

Attagirl.

- Graham Finch.

- Probably.

And you think Merritt knew?

Again, probably.

Good work, Dad.

Well done. You're all over the socials.

"Unhinged cop at it again."

f*cking c**t!

- Carl!

- Will that get me laid?

Probably. But not necessarily

by anyone you'd want.

Mm.

- Where's Jasper?

- Uh, school.

He said to say he'll pick his stuff up

from his nana's on his way home.

Okay.

Do you think violence is

a good thing to be modeling for Jasper?

I wasn't modeling violence.

I was modeling how to tell

a creep not to f*ck with me.

Right. Well, uh, whilst I don't approve,

the experience did have one benefit.

This morning, he actually made his bed.

I know.

Very significant.

So notice it's happening dead center.

Like they knew where the camera is,

parked there so it would catch all of it.

And then,

right after

- Land Rover wasn't even his car.

- Mm-hmm.

Hang on.

BMW 7 Series.

Let's have a look at the tag.

- So what you guys doi

- Shh.

Nice.

Carl Morck?

Dr. Sonnenberg.

We meet at last.

Please.

Please take a seat.

Question.

Where's Dr. Irving?

Ah, well, lucky for you,

I managed to return earlier than expected.

Turns out

a torn meniscus takes less time

Nobody told me.

Well, they should have.

It's important to end

a therapeutic relationship properly.

Yes. Yes, it is. It's very important.

And I feel a sense of abandonment,

anger, and resentment.

That's good. That's an excellent place

for us to get started.

Let's just rearrange, shall we?

- Course, if you think that's

- Please, don't get up.

We wouldn't want you to have

any more surgery.

- It is allowed for you to drive faster.

- I know.

- You seem nervous.

- Do I?

Yes, is it because of your, um

- Never mind.

- Just ask if you're gonna ask.

What happened?

I hit an elderly couple in my car.

I was in pursuit of this

Does it really f*cking matter?

No. I meant what happened after.

You said you had some issues.

Oh.

Yeah, it's not that big a deal.

Okay.

I tried to k*ll myself.

I am sorry.

Slit my wrists.

Well,

wrist.

Um Passed out

before I could get to the other one.

I can't stand the sight of blood.

D.I. Hardy found me.

I was helping him and Carl with this

Doesn't matter. Anyway, um

he came by my flat when I didn't show up.

He saved your life?

Not really, no. Um

The doctor said I wouldn't have died.

The The cut wasn't deep enough.

Um

But he definitely saved it after.

- How so?

- By being nice.

It's a black BMW 7 Series,

registered to Edmund Solomon.

Flat 58.

- This is not the best neighborhood.

- I've got your back.

Thank you.

Rose, do me a favor.

Wait here.

What? No.

Please.

Yeah?

Sir, is your car the black BMW?

What about it?

I'm sorry, sir, but your car is on fire.

- What do you say?

- Your car is on fire.

Get out my f*ck' way.

Oh.

You f*ck'

My f*ck' leg!

Sir, would you please call an ambulance?

Mr. Solomon has fallen down the stairs.

It appears he has broken his, uh

femur.

f*ck that c**t.

Your neighbors don't seem to like you.

Who hired you and your friends

to harass D.C.I. Morck?

I'm gonna f*ck' k*ll you!

Okay. But in the meantime,

please tell me who you work for.

If you're gonna arrest me, just do it.

Well, I'm not actually a policeman.

But you are lucky you're talking to me

and not D.C.I. Morck because

he would probably k*ll you.

I won't. However, I will hurt you.

Please, who hired you?

Who hired you?

h*! Gonnae shut the f*ck up?

Okay. I'm listening.

What the f*ck were you thinking?

- I was thinking I wanna k*ll this prick

- Wait. I love this part.

- f*cking c**t!

- Carl!

'Twas only the reasoned voice of a child

could finally stop the beast.

- I was set up, for f*ck's sake.

- Yes!

It looks like someone

may have indeed set you up.

And while that's very concerning,

what is even more concerning

is the fact it's f*cking possible

to set you up in the first place.

You look like a bloody lunatic.

He threatened Jasper.

Be that as it may,

you have now lost hold of yourself

in public twice in the same week.

That's got to be a bloody world record.

I don't even know what to f*cking say.

I'm f*cking speechless.

What the f*ck, Carl?

Show's been going on for a while now.

- Oh, yeah.

- What the f*ck?

Are you f*cking five

or are you f*cking fifty?

f*cking pathetic, that's what it is.

And normally,

a banger f*cking week like that

would be what I'd like to call

a f*cking career ender.

- Catchy.

- Shut up!

And I am not firing you.

Because no doubt that's exactly

what whoever got your easy-gotten goat

wanted to happen.

Ah, yes!

The other enabling members

of Team Doolally.

To what do I owe this pain?

Uh we located the driver of the vehicle

who picked up the victim.

Can we not call

that piece of sh*t a victim?

Where is this driver?

At the moment,

he's in hospital with a broken leg.

Oh?

He fell down the stairs.

Really?

He's employed as a chauffeur

by Ballantyne Transfer & Security.

Which is owned by Finch Overseas Shipping.

And have you talked to Finch?

We've been

rattling his cage.

What are you waiting for?

Merritt was spending time

with a journalist called Sam Haig

who was looking into corruption

in the Crown Office.

Okay.

He died in a climbing "accident"

right before she disappeared.

And you think someone

inside the Crown Office was involved?

Not someone.

Stephen Burns.

What the actual f*ck?

We think there was a connection

between Burns and Finch.

I can't wait to hear it.

Finch threatened Burns's daughter.

Her car was driven off the road

by another vehicle

the same time as Finch's trial.

Merritt didn't like losing

when it was fair.

If her superior was helping Finch

- This is all theory, not evidence.

- I'd like to hear what Burns has to say.

- Formally question the lord advocate?

- He won't give me anything if it's formal.

- You wanna waterboard him?

- Yeah, I'd love to.

But it's frowned upon,

so I'll settle for surprising him instead.

- We're all set.

- What for?

The lineup.

Oh, f*ck.

- Turn to the right, please.

- What the f*ck for?

They're wearing masks.

I need to see their eyes.

Back to the front.

Ask number six to step forward.

Number six, please step forward.

Tell him to take off his mask.

Please remove the mask.

I'm sorry.

Are you sure?

It's just you and me in here.

This gentleman's guilty of something.

Probably a lot of somethings.

But my sh**ter, he is not.

Okay.

- Looks like that hatch

- Shut the f*ck up.

That f*cking hatch.

That f*cking airlock. It's broken again.

I told you to fix it.