12x07 - Brother's Keeper

[bunniefuu]

[Musical theme]

♪ ♪ There were several reports, sir.

But there was some confusion as to whether people heard one sh*t or two.

Now, this is where the call about the body came in.

A police call box.

Did the caller identify themselves?

No, sir.

[Drunken shouting]

Sounds like the Hog's Head Tavern is letting out, sir.

Why do people do this, George?

And why the 'wah hoo'?

Well, there are several variants, sir.

There is 'wah hoo', 'yeah hoo'.

I believe in Texas they say...

... 'yee haw'.

[Tense music]

Still quite warm.

Sir, look.

Blood.

I k*lled him.

♪ ♪ It's just a graze, you're very lucky.

If I was lucky, the dead man would be under arrest and I would be unscathed.

I think given how events played out, I was rather unlucky.

Yes.

How did events play out?

I came upon him unexpectedly in the alley.

He was drunk and belligerent.

I tried to avoid him, but he came straight at me.

How frightening.

He drew a p*stol from his coat.

As I lifted my arm to block the sh*t, he pulled the trigger.

What happened then?

We fought for control of the w*apon and it discharged.

I tried to save him, but he d*ed within seconds.

I'd never k*lled anyone before.

It's a terrible feeling.

The first time I ever k*lled someone up close face-to-face was in the line of duty.

Came at me with a Kn*fe.

Had no choice.

Troubled me all the same.

Murdoch: And you say you didn't know this man?

Not that I'm aware.

Did he recognize you?

I don't know.

What are you thinking, Murdoch?

Well, I would certainly like to know his motive.

What motive?

He was drunk and belligerent.

Sir, the man drew a p*stol and sh*t.

Agreed.

It was more than the average Saturday night donnybrook.

Do you remember anything else?

What he said?

How he looked at you?

My only true memories are scattered impressions.

Anything else would be my own invention.

I'm sorry, I wish I could tell you more.

Well, we need to learn the identity of the victim.

Victim?

Oh, yes.

Of course he's the victim.

Look, Watts.

Go home.

Take tomorrow off.

Go for a walk in the park.

Get your mind off this.

Yes.

I think that's best.

Julia, could you oversee this one?

It's not that I don't trust Miss Hart.

I understand.

I'll let her know.

Thank you.

[Indistinct chatter]

What have you, George?

Sir.

I've identified two sets of fingermarks on the w*apon.

Detective Watts and the victim?

That's correct.

I found four casings.

Two had been fired, two b*ll*ts were still in there.

The only slightly odd thing about that is this revolver is built to take five.

Other than that, I lifted a partial thumbmark, but it belongs to neither man.

The g*n could have been borrowed, I suppose.

Or stolen.

Good point.

He's likely a criminal.

Check the photographs.

We have a city-wide directory now.

Get Henry to help you.

Sir.

[Footsteps approaching]

Have I lost your confidence, Detective?

Miss Hart.

You yourself have in fact complimented me on my abilities.

A police detective has k*lled a man, under suspicious circumstances.

It's not my trust at issue.

It's the trust of the mayor, the chief constable, the public.

I see your abilities.

They see a young, inexperienced woman who is not yet a doctor.

Julia: Let's begin, shall we?

Yes.

Powder burns on wound opening are consistent with Detective Watts' account.

Very close range, within inches.

The b*llet has yet to be extracted, but the opening is consistent with a 38 caliber w*apon.

As for the time of death, rectal temperature recorded at 93 degrees.

Ambient temperature recorded at 62 degrees and diminishing at a rate...

Your estimate is all I require.

I wanted to be sure Dr.

Ogden was confident.

I have complete confidence in your method of calculations.

Time of death?

Midnight, give or take 30 minutes.

Is that in accordance with your expectations?

It is.

Thank you.

Julia: Let's continue, shall we?

What's become of this city that a policemen would be targeted in a murderous att*ck?

[Snoring]

For Pete's sake!

Higgins!

Wake up!

It's Higgins-Newsome, if you don't mind.

Higgins, that's the third time you've nodded off this week.

Is married life really so boisterous?

It's not that.

I took a second job.

You?

You barely have enough energy for one.

I know.

But it's been hard on Ruth.

She's not used to penury of the sort that you and I are accustomed too.

Her hairdressing bill alone is half my wage.

Well, maybe she should start doing her own hair.

I don't know, George.

She's already given up truffles and her chocolate delivery service...

Chocolate...

Right then, what's this job you've taken?

Night watchman.

Sounds easy enough.

I thought so too!

I was hoping I'd be able to sleep there, but they've got these hellish new machines that I have to punch every hour on my rounds.

Well, you can't sleep here either, Higgins.

If you're going to have another job, it should be one that has you home by bedtime.

There are none.

That's bollocks.

I've been looking for a mechanic for the auto repair shop for weeks now.

There are plenty of jobs if you're a mechanic or a doctor.

I have no skills.

Maybe you need to get some.

Or better yet, invent your own job.

Should I invent someone to pay my wages too?

Higgins.

What do people want?

What can you supply?

What are you good at?

I'm a good singer.

Anything but that.

I once won a contest for reciting the alphabet backwards.

Higgins.

You are also the co-owner of an automobile.

That just gets me to the job that I don't have faster.

Yes, but perhaps it could get other people to where they need to go.

Like a cabbie?

A motorized cabbie.

How do I get customers?

Drive down the street yelling, "Cabbie for hire?" You could.

Or you could advertise and you could get one of those messaging services to dispatch your calls.

Huh.

Maybe.

Wait a minute, Higgins.

Turn back.

What?

That's him.

Who?

That's our victim, Higgins.

You fell asleep on him.

Nigel Baker.

m*rder*r, recently released.

That's him.

That's my son, dear God.

I'm sorry for your loss, Mr.

Baker.

Murdoch: When did you last see your son?

We were at Hog's Head Tavern with his friends.

We were celebrating his release.

He left shortly before I did.

About eleven o'clock.

Your son att*cked and sh*t a police detective.

What?

And he was k*lled in the ensuing struggle.

How?

Who?

A Detective Watts.

Does that name sound familiar?

No.

Can you think of any reason why your son would do something like this?

My son wasn't treated very fairly by the police.

He was convicted on bad evidence.

Yes.

But the conviction was overturned.

He was out on the street, a free man.

But he still lost four years of his life.

Hardly a reason to sh**t at a police officer.

I know you're trying to understand what happened, Detective.

I'm sorry I can't help you.

It doesn't make sense.

That's the trouble with you, Murdoch.

You insist on the world making sense.

Sir, people don't just go around sh**ting someone they don't know for no reason.

What if he just wanted to?

What have you, George?

Sir, a case file for Nigel Baker.

Apparently, he was some sort of g*ng leader in the west end.

Reputed to be ruthless.

West end.

That's Watts old stomping ground.

I'm surprised he didn't recognize him.

George, that m*rder conviction, who was the victim?

Sir, this man.

Daniel Marks.

20 years old.

Lived in the same neighbourhood as Baker.

Apparently, Mr.

Marks had reported on a robbery that Nigel Baker had committed, and presumably, Baker k*lled him in retaliation.

I also found out Nigel Baker was at the Hog's Head Tavern until 11:00.

And by the time he left, by all accounts, he was well into his cups.

[Phone ringing]

Detective Murdoch.

You've determined the fingermarks on the w*apon were from Mr.

Baker's right hand, correct?

Correct.

And Detective Watts claims that the g*n was still in Baker's hand when it discharged?

I believe they were both struggling for control of the w*apon.

Well, Miss Hart has discovered something quite interesting.

Miss Hart?

If what the detective said is true, the b*llet would have traveled from the victim's right to his left from the point of entry.

But I tracked the path of the b*llet and found that it had in fact traveled from his left to his right.

Right.

You're Baker.

You're trying to sh**t me and I'm trying to stop you.

Mm-mm.

[Grunting]

Bam!

Haha!

Bloody hell, Higgins!

Are you all right, sir?

Henry...

We're trying to demonstrate how the w*apon discharged.

Not engage in an actual fight!

Sorry, sir, but it's what he'd have done.

One of them would have, sir.

They were in a fight for their lives, were they not?

I hate to say it, but he does have a point.

Out the way, Higgins.

Let the dog see the rabbit.

Right, then.

So, what if Watts did give him the knee?

You're Baker.

You're taken by surprise.

Your arm relaxes.

I turn it around.

Yes, sir, but at no point does the g*n come 'round far enough to sh**t him from the left.

So I have to wrest that free to be able to do that.

So, Watts had control of the w*apon when he sh*t Baker.

Odd that he didn't mention that.

Perhaps he thought it was too incriminating.

That's what worries me.

Sir, I just spoke to John.

He said Watts was in a hurry when he left the station last night.

And he was heading for the Hog's Head Tavern.

That's where Nigel Baker was drinking that night.

Bring him in, Crabtree.

Put this away.

Sir.

Yes, I was going to The Hog's Head.

Why?

A man claimed he had information for me.

Regarding?

He didn't say.

Nor did he give me his name, if that's what you're wondering.

Could it have been Nigel Baker?

Are you thinking I was lured there?

Did you know Nigel Baker?

I knew of him.

He was one of those trouble makers from St.

Patrick Square.

There was a g*ng of them.

Last I heard, he'd been convicted of murdering a young man from the neighbourhood.

Yes.

The conviction had been overturned.

I should have known that, I suppose.

Do you recall the Daniel Marks case?

Of course.

I was just a constable at the time, but I took an interest.

Did you work the case?

No.

Not directly.

Although we all helped out.

It was outrageous, what he did to that poor man.

Did you know Daniel Marks?

Not to speak to.

He lived up on William Street.

So, you had no particular grievance with Nigel Baker?

Are you asking if I sh*t him on purpose?

Whose hand was around the p*stol when it discharged?

His.

Are you certain?

Of course I'm not certain.

Memories are fragmentary impressions at best.

The mind moves like a flock of starlings.

It's hard to pin down a thought, let alone a memory.

Why are you asking?

Have you found a discrepancy in my account?

Nigel Baker was sh*t from the left side.

And you want to know if I wrested the g*n from his grasp and then sh*t him?

Yes.

If that's what the evidence shows, that must be what happened.

What I can tell you with absolute certainty is that I did not sh**t Nigel Baker with malice aforethought.

I'm not sure Detective Watts is capable of lying.

Even to save someone's feelings.

In my experience, anyone is capable of lying if the incentive is strong enough.

Have you ever lied to me?

Never.

Is that a lie?

I suppose it's possible, but I honestly can't remember.

Julia, do you remember your fight with Eva Pearce?

More than I care to.

Every detail?

Well, I was in a fight for my life.

And I've relived that moment countless times.

It's very emblazoned in memory.

Detective Watts had a similar fight with Mr.

Baker.

They wrestled for a g*n, and Watts k*lled him.

That's still self-defence.

Yes, but Detective Watts claims not to remember that.

And you want to know if that's possible?

Yes.

Well, it is certainly unusual, but every mind is different.

♪ ♪ HMS Cabbies.

How regal!

It stands for Higgins-Newsome Motorized Service.

Ha!

Ha!

Well, congratulations, Higgins.

You're now your own best employee.

[Phone ringing]

Higgins-Newsome.

Yes...

George.

Did you find out anything?

Sir, I'm not sorry Nigel Baker is dead.

Indeed.

He was one of those chaps who is cruel just for the fun of it.

He tortured Daniel Marks before he k*lled him.

Did you find out why the verdict was overturned?

They didn't say, sir.

I gather it's something of an embarrassment for them.

All it says in the file is that the m*rder w*apon was no longer of evidentiary value.

Interesting.

Who do you know well, over at Station House Number One?

I used to work with Constable Baxter.

Alright.

See if he's willing to discuss it with you.

Also, please bring in Nigel Baker's father.

Sir.

Thank you.

Right then, I'll head over to Station House One.

You collect the father.

Henry?

I'm sorry to trouble you again, Mr.

Baker.

I won't take up much of your time.

I'll be happy to help you, Detective.

Any way I can.

I want to know why your son's conviction was overturned.

Because all of the evidence they used to convict him was manufactured by the police.

How so?

All of the evidence they had on Nigel was circumstantial, except for what they claimed to be the m*rder w*apon.

Which was?

A Kn*fe.

My son's.

He never denied owning it.

He had it for years.

And how did they determine this to be the m*rder w*apon?

There was a thumbmark on the blade that belonged to Daniel Marks.

Well, that would be damning.

And it was.

But Nigel was adamant that the police put the thumbmark on the Kn*fe.

My son was never above evading the truth, but I could tell that he wasn't lying this time.

And so, we got a court order to re-examine the w*apon and we found that the victim's thumbmark was indeed on the m*rder w*apon.

It was from the wrong hand, Detective!

The police were so corrupt and hell-bent to prosecute my son.

They were stupid.

[Phone ringing]

Higgins-Newsome.

Sir.

Any luck, George?

Sir, luck is not the word.

Not only did Constable Baxter remember the disputed evidence, he was the reason it was disputed in the first place.

Go on.

Apparently, the victim's right thumbmark was found on the blade of Nigel Baker's Kn*fe.

Yes, I've heard the same.

Right.

And a deep gash on Daniel's right hand suggested he had grabbed the Kn*fe trying to prevent further att*ck.

With that evidence, they had Nigel Baker dead to rights.

So, what happened?

So, Constable Baxter is cataloging evidence.

He has the Kn*fe there, on his desk.

There's some sort of melee outside and he goes to help.

By the time he gets back, the thumbmark has been wiped clean of the blade.

And without the thumbmark, there would be no way to prove it was the m*rder w*apon.

Baxter was beside himself, but another constable told him he would take care of it.

I should have told you.

You replaced the thumbmark.

It wasn't difficult.

The victim's corpse was still in the morgue.

Clearly a bit more difficult than you had thought.

You replaced it with the wrong thumb.

I get left-right mixed up.

Same with East-West.

Up-down, North-South, I'm quite good at.

Why would you take such a risk?

To the case?

To yourself?

Because it was my fault.

I was the one who told Constable Baxter to leave his desk.

To aid with the melee outside?

Baker's boys had started it, obviously.

It was an idiot trap and I was the idiot.

I had to make it right.

It wasn't right, of course.

It destroyed the case.

And it's now destroyed my career.

He fixed evidence?

That would explain why he seemed so evasive.

He didn't want us to find out.

Well, you can't blame him for that.

It'll mean the end of his job.

It also explains why Nigel Baker att*cked him.

How did Baker know that Watts would go down that alley?

It's the shortest distance from Station House Four.

It saves him having to go down to Queen Street.

So, Nigel Baker called Watts and lured him to the Hog's Head Tavern.

He then confronted him en route, no doubt intending to return to the tavern to secure his alibi.

Sirs.

I just spoke to Constable Baxter.

There is no way Watts put that thumbmark back on the Kn*fe blade.

Why's that?

Watts said he got that thumbmark from the morgue.

But he couldn't have.

By that time, the body had already been transported to the funeral home for burial.

Why would he lie about that?

I don't know, but I telephoned the mortician and he said it was a closed casket.

He said the only people who would have access to that body would be immediate family.

And they are?

There's only one.

A brother, Hubert Marks.

He lives in a rooming house up on Pembroke St.

Great.

Let's have a word with him.

♪ ♪ [Knocking on door]

[Suspenseful music]

[Knocking on door]

Detective.

I just spoke to another border.

He says Hubert does some work as a street sweep.

Should be back by nightfall.

We'll have to come back.

Sir, look at this.

He was a look-alike twin.

My god, it would be hard to lose a brother in such a way.

Do you suppose this is another brother?

Not a brother, George.

Oh, my God.

Detective Watts.

♪ ♪ I remember this.

It was taken shortly after I moved in.

You lived with the Marks twins?

The landlady's family took me in after my parents d*ed.

Odd that you didn't mention it.

Well, I knew what you would think.

Oh?

And what's that?

That I had reason to k*ll Nigel Baker.

Did you?

Did I have reason?

Nigel Baker tortured and k*lled a man I...

A man who was in every way my brother.

Someone who deserved my protection.

I had ample reason to k*ll Nigel Baker.

But as I have already made clear, I didn't recognize him.

So did I k*ll him with intention?

No.

Am I sorry he's dead?

No, I'm not.

To be honest, even if given the chance to exact my revenge, I'm not even sure I'm capable of it.

Obviously, my philosophy rejects the very idea.

No one asks to be the way they are, not even boys like Nigel Baker.

"Boy"?

You knew him as a child?

He was the same age as Hubert and Danny.

Lived a few doors down on William Street.

Even then, you could tell there was something wrong with him.

Most bullies have a purpose in their torment.

They seek status.

Protection.

Nigel Baker was only happy when he could cause pain.

He delighted in it.

And boys like Hubert and Danny, they were fodder for his cruelty.

You were their protector.

When I could be.

I reported his deeds to his father, but Mr.

Baker could never accept the truth about Nigel.

Poor, sweet boy.

[Phone ringing]

Higgins-Newsome.

Sir.

I spoke to Hubert Marks' landlady.

She said he left the night before last.

Threw everything in a gunny sack.

Where was he headed?

He didn't say.

Um.

Interesting.

Why would he leave town?

And on the night of the sh**ting?

Perhaps Hubert Marks sh*t Nigel Baker?

George, on the night of the sh**ting, you said there was confusion about how many sh*ts were heard.

That's right.

Most people heard two.

Some only heard one.

And then, there was an elderly lady who said she heard three, but she might have been a bit daft.

I believe three sh*ts were fired that night.

George, when you went back to the alley, did you find the b*llet that injured Watts?

Yes, sir.

Embedded in the alley wall, just where you said it would be.

I'd like you to go back there and see if you can find a second b*llet.

Sir, right away.

Alright then, Higgins...

Oh, bloody hell!

Where is he?

Oh, for Pete's sake.

On the night of your confrontation with Nigel Baker, some people reported hearing one sh*t.

Others, two.

And one person reported hearing three.

Is this a riddle, Detective?

Can you explain it?

All right.

One sh*t was separated in time from the other two.

Only one person heard all three.

No reason to think the two are related.

It was Saturday night.

The bars were closing up.

This is Toronto, Watts.

Not the Wild West.

I believe all of the sh*ts came from the same g*n.

Why is that?

We found four cartridges in a five sh*t revolver.

I can't speak to that.

I never loaded the cartridges.

No, but you removed one.

You received a telephone call that Hubert Marks was calling from the Hog's Head Tavern.

He was intent on k*lling Nigel Baker.

Hubert, listen to me.

You couldn't talk him out of it, so you told him to stay at the Tavern and wait for you.

Just wait there!

♪ Billy Boy, Billy Boy ♪ ♪ Can she bake a cherry pie?

♪ [g*n clicks]

Nigel!

[Laughing]

So, sh**t!

You haven't the guts.

Neither did Daniel.

[Body thumping]

Hubert!

Hubert.

Hubert.

Hubert, give me the g*n.

Give me the g*n.

You have to leave Toronto.

I had to do it.

He had to pay for what he did to Danny.

Yeah.

Have you got money?

31 dollars.

You take this.

Go to Union Station, take the next train to Buffalo and find a cheap boarding house.

Send me a postcard to let me know you're all right, but don't put your name on it.

I'm sorry, Lewey.

I will find you.

All right?

Now, go.

No, none of that happened.

But it is an engaging theory.

I may have guessed the details but not the substance.

Hubert Marks k*lled Nigel Baker and you've covered it up.

How do you account for the two extra sh*ts?

Now, go.

Murdoch: You needed to make your story convincing.

And you needed witnesses to report hearing two sh*ts in quick succession.

So, you fired off another.

[g*nshots]

That left three empty casings in the g*n.

So you removed one.

And you placed Nigel Baker's fingermarks on the w*apon.

Well, I suppose your theory is consistent with the facts as you know them.

But so is my account.

Hubert Marks left his place of residence on the night of the sh**ting and hasn't been back since.

He didn't return to his job the next day and according to his landlady, he left carrying a gunny sack.

Yes, a man he'd helped convict had just been released from prison.

I'd want to make myself scarce too.

Where is he?

I am not my brother's keeper.

Nigel Baker was k*lled by a man in full possession of the m*rder w*apon.

I've explained that.

Your explanation makes no sense!

Watts.

He may not even be charged.

m*rder requires Mens Rea.

He's capable of guilt!

He's a man full of feelings and insight.

And you're wrong.

I didn't see him that night.

I don't know where he's gone.

I don't know what he's doing.

I stand by my story and have nothing else to say.

You think I'm lying?

Prove it.

♪ ♪ We're looking for a hole from a 38 caliber b*llet.

Now, it may be scuffed over and hard to find, so we'll have to look closely.

If Watts was standing right about here, then the b*llet may have been discharged anywhere around here.

What if he sh*t into the air?

Then our search will be unsuccessful, I suppose.

Until then, get your eyes on the ground.

My goodness, John, sometimes you remind me of Higgins.

Where is Constable Higgins-Newsome, anyway?

That's something known only to Higgins-Newsome.

Something smells dead.

That may be from the body that was here.

I don't think so.

[Ominous music]

That's Hubert Marks.

John, go fetch Detective Murdoch.

♪ ♪ Two people have been here, George.

The k*ller and someone else.

A man, by the looks of it.

An accomplice?

Or someone who happened on the scene after.

Sir.

b*ll*ts.

38 caliber.

The same as I found in Nigel Baker's g*n.

I don't believe the g*n ever belonged to Nigel Baker.

It belonged to this man.

How did it end up in Baker's hand?

That is what we're here to determine, George.

William, what have we?

Oh, dear.

How awful.

He's fully cooled.

Could he have been k*lled the night before last?

That would be consistent.

What's your thinking, George?

Sir, I saw photographs of Daniel Mark's body.

The manner of torment is...

Yes.

I believe Nigel Baker is responsible for this.

[Phone ringing]

Higgins-Newsome.

I'll be right there.

Sir.

I have some bad news.

Go on.

Hubert Marks is dead.

Nigel Baker k*lled him.

Bloody Hell.

That's not the worst of it.

There was a second set of shoeprints at the scene.

I believe they may belong to Detective Watts.

[Phone ringing]

Detective Watts received the telephone call that night from Hubert Marks, who said he was intent on k*lling Nigel Baker.

Hubert...

♪ Can she bake a cherry pie ♪ ♪ Billy Boy, Billy Boy...

♪ Nigel!

[Laughing]

So, sh**t!

You haven't the guts.

Murdoch: Hubert Marks confronted Nigel Baker.

But Mr.

Baker got the better of him.

[g*nsh*t]

♪ Oh, where are you been ♪ ♪ Billy Boy, Billy Boy ♪ ♪ Oh, were have you been ♪ ♪ Charming Billy ♪ Nigel Baker forced Hubert Marks into the shed and k*lled him.

Detective Watts arrived in the alley just as Nigel Baker stepped out of the shed.

He entered the shed himself and found Hubert dead.

He then found Hubert Marks' revolver and took it with him.

[Shed door opens]

Nigel Baker!

Who are you?

Llewellyn Watts.

Don't you remember?

Hubert and Daniel were my brothers.

[g*nsh*t]

[Nigel groaning]

[Sighing]

So it was out and out m*rder, then?

So it would appear.

[Indistinct chatter]

Are you Mr.

Peartree?

No, that would be me.

Oh...

And where would you like to go today, sir?

Cut it, Higgins.

Just take me back to the Station.

My last fare didn't pay, so I'll need payment in advance.

Pay, Higgins!

Are you kidding?

You should be paying me for the extra wear and tear you've put on the vehicle, not to mention the extra work I've been doing for you back at the station.

And of all things, Higgins, to use our Front Desk Sergeant as your own personal dispatcher?

I couldn't find a message service.

And Paddy had no problem putting through the calls, so what's the harm?

Truly, Higgins?

I tell you what, we'll ask the Inspector what the harm is.

I guess I'll go back to being a night watchman, then.

If you're looking for sympathy, you'll get none from me.

This thing's been giving me trouble today.

You're not kidding.

Where are you going?

To get my auto mechanic.

What for?

I can fix it.

You can?

It's just this doodad that's come loose.

"Doodad"?

In behind the thing-a-ma-bob.

I've only been able to finger tighten it, but when I get home, I'll use a proper wrench.

It's fine.

[Footsteps approaching]

So?

Am I to assume you have your proof?

You had a theory.

Oh, I've since changed my theory.

I no longer believe Hubert Marks k*lled Nigel Baker.

No, that was you.

Well...

Good.

That's what I've been saying all along.

But I don't believe it was self defense.

It was m*rder.

What?

We found this in a shed near where you confronted Nigel Baker.

I believe you were there that night.

You've since changed your shoes, but that's your bloody footprint.

Whose blood?

No.

No.

No!

NO!

Do you think it was an act?

No, sir.

I don't believe it was.

He really didn't know Hubert was dead?

I thought it best to leave him alone with his grief for a time before I question him any further.

Poor bugger.

What a way to find out.

So, if Watts didn't k*ll Nigel Baker and Hubert didn't, then who the bloody hell did?

I'm sorry for your loss.

And the manner in which you learned of it.

You should have stuck with your first theory.

You were right about everything.

Except Hubert.

You were wrong about that.

You thought Hubert had k*lled Nigel and then fled?

Before you brought me back in, I went to his room.

His landlady told me he'd packed up the night before.

He'd planned it all out.

He was going to k*ll Nigel and then flee.

So when I learned that wasn't the truth of it...

When Danny was k*lled, Hubert was broken.

They'd always had each other.

Danny was the funny one.

Always cracking jokes.

Hubert went into a hole.

He was going to k*ll Nigel then.

I promised him that justice would be done and I saw to that.

[Sniffling]

We both did.

It was Hubert that replaced the fingermark on Nigel Baker's Kn*fe.

I couldn't take the chance of being seen alone with the corpse.

As soon as the thumbmark magically reappeared, they would have gone searching.

And they did.

And Nigel convinced his father to petition the courts to re-examine the evidence.

That's when they found the thumbmark came from the wrong hand.

Hubert never could tell left from right.

One bad piece of evidence can taint the whole case.

So they threw out the conviction.

They had to.

[Sniffling]

So, who did k*ll Nigel Baker?

I don't know.

♪ ♪ Come on.

[Door opens]

We know that Hubert wanted to confront Nigel.

And we know how that confrontation ended.

Someone in his own g*ng, maybe?

Nigel gets out of jail, tries to retake control.

He was k*lled with Hubert's g*n.

I recognized it.

Whoever k*lled Nigel was with Nigel when he k*lled Hubert or happened on the scene shortly after.

Hubert wouldn't have confronted Nigel if he was with someone else.

According to witnesses, Nigel Baker left the Hog's Head Tavern alone.

Why would he have gone down that alley in the first place?

It's a short cut between Soho and Williams street.

That's where Nigel lived.

Who else knows this?

Everybody who lives on Williams street.

It's their family home.

His father still lives there.

His father stated that he left the Hog's Head shortly after his son.

And he seemed more shocked at the how than the fact that his son had been m*rder*d.

He would have taken the same shortcut home.

[Sighing]

[Suspenseful music]

Every parent wants to believe the best of their children.

I always knew that Nigel possessed a hard soul...

... but I was blind to the depths of his cruelty.

You believed him to be innocent of Daniel Marks' m*rder?

He insisted that the thumbmark had been placed there by the police.

And when we learned that was the truth, yes, Detective, I believed my son was innocent.

It was my doing, and my tireless advocacy that unleashed...

unleashed him and all his sickness on that poor young man.

[Dramatic music]

I had to make it right.

Dear God!

Higgins, do you know what a fly wheel is?

There are wheels that can fly?

[Sighing]: Maybe this is not such a good idea.

I'm not a mechanic, George.

But you said yourself that I have more aptitude for this than you had thought possible.

That is true.

The rest is just training, isn't it?

I tell you what.

Half-a-buck per shift until you know what you're doing and then, we'll bump it up from there.

Thank you, George.

I really appreciate this.

Alright, Higgins, but you can't be your lazy normal self.

You have to actually work.

I won't let you down.

Oh, for heaven's sake.

[Higgins laughing]

Now, that thing-a-ma-bob we were talking about earlier?

The thing-a-ma-bob, by the way, Higgins, is the fly wheel.

Alright, where is it?

Here.

And how does it work?

I'm not taking your bloody badge.

Put it back.

If I do, you will be as guilty as I.

I too once faced a choice between duty and conscience.

I also chose the latter.

We're only bloody human, Watts.

When we're wronged, we seek justice.

Where is that to be found?

I've been asking myself that.

To be honest, I'm unable to think of much else.

You seek justice.

I crave it.

If I could, I would demand it.

I want the man who k*lled my brothers to feel their pain.

To feel my grief at what he did to them.

But he's dead.

At the hands of his father.

Did he even know why?

I don't know.

And now, the father will likely hang.

Is that justice?

Of a sort, I suppose.

Then why don't I feel better?

♪ ♪