All language subtitles for A.Cruel.Love.The.Ruth.Ellis.Story.S01E03.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-RAWR

♪ Ah, ah ah ah ah ♪

♪ Ah ah ah, ah ah ♪

♪ Ah, ah ah ah ah ♪

♪ Ah ah ah, ah ah ♪

I've been
doing this for a week

and not making any headway.

Should've started
with the corners.

Thank you, Joy.

Morning
News. Get your news here.

Morning News.

Morning News. Get
your news here.

Morning News.

They've
given us a date.

For Mr. Pierrepoint's
little visit, yes.

12 days.

And we can expect the
Home Secretary's decision

a-a couple of days before.

- Decision?
- On whether to reprieve,

postpone, or even cancel
your death sentence.

Now, a letter from you
would be an enormous help,

requesting compassion,

expressing, if not remorse,
then at least regret.

I don't regret.

I won't lie, and I
certainly won't beg.

Nothing will be sent
to the Home Office.

No appeal, no
attempt to reprieve.

"And thine eyes shall not pity,

but life shall go for life,

eye for eye, tooth for tooth."

All I want is justice for David.

I'm due at the
Home Office in 72 hours

to submit her case.

The Secretary of State will make
his decision over the weekend.

What are you using?

For the
appeal? Her alcoholism...

and, uh, mental
breakdown, perhaps.

You're not thinking
of using him?

Ah, yes.

Desmond Cussen.

Look. Dragging him in now

will just makes it look
even more premeditated.

Not if he solicited
her to murder.

Desmond Cussen was
an RAF bomber pilot.

You know the casualty
rate of bomber crews.

Only one in four made
it through the war.

So we let him get
away with murder

because he was a war hero?

No doubt
he made mistakes...

getting too close to a
woman like Ellis for one.

Not that I'm judging her. But...

The world is the
way it is, John.

I could take this to the
Home Office right now.

And tell them what?

That you allowed your
client to perjure herself?

I could take it
to the newspapers.

And what a sheer, bloody
spectacle that would be.

You're like me, John.

We're both scholarship boys.

We both know the price of
admission for boys like us.

Ah.

I know alright.

Discretion.

And never, ever
frighten the horses.

That's why you brought
me here, isn't it?

To show me what I could win

if I'm a good little chap
and don't rock the boat?

But your problem is I don't care
about being part of the club,

one of the chaps.

You think this is all real,

that it matters.

This is nonsense!

That trial was a pantomime.

All of you in your
costumes and wigs...

absolute meaningless nonsense.

- Steady, Bickford.
- Right now I feel like

I could blow this whole thing up

and damn the consequences.

You really think you can
take them all on and win?

You concealed material facts.

You made yourself an
accessory to murder.

Now, you can destroy
yourself and her,

or you can take her one
chance at a reprieve.

For her sake and yours,

go for madness.

But she isn't mad.

Mental strain
exacerbated by the miscarriage

and her alcoholism.

She won't like it.

It's the best case
we have for mercy.

What about Desmond Cussen?

I think Ruth herself

is where we should
concentrate our efforts.

Jackie Dyer's
gone to the police.

She's made a statement
about the gun

and the... the cab that
Desmond used to drive.

Why aren't we using that?
- Don't badger the man, Muriel.

Well, there's something
he's not telling us.

I can assure you, it's
all been looked into.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

Why aren't we using Cussen?

Mr. Cussen?

DCI Davies, Met Police.

Can we have a word?

So you've no idea

why this woman, Jacqueline
Dyer, has made these claims?

I suppose a-a
misguided attempt to...

help Mrs. Ellis.

Who's made no effort
whatsoever to help herself.

Mrs. Ellis has made
our job extremely easy.

It's as open and shut a
case as... as I ever saw.

And she hasn't fought it.

Why?

She's a young mother.

No criminal record.

Every reason to ask for mercy.

But she hasn't.

She is going like a
lamb to slaughter.

I know you've been letting
Blakely drink for free

for months.

You let him destroy this club

and make fools of both of us.

I'm gonna need the flat back.

You're sacking me?

I'll give you till
the end of the week.

I've got nowhere to go.

We can
work something out.

You know I'll always
look after you, Ruthie.

Aah!

You will never touch me again.

I'm afraid the divorce
settlement from George Ellis

leaves you with...

Bugger all. I know.

Unless you want to take
Mr. Ellis to court,

which I would still strongly
urge you to consider.

No. Thank you, Mr. Mishcon.

Well...

...one signature...

and you are very
nearly a free woman.

So...

what are you going to
do with your liberty?

Look for a place
to live, find a job.

Thank you.

Mrs. Ellis...

do you have somewhere to stay?

I have a friend.

Ruth...

...you have a little boy.

Mrs. Ellis?

Are you alright?

Can you please turn
the light off, Joy?

- I can't sleep.
- I'm sorry.

You know I'm not
allowed to do that.

No more hostessing.

I'll get a job in an office.

I've already taken up a
course of French lessons.

I've always wanted to talk
dirty in two languages.

I'm moving in with Desmond.

What?

Temporarily, just
while I look for a job.

Why didn't you ask if you
could move in with me?

- What happened?
- I said...

why didn't you ask if
you can move in with me?

Because you live
with your parents.

Since you're too spineless
to admit my existence...

Is it any wonder I lose my rag
when you push me like this?

Take your hands off me.

I said take your
hands off me now.

I'm moving in with Desmond

because I have a son who
needs a roof over his head

and I've already given
up one child for you.

Let me know when
you've got the balls

to introduce me to your mother.

Excuse me. May I have
the bill, please?

Sleep with him again

and I swear I'll
kill both of you.

Thank you.

♪ Ahh ♪

♪ Ahh ♪

Reprieve Ruth
Ellis! Reprieve Ruth Ellis!

Sign the petition to prevent
a miscarriage of justice.

No. No, thank you.

- Reprieve Ruth Ellis...
- No, no.

- I'll sign it.
- Oh, thank you.

It's barbaric what
they're doing to her.

I just want to save my friend.

I might
be able to help.

I understand you've given a
new statement to the police.

You're a journalist.

Jayveer Sethia.

I heard they've taken
someone in for questioning

about the black cab and the gun.

Have they made an arrest?

The people are
on her side, Mrs. Dyer.

If we make enough
noise, we can stop this.

But I need to know who
she's keeping out of this.

Whoever it is, the police
knew about him already.

They took a statement from
Ruth's French teacher weeks ago

who said she knew who
gave Ruth the gun.

I've been looking for her
so I can get his name.

But the police...

They've known all along.

Ruth?

I hope you like lamb
chops and new potatoes.

Bollocks to love.
You're not in love.

How would you know?
You've never been in it.

No, thank God.

Biggest con ever pulled.

Bit of pillow talk,

then 60 years of
ironing his pants.

What about you and Cooch?

A diamond like that, he
wants something in return.

Yes, and he gets it...

My body.

My smile.

But not my soul.

He knows that.

Your trouble is, you
let them in here.

David's passionate.

And I give as good as I get.

- You deserve better.
- I'd die of boredom.

If you could be anywhere,
doing anything right now,

what would it be?

Driving a big "fuck
off" silver Cadillac

down Sunset Boulevard.

Oh! Hello, Hollywood!

Always fancied America...

big cars, big, open roads.

Well, we could do it, you know?

We should. Why not?

Let's just book the
tickets, and let's do it.

Right. Well, at least
screw someone, then.

- Hey, hey!
- Whoo!

Hmm?

Christ, you're pretty.

It's fine.

Here she is.
Good morning, Ruth.

Your French tutor's here.

She's been here
for half an hour.

So sorry.

If you just give
me one minute...

just one minute... sorry.

Is everything alright?

Fine.

I stayed at Jackie's.

You know what the
girls are like.

Terrible racket.

We have the same
problem at home.

Filthy pigeons.

You need to borrow this.

Ruth's French
tutor saw it on his desk

and gave a sworn statement

that she could identify
the gun in court.

I believe she saw
a starter pistol

that Mr. Cussen
kept in his flat.

She saw
a large revolver.

A starter pistol

that Cussen surrendered to
us freely for examination.

As to the taxi cab,

he said he gave that to
his brother last year,

months before Mrs. Ellis
committed the murder.

Couldn't possibly have
driven her to the Magdala.

Have
you verified that?

We interviewed
Mr. Cussen at length

as to your claims.

Everything I told
you, you already knew.

I understand you want
to help your friend.

And that is admirable.

But nothing you can
do can change the fact

Mrs. Ellis murdered David
Blakely in cold blood.

Hey. You want her
dead. All of you.

I want justice for
Blakley's family.

It stinks, Ruth.

The whole thing stinks.

The police have
covered things up...

evidence that would
have helped you,

that linked Cussen to the gun.

I said I didn't want
you going to the police.

If his involvement was known,

it would mean a
retrial at least.

Desmond is innocent.

Then why hasn't he visited
you once since the trial?

Jackie...

If it came out,
everything would change.

People are on your side,
Ruth. They're getting angry.

All the people I've
spoken to agree.

What people?

I've been campaigning for you.

A petition.
- What?

And these are
letters of support.

Jackie, I told you.

I told I didn't want this.

I didn't want people out
there begging for me.

People feel for you, Ruth.

They feel...
- They feel pity.

I would rather them think I was
a cold-hearted, murdering bitch

with no regrets.

- But that's not who you are.
- Isn't it?

Perhaps it's just easier
for you to think that.

Oh, poor, little Ruth.

David mistreated
her so terribly.

She lost her mind.
She had no choice.

I chose to make him die on
the ground in front of me.

Maybe it's
easier for you to think that,

to make yourself
believe you deserve it.

But that's the coward's way out,

to give up rather than fighting.
- Get out.

Get out, and don't
visit me again.

They're
going to kill you, Ruth.

And you're just as bad as them for letting it...
- How dare you!

Get out! And take those
fucking things with you!

Get out!

This is
bigger than her now.

It's about Timothy
Evans and Derek Bentley.

It's about the whole business

of whether the state should
go on merrily hanging people,

only to later discover that
maybe they weren't guilty.

The government is nervous.

They've promised law and order.

But the abolitionists are
knocking at the gates.

And then what's next?

The homosexuals?

The abortionists?

So that's why they
want her dead.

I just need a name.

But if no one will help her
and she won't help herself...

Then you have to.

Desmond Cussen.

Ruth Ellis' lover?

Gave her the gun,

drove her to the scene of
the murder in a black cab.

Her friend, Jacqueline
Dyer, is certain.

Yeah, well, our libel
lawyers are busy enough, son.

- She hangs in 10 days.
- Bound to be reprieved.

90% of women are.

And what if she's not

and Desmond Cussen
gets away with it?

30 million newspapers bought
every Sunday in this country,

bought for two reasons...
sex and hanging.

You're not here to fight
crime. You're here to sell it.

Come back to me with
proof and we can talk.

Hello, yes.

I'm calling about
my son, Andre Ellis.

I want to check his school fees
for the term had been paid.

Right.

Thank you. I'll make
sure a cheque is sent

as soon as possible.

Ruth...

let me look after you all.

He will look after him.

He promised, whatever happens,
he will look after him.

I swear it.

He will look after him.

- I swear it.
- He will look after him.

He promised.

I swear it.

I was thinking...

about a holiday.

Get Andre out of London.

Scotland, I thought. I
could teach him to fish.

David would lose his mind.

Let me deal with him.

It's a Christmas present.

Since you got me
this exquisite tie.

- Same again?
- Please.

Merry Christmas, Ruth.

What are you doing here?

I haven't slept with him,

if that's what
you're worried about.

Look at you.

Drunk...

whilst your son is alone
at home on Christmas night.

You're an embarrassment.

What are
you doing here?

I'm wishing Merry
Christmas to my fiancée.

Mm.

Let go of her.

You have no idea, do you...

...what she really
thinks about you...

the contempt she feels for you?

Stop!

You little
bastard.

Outside.

Now.

Outside?

How about hitting a man
instead of a woman for once?!

It's over, you and Ruth.

You lost.

I know you're bored out
of your skull with him.

This is what you need.

This is who you are.

Please.

Please, turn the light off.

Is it true that you have
all been campaigning for me?

I told you,

no begging, no pleading!

You've seen what they've
written about you.

I don't care
what they write!

I want my sentence
to take its course!

You will not go to
the Home Office.

I will not die with
this world thinking

I am some beaten, little fool!

- Well, that's it, then.
- That is justice.

An eye for an eye,

as I have said from the start.

"An eye for an eye."

Yes.

You know...

...I was in Austria
just after the war.

I was a prosecutor
in the British Zone,

and I prosecuted a
young German soldier.

His unit had been
moving Hungarian Jews

in what later became
called the death marches.

And these prisoners
were exhausted,

barely able to walk.

And he was ordered to
shoot anyone that fell.

And at first he refused,

but eventually,

he shot two men.

And after the war,

we tried him for murder,
and we hanged him.

One week after he
committed those crimes

in March 1945,

the Soviets liberated Vienna.

They were out for
revenge, mainly drunk,

terrorising the city.

Perhaps a hundred-thousand
women were raped.

Not one single charge was
brought against any of them.

Because they were on our side.

Justice isn't real, Ruth.

It's a story written
by the winners.

I'm not certain of much, but...

I know you don't deserve
to die for what you did.

You will look after him.

You promise. Whatever happens.

I swear it.

John...

He made certain promises.

Desmond?

He promised to look after Andre.

And I don't think he's going to.

I told you he gave me the gun.

Perhaps it's time to use that.

We can't.

You know we can't.

It's too late.

You told me you wanted
me to tell them.

Ruth, a better way...

is to go for the violence,
your miscarriage...

what David did to you,

the... the child
you would have had.

I think I'm pregnant.

Only a couple of weeks
but I can feel it.

Christ.

I'll call Dr Jameson.
Make an appointment.

It's really no worse
than getting a tooth out.

I don't want you
to get rid of it.

Don't you?

But no more Desmond Cussen.

We find somewhere to live.

As a family.

And we visit my mother

and tell her we're
getting married.

Alright then.

I still don't understand why
you can't stay here with me.

Well, if you and I are to
have a future together,

I need to build up
my own life first.

My independence.

A home for Andre.

I've found a bed sitting room.

It's cheap.

Look, I know how much I've
already asked of you...

How much do you need?

We would like the
Home Secretary to consider

provocation in the
case of Ruth Ellis.

She was suffering enormously
at the time of the offence.

She had had a miscarriage
caused by Blakely's violence.

It wasn't fully
explored at trial.

And there's a petition.

50,000 signatories,
from Australia,

America, France, Germany.

And, err, hundreds of letters.

I hope the Home Secretary
will consider them.

Well, they are not
all in Mrs. Ellis's favour.

"I am married to a
woman similar in nature

to Ruth Ellis... eaten up with
jealousy through and through.

I greatly fear that my future
safety would be at stake

if you granted a reprieve".

And many women express concern

that clemency should
not be granted merely

because she is female.

I hope the Home Secretary
will concentrate on the facts.

The facts are simple.

Mrs. Ellis committed a
firearms murder in cold blood.

There may have
been other factors.

Such as?

She will not act
to save herself.

She will not let
me act to help her.

She practically wouldn't let me
to put her case in front of you.

She's determined to die

because she feels like her
life is not worth saving.

You must act now, in
the name of justice.

In the name of mercy. She
will hang in five days.

I just need more time.

For God's sake, a...
a... a bit more time.

Forgive me, sir.

I'm sorry.

I will speak to
the Home Secretary.

He's not without compassion.
Quite the opposite.

Have you heard of a
woman called Sarah Lloyd?

Who?

She's a woman on death
row at Strangeways.

She was convicted for the murder

of an elderly neighbour
with a shovel.

Due to be hanged in two days.

But Lloyd George has
just reprieved her.

Provocation over time wasn't
a factor in her conviction

but it has been a
factor in her reprieve.

So that's good, isn't it?

It could be bloody brilliant.

God.

And it all belongs
to your parents?

Yes, all theirs.

It's a bit suburban, really.

Still it's nice to
have the tennis court.

You nervous?

A bit.

Well, I tell you what.
Let's go grab a drink first.

Hm?

Alright.

Your friends are here.

Oh, we often
drink here on Sundays.

Then roll up at my parents'
demanding roast beef.

Look, just a quick one, promise.

- Oh, here he is. Hello.
- Oh, David.

Well, I thought
I'd come a bit early.

Hello.
How was the drive?

Oh, it was alright.

And the maître d' says
to him, "I'm sorry, sir,

these tables are reserved
for the race car drivers",

and Ant just looks at him and
says "Now look here, old chap,

we are the bloody race.

- Now bring us some champagne".
- Bring us some champagne.

You would
have been so proud.

Have you been to Le Mans?

No, I've never been to France.

I've never actually been abroad.

Perhaps he'll take you.

For your honeymoon.
Well, he told us.

Congratulations.
Come on, a toast.

For the soon-to-be Mr. And
Mrs. David Blakely!

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

Mr. and
Mrs. David Blakley.

And you'd better make
sure you take the bins out on time.

Or she'll sending the gangsters
round to make sure you do!

What?

Come along, we should go.

We don't want to keep
your mother waiting.

Yes, quite right, mustn't
keep Annie waiting.

No, I tell you what. Why
don't I go and get her

and bring her back for
a G&T before lunch.

Well, no, I'll come.

No. You stay.

Have fun.

I'm sorry about all that.
They can be so childish.

What did they mean?
About the gangsters?

When David was attacked,
he had this idea...

perhaps it was just a joke...

that you'd sent
the men to do it.

- It wasn't me.
- David's no angel.

God knows he deserves a
black eye now and then.

He'll never introduce you
to his mother, you know.

We're getting married.
We're actually...

We're actually having a baby.

No, you're
having a baby.

It's not a judgement,
simply a fact.

David will never truly
know if the baby is his.

Did he say that?

I'm not
trying to be cruel.

What you and David
have, it isn't love.

It's a trap, for both of you.
And my advice is get out now.

David! Didn't
your mother fancy a drink?

No, she
was... she was busy.

You're a cruel
little coward, David.

I'll drive you back to London.

Thank you.

Least I could do.

I've got a bottle of gin inside

if you want to come
in for a drink?

How far along are you, anyway?

- About six weeks.
- Gosh.

The taste of gin would have
made me heave at six weeks.

Strong stomach.

Ruth, Ruth, the
evening paper's in.

I'm so sorry. It's
your friend Vicki.

Mrs. Ellis. The decision's in.

From the Home Secretary.

On your reprieve.

"I have been pressed
from many quarters

to exercise clemency
in this case,

on the grounds of the prisoner's
sex and of her yielding to

jealousy, which is
alleged by some people

to be stronger in
women than in men".

Are you going
to get up today?

It was Vicki's 13th
accident in 4 years.

When your time's up, it's up.

Where've you been?

If you must know, I stayed
at Carole and Ant's.

Course you did.

You haven't
been to the Doctor

about your pregnancy
yet, have you?

Not yet.

You should be,
what, 10 weeks now?

I spoke to Carole about it all.

She said your symptoms
are all wrong.

That it's all very convenient,
forcing us to get married.

And I think she's right.

It's not just the accent,

the hair that's fake, is it?

You're not really
pregnant, are you?

What?!

"There may be
circumstances in a capital case

where special conditions
apply to a woman

which would not be applicable
in the case of a man.

One recent example is
that of Mrs. Sarah Lloyd.

I can find no such
circumstances, however,

in the present case".

After everything
I've done for you.

Brought you into my world.

Loved you. Fucking
worshipped you.

And all along you were
working out how to trap me.

- That's not true.
- Hmm. You had me beaten.

- I didn't...
- To scare me into thinking

I could never leave.
- I didn't do that...

And then you went to
work on my honour.

Knowing I'd never abandon you

if you were having a child.

David, I am
pregnant. I swear...

"The crime
was a deliberate one

and was carried out
with premeditation.

The prisoner has
expressed no remorse.

I can find nothing

to justify my taking a
less serious view than

of other cases of such a
callous and calculated nature".

Oh, God. Oh, God.
Don't let me do it.

Oh, God, don't let me do it.

"The trial
judge has told me

that he can suggest no
mitigating circumstances,

and that he himself was not
able to find any grounds

for proposing that clemency
would be appropriate".

"After much
anxious thought,

I have come to the conclusion

that the law should be
allowed to run its course".

One of these days
I will kill you.

You've already done that.

The sentence
will be carried out.

Two days from now.

Well, I bet Mummy
has really missed you.

Andre, go and play.

Go on.

It's all I could do.

Maybe now you can
get some sleep.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to die.

I know what you want to ask.

Why don't I just
bloody leave him.

I don't
have to ask that.

Not after Dad.

George.

You've never known
any different.

Don't think you
deserve any different.

You said it
would be enough.

The violence. The miscarriage.

You told me it would be
enough for a reprieve.

The game is rigged, Ruth.

Why did you tell
me to keep quiet?

- Because it was too late.
- For who?

For you?

You chose to perjure yourself

and make me an
accessory to murder.

You promised that
you would help me.

But you haven't.

Every step of the way,
you have made it harder

and harder for me to
help save your life.

And I've never understood why.

Do you know about what
George used to do?

He used to get blackout drunk.

And when he would come home,
it would always be my fault,

and he would belt me.

And people would
always say to me,

"What do you do to
drive him to it?

What do you do to
drive them all to it?"

Because you know every
man I have ever been with

has turned out the same.

Drunk. Violent.

And it must've been my fault
because it kept on happening.

Different man, same thing.

I tried so hard to escape it.

I changed my voice,
changed the way I look.

I worked and I worked.

The youngest club
manager in London.

And I thought I'd done it.

And then David turned up.

And he was worse
than all of them.

And I thought there
must be something in me

that is pulled towards
them, towards men like him.

I just didn't know what.

And then when he was dead...

...the police and the
papers and the lawyers,

they all made sense
of it for me, at last.

I had my answer.

The reason I couldn't escape it

was because it was what
was always meant for me.

A common little tart,

worth nothing to
anyone except the price

she can charge for a night

finally getting what
she had coming to her.

And I would still believe that,

if it weren't for you.

But you gave me hope.

Hope that I could live.

That I didn't deserve to die.

You're scared of
them, aren't you?

All those men you talked
about that could destroy me.

You never really believed
you could save me, did you?

I'll be appointing
a new solicitor.

Goodbye, Mr. Bickford.

You found your husband
in the marital bed

with a lady who goes by
the professional moniker

"Madame Feather".

- That's right.
- He has agreed to a divorce.

You say you only want
what's rightfully yours.

Yes.

Mr. Mishcon's office.

We'll get you the
whole bloody lot.

Thank you.

Telephone
for you, sir.

It's Holloway prison.

Bickford?

I'm Victor Mishcon. I
handled Ruth's divorce.

I believe she's asked for me.

Why has she fired you?

I've been carrying a
bomb in my briefcase.

And I didn't have the
guts to detonate it.

Try to get her to tell
you about the gun.

Mrs. Ellis.

I believe you have
something to tell me

that might save your life.