Original subtitles

I really miss you.

I think we need a break.

I think I need a break.

They were private.

And a man is dead.

You and me are done.

I have some information about the Jack Ray case.

You want to know if my ex-husband was a child abuser?

Hello, Robert.

So where were you really that night?

No comment.

So when did you last see him?

Three days before he died.

In August, Jack had a DNA test done of Josh.

Who's my dad?

How do you think he found out?

I have no idea.

I don't remember telling anyone.

Someone knew.

You know what?

I actually wasn't nervous.

Maybe I thought I had nothing more to lose.

I mean, obviously I was wrong there, but yeah.

Moral of the story.

Trust no one.

How much do any of us understand why we do the things we do?

Why did we love this person, lie to that friend?

Why did we betray this partner?

Our interior lives are almost impossibly complex.

And at best, our understanding of our actions is ephemeral, fragmentary,

and subjective.

And if it's hard for us to understand ourselves, it's doubly hard for others to

understand us.

But hardest of all, to understand the thoughts of a dead man, the thoughts of

Jack Wright.

A husband and father has a legal obligation in his will to make due

provision for both his wife and dependent children.

So let's not get sidetracked by ethics and morals.

The more simple truth is that Jack Wright failed to fulfill his legal duty.

Graham, his firstborn child, a devoted son, who saw his father's love and respect

all of his life, even in the face of repeated rejection.

We can't question him.

We can't challenge him.

We can't tell him things we hope will change the way he feels.

And again, that's hard to never be able to understand why he made the choices he did,

but that does not mean the choices he made were wrong.

25 years of service John Wright gave his father.

On trust, with love, and from a place of huge respect.

Only to be repaid with contempt, with mockery, with financial disadvantage.

And every decision he made was the product of a careful, considered, and rational

process.

Our opinion on that cannot change simply because we don't like what he thought,

what he wrote, and in the end, who he was.

So the evidence found at Maguire's house has all been examined.

We've not enough to charge him with yet, so he's RUI'd for now.

But alongside the messages between him and Emily, we do have to ask why he would have

tried to create a false alibi for the night of the murder.

Meanwhile, this guy doesn't seem at all keen on answering our telephone calls,

so we still have absolutely no idea where he was on the 12th.

So, liaison Europol.

Now, I want his search done on his Paris office.

Graham Wright, we're still waiting on his bank statements?

Yes, but I also put a flag on PNC and got a ping back immediately.

For?

So he was admitted to the Royal London a month ago after he was violently assaulted

in his flat.

Wow, okay.

The uniform officer spoke to his brother at the hospital who indicated that the

assault was related to a debt now paid and that they didn't want to take things

further.

Okay, we'll just chase these bank statements, all right?

He's clearly in all sorts of financial difficulties.

And then Georgia, right?

Just got the speeding ticket photo back from records, which reveals there was

someone sitting next to her as her car drove at speed near Marston Hall,

about 20 minutes before we know that final call between Sally and Jack ended.

That person is Mary Robbins, Jack Wright's housekeeper.

I founded it four years ago.

And as of today, how much is it valued at?

We had an offer of investment just a few weeks ago that valued it at four million

dollars.

You're 24?

25 in a month.

I've never made a secret of it.

I've suffered from addiction problems my whole life.

And when did these start?

I remember the actual day.

How old were you?

13.

And this was where?

It was at my dad's.

It was just after my parents had separated and I was with him for the weekend.

Except he was in his bedroom with his new girlfriend.

And so I was having dinner with the groundsman and Ray, his son.

And it was Ray who offered me a joint later that night.

And you said you remember the day specifically.

Why?

Oh, because it was Christmas Day.

And I know you normally speak to my wife, but yeah, we're thinking about a few life

changes.

So I just wanted a bit of a snapshot valuation of our portfolio, please.

How long were you married, Mrs. Wright?

17 years.

And those were 17 happy years?

Very.

And how did you celebrate that last anniversary?

We didn't.

You didn't celebrate at all?

No.

Why was that?

Because he forgot.

He forgot?

And of course, in normal circumstances, I might have mentioned it or reminded him,

but we'd always play this kind of game over the years where he'd pretend to have

forgotten.

And then at some point during the day itself, he'd surprise me with some amazing

celebration.

Such as?

Oh, for our 14th, he flew me to Mustique for a week.

For our 10th, we had 100 guests at the Savoy.

For our 8th, Duran Duran played in our house.

But this year...

This year, nothing.

And as we approached midnight, I realized that it wasn't the game.

This time he'd genuinely forgotten.

He had no recollection of it at all.

On that particular day, his mind had gone.

And this from a man who we now sadly know from the autopsy had early signs of

dementia.

How many people do you employ, Ms. Wright?

Well, we're in the process of expanding after this next funding round.

But right now, in full-time employment?

Seven.

Do you know how many people are currently on the J.K.

Wright payroll?

I don't have that figure in front of me.

Oh, it's, um, it's 368.

As of last Friday.

Right.

Are you familiar with the term nepo-baby?

Yes.

Could you tell the court, please, what qualities you think you possess that

would qualify you to run a company with a market cap more than 30 times yours?

Aside from your 12 months in the post room, of course.

I'm sorry, I'm confused.

This says £7,426.

Yes.

But between us, we should have about £4 million.

About two in mine and the same in hers.

And as I say, I can't tell you what's in your wife's.

I can only give you your figure, which is what's left after all your

withdrawals.

What withdrawals?

The multiple withdrawals you've made over the last five years, Mr. Wright.

I haven't made any withdrawals.

Mr. Wright, has it ever occurred to you that your father's will was in many ways

an act of kindness?

A painful act, but of the toughest love?

My father didn't know what love was.

Tough or otherwise.

But he knew what an addict was, didn't he?

Well, it was him who made me one, so, yeah, I should hope so.

You say he was an inattentive father.

Can you tell me how much money he gave you in the last ten years?

No idea.

My lady, Exhibit 8A will show bank statements to you telling transfers

totalling £326,000 in just those ten years.

I'd have preferred a hug.

Mr. Wright, would you tell the court what happened to the £500 he gave you to buy

your daughter a tenth birthday present?

You signed a prenup, Mrs. Wright.

Is that correct?

Yes.

You are being handed now Exhibit 12A, which is a copy of that original signed

agreement.

If you could go to the back page, please.

Do you recognise yours and your husband's signature there?

Yes.

And are you happy to confirm this is a copy of that agreement signed in 2007?

Yes.

Can I ask you then to turn to page five?

And can I ask you, please, to read paragraph seven, clause B?

In the event of the wife's proven infidelity, that behaviour shall be

treated as conduct that it is inequitable to disregard pursuant to Section 25 2G of

the Matrimonial Causes Act 1973 and the Inheritance Act 1975, and shall have the

effect of limiting to the greatest possible extent all claims for financial

remedies house-over arising under the Matrimonial Causes Act 1973.

Did you break that clause, Mrs. Wright?

No.

I remind you, you are under oath and I am going to ask you again.

Did you break that clause?

He broke it repeatedly.

This isn't about him.

This is entirely about him.

Did you?

He handed me that prenup on the morning of the wedding.

Answer the question, please.

And said if I didn't sign it, he'd call it off.

And so I did.

Because I loved him.

Mrs. Wright, I suggest that you did break it.

Objection, milady.

Overruled.

And that furthermore, on a night out in 2020, you confided in Emily Wright that

you suspected your son Joshua might not be Jack's.

Whatever I told you that night, I would have told you in total confidence.

I took you into our family, you tried to be a mother to you and you do this.

You betrayed Joshua and me for money.

I mean, how does that even feel?

How did it feel when you did it to my grandfather?

The police are circling this one, so I wouldn't get too close if I were you.

Might get your wings burnt.

That was fucking low.

Not as low as you actually spending the money on crack.

Yeah, and I regret that to this day, but you think it's okay to punish me about

bringing it up in the courtroom?

Oh my Christ, does no one remember that I didn't fucking start this?

And you're not gonna finish it either.

It's all right, love.

Is this you in the car with Georgia Wright?

Yes, it's me.

So this is timed about 20 minutes before Jack's phone call to his wife and before

he was subsequently shot.

You are approximately eight minutes by car away from Marston Hall.

We were on our way there to pick up my car.

Okay, and where have you been?

Out for dinner.

Is there something we're missing, Mary?

Um... G and I were a thing.

We had been for quite a few years.

How many is quite a few?

Five this Christmas.

Is this something her husband knew about?

I don't think so.

Um, I mean, look, I'm divorced.

Um, we saw each other once a month or so.

It's just something that suited us both.

You were describing it in the past tense, so you're no longer together?

No.

Why?

Well, as I said, um, I thought we were going out for dinner, but, um,

it turned out she wanted me to do something for her.

Do what?

Um...

She wanted me to go into Jack's office to see if I could find copies of a particular

document.

Which document?

His will.

Right.

And did you do what she asked?

God, no.

Um, no.

I mean, it's grossly unprofessional.

I mean, it's possibly even illegal.

How did she take that?

Not will.

Yeah, not will at all.

Um...

Caused a huge row.

Um, in fact, she cut the evening short and drove me back at speed to pick up my car.

I'd never seen her like that before.

She seemed desperate.

When she dropped you off, did you see her drive away?

My car was parked around the back of the house and, um, by the time I got round the

front again, her car had gone.

But I presume there are plenty of other places for Georgia to park up on the

estate.

More secluded places.

Yeah.

Yeah, there are plenty.

Every motorway camera, every CCTV, every ring camera, I want to work out

exactly what time in Georgia I drove out of here.

Hello, Frances?

Everything okay?

Graham writes bank statements in the last six months.

Finally.

Have a look at page 24.

On the night Jack died, Graham's in a pub, about seven miles from Marston.

Oh, how's she doing?

I think some swelling is now pressing on the medulla which probably why she

fainted.

Oh, poor love.

They can reduce the inflammation with steroids but the time's running out,

Bobby.

They need the money.

But it can wait for a day or two, can't it?

Just under the judgment, just in case.

I've already transferred it, love.

Trust me, it'll be fine.

Gambling.

What sort of gambling?

Any sort.

Bitcoin.

Currency markets.

Poker, football, anything.

Everything.

You could bet on, which that sounds quite a lot.

Why?

Because when I won, it filled the great big fucking hole at the centre of my life.

Which would be me?

I was never at your fault, John.

Maybe it wasn't mine either.

I think we just both married the wrong person.

I'm sorry, I couldn't be more like my dad.

So, how much have you lost?

All of it.

Your portfolio, my portfolio.

And the house is mortgaged in hell.

Josh?

What are you doing here?

Why aren't you at school?

Did you not ever think about how it would be for me, Mum?

Having everything revealed in a fucking courtroom to the whole world.

Did you not ever think about that?

I genuinely didn't think that would have happened.

I told you it was going to smash everything up.

And for what?

For nothing.

I'm going to make it okay.

Josh, I swear, I'm going to make it all okay.

Okay.

This is from Arnaud Titier's work diary for two weeks beginning 4th of November.

That's why he comes over on the 9th.

On the Eurostar, has a meeting at 78 Finsbury, which is a coffee shop 50 yards

from Jack's office.

Returns to Paris.

Okay.

Look at the 12th.

CCP departs 2100.

Cougar Charter Paris is a private helicopter service.

Where does it fly to?

Anywhere you want, within a 300 mile fuel limitation.

How many miles to Mars, then?

238.

What did they say?

The CCP company?

They say they can't find the flight log.

They also sounded pretty scared, my guess is Titier let them know exactly

who he is.

When was the last time you saw your father, Graham?

The Thursday before he died.

Like I already said.

Showing the suspect exhibit GW01, the James Brothers bank statement.

Whose statement is that, please, Graham?

Well, it's got my name and address on it, so I guess mine.

It is yours.

And what period does this statement cover?

Er, 5th of November to the 21st, 2024.

Are there any entries dated the 12th of November?

One.

How much?

73.49.

Can we cut to the fucking chase, please?

I'd love to.

Did you kill your father?

No.

In which case, what business is that debit to?

It says the Bullenherren.

What time was the payment made?

21.26.

Showing suspect exhibit GW02, copy of the till receipt for a meal at the

Bullenherren.

I say meal, you ate a pasty.

Rest of the bill is alcohol.

Two bottles of Malbec, to be precise.

And just to help you out, the Bullenherren is in a village called Flitwick,

which is about seven miles from Marston Hall.

So, is the truth, Graham, that you drove up to see your dad again to ask for money

to pay your debt to Eddie Elliot?

That you bolstered yourself with a couple of bottles of wine and you drove over

there?

No.

I don't think you're a naturally violent man, Graham.

You know, maybe you just wanted to scare him.

No.

But you went into that water tower.

You successfully unlocked the gun from the cabinet this time to go over to the main

house, except he walks in and surprises you.

There's no one.

Maybe he gets angry.

Maybe he tries to grab the gun.

Maybe the gun goes off accidentally and suddenly you're in his... I crashed my

car.

I was going to go to his house.

But I never got there.

Because this little old biddy in a Honda Jazz pulled right out in front of me and I

just...

I panicked and I drove off.

Except the radiator was fucked.

So I had to dump the motor in Ripley and in the end I got the train back to London.

There's no train tickets on this statement, Graham.

I jumped the barrier.

You can check the station's CCTV.

And that is the truth.

Local plots just confirmed the car still there in Ripley.

There was also a report of a failure to stop at 10 that night.

Driver sustained a broken wrist, only got a partial plate, hence NFA.

In worse news, we also can't find any useful footage to exclude Georgia Wright.

First time we pick up her car is at 2307 on the 813, which proves nothing one way

or the other.

Hey.

Mr. Wright, it's Ruth Allen.

We have a judgment.

Ten o'clock tomorrow.

Beth?

Beth?

You there?

I'm home.

Home where?

The UK.

I'm home and...

I want the kids back.

Where are you going?

London.

And listen, you can keep this, whatever's left of it.

I never liked it anyway.

I wish you happiness, George.

I really do.

All rise, please.

This is the hand down of judgment in the case of Wright vs.

Wright.

It is not for this court to comment on the substance of the pre-natural agreement

signed by Mrs. Wright.

I'm here to offer judgment only on what is before me.

And I find that in respect of his wife and her son, Joshua, the bequests made by Mr.

Wright are consistent with and supported by the exclusions and conditions laid out

in that agreement.

It's clear in emails provided by the defence that in August of this year,

Mr. Wright had hair samples of Joshua subjected to a DNA test.

This test, to the best of his knowledge, subsequently confirmed his suspicion that

he was not Joshua's father and by implication that his wife Sally Wright had

been unfaithful.

The court requires that an independent DNA comparison be made now to corroborate

those results but makes the interim judgment to deny the claim made by the

third Mrs. Wright.

The lab just called.

They've sent over the results of the blood tests on Ruben Maguire's clothes.

Oh, hi Leslie, very quickly.

So the Specman's money obviously goes through on Friday but can you do me a

favour?

The 1.75 we saved on the deal.

I've just had a rather attractive offer from our bank for a six-month fix.

If I give you the details, can you slide that into a new account for me please?

Super.

I'll email that over to you now.

Thanks so much.

In the matter of John and Graham Wright's claim that their father's will did not

make reasonable financial provision, I find in their favour, judgment on how

exactly the estate might be more fairly distributed will be delivered tomorrow.

All right.

Em,

Emily, I'm sorry.

For what?

You got what you wanted.

I never wanted you to lose out.

That is so Graham Wright.

Pretending to be sorry for an outcome you set out to make happen.

It was never about you though, it was always just about him.

And whatever I do end up with, you can have it, I swear.

Oh, can I?

Can I, Dad?

Can I have it all then?

Can I have all the fucking money?

It was only Everett about him.

Emily Wright?

Yes?

I'm arresting you on suspicion of soliciting to murder.

You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defense.

If you mention one question, please step back, make something which you later rely

on and call AC.

You haven't killed anybody.

Give me evidence.

This way, please.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Dad!

Dad!

That is my daughter, mate!

Em!

Emily!

Em!

I'm sorry!

So these are your clothes, Reuben?

No comment.

Well, maybe they're someone else's.

No comment.

Then why did you try to destroy them?

No comment.

Was it because you knew they had the victim's blood all over them?

No comment.

Because that's what we found.

Jack Wright's blood on the burnt remains of a T-shirt, pair of jeans and in a bag

stuffed behind your wardrobe.

Can you tell us anything about this?

No comment.

Where were you on the night of November 12th, Reuben?

No comment.

All right, Reuben, look.

Reuben, if you had nothing to do with this, this is your chance to clear your

name, right now.

So, where were you?

No comment.

Was it her idea?

Did you do it for her?

For your girlfriend, Emily?

No comment.

So your fiancé came into the station, Emily, and showed us some very worrying

messages of yours that he'd forwarded from your phone.

Showing the suspect EW01, a printout of five messages sent between April and

November 2024 between you and Reuben Maguire.

Can you read the second message, please?

He deserves everything we've got planned and more.

Everything we've got planned?

What does that mean, Emily?

No comment.

What would the pair of you planned?

No comment.

We know that Jack started to change his will three days after he met Maguire.

Is this you and Maguire discussing that plot?

No comment.

Okay, could you read message number three, please?

Why don't you read it?

How about I read it?

If he gave me the whole company, it still wouldn't make up for what he did

to me that night.

For what he did to me that night.

What did he do to you, Emily?

No comment.

Sounds serious.

If leaving you a company worth a hundred million still wouldn't make up for it.

No comment.

What about this last one?

From Reuben to you on the 4th of November.

How long do you think he'll live?

Do your family have good genes?

After that he's put a wink face emoji to which you reply with a laughing face

emoji.

What is that about?

No comment.

Yeah, I'm sure.

Okay, let me tell you where we are, Emily.

I think for whatever reason you had some deep-seated animus against your

grandfather.

He knew money meant more to him than most.

I think maybe it to have him change his will to your financial advantage.

Not true.

But you got bored waiting for him to die.

No.

So you had Reuben, a violent ex-offender, kill him.

Absolutely not.

Which is why your grandfather's blood is all over clothes we found in Reuben's

house.

What clothes?

The burnt remains of a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

Those clothes are mine.

John?

On a night in August 2014 when I was 13 and he thought I was asleep on a sofa

after watching a movie,

he touched me.

Here.

My grandfather.

I pretended to stir.

He moved away.

And that was it.

One action.

One touch.

It only lasted a few seconds.

But which changed my life.

Forever.

Like most kids I tried to minimize it.

He was drunk.

It was only once.

He was fucked up.

His ex-wife had committed suicide a few months before.

But still, I needed to make sure I was safe.

And so from that night on, I only saw him when I needed to.

The job at J.K.

Wright.

Family things.

I always tried to not be on my own with him.

But about six months ago, when I was back in the U.K.

to see Rose, I realized it was ten years.

So I decided to go and see him.

I needed him to acknowledge it.

What he'd done to me.

What he'd taken.

And so I told him that I hadn't been asleep.

That I'd known.

That I'd always known that he sexually assaulted me.

I don't know what I expected him to say.

But I guess I wasn't surprised by how he did react.

Which was to do exactly what he always did when anyone confronted him.

Attack, humiliate, deny.

And I wasn't going to let him do that to me.

So I turned to leave.

Except he grabbed my wrist to try and stop me.

So I swung my elbow back round to his face.

Hard.

Really fucking hard.

And there was blood everywhere.

I was screaming at him.

He was screaming at me, trying to hold on.

And then suddenly I was in the street, getting a cab to Reubens.

And there I changed out my clothes and into some clean ones he lent me.

I don't know why he kept them.

But those clothes were mine.

Reuben Maguire did not kill my grandfather.

I most definitely did not ask him to.

We know that they blackmailed him.

The messages pretty explicitly suggest that.

They do.

We know that Maguire, despite multiple opportunities to do so, has not provided

us with an alibi on the night of the murder.

He hasn't?

And most importantly, we know we have the victim's blood all over clothes hidden at

Maguire's house.

But she says hers.

Well, she would do, wouldn't she?

Or she's on the hook for solicitation.

Do you think she made that up about Jack?

I don't know.

I don't know.

But 74 and not a whiff of anything like that ever before.

I think the CPS will bite our hands off, boss.

Let's call him.

Hey.

What are you doing in my house, Arnaud?

This is very wrong.

It's all you lost.

Lost what?

Your case.

You dumb bitch.

For now, maybe, yes, but... I need that money.

I need it fast.

And I'm not sure you've been taking me seriously.

Oh, no, I can't.

I don't have access to his accounts.

They're all frozen and I don't have spare millions just lying around.

Except, of course, you do.

Over assets, you can sell.

Not worth that much.

You're lying, Sal.

I'm not.

So just know this.

It doesn't end well for people who don't take me seriously.

Three million by Friday.

In assessing how the bequests of the late Jack Wright might be redistributed more

equitably and in line with the judgments I've already made, I've tried to balance

the needs and rights of all claimants of the estate as best as possible.

Murder for Maguire.

Solicitation to murder for her.

No award has been made in isolation, but as part of a bigger picture.

And to award them what I felt they truly deserved.

In the matter of Emily Wright's appointment as chief executive,

her receipt of her grandfather's company shares and 15 million pounds, Emily Wright

is clearly a young woman of exceptional character and ability.

And I thus uphold the first two of these bequests in their entirety.

Miss Wright and her grandfather clearly had an unusual connection.

It's perfectly legitimate that in her he saw the future of his company would be in

the safest possible hands.

Please throw it, please.

Given the value of the shares, I have, however, reduced her monetary

request to 5.4 million.

I've done this largely to accommodate the needs of his two elder sons, John and

Graham, who I believe are entitled to a sum of 5 million pounds each.

To further facilitate this, I have also reduced the bequest to his first wife,

Rose, who he had been divorced from for nearly 40 years, to 100,000 pounds.

And that concludes this judgment.

There's a report online.

Emily's been arrested.

Emily Corazon Wright, you are charged that at a time between the 18th of April and

the 12th of November 2024, you did solicit the murder of Jack Kenton Wright,

contrary to section four of the Offences Against the Person Act 1861.

Do you have anything to say?

I'm innocent.

In the end, you'd have to say, the will echoed the life.

Cruel, narcissistic, messy, but also oddly opaque.

Because even now, I reach for a desire to believe that maybe there was love there,

too.

An attempt, subconscious or not, to liberate us from money.

But then I remember Emily, cut from the same cloth.

I look at her and I see him.

And then I see

what I tell you what I don't see.

Innocence.

In her, all that piece of shit.

Pot and kettle, I hear you say.

Maybe you're right.

I mean, I did kill a man.

So I'm not exactly innocent myself, am I?

I really think I should come in with you, Rose.

Oh, no, no, sorry, but I don't even know if they'll let me see her.

If they do, I'd rather we were alone, if you don't mind.

Call me when you're done.

Will do.

Afternoon.

Can I help you, madam?

Yes, I think you can.

I want to make a confession, please.

Okay.

A confession to what, exactly?

Murder.

It was me.

I killed Jack Wright.