All language subtitles for The Gentle Touch s05e10 Fox And Hounds.eng

Where the hell is that bloody

ambulance? Be here.

Bastards.

Two of them.

Quarantining witness.

And? Both young and black. Some clothing
description.

It's all right.

Crocodile?

Get what you've got over the radio to
every available car and beat man in the

area and I want these bastards caught.

All right, fun's over.

Can I go home now?

What is this? I ain't done, mate.

Kicking an old man after death. You call
that nothing, you black bastard. Get

out of here.

Where is he, Harry?

Where's who, ma 'am? Who the hell do you
think?

Your suspect mugger, ma 'am. You mean
the Pope?

In the cells.

Doctor's with him at the moment.

Seems how he resisted arrest.

Must have resisted fairly seriously.
He'd doctor me already.

Oh, he's all right. A few bumps and
bruises.

Doctor was here already, taking a blood
sample from some idiot who drove his car

through a shop window.

Where are the arresting officers?

Your mugger.

CID room, making their report.

What for name, do we?

Gave him the obligatory spin before
dubbing him up.

According to this, he is one Leroy
Winston Jones, aged 18, 25 Figaro Road.

Figaro Road?

Isn't that a few streets away from where
the old man was mucked? Yeah.

Found this in his possession.

Ah, dope.

Lebanese black, I'd have guessed.

Yeah, well, it'll do for a holding
charge.

Want an organiser warrant? Check out the
address? No, not yet. Check the file

for recent muggings in the area. See if
anyone's lost anything resembling these.

What do you call recent? Use your
imagination. Let me know when the

gone. Check for any form.

Resist to the rest.

You still here?

Only the wicked rest.

Right. What's the story?

Only a suggestion, Sergeant, but I think
it would be wise just to let him sleep

tonight. All right, Izzy.

There is a proper complaints procedure,
if he wants to avail himself of it. Yes,

I'm sure there is.

Then what?

Well, we told him not to be silly and to
come quietly.

And? Well, he made it pretty obvious he
wasn't too keen on the idea.

Right, Bert?

That's right. First we got the usual,
just because I'm black verbal, liberty's

first obstinative. Yeah, and the honky
pig routine.

So we moved in to arrest him with the
minimum force necessary.

Right.

Let me have a copy. It says you
completed it.

Yes, I'm Detective Inspector Forbes,
Seven Dars Police Station. I was at the

hospital about 40 minutes ago with a
victim of a mugging, an elderly

called Mr Mullery.

I just wondered, could you tell me what
his condition is?

Yes, that's right. Thank you.

Yes.

Yes, I see.

Yeah, I understand that.

OK, thanks.

How is he?

I couldn't help overhearing.

Intensive care, as well as can be
expected.

Think you'll pull through?

I might.

Well, I don't mind a bit of overtime on
a thing like this. All right, I'll

handle it.

I meant background stuff.

Check out any fantasy alibis bound to
spin you.

All right.

God, you should have seen what they did
to him.

Yeah, I know. I've seen a few myself.

That's your spades for you.

Personally, I'd pull the lever on scum
like that.

Got any witnesses?

One. Pretty good on size, age and
clothing.

Colour? Always very good on colour.

Faces? Seen one, seen them all.
Witnesses' words, not mine.

Not too clever, is it? Too facetious.

If the one they've nicked is one of
them, I'll know it.

Trouble is, it's not infallible, is it?
What?

Instinct.

Hello?

Right, Karen. Go down.

I'm going to tell you what the doctor
said, and he's bound to make a report.

Just open the door, Harry.

Leroy Winston Jones.

Is your name Leroy Winston Jones?

This license is yours, isn't it?

Yes, well, it won't take us long to find
out. Then you can wipe that look off

your face, whoever you turn out to be.

For the moment, you're being held in
custody on suspicion of being in

of dangerous drugs.

Anything you say will be taken down and
may be used in evidence. Do you

understand?

All right, Sarge.

Get his clothes to forensics straight
away.

Wrong attitude, son.

Wrong attitude.

It doesn't matter much if it's in.

Warning for shoplifting at 15.

Two sus charges shortly after and no
conviction.

That's the late one, Jake.

Like the most things, even a bank robber
starts off with a bit of petty.

Don't affect.

What about the jewellery? Give us a
chance. I'm working on it. Great.

How's it going?

Nearly done, ma 'am. You ready for that
bit of overtime?

Good hunting, 191.

Sorry, Sarge.

I've arrested him, actually, Sarge.

Worrying sheep, was he?

Obstruction, actually, Sarge, and a
possible assault.

All right, Constable, you can let go of
his paw now.

Is that him?

Yes. This is your son, Mrs Jones.

Yes, that is my Leroy.

Could you please tell me what it is you
want with him?

Well, in that case, I'm afraid I have to
tell you that he is presently being

held in police custody on suspicion of
being involved in a serious offence.

Oh, my Lord. I'm afraid I'm going to
have to ask you some questions. Would

like to sit down, Mrs Jones?

My Leroy, he's a good boy.

A good, respectable boy. He won't do
nothing wrong.

He's been arrested three times in the
past. Do please sit down, Mrs. Jones. I

have a son about the same age as myself,
so I know he must be feeling... He's a

good boy.

Those rest of the times, it was all a
mistake.

When did you last see him?

He was home for his tea. What time was
that?

He's not a bad boy, my Leroy.

I brought him up respectable.

What it is you're accusing him of? Oh,
no, nothing yet.

No. It could be a mistake, like all the
other times.

But if we could establish his movement
this evening, it would be of help to

Do you understand?

Please, don't patronise me, Miss
Policewoman.

Look, I realise this has come as a bit
of a shock to you.

Perhaps you'd like a cup of tea?

I wouldn't mind myself, actually.

And that's when I moved in to arrest
him, Sarge.

Right. Now, let's see if I got this
right.

You were on your beat when you saw this
gentleman outside the carton club. I was

travelling in a northerly direction,
Sarge.

I'm deliberately avoiding irrelevance,
is Constable Worth. It's what we call in

the profession summarising the facts.

Sorry, Sarge.

To continue, you saw this gentleman
outside the club surrounded by a group

people. You noticed quite a bit of
arguing going on amongst them, so you

investigate.

If I may say something, Sergeant.

If you'll just be patient, sir, you'll
have ample opportunity to make a

statement. Oh, yes.

Yes, of course, sir.

So sorry.

Sir, upon arriving at the scene of the
incident, a small fracker broke out,

during the course of which this
gentleman struck out with his banner,

to strike the head of another gentleman
in the crowd.

Right so far?

In essence, yes, Sarge.

The alleged assault... Oh, he did it,
Sarge. I saw him. The alleged assault

having taken place, you then took the
name and address of the person allegedly

struck.

The Major Charles Blatchley Smythe, who
said he wished to press charges of

assault on this gentleman. Right, Sarge.

It didn't occur to you to bring the
victim of this alleged assault here to

a statement?

Ah, he said he had to get home to Lady
Blatchley Smythe, Sarge.

Really?

Right.

Now, sir, full name and address.

No pause, sir.

Police. They don't like coloreds.

The last time, they tell a lot of lies
about my son.

Mrs. Jones, I do not tell lies or
manufacture evidence against anyone

of a crime, be they yellow, red, white,
or black.

Now, if you wish to tell me the last
time it was that you saw your son fine,

not, I shall find other means of
establishing it.

He came home about half past five.

He left again about six.

I haven't seen him since.

Did he say where he was going?

He usually goes to the youth club on
evenings.

What youth club is that?

The Caribbean Youth Club.

It's on Church Street. That's right, I
know it.

Well, did he say if he was meeting
anyone in particular, a friend?

He's got friends there. Well, I'm sure
he has, Mrs Jones, but usually boys of

that age, they've got a couple of
special friends that they see a lot of.

No special friends. Leroy gets on with
everybody.

Well, perhaps you know some of his
friends. I mean, mates of his that call

here. I mean, if you could... Give me
their names. Perhaps they could help

establish Leroy's movements this
evening.

Miss Jones.

It's friends. They don't come here.

I'm sorry. I didn't quite... What?

Friends don't come to this house.

Are you saying that you don't know any
of your son's friends? That you don't

any of them?

Mrs. Jones.

Look. I'm a Christian woman.

Things are different here.

These young people, they're born here.
They think different.

Mrs. Jones, what about your husband,
Leroy's father?

Is he... I mean, would it be possible
for us to have a word with him?

He isn't here. He's gone back home.

Home?

You mean to the West Indies?

Yes.

The West Indies. He went back five, six
years ago.

Do just you and your son live here,
then, Mrs Jones? I mean, they're no

children.

No.

Look, I'm his mother. I'm entitled to
know what you think he's done.

He fits the description of someone seen
running away from a robbery.

Rob? No.

Has your son got a job, Mrs Jones?

He's 18 and coloured.

I mean, so -called recession.

Has any one of them got a job, Mr.
Policeman?

Quite a lot, actually.

Only if Leroy's out of work, what is he,
on the dole or what?

On the dole, what else?

That doesn't amount to much.

Cigarette money for kids these days.

Look, say what you want to say.

You've got to try and see it from our
point of view.

You see, when we picked your son up, he
was found to have in his possession some

pretty expensive items in gold.

A medallion, a necklace. chain, a
wristwatch, a cigarette lighter.

The wristwatch was his father's. It was
left for him.

That still leaves the other items. Worth
between them, as an educated guess,

150, 200 pounds.

From Dole money.

Unless, of course, your son has some
other source of income.

Well, perhaps you, uh... Does your
husband send you money?

Well, maybe you have a well -paid job or
source of income that would allow you

to give your son enough money to buy
these things.

I'm on social security too, Mr.
Policeman.

And that ain't no fault of mine either.
All Inspector Clayton is trying to say,

Mr. Jones, is that if he could give us
some explanation regarding how your son

came by these items, if legitimately, it
could only help him.

Look, when can I see my son?

Tomorrow, perhaps. We shall have other
inquiries to make.

Look, Mrs. Jones, I don't want to cause
you any more distress than necessary,

but do you think we could have a look at
Leroy's room?

I wouldn't want to have to get a
warrant.

Clothes. Oh, yes, and... Could you give
us a change of clothes for him?

Do you know what we were doing in there?

Making inquiries.

No.

We were doing a number on a job.

The classic hard man, soft man cop
routine.

So what's wrong with that?

To a middle -aged, frightened woman who
still hasn't got over the cultural shock

of being in this bloody country.

All she's got to hang on to is her
religion and her son.

And that makes you angry, does it?

No.

What makes me angry is I've only just
realised it.

Are you comfortable in there?

Perfectly, thank you. You could take the
head off.

I'd rather not, if you don't mind.

Mr Dean, you're under arrest.

I could, should, insist.

Yes, but... Well, it's a rather
important part of the protest, you see.

Yes, I'd rather think I do.

Well, here you are.

Not as comfortable as your earth,
perhaps.

A bit short on straw since we've changed
to foam rubber for the mattresses.

But I'm sure you'll make out, being used
to the open spaces.

Tally -ho.

Morning. Morning, sir.

Harry, thought you were late, sir.

Was. Start of fortnight days as from
now.

Interesting night.

And its moments.

What have we got?

What is he, some sort of crank?

I'm a police sergeant, sir. Not a
psychiatrist, sir.

Arresting officer P .C. Worth. Who he?

On probation. This is his first arrest.

I'm trying to be understanding.

Yeah. Now, we've got D .I. Forbes, Jake
Barrett on this mugging thing.

Inspector Strait got caught up in a
drunk driving turnout on his way home.

Is this a tailor's window?

Maybe they sold him a bad suit.

All three still in custody?

No. D .D. was bailed out after a blood
test and a short rest in the cells.

About Basil Brush, sir.

Can you get one of your hands to look
after it? Yeah.

Out of curiosity, sir, why do you read
the occurrence book in reverse order?

I'm funny that way.

Working late on this, were you?

It's not the social life I'm leading.

I thought you would have been back.

I don't know that for one night.

Six lighters, 13 wristwatches, 26 chains
with medallions. Yeah, only ten of

those were St Christopher's. I thought
we'd be more popular these days in

limitless travel.

How far do you go back?

God, ain't that far. Yeah, that's just
on our little plot.

Hello. Morning.

For you, ma 'am.

Yes. Change of clothes.

Where did you get them from? They're
mine.

From your wardrobe, I should imagine.

What did you tell my mum for?

Did she give you any problems?

No, not particularly.

She's a member of the old school of
immigrants.

Religious, respectable, and... And,
uh... Dig me far, I suppose.

All like that, are they? The old school?

This arresting officer's report reads
like a doublet, doesn't it? They went in

bit strong, didn't they? It comes with
the training. They didn't give me any

reason to disbelieve them.

Well, if it comes to trial, it's not
going to help your case much, is it?

suspect beaten up by police.

It's a very effective defence tactic.

He resisted arrest.

You try telling that to a jury half made
up of second, third generation

immigrants, not of the old school.

Now, what about the victim?

As of half an hour ago, still
unconscious and still in intensive care.

Now, I don't need to tell you to
approach this case rationally and

unemotionally, do I?

The day I stop feeling emotional about
it is the day I give up the job.

All right.

Keep me posted, yeah?

Right. Oh, well, Maggie, by the way...

Did you hear about the fox that was
captured by one of our intrepid young

last night? Yes, I saw him this morning.

I'd like someone to interview him, see
if he's safe to release on bail. Have

got any suggestions?

Oh, terrific.

Why me?

I think he thinks you're good with
animals.

All the more reason to stay on a
mugging, I would have thought.

Let's not malign our four -footed
friends, right?

Right.

Right, Mr Dean.

Walkies.

An officer will be along to interview
you shortly, Mr Dean, if you'd like to

take a seat.

Unless you prefer to curl up in a
corner.

I realise I may be a figure of fun to
you, Sergeant, but I can assure you the

subject I'm protesting about is far from
funny.

No, sir.

I'm sure it's not.

Word outside, Harry.

Harry. Jake.

I heard a man still has his costume on.

Oh, you've noticed that, have you, Jake?

Yes, I've noticed that.

Keen observation is a great asset to a
detective, Jake.

You wouldn't take the piss out of me,
would you, Harry?

Harry, I can't interview someone dressed
up as a fox. It's ridiculous.

Now, listen.

He may be going through a serious
identity crisis.

To force him to remove the symbol of his
new persona too soon could cause a

serious trauma.

And you...

As a compassionate human being, I
wouldn't want that.

Goodbye, Harry.

Good luck, Jane.

Did the old man live on his own, ma 'am?

Yes, very much so. Shall we elbow the
maudlin a move on this?

By all means.

Pete and I will try and backtrack his
movements while you try and get his

right?

Right.

You don't have to try and humour me, you
know, Sergeant.

Humour you, Mr. Dean?

By pretending you don't find it faintly
ridiculous interviewing someone dressed

as a fox.

I don't find it faintly ridiculous, Mr.
Dean.

I do find it totally disconcerting.

That's because you don't understand.

Can you at least take the head off?

The effect wouldn't be the same.

What do you mean by that? It's
impressive.

Believe me, I'm impressed.

It's a great costume.

Realistic, well -tailored.

Perhaps a tail could do a little trim.
Apart from that, it's a gem.

Thank you.

But that's not quite what I mean.

So tell me.

I mean that by keeping the head on,
you'll remember me, right?

I'll never ever forget you, Mr. Dean.

On that you can lay odds.

Well, that being the case, there's a
good chance you'll remember what I say

the obscenity of fox hunting. That is
the point of retaining the head. Relax,

Mr. Dean.

I'm perfectly relaxed, thank you.

Were you relaxed when you hit Major
Blashley Smythe on the head with your

banner? The man I hit, or to be more
accurate, caught with a glancing blow

didn't cause him the slightest injury,
was one of a group of so -called

gentlemen. You clearly drank too much
and thought it'd be great fun to assault

me both verbally and physically.

You steadily hear they persistently
stroke you.

In my experience, that is normally a
pleasurable sensation.

Don't foxes like being stroked, Mr Dean?

You're doing it again, Sergeant.

I am not some sort of crank.

I happen to believe passionately in the
cause.

And I said poured and persistently
stroked.

Still seems like a good deal to me.

Seems to me you're simply being
conspicuous. I'm simply trying to

you, Mr. Dean.

I mean, in my way of thinking, it shows
a remarkable lack of common sense to

stand outside a club like that dressed
as a fox and not expect a little abuse

from its members.

Foul -mouthed and physical abuse.

If anyone was assaulted, it was me.

You know, they're very good.

Very good indeed.

I beg your pardon?

The eyes.

Certainly capture that sly quality.

What makes you think foxes are sly,
Sergeant?

Must be the eyes.

Bloodhounds have sad eyes.

Does that mean all bloodhounds are
unhappy?

I would be.

Sad eyes like that.

Still the wrong attitude, son.

Don't you know it's impolite not to
stand up when a lady comes into the

There now.

That's not difficult, is it?

Sorry about that, Mum.

No problem, son.

You're right, you can sit down.

Look, Jones, I'm not going to give you
the old there's two ways of doing this

routine because if you're stupid enough
not to know the easy way, that's your

problem.

I think your mother's wasting her time
worrying about you.

What do you bother her for?

You've got no right.

Every right.

Still the wrong attitude, son.

Your mother seems like a very nice
woman.

Oh, she seems.

What's the matter? You got problems
looking beyond the colour of her skin?

the chip off your shoulder, Jones. I
don't give a sod what colour you are.

If I was your complexion, ladies, I
wouldn't be standing here right now.

Two youths robbed and then he battered
to death an old man last night. They

seen running away quite clearly by a
witness. One of the youths fits your

description and he was most definitely
black.

I didn't rob no old geezer. What were
you doing last night, then?

Legging a bat.

Legging a bat where?

Here and there. Doing what?

This and that.

Does your mother know you smoke dope?

Not unless you told her.

Anyway, who says I smoke?

A lump of lead found in your possession,
says you do.

Look, I ain't got no dealings with that
stuff, all right? That was plotted on me

by those two pigs who beat up on me last
night. Searched your room last night.

We found this in your ashtray.

Shit!

Did my mum see that?

I think she thought it was an ordinary
cigarette.

I didn't disillusion her.

She's got plenty of time for that.

You're joking.

My mum comes from the West Indies, you
know.

You think she don't know what a joint
looks like.

Being religious don't make her blind,
you know. Then why leave it there for

to see?

She don't normally come in my rooms.

Only weekends to clean and that. Better
idea of yours.

Look, let's just leave my old lady out
of this, right? There's one old man we

most certainly can't leave out of it. I
told you already. I don't know nothing

about no old man getting robbed or
beaten.

Well, in that case, why can't you tell
me where you were between 10 and 10 .30

last night? Look, I don't know.

I move around a lot. I don't take no
notice of time. By way of what?

Because my old man left it for me.

Well, as you were, there's a peculiar
reason not to look at it.

What's a what's got to do with anything?

Did your father run off with another
woman?

I don't have to tell you stuff like
that.

It ain't got nothing to do with what's
going on down here, has it?

So he did.

Yeah. He ran off with some whore.

It happens all the time.

So what?

So nothing.

Just curious.

What matters, as far as you're
concerned, that if you can't or won't

account of your movers between 10 and 10
.30 last night...

You're in serious trouble and we can't
help you.

Fox hunting exists for the same
despicable reasons that the now illegal

of dog fighting, cock fighting and bear
baiting existed.

It's the same purpose, to provide
amusement to callous human beings.

You're talking about birdie, Mr. Dean.

I've read arguments about pest control.
It is not a form of pest control.

So -called control argument is merely an
excuse introduced by fox hunters.

To combat the protests of those of us
for whom the killing of animals for

amusement was morally unacceptable. I'll
go along with that. You may also have

noticed, Sergeant, that those pastimes
that were made illegal were in the main

the preserve of the working classes.

It's rather a nice, if somewhat sick,
irony that the changes in the law were

made by the same privileged classes who
made damn sure their own revolting

bloodsports of stag and fox hunting
remained legal.

Sounds more like a political argument
than a moral one.

It's both, Sergeant, and I make no
apologies for it.

You sure you don't want to tear that
head off?

Your mother said you used to go to the
Caribbean Youth Club of an evening, is

that right?

Yeah, I go there, now and then. Did you
go there last night?

I don't know.

Probably. Look, I can't remember!

Too charged from smoking to remember, is
that it?

That's your story, love, not mine. Well,
if you don't tell me your story, I'm

going to have to use my imagination,
aren't I? Have you been drinking? Look,

don't drink. I'm not into poison. All
right, so you haven't been smoking or

drinking. How come your memory was so
bad about last night?

Oh, maybe I've been given a... What's
it?

Amnesia? You've been examined by a
doctor, Jones.

There's nothing wrong with you except a
few bumps brought about by your own

stupidity and resisting arrest.

Resisting arrest?

That's a lot, isn't it? Well, if you've
done nothing wrong, why did you run?

Look, lady, when you're black...

and my age, and two anemic -looking
coppers jump out of a car at you, you'd

pretty stupid not to run.

Because this is what happens if you hang
around.

And that's the only reason you ran?

And I was holding.

So you admit you're in possession?

It don't matter if I do or I don't, does
it?

I mean, when you stick me up in front of
the magistrates, it'll be my word

against yours.

And we know who he's going to believe.

Now, don't we?

Anything I can do for you two gentlemen?

Please, sir.

I figured that ought to count for.

The council?

Yeah, I'm trying to get a grant to
improve the facilities here.

Having any luck?

No.

Can't say that I am.

Run things here, do you, sir?

I'm the man.

Organizer, driver, and sole counselor
for the kids that come here.

Good help. It's hard to find these days.

Marcus Williams is the name.

But you can call me Willie.

Everybody does. Okay, Willie. Nice to
meet you.

Likewise.

But I know you're in here to give me
good news. We're making inquiries into a

mugging that took place in this area
last night. An old man was brutally

and robbed.

Hope you gentlemen don't mind me
continuing with this while we talk.

Only I've got a little trip out to the
countryside arranged for some of the

this afternoon.

A reliable witness saw two black kids
running away from the scene of the

Matter of fact, we have a suspect in
custody, Willie. We understand from his

mother he spends a lot of time at this
youth club.

His name's Leroy Winston Jones.

Presumably you know him.

I know him.

And I know his mother.

A good lady.

A good lady.

And what about Leroy? Is he a good boy?

A man.

If you think Leroy attacked an old man
and robbed him, you've got it all wrong.

That ain't his style.

What is his style?

I guess he's like a whole lot of kids
these days.

Full of energy, friendly.

Honest and likeable, but also bored.

And a bit resentful about their hopeless
employment prospects, or any prospects.

And I'm talking black and white. Tell me
something I don't know, Mr. Williams.

You don't know you've got the wrong boy
in custody, officer.

That's what you don't know.

You know, Jones, all this hostility
isn't exactly helping to convince me of

innocence. A little cooperation can only
help you. It's not me who has to prove

I didn't do anything.

Oh, no, I didn't. Yes, but you do take
my point.

Look, I want to see my lawyer.

Now, I was wondering when that was going
on.

I know my rights. Yeah, that too.

Well, now, let me tell you something
about my rights.

If I choose to organise it, I can keep
you locked up here for three days and

three nights.

And unless you cooperate, that's exactly
what I intend to do.

Go on, then.

Have you given any breakfast here this
morning?

Yes, but I didn't eat it. I had a cup of
tea.

Cup of tea?

Do you want to tell me how you managed
to drink it without, you know... The

officer who took my statement was kind
enough to provide me with a drinking

straw. Yeah, that's Harry.

Kindness itself.

Bill.

I, uh, just had a call from the
hospital.

Mr Mullery died a short time ago without
regaining consciousness, so... So it's

now a murder inquiry.

Oh, my God.

Sit down.

How's getting on with Jones?

He's very hostile.

But I think I'm making progress.

Now, look, I was glancing down this list
of clothing.

It's, uh... Gia, you took off Jones and
sent off the forensication.

Now, tell me, can you remember what it
was you thought Mr. Mullery said to you

just before the ambulance arrived?

Um... It sounded like a crocodile.

Like an imitation crocodile?

God, Jones, his shoes.

All right, all right.

So you're dealing with the case now.
What do your instincts tell you? You

he did it? I do now.

Spade, right?

Black, yeah.

What's the matter? Can't you call a
spade a spade?

It's not that.

I just can't see the necessity to use a
derogatory appellation in reference to a

perfect...

Derogatory appellation. Where did you
get that stuff?

What's wrong with the word spade? They
call us honky pigs, don't they? I just

don't see the need, that's all.

After all, he was trying to be helpful.

You call giving Jones an alibi for the
time in question being helpful, do you?

It couldn't be that he was simply trying
to cover up for one of his own, could

it? Well, I can see how he might have a
protective attitude towards the kids

that use the club if... But he writes.

As I was about to say, if that was the
case, why would he offer any information

about this other kid, Benjamin, he's
black too? Who knows?

Maybe he doesn't belong to the same
tribe as Willie. They're into all that,

aren't they?

If you don't mind me saying so, sir,
that kind of prejudice really gets up

Turn it in with all this holy liberal
crap, will you? Some poor old man's

battered to a pulp in hospital and we
know two spades are responsible.

What do you expect me to feel towards
him? Empathy? The victim was a spade as

well.

Is Jake still in the interview room?

Shall I go on the antidote and find out?
I'm not in the mood for jokes, Harry.

Sorry, ma 'am, number two.

You'll want to hear about Mr Mullery. He
just died.

Really? Oh, if Inspector Clayton burns
him with anything, give me a shout. Will

do.

Can't find anybody in.

Well, they would have answered by now.

Not if they were expecting us to call,
would they?

We'll sit over there for a bit, wait and
see if he comes.

Don't know what to say.

It's too bloody awful.

Yes.

Anyway, I want to keep at Jones and I
need someone else present.

I took a ghost town round here today and
I was wondering how much longer you

were going to be with our friend in
there.

No problem. I'll dub him back up for a
while.

Is he a crack?

Not sure.

Seems rational enough. Very sincere
about the cause he's promoting.

Just can't get in and take his damn head
off.

Take his what off?

Didn't Harry tell you?

He's wearing this terrific fox costume.

Refuses to take the head off.

No one's seen his face yet.

You're joking.

Take a look.

Can't you make him take it off? It's a
bit difficult.

Rather talk me into doing it.

I mean, if he demands to keep it on, we
don't have to get physical.

To be honest, I don't think it really
warrants that.

This is ridiculous.

I know.

Sir, madam.

Excuse me, but my name is Williams, and
this lady is Mrs Jones.

We understand you have Mrs Jones' son,
Leroy Winston Jones, in custody here,

we would like to speak to the officer in
charge concerning him, if that can be

arranged. Well, I'm not sure, sir. But
if you'd like to wait over there, I'll

see what I can find out.

Thank you.

Your manners are impeccable, Mr Dean.
You may sit down now. It's my boss,

Inspector Forbes.

She'd like a word with you.

How do you do, Inspector?

Misty.

Do please sit down, Mr Dean.

Well now, Mr Dean, Sergeant Barrett here
has been telling me about your little

problem.

What problem is there precisely,
Inspector?

Your refusal to take your costume off.

Yes, well, I have tried to explain. Yet
it has been explained to me, Mr... I'm

completely naked under here, you know.

Naked? Except for my underpants, that
is. That's what he says.

Well, that really isn't a problem, Mr
Dean. I mean, we do have clothes in the

station that we can let you borrow.

Inspector, is there a law...

Against my wearing clothes of my own
choosing.

No, not exactly. Well, then, I choose to
wear what I've got on. After all, it's

not indecent, is it? Well, no, I
wouldn't say... Which is more than to be

to those people who hunt harrows and
killers.

Where is the fox?

Look, Mr Dean, I'm not unsympathetic to
your cause.

But this is a police station, and you
are under arrest for assault. Now, we do

have procedures, and...

One of them is that we do not conduct
interviews with people on criminal

who have their head covered with a bag,
a mask, a costume head or anything.

So if you do not want it forcibly
removed and you want to get out of here,

suggest that you take it off now and you
talk to me face to face.

Is that clear?

Are you a mother, Inspector?

Yes, I am. Did you know that heavily
pregnant foxes and nursing mothers are

often hunted to death?

Look, Mr... Fox hunters block up earth
from badger sets the night before a hunt

to ensure that the foxes are forced to
run until they're exhausted.

And even if a fox does find an unblocked
earth, the sportsmen will usually

either evict their quarry by sending the
terriers down after it and hunt it

again, or dig the fox out with shovels
and kill it.

Pure savagery.

I agree.

But did you know, Mr. Dean, that some
elderly people can be hunted

and killed for their few meagre
belongings while innocently going about

business?

I'm sorry. Now, I'm talking about
perspective and priorities, Mr. Dean.

My priorities as a policewoman and as a
human being.

Now, I'm talking about another sort of
blood sport which makes the killing of

wild animals, as loathsome as it is, of
somewhat less consequence.

Now, if you want to protest against
Foxhunting, fine, you have my vote, but

you'll not have my time, nor that of my
officers.

Especially when we're in the middle of
an investigation into the brutal murder

of an old man.

Now, do I make myself clear?

I'm sorry.

I hadn't realised my stand would cause
such disruption.

I just had this idea there might be some
publicity value for the cause. Oh, Miss

Dean, if you co -operate, I will
personally phone the press and they will

reporters waiting at the door when you
leave.

Now, you will have all the publicity you
want and with my blessing, believe me.

Don't you think we ought to call the
station?

What for?

Just to let them know. Know what?

Well, we've got a suspect under
observation.

We haven't yet.

I just thought the suspect's name might
be of some use to Inspector Forbes in

her interrogation of Jones, that's all.
No use at all if it's not the bastard we

want.

Don't worry.

If it is the right one, no -one's going
to complain.

And it won't do either of us any harm to
get an independent body on this, will

it?

Murder!

No, no.

I ain't done no murder, not me. Right.

You ain't laying that one on me.

A bit of smoke, I'll stick up my hands.

Look, I went to see my lawyer.

I didn't have nothing to do with killing
Noah.

Well, he's dead.

And so far, you haven't given me any
answer to suggest that you had nothing

do with him. There are plenty of reasons
to make me think you did. Not me, not

me. I was down at the club when that
went off. The youth club? Yeah, I was

there. I said I was there. Why didn't
you say so before? I did. I said I was

there. You didn't say what time you were
there.

I was there the times you said. I was
there the times you... Between 10 and 10

.30. Yeah, definitely.

I remember now. Now you remember.

Look, I didn't do anything. I can prove
it.

Ask me mates.

Ask Willie. He'll tell you. Who's
Willie?

Mr. Williams.

He'll tell you I was there.

Yeah, you make sure you get that down.
Mr. Williams.

He'll tell you I was there at that time.

West Indian, is he, this Mr. Williams?

Yeah.

He's black.

What does that make him?

A lawyer?

I just wanted to get the facts straight,
son.

Now the chip on your shoulder has become
an anchor.

Why don't you calm down, sit down,
before it drags you down.

That's bloody easy for you to say, isn't
it?

You ain't black.

Neither am I a racialist.

There's more than I can say for you.

Me? Racialist?

Works both ways, son.

Didn't you know that?

I can't say I've noticed.

Not from where I'm standing.

Well, you're the one that's been hostile
and aggressive.

Now what you accuse us whiteys of?

Bullshit.

I'm the one who's been locked up and
fitted up for something that I ain't

I didn't kill nobody.

I wouldn't do nothing like that.

I swear to God.

I wouldn't do anything like that.

I wouldn't do it.

I swear to God.

I didn't do it.

I didn't do it.

And there are at least 20 other kids who
were in the club during that time who

can confirm what I'm telling you, Chief
Inspector.

Well, then?

I think I know what you're thinking,
sir.

These are basically a good bunch of
kids.

They aren't going to get together in
some kind of black... to cover for

they think did such a terrible thing.

He's telling the God's truth.

Leroy is not perfect, I know that. And
he don't understand my way of doing

things no more than I understand his.

But I know he would never do something
so wicked. And God is my witness.

Mrs. Jones, I've explained the
circumstances that brought your son to

attention. And what you tell me, what
you're both telling me, may very well be

true. But until such time as we can
either confirm or disprove his alibi,

nine trade is going to have to stay
here. In that case, would it be possible

Mr. Jones to see him and talk to him?

No, I'm sorry, I can't permit that.

What do you think?

Asked to deny it, whatever, didn't he?

Hmm.

You've got any facts, have you?

Will it try?

No.

We'll give it a bit longer.

Well, it's not as good as Acapulco Gold,
but it'll do for now, isn't it?

It's all right.

How long since you left school, Leroy?

Since I was 16.

Two years.

You been out of work all that time?

More or less.

More or less?

I've done a bit of part -time odd jobs,
you know.

You think that makes you a special case?

You're one of several million out of
work. The vast majority of you aren't

black. Yeah.

What sort of odd jobs?

I like messing with cars.

A bloke used to know my old man.

He's got a garage.

He lets me up out now and then.

And I do a bit of labouring on the lump.

The money you earn from this, is that
what bought the gold what? The chain?

I didn't teach them.

So you bought them?

I paid for them, yeah. With your
earnings?

Sort of. Sort of? You mean you got them
cheap?

Yeah. Well, because they were stolen?

Yeah. By you?

No.

Someone you know?

Not many, of course.

Hey, Roy.

Giza, I know, yeah.

Did he go to the youth club?

He used her till Willie slung him out.
How did Willie do that?

He didn't like his evil ways.

Unconstructive.

Selling gear to the kids. What, drugs?

Everything. Jewelry.

But he got from stealing by mugging
people?

Willie didn't know.

He just guessed.

Did you know?

Leroy.

Mugging is one thing, murder is another.
Now, did you know?

Yeah.

I didn't murder nobody, right?

Right?

Or beat nobody.

Well, if there wasn't anyone to buy the
stuff, there would be no need to steal

it, would there?

Now, I think you'd better give us his
name, don't you?

And you're absolutely certain that this
boy, John Benjamin, was the person you

saw talking to Leroy Jones outside the
club at this time stated, 10 .40?

I'm certain, Chief Inspector.

It's a bit late for a youth club to be
open, isn't it, Mr. Williams? Like I

said, some of the kids have formed a
steel band and last night was practice

night. They're keen to get it together
for next month's carnival.

And you banned John Benjamin from the
club because you suspected him of

stolen goods to the other kids?

Suspected, yes. Nothing else.

I gave your officers his name only
because of what I've heard some of the

say about him. That he was a mugger?

Yes.

Well, if you banned him, what was he
doing hanging around outside the club?

Business as usual.

There's not a lot I can do about that.

But I would like to make it absolutely
clear that I have no idea if Benjamin

anything to do with what happened to
that poor man last night.

He was just someone I suggest your
officers talk to.

And now you're equally certain that
Leroy Jones was in the club from about 9

.m. until he left after you saw him
talking to John Benjamin?

I'm certain, Chief Inspector.

Let's go.

All right, Mr. Williams, if you'd sign
this.

Now, don't worry, Mrs Jones. I've got Mr
Williams' telephone number. I'll

contact him just as soon as anything
comes up. Promise.

Thank you, Chief Inspector.

No, no, he's not still here, is he?

Bailed out in his own surety a little
while ago.

That is exhibit number one for the
magistrates.

Inspector Forbes sorted it all out, by
the way. Did she?

Oh, Bill, we've got the name of the
other boy. Jones is still denying he was

involved, but he hasn't got the other
names. It's got to be him. And the name

came up with wouldn't be Johnny Benjamin
by any chance, would it? Right.

Had Jones' mother and a Mr. Williams in.
Now, Mr. Williams made a statement

declaring that Jones was in that club
from around nine until about quarter to

eleven. Also claims there's a bunch of
kids down there who will support that

alibi. Don't believe it. It's got to be
a fabrication.

Hop hunting exists for the same
despicable reason.

Why shouldn't they lie?

People commit perjury in court every day
for their friends, relatives, sometimes

even for complete strangers.

It seems there's been a cock -up. They
coughed a lot in the car on the way

And the charge will now be murder.

Murder? Mr Mullery died, as you would
have discovered had you bothered to

in. Well, I would have done so. Never
mind the excuses. I'll hear them later.

Maggie. I think maybe you ought to have
a word with Mrs. Jones, don't you?

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