Original subtitles

It's my wife's

Had an accident, I think she's fallen down the stairs!

This scene's a shambles.

Does that look weird to you?

This is my sister's blood.

My sister!

They're going to crucify me!

I can't shake the utterly unscientific impression

that his shock's for real.

My dad would never ever harm Bridget, never.

We all know where this is going.

It was murder from the moment they found out it was Tom Flannery's wife.

I'm not taking a makeweight case to court just so the Met can settle a score.

Cause of death... blunt-force trauma to the head,

attributable to an assault by a third party.

We want you to carry out a second autopsy.

- It contradicts yours point for point. - What?!

All the injuries can be accounted for through a fall down stairs.

We'll ask both pathologists be heard.

Here you come, a knight in shining armour. Bloodied but unbowed.

It's like a little Jane Eyre fantasy made flesh.

- A different blood source. - And lots of it.

Are you having doubts?

I just don't see how it could happen twice.

Did the police ask you about your first wife's death?

You just decided to miss out the part about her falling down the stairs.

You know what you have to do.

When I found Olga, she was lying at the bottom of the stairs.

There was blood everywhere.

Sorry I haven't been over for a while.

- How's it all going? - You know,

baby steps. Literally.

We know, if there's anything I can do...?

Harry, I haven't got much puff.

The smallest thing wipes me out. Why don't you cut to the chase?

- Has Nikki...? - Came to see me yesterday.

Right, well. Obviously...

It's an inherently tricky situation.

It's not an impossible one, is it?

Well, I suppose not... theoretically.

- Are you all right, do you want to...? - No. No, no, no, no.

Using the opening of the inquest to test your evidence,

that's a first in my book.

Mine, too.

Well, Nikki must've made one hell of a case.

Has Nikki told you about Flannery's other wife?

Also found dead at the bottom of the stairs in Prague, yes.

The police have requested medical records and, so far, deafening silence.

It was '88, just before Communism fell...

Then you remembered that I was taught by Pavel Vetchy and thought,

"Perhaps Leo can call the professor and

"get him to bang some heads together."

I see the old mental faculties are undimmed!

So?

So he probably can help,

I'm happy to make the call, but...

but as you can't charge the '88 death,

even if you prove foul play, what's the point?

The point is that lightning doesn't strike twice. Look...

The light blue spots are Bridget Flannery's blood.

All the rest is Olga Flannery's.

Olga?

Flannery's first wife.

Flannery?

Harry, something for you.

- Czech Republic? A new case? - Thank you, Kate.

What is it?

A massacre from the Civil War?

Unmarked mass grave?

You are thinking of the former Yugoslavia.

So, what is it?

Haven't you got a body to stitch up?

Professor Vetchy found the doctor who pronounced Olga Flannery dead,

who was so concerned at the amount of blood at the scene that he took pictures.

- What about the police? - Not interested.

- Why not? - Because her marriage

to a Westerner put her on a secret police blacklist.

One less to keep tabs on.

Exactly, so Flannery wasn't even interviewed. Look...

Mr. Flannery! Any comment on the death of your wife? Any comment?

Suddenly I feel underprepared.

The other night I said some stupid, stupid things.

- It doesn't matter. - No, it does matter.

I am very sorry.

Thanks.

Good luck.

Although I am surprised you stayed on

after the bombshell about wife number one.

That is a separate issue.

Both women were married to Tom Flannery

and were found dead at the bottom of the stairs.

Legally, separate issues.

Legally! Quite right, yes, it is.

At this time, I would normally just hear evidence as to the cause of death,

relevant identification matters before adjourning the inquest

while further investigations are conducted,

but I've been made aware of some significant differences

in assessment of the cause and manner

of death that have arisen between the two respective pathologists.

The length, location, number and orientation of these injuries

collectively rule out a staircase fall.

These lacerations to the head are from several separate impacts.

The absence of linear abrasions argues against the use of a blunt object,

but a fall on the edge of a solid surface

could produce a complex tear in the scalp.

The biomechanical evidence,

the spatter patterns cumulatively suggest points of impact in space,

that is to say not on or against any surface.

This cast-off spatter was found

about five feet above Bridget Flannery's body,

begging the question, "How did it get there?"

The deceased, having fallen down the stairs and lain at

the bottom of them, sometime later regained consciousness.

On attempting to stand,

she expelled the blood described by Dr. Cunningham,

presumably from the mouth wounds or possibly as a cough.

This ashtray was present in the Flannery home

as recently as last December.

Now, that particular ashtray has now gone missing,

but this one...is an exact replica.

These files contain the PM reports of every single beating death

in the London area over the past two years.

In total, 121.

Now there is not one case, not one case involving multiple blows

to the head where there was not either skull fracture or massive brain injury or both.

And in this case there was neither.

I don't have Dr. Alexander's flair for theatre,

so I've left most of my files at home.

But I can tell you that I have reviewed

265 fatal staircase falls going back ten years,

and there is not one case where the deceased suffered

more than two lacerations, and the vast majority suffered only one.

This oval, or void area, was found

in the middle of the principal bloodstain.

As you can see, something has dripped down from this void area.

Our tests indicate some kind of bleach-based cleaning agent,

so the obvious explanation is that someone tried to clean the blood off

and then abandoned the idea.

I witnessed several unreported incidents

that together rendered the crime scene catastrophically compromised.

I saw a dog belonging to Mr. Flannery

running around the house with blood on its fur and paws.

I saw a WPC who had clearly slipped in blood

wiping her trouser leg and boots with paper towels.

Excuse me. The police reports

make no reference to anybody slipping in blood.

Indeed they don't.

We've made a formal request to speak to Justine Gould,

the WPC in question, but have so far been denied access to her.

Thank you, Ms. King.

Fortunately, Dr. Cunningham was standing next to me

when I saw WPC Gould on the drive.

He will corroborate my account.

Dr. Cunningham?

You're still under oath.

I... do recall meeting two uniformed officers,

one male, one female.

I do not recall either one of them having blood on their clothes,

but I have absolutely no reason to doubt Dr. Alexander's recollection.

Let's be clear, Dr. Cunningham.

Are you saying WPC Gould did not have blood on her uniform?

No, I am saying that I personally did not notice any,

but it was dark, there were a lot of people milling around,

and I was being briefed by DS Vedder.

Thank you, Dr. Cunningham.

If that concludes your evidence, Dr. Alexander,

let's break for lunch.

How can you both be right?!

I thought facts and science were supposed to be absolute.

Yes...

but how we interpret them isn't.

Interpret?

Is that what you call all that twisting and distorting and showing off?

I came here to find out if my sister was murdered,

and I know less now than I did when I walked in!

Well done, Nikki. You did grand.

It's all grist to the mill.

You showed the CPS this case is one minefield they don't want to cross.

My money says they'll press pause on this.

Well, you might want to press pause on that.

West End final.

Page five for the full-colour spread.

Where the hell did they get these pictures?

What pictures?

What pictures? What's the matter?

- Come on. - Dad, what pictures?

What are they talking about?

Don't worry about it. It's just the gutter press.

You leaked the pictures?

A picture tells a thousand words.

Is that a yes?

Of course, I did, fat lot of use they would've been otherwise.

- You could have bloody asked me. - That would've been disingenuous,

- I'd made up my mind. - Make me feel special!

You're not special, this is about Bridget Flannery.

Not forgetting Commander Bill Hayden, of course.

The timing's just a little bit cynical, isn't it?

The CPS are looking to the media on this one,

and Flannery's a media darling.

We're just evening the scales, Harry!

You did a bang-up job this morning.

Thanks to you, this is just the icing on the cake.

If he doesn't think it takes two weeks,

- then I don't know what he's doing. - I'm sure you're right,

- It wouldn't make any difference... - Hello, Derek.

Nice holiday snaps, Gaynor.

Wherever did you get them?

I don't think we need to wait for the outcome of the inquest, do you?

See, I knew if I was hard on you, you'd romp home.

Are you comparing me to a horse?

A thoroughbred.

When can I expect my charging statement?

Nikki, I hardly saw the WPC, I was talking to the DS, it was my scene.

- Tell yourself whatever you want. - I'm not a liar, Nikki.

Now, do you believe me or not? It's important.

No, it's not.

- It couldn't be less important. - Come here!

Let's say you're right!

Worst case scenario, the WPC slipped in some blood

and then tried to mop up, so what?!

In the great scheme of things, so what?!

It does not make him innocent!

It is a tiny fragment of the case against him.

They kept it out of the police report, they suppressed it!

Yes, because they knew the lawyers would seize on it!

- As is their right! - And make it all

about that contamination, contamination, contamination!

You don't get it, do you?

When investigations get tunnel vision, it's chronic,

it's a black hole, it's like... getting married at 16.

- What?! - You don't know what you're missing!

I want to see the photographs of Mum.

No, you don't.

Everyone else is looking at them.

I want to see them.

Sweetheart...

It's OK. It's OK.

It's you I'm worried about.

Mr. Flannery?

It's the police.

We'll get through.

We always have.

Mr. Flannery?

Mr. Flannery, it's the police. Please open up, sir.

- Anna... - They charged him.

I've heard.

- I'm sorry. - Come in.

You did us proud in court.

For all the good it did.

I was thinking of moving back in for a while.

Do you think that's weird?

I think you should be where you want to be.

I am surprised you're going back to work already, though.

Oh, I don't know. I was on sick leave for months,

but now it's seems like work's the only thing keeping me sane.

What was the matter? If you don't mind me asking.

I was attacked by a patient

who thought I was injecting her with AIDS.

A woman?

Diamanda Yannis, she haunts A&E wards.

My second day back at work and she shows up.

I remember her, I think she was the one that was shouting when I came to tell you about Bridget.

Look at you!

Diamanda's a confused soul.

She hates all medical professionals,

but she craves our recognition.

She wants us to acknowledge her pain.

What about your pain?

Oh, I got off lightly,

but on her way out of A&E she bit my colleague, Martin, in the neck.

So it was more the psychological effects

that stopped you from going back to work?

Yes.

Does that seem strange to you?

No.

But the hospital shrink, Dr. Prentiss, had me back on track.

At least until all this.

Pomoc... Pomoc... Pomoc! Pomoc... Pomoc... Pomoc!

That's rude.

Not introducing yourself.

I thought you were asleep.

- What is it, lad? - I'm not your lad.

Who are you calling lad?

Leave it, mate.

I didn't say ignore me.

I didn't say pretend I'm not here.

Where's my gift?

My house warmer?

Where you hiding it?

My old man was a waste of space

but he did give me one good piece of advice.

Piss off!

Don't mess with people you don't know.

Is that Justine Gould?

Hi, my name's is Dr. Nikki Alexander.

I'm a forensic pathologist who's involved in the...

I know who you are.

Look, I don't want to get you into any trouble,

I just want to know exactly what happened at the house that night.

They charged him so it doesn't matter any more.

Course it matters.

What you said at the inquest,

it's more true than you know.

What do you mean?

It wasn't just the blood...

it was the smell of it, it was the dog barking its head off,

- it was Flannery freaking out and... - Did you slip in the blood, Justine?

Yes, or no?

OK, I know I made a mistake.

Shame you did nothing about it.

I tried to tell the Detective Super, but she said they were 100%

it was Flannery and I wasn't to muddy the waters.

What!

But it's not for her to decide "he did it".

- I know. - That's a jury's job!

Look, I'm here, aren't I?

Day after Bridget Flannery's murder,

a 999 call came in from a resident on the Chopin Estate in Chalk Farm.

The night before they'd seen a neighbour

returning home carrying

a heavy object and covered in blood.

- Was it followed up? - Yeah, by me.

Course the suspect denies everything...

says the neighbours hate her and are always making up stories etc, etc...

So I take this to the Super on the Flannery case,

thinking she'll chew my hand off.

Not interested.

What did you manage to find out about this woman?

Diamanda Yannis.

Been in and out of psychiatric wards...

most recently sectioned for biting a male nurse in the face.

Look I think I've met Diamanda before,

but I need to confirm it.

Not too mad to take out the rubbish.

Get away! That's private property!

I can think of another word for it.

Oh, you think it's funny, do you? You think Diamanda's so crazy

she doesn't know when she's being mocked?

You know what I do to people who underestimate me?

I hurt them and I don't care if they are wearing a uniform.

Is that a threat?

- It's a promise. - You're right, Diamanda.

This is your stuff and it was rude of us to poke around in it.

Who are you?

I'm a doctor.

- Doctor? - Of sorts.

- No, no... - I'm a pathologist.

No, no!

I come to you, you don't come to me, you don't come to me!

I'm walking, I'm an out-patient!

It's OK.

- I like doctors where I can see them! - No!! No!

- Take your hand off her mouth! - What?

She can't breathe! Take your hand away!

The fire! The fire!

- Bronchospasm... - I didn't do anything...

Call an ambulance!

I just wanted to determine

if it was the same woman that I saw in A&E

the night that Bridget Flannery died.

- And? - Yes, it was.

And now she's dead.

It was also the same woman whose neighbour reported her coming home

covered in blood carrying an unidentified implement.

The PC took a statement.

Which you showed not the slightest bit of interest in.

It was an anonymous call...

You mean you had your man...

..do you know how many of those we get? ..and you didn't want to "muddy the waters".

So you finally got WPC Gould to spill? Good for you.

Not so good for her.

Diamanda suffered some kind of violent allergic reaction and

the post mortem will prove it

and PC Gould should get a medal for bravery.

More likely a P45, or worse. Not that you care.

You'll have moved on by then. A new quest, another solo mission.

Your kind think you're some kind of heroic martyr...

you won't be told or fobbed off. If people get dragged into your

mess then it's unfortunate but you don't give a shit because

you have right on your side... right?

I'm sorry that Flannery might not be guilty after all your efforts

to ignore the possibility that there might be another suspect...

Any major investigation, you choose a line of inquiry,

you stick with it at exhaustion.

You didn't even search her flat!

No, I put all my resources into finding a murder weapon

you never stopped reminding us we didn't have.

Guv.

All tied up with a bloody bow.

I want to know how that woman died

and I want someone who isn't you to tell me.

Yes, significant swelling to the tongue...

and evidence of mucosal oedema causing the vocal cords to swell

and blocking the airway, so...

although decomposition has begun to set in,

there does seem to be a rash on the body.

So immunological tests will confirm,

but cause of death appears to be anaphylactic shock.

What does that mean?

It's a massive systemic overreaction to some an unknown allergen.

Begins the release of histamine and hence fatal shock.

It would help if I knew what this unknown allergen was.

I've requested her medical records.

Yes?

Er, thank you.

The blood on the ashtray recovered from the flat is a presumptive

DNA match with Bridget Flannery's.

You don't look happy?

I now have a prime suspect without a pulse or a motive.

And a live one you have to release.

Why would she set out in the middle of the night,

walk to the house of a complete stranger and beat her to death?

Why would she bite a nurse who was trying to treat her?

It was a heat of the moment thing, plus her obsessions

and grievances with the A&E staff are well-documented.

Yes, they are.

Anna Flannery lived at home until a few weeks ago

and she was the secondary victim of the assault on the male nurse.

How secondary?

She needed three months off and treatment for stress and anxiety.

You think... Anna was Diamanda's intended victim?

As you say, "her obsessions and grievances with the A&E staff are well documented."

Right! So it wasn't a tumble down the stairs, after all? That was easy.

What happened to "the dispersed spatter being consistent

"with her falling, striking her head, lying prone, getting back up again

"and striking her head on the moulding?"

Or were you being paid by the word?

Harry!

Harry, if I got it wrong, I will stand up and be counted.

- Good luck with that. - What's that supposed to mean?

You spent half an hour telling the coroner that it had to be a staircase fall...

And you insisted Flannery was a killer...

- congratulations, we were both wrong. - That is barely comparable!

It was blindingly obvious to everybody that Bridget Flannery

had been beaten to death

but for some reason you refused to accept it!

Without me they wouldn't have got to Diamanda Yannis!

What was it about him? Seriously, what was it?

Did he remind you of your father? Was that it?

I called it as I saw it and I saw a staircase fall.

Good, well, tell yourself whatever you have to.

- That's all right. - Thanks a lot.

What is it, Dad?

Somehow Flannery planted

that ashtray in Diamanda Yannis' flat.

- How? - I can't explain it,

I can't prove it, I just believe it.

- Hallelujah! - Little bits don't fit...

if she killed Bridget Flannery why then go to A&E, make a huge scene?

To give herself an alibi? She wanted people to remember?

Why get rid of the bloody clothes and keep the ashtray?

She hadn't even cleaned the blood off it!

Harry, take a breath!

He's got this whole kind of down to earth rough-diamond, Northern upstart thing going on

and it is bullshit!

- Harry! - All right.

Anyway,

I had Olga's medical examination translated as it is.

- No post mortem? - No,

it suggests that a spontaneous intra-cerebral haemorrhage

caused her collapse on the stairs.

They haven't excluded the possibility that the initial haemorrhage

- could have been traumatic in origin. - Exactly.

But whatever happened I cannot trust a medical report that is barely two pages long,

so I would like to go to Prague and see what I can dig up.

I think you know exactly what you want to dig up.

Harry, if you are expecting me to sanction a fishing trip to Prague,

- forget it. - I just want you to pave

the way, that's all, call it leave.

What? You are asking me to call Professor Vetchy again?

That's exactly what I'm asking.

After what happened last time.

Right, two things. Number one, there is no point being objective

and empirical, and all those boring things, some of the time.

No point, whatsoever.

Number two, patch things up with Nikki, will you?

Then I will make the call.

I did tell you that I would get it to you and as soon as I could and I will...

But you do understand that?

- To Nikki. - To Nikki.

- Team effort. - No,

we couldn't have done it without you.

The police said they think Diamanda might've been trying to kill me?

It's a theory.

Do you think it's possible she knew where you lived?

Well, even with all her problems, she had a memory like an elephant.

All her trips to A&E, who she'd seen, how long she'd had to wait

and who'd been seen before her and why that was unfair...

Are you saying that Bridget would still be alive...?

Anna, don't even go there, it's...

- I'm sorry, Tom. - I should bloody hope so.

I was in such a state, I didn't know what to think... I just...

Muriel, please...

It's all right, I'm not going to turn you away.

Come here, come here, come here, it's all right,

it's all right.

Hello?

Yep, OK, I'll be right there. Yep.

Diamanda's medical records came through.

Why isn't Harry Cunningham telling me this?

Seems he's on leave today.

I thought you'd want to hear as soon as possible.

Yeah. OK.

The fatal allergen was the latex in WPC Gould's glove.

Now, Diamanda's hospital records are three inches thick,

mainly unsubstantiated claims of various illnesses and allergies,

but they do confirm that she had a allergy to latex.

So just because you're a hypochondriac doesn't mean you're healthy?

Exactly.

Thank you.

- Professor Vetchy? - Harry?

Welcome to Prague.

Thank you.

Look...

I know you weren't too pleased about those pictures getting into the press.

Is that what Leo told you?

That's just Leo projecting his angst.

He was just the same when he was my student.

I was hoping a

near-death experience might have lightened him up a little, but not so.

He said you recently returned from the States.

America was good to me.

And I can't say I don't miss the California sun.

How long were you out there?

16 years.

Lot of good memories

and a lot of memorable cases.

Go on. Brag away.

Well, let's see...

The Hillside Strangler.

The Rancini Brothers.

Two of the Zodiac murders.

- OJ. - OJ?

I worked on his defence team.

Aren't you going to say "congratulations"?

Come on, Harry, you know what they say...

better to have ten guilty men walking free than one innocent man in jail.

- Dekuji.- Dekuji. Ah, good.

So...

The Flannerys lived in an apartment block on campus.

I put in a call into the Chancellor, we can go take a look tomorrow.

I, er, contacted Olga's parents

They were quite forthcoming about their former son-in-law.

Really?

Before she died,

Olga told them that she thought her marriage was over...

that Flannery had fallen for some young British student.

That's a lot of blood for 12 steps,

is it not?

Ashes to ashes,

dust to dust,

in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life

through our Lord Jesus Christ,

who will transform our frail bodies that they may be conformed

to his glorious body, who died, was buried, and rose again for us.

To Him be glory for ever. The Lord is full of compassion and mercy,

slow to anger and of great goodness. As a father is tender towards His children...

Thanks for coming.

I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.

I'm sorry.

The first time you said those two words to me, you meant them.

It's eating you up, isn't it?

The responsibility.

What if I'm a wrong 'un after all?

I didn't get you released. The evidence did.

And now Dr. Cunningham's out in Prague

looking for evidence to get me locked up again.

What?

Soon as I bury one wife,

someone's out digging up another.

So, is he going to find anything?

Oh, he'll find lots of people who'll say I was a

womanising drunk with a nasty temper and a big ego.

Christ, I'll testify to that.

And what would Olga say? If she could?

I confused passion with love...

and suddenly I was living in Prague with a baby on the way.

I asked you what Olga would say.

The truth's a lot like love, Nikki.

Look too hard, hold on too tight,

and it slips away.

Dad...

the car's waiting.

We're going back to the house for a couple of drinks. You're welcome to come.

No, it's all right. Thanks, anyway.

Goodbye, Nikki.

Leo...

What are you doing here?

Well, that's a nice warm welcome!

Oh, you've been missed.

- Really, really missed. - Thank you.

Of course, it'd been easier if I did not have to worry about you and Harry...

squabbling.

I tried.

Not very hard.

Do you know where Harry is?

Yep, Czech Republic.

What do you think about that?

Weel, I think it's...

inappropriate, I think it's self-indulgent, I think that it's a bad idea!

If you're trying to get me on your side, forget it, you're as bad as each other.

Maybe I got carried away...

and maybe I lost some objectivity,

but I promise you I wasn't whistling Gemma King's tune.

Not for a second.

- Good. - I really thought I was right.

And you were...

about Flannery. You saved an innocent man from a life sentence.

Right?

I don't know...if he's innocent.

Oh, for Christ's sake, you're not worrying about that? Of course you don't know.

Who do you think you are, God?

Nikki, drop it.

Seriously. Drop it. As of now. This second.

Detach yourself. And if you can't do that,

then don't waste my time asking my advice.

It's strange...

The first few weeks I was terrified of losing my memory...

especially memories of Helen and Cassie.

Now I've got the opposite problem.

- Yeah? - Yeah.

This morning, I suddenly remembered the day that my grandfather

was press-ganged into using a walking stick.

And when he'd finished ranting and raving, he said, "OK,

"I'll give this wretched thing a try so long as it stays the stick,

"not my stick, not grandad's stick, but the stick...

"Cos I won't have it long enough to get attached to it."

And it was...

"THE stick".

For the next ten years.

Didn't know I had that memory until this morning.

What?

Nothing.

- Bye, Leo. - Bye-bye.

Pomoc...Pomoc...Pomoc!

Pomoc...Pomoc...Pomoc!

Hi, could you put me through to Dr. Prentiss's office, please?

So, you're a pathologist who wants to know about trauma triggers?

Let's say it is a tangent I am exploring.

OK, take a seat, please.

Right. Well... A trauma trigger can be literally anything.

It can be a person, a place, an image, taste, smell, tone of voice.

- A word? - Yes.

Especially if it's a word the individual wouldn't typically hear every day.

Say, in a language they haven't spoken since they were a child?

Well, the more potent and specific the trigger, the more the...

person will recall of the associated memory.

So, could a whole event be stored in our memory

but somehow... locked up?

Sure. It's all up there. It's about access, about having the right key.

So if the key turns all the way in the lock, you could remember

something that happened, say, 20 years ago, like it was yesterday?

Theoretically, yes.

What if that something was a crime?

I'm sure I don't need to explain to you

the concept of patient confidentiality, Dr. Alexander.

- No, of course not. - Right.

So, is there a reason you came to me

or did you pluck my name out of the phone book?

I know that you published papers on memory retrieval therapy,

but you still practice psychiatry here at the hospital.

What has that got to do with anything?

Thank you.

You treat the staff too, don't you?

Anna Flannery, for instance.

I really do have to get going,

but I've had these extracts photocopied from various books that might interest you.

Could the memory of a violent act in the past

trigger a violent act in the present?

Would that also fall under patient confidentiality?

It's like any profession.

There are good embalmers and bad embalmers.

Bad embalmer.

No evidence of a spontaneous vascular rupture of the brain.

Fractured hyoid bone in her neck.

So was it strangulation or the head injuries which killed her?

Either way, it's murder.

That's what you wanted, isn't it?

Hello?

Hello?

Anna?

This is a surprise.

How did the wake go?

It went.

I was hoping to talk to Anna.

About?

Diamanda Yannis bit a nurse, Martin Klosk, in the neck.

Anna was there at the time.

She witnessed the whole thing.

She went into shock after it.

I'll say.

It took her three months to recover

and regular sessions with the hospital shrink.

What's your point?

That Anna must've seen worse in four years working in A&E.

Yeah...

so what?

So maybe it wasn't the attack she was getting over...

maybe it was something else...

..something it triggered.

You've lost me.

Do you know what "pomoc" means in Czech?

"Help".

And that's what Klosk was shouting over and over...

"Help".

And Anna,

who must have known what that word meant,

just stood there... paralysed.

Bad time.

100%, Olga Flannery was murdered.

How so?

Fractured hyoid bone and significant head injuries.

According to her mother, sounds like wife number two might've been the motive.

I'll call you back.

I've got to go. I'm sorry.

Was that Prague by any chance?

Did you say that you met Bridget out there?

Yeah...

but we didn't get together then.

She was a kid... 20, 21.

She wasn't gonna get hitched to some old bastard.

Some married old bastard.

- Exactly. - So you made do with a fling?

Oh, I've had lots of flings.

But only one with an English girl.

Only one that made Olga worried enough to confide in her mother.

Was that what the row was about, Bridget?

Or am I doing you a favour?

Was it premeditated?

Did you cold-bloodedly strangle her so that you could have Bridget and Anna?

I'm hoping not. I'm hoping it was a heat of the moment thing.

I'm hoping that's how your six-year-old daughter came to witness it.

Because Anna saw the whole thing, didn't she?

But, lucky for you, she buried the memory until she heard Klosk

screaming for help in his mother tongue.

POMOC! POMOC!

POMOC! POMOC! POMOC!

POMOC! POMOC! POMOC!

What are you going to do? Kill me, too?

That would leave Anna all alone.

What did she want?

I dunno.

I think she might have the hots for your old man.

Please! A respectable period of mourning is expected.

In fact, I might have to move in for a while to police it.

You blamed Bridget for making you move out, didn't you?

Dad, what does it matter now?

Because it was ME who wanted you to move out.

Not because I don't love you but because it was time, and because...

Because you moved out when you were 15 and it didn't do you any harm.

What's your point?

That you blame Bridget.

That you always blame Bridget.

Well, there's no use crying over spilt milk, is there?

None whatsoever.

Why don't we go on holiday just to get away from it all?

I know you know, Anna.

- I know you remember. - Stop it.

I killed your mother, Anna.

Right in front of you.

I don't deserve to be your father.

No, you don't...

But you're all I've got, so it looks like I'm just going to have to forgive you.

That's it?

I've been processing this information for the past three months.

And you decided that it was Bridget's fault?

Pretty much.

So what did you do about it?

You're asking me if I've killed her?

Well, I hated her...

and...

I resented her...

And yes, I blamed her for pretty much everything shitty in my life, but

how could I kill her when you loved her so much, you bastard...

I wish to confess to the murders of Bridget Flannery

and my first wife Olga in 1988 in Prague.

In the case of Bridget, we have compelling forensic evidence against another suspect.

The ashtray?

Oh, I threw it into some trees on the Heath.

She must've picked it up.

I mean, she was a hoarder, right?

I know what you're doing.

You think by doing this it will stop the police from going after Anna.

I know it will.

It's misguided, it's arrogant, it's immoral...

Morality's such a specious concept.

She's not a child, she has to answer for what she did!

Bourgeois construct to make the paroles behave.

- Oh, shut up. -Luckily,

after the '60s, we caught ourselves on.

All right, then it's cowardly.

You didn't kill Bridget, did you?

I refer you to my full confession given yesterday evening

at Finchley Road police station.

I won't let you get away with this.

It's been something to know you, Nikki...

even under the circumstances.

Why don't you tell me about the murder you DID commit?

The trouble is...

I was so pissed...

I can't remember the flashpoint.

But you are probably right,

it was probably not coincidence that I'd met Bridget by then.

I'd have turned myself in...

if it wasn't for Anna.

Or...

at least that's what I like to tell myself.

- Harry, I... - I've missed you.

- What did you miss about me? - Oh, you know...everything.

Everything?

Even your cast iron,

pig-headed,

stubbornness.

I'm sorry.

Ditto.

That doesn't count.

OK, I'm really, really sorry.

Will you get that for me?

Dr. Alexander's phone.

Anna Flannery?

No fingernail abrasions or defensive injuries to the neck...

And there's an absence of petechiae,

not to mention the obvious ligature mark.

A ligature mark that rises to the right

and is discontinuous at the back.

So, we agree that the cause of death was hanging?

The truth is a lot like love, Nikki.

Look too hard,

hold on too tight...

and it slips away.

There are pieces all over the place.

- Any idea who she is yet? - None at all.

It's James. James is dead.

Perhaps you could do the post mortem yourself?

- Did you and James have an affair? - Yes.

- After Dad died? - Yes.

Her name is Ruth Gardiner.

She's my daughter.

Pretty squalid.

She's been squatting there on her own, I'd say.

No ID, no-one knew her.

This was her lifeline.

Why would she jump?

I'm going out of my mind.

She's dead, that girl. I thought something had happened to you.

- What happened to her? - She was murdered.

If this bloke thinks he's got away with it, we have an edge.

There must be somebody you can tell all this to?

There's no-one, Danielle, I'm on my own.

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