Original subtitles

Crap! Absolute crap!

They're a bloody disgrace.

3-0 to that shower?

What a load of complete, five-star, total bloody rubbish!

Dad, it was a friendly.

There's no such thing. We should never have lost.

Never in a million years.

Against Spurs?

We're nonleague. They're 10 divisions above us.

What do you want to drink?

Nothing. I'll just eat me bloody orange.

Mark.

Shit.

Mark Lane.

♪ Marky Park Lane, Marky Park Lane ♪

♪ Marky Park Lane, Tottenham ♪

Andy Merrill from school. You remember me?

Yeah, is this your old man?

I am his father, yes.

Andy Merrill.

Ex-Tilworth Comp. Ex-1st Battalion King's Guards.

♪ Tottenham till I die ♪

♪ I'm Tottenham till I die ♪

♪ I know, I am, I'm sure I am, I'm Tottenham till I die ♪

Come on, you Spurs.

Yeah, what you looking at?!

Yeah?

Sorry about that. My... My brain's buggered.

That why you're a Spurs supporter?

Oh, he's a geezer, your old man innit he? He's a geezer.

You ever been in the army?

- Police. - Retired.

Yeah, me too.

Army.

Army, mate!

If you haven't got what it takes, it takes what you got!

Can you do that?

No.

Nor me.

Spurs supporter.

♪ It's all right, it's okay ♪

♪ Doesn't really matter if you're old and gray ♪

♪ It's all right, I say it's okay ♪

♪ Listen to what I say ♪

♪ It's all right, doing fine ♪

♪ Doesn't really matter if the sun don't shine ♪

♪ It's all right, I say it's okay ♪

♪ We're getting to the end of the day ♪

Subtitling made possible by Acorn Media

- You okay? - Yeah.

Thanks.

Sorry about that.

Not supposed to drink, but... you got to, haven't you?

How long have you been on these?

- Ever since Iraq. - You just fought in Iraq?

No.

The first lot. 1991.

My best mate was killed just before I went.

Eric Trimble.

We were like brothers.

So we're 12 months in, we volunteered for the IRU.

- IR what? - The IRU.

It's the Influenza Research Unit.

It was two weeks of getting a dose of the sniffs.

Extra pay, a week's leave on top.

It was sweet.

In the end, me, Eric and the other two boys there,

we bunked off for a night out on the piss.

I mean, we weren't supposed to, but...

Then what happened?

Eric never came back.

They found him.

Some...

bastard had battered the crap out.

Police never got anywhere.

Before we know it, shit hits the Kuwaiti fan,

we're all giving it left-right, left-right in the desert.

No leave. No counseling. No... No... No nothing.

Instead, I-I get to...

I get to stare at a load of dead Iraqis with their faces on fire.

And... And me... me, I'm laughing. Yeah?

I'm... I'm... I'm laughing mine off.

Honorable discharge.

A few hundred quid.

16 years with my head in a vise.

Uh...

Uh...

Come.

And, uh, just to top it all off, since this second lot,

I've even started seeing him again.

Eric, see?

And, uh, he keeps talking to me.

He's asking me, "What you gonna do?

What you gonna do for your old mate, you bastard?"

Good morning.

Sandra, this is Mr. Hamilton.

He's from the MoD.

Go ahead.

At 8:43 a.m. somebody from this office

attempted to gain access to a secure site

within the Ministry of Defence without official authorization.

Any takers?

Oh, that must have been me.

But I had no idea the information was classified.

I was just...

Thank you, Mr. Hamilton. I'll deal with this.

I can promise you there will be no repetition of this incident.

What the hell do you think you were doing?

Have you any idea how potentially damaging this is?

The MoD?! Are you insane?!

What is this case anyway?

Eric Trimble.

He was beaten to death in 1991.

It's on record.

I was just having trouble locating the file.

Trimble being a soldier, I thought I'd try army records.

- Army? - Sir.

This happened before the first Gulf War.

- So it should be on file. - Yeah, somewhere. Sir.

Well, in that case, keep going.

I'm not having some spook waltz in here,

telling us what we can and cannot do

about a legitimate case.

You, um... You let me know how you get on.

Is he on drugs?

It was when you said the magic word "army." What's up with him?

Strickland was sponsored through college.

But not by the Met. By the army.

When he graduated, he should have gone to Sandhurst.

- Why didn't he? - I don't know.

He was probably crap.

How do you know all this?

I always like to know about the people I'm working with.

Hmm. For.

Got it!

Come on!

The four soldiers at the IRU.

And they were the only ones there at the time, right?

They were last seen drinking in the Rising Star pub

on the evening of January 20, 1991.

Now, the landlord reckons

that they all left together around 10:00.

Andy Merrill, Keith Sharratt, and Ronnie Glazebrook

were discovered back in their beds at 7:00 the next morning.

But Trimble...

- Trimble was black. - Nothing escapes you, does it?

No, no, no, no.

Andy Merrill told you everything he could remember

about the best mate he ever had,

apart from the fact that he was black.

Well, this is 1991.

A black soldier is murdered.

You're talking about racism, bullying.

Yeah, no wonder the secret squirrels got nervous.

Anyway...

A search was organized,

and Trimble's body was discovered in Hopkins Wood

at 3:00 p.m.

The police were informed around 3:30.

And Andy Merrill, Keith Sharratt,

and Ronnie Glazebrook were questioned under caution

at 5:00 in the evening.

- What did they say? - Next to nothing.

They were all still in shock. Could hardly remember a thing.

Are you saying these three squaddies

got away with saying they couldn't remember anything?

- They'd all been drinking. - No, come on, Brian.

I mean, a group of you can get totally pissed together,

but you don't suffer collective memory loss.

Well, forensics couldn't find anything

linking them to the body or the murder scene.

They checked their clothing. Nothing.

What about this IRU?

Well, it closed down in 2001.

Although the building's still there.

Dead man's family?

They were living in Hammersmith. Mum, dad, sister.

Okay, Brian. We'll start with them.

You two try and track down those other squaddies.

Right.

So why you want to drag it up now?

After all this time?

Eric is dead.

We want to try and find out who killed your son, Mrs. Trimble.

Really? Now?

When the Lord has finally helped me

to come to terms with my loss,

now you want to stir up my heart all over again?

We do realize how difficult this must be.

Especially with the added pain

of not knowing who was responsible for Eric's death.

But that's perhaps the most important reason

for us doing what we do.

To try and put an end to not knowing.

Only God can take away the pain.

Mum.

How long will it take?

Oh, we don't know.

Mrs. Trimble, can I ask you... What was Eric like?

Oh, he was a lovely boy.

Kind, generous, gentle.

And you can't think of anyone

who might have wanted to hurt him?

No. Everyone liked him.

Do you remember the last time you saw him?

Yes.

I was with Arthur, my husband.

It was about a month...

before Eric died.

Thank you.

Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset your mother.

It's just that the photo... It's of our dad.

He died only four months later.

Moment he heard about Eric, he just broke.

Wouldn't eat, drink. Nothing.

Mum never got over it.

It's okay. We understand.

Oh, sorry, I picked this up.

Keep it.

- Bye. - Bye.

Come on. Let's go pick the others up.

Well, the good news is

that Keith Sharratt's still in the army.

Same regiment, even.

Although he's a sergeant major now.

In a barracks in Hounslow.

Ronnie Glazebrook, on the other hand,

left the army in '92 and now lives in Penge.

Ah. Pull over.

Is this it?

Well, where's the IRU?

Well, according to the map...

There.

Why are they wearing protective clothing?

Oi!

What do you think you're doing?

Just admiring the speed and efficiency

with which you carry out your work.

Good. Now bugger off.

Bugger off... ma'am.

Oi!

Come, gentlemen. Let us away.

Well, he had a face you'd never tire of kicking.

Brian checks on a dead black soldier.

We get a visit from MI5.

And the last place he was at before he died

is suddenly being demolished.

And why bother cleaning up if it was only the flu?

Using men in space suits.

One of whom calls me ma'am.

Well, he's a spook, isn't he?

Why don't we have a look at the crime scene?

Here we are. Hopkins Wood.

Yeah, well, I'll stay in the car.

- You still afraid of trees? - You still afraid of cookers?

All right. Jack and me will do it.

You two go find the Rising Star pub.

And make sure he doesn't drink.

- Well, how we gonna get there? - Try walking.

Well, it's here somewhere.

Ah. 17 years is a lot of wood.

Look. Fully clothed.

Battered about the head but with no marks of any resistance.

So it was either someone he knew

or he was taken by surprise.

Or both.

And no signs of any damage to the vegetation.

Single attacker.

Well, it certainly wasn't three.

Any joy?

What, in a Felspar's pub?

Well, apparently it hasn't changed much.

Just different landlord.

You know, I think we've got it all wrong.

I think Eric came in, took one look at this place,

and committed suicide.

I thought I told you not to drink.

I'm not. It's crap.

So, what now?

I'd like to know how those four soldiers got on with each other.

Hang on. I've been thinking.

Eric's body was found in Hopkins Wood,

which is a mile that way.

But the IRU is almost two miles in the opposite direction.

So that wood's hardly en route, is it?

Plus there are two other pubs

closer to the IRU than this place.

So why come here for a drink?

Well, they weren't supposed to be out.

They'd know that if anyone was gonna check on them,

they'd probably try the pubs nearer the IRU.

Let's go talk to the army.

I'll catch up with you. I'm just off to the loo.

Okay.

Oi!

Ah. Colonel Bob Kilmartin.

Detective Superintendent Pullman.

This is Jack Halford.

- How do you do? - Welcome.

- Please make yourself at home. - Thank you.

I understand that your colleagues

are off trying to track down Sergeant Major Sharratt.

Well, that'll prove interesting.

Now, then... Eric Trimble.

Do you remember the case?

Oh, yes. Very well, I'm afraid.

Well, I was only a junior officer at the time,

but I knew all four men pretty well,

so it's... it's still pretty fresh, as you can imagine.

What was Eric Trimble like?

What, as a soldier?

Well, if truth be told, he was a pain in the ass.

"Difficult" is the euphemism we normally use.

In what way?

Well, for a start, he'd been absent without leave

on three separate occasions.

- Why was that? - Why?

Well, because like most immature people,

he didn't realize that the army isn't a holiday camp.

To put it at its most basic, he got homesick.

You don't sound very sympathetic.

Well, I'm telling you what he was like.

That he was murdered is a tragedy.

But they're two very separate issues.

Now, we dispatched him to the IRU

in order to try and keep him out of trouble,

to keep him out of harm's way.

Dispatched? I thought soldiers volunteered for the IRU.

Uh, well, yes. Sometimes.

Not always.

Come on, lads! Keep it moving! Come on.

You're in your own time now! Get over that wall!

Let's have ya!

One turn, you useless testicle!

If you don't get over that wall in the next three seconds,

I'm gonna stick a flare up your ass and fire you over it!

- Sergeant Major Sharratt? - Speaking.

Gerry Standing, Brian Lane.

Kipling!

You may make exceedingly good cakes,

but you make a God-awful bloody soldier!

- Nice turn of phrase. - Thank you.

Try to be original.

Miller! Miller!

My granny can move faster than that, and she's dead!

Get moving, you superannuated ponce!

Yeah, so, uh, Eric Trimble.

Can you tell us about the night he died,

what you remember?

We, uh...

We all went out for a drink.

Yeah. The Rising Star.

Yeah. We had a few beers.

And do you remember leaving there?

With Eric?

There was you, Andy, and Ronnie.

I remember we, uh...

We had a few beers.

How did you get on with Eric?

Okay. Why?

Because somebody didn't, obviously.

You weren't close friends with him, then?

Nobody was.

Oh, you remember that.

Because you didn't remember much at the time.

Listen, I don't remember anything after the pub, okay?!

But other bits of stuff have come back, yeah.

Stuff like you weren't his mate?

- What you trying to say? - Nobody's saying anything.

But after 17 years, it's about time they did.

Ugh!

Bit too close, lads.

Did his colleagues get on with him?

Some did. Some didn't.

What about the three who were with him at the IRU?

It was fine. Wasn't an issue.

For how long did the soldiers get sent to the IRU?

It varied.

We understand that Eric Trimble had been there before.

Yes.

And this ongoing arrangement

between yourselves and the IRU...

How did it work, exactly?

Look, I'm sorry.

While I'm happy to help out in any way I can,

I'm afraid that any questions you have about the research unit

will have to be directed towards the appropriate department.

Oh. I'm out of time.

My apologies.

I have to leave it there. I'm sorry.

He seemed more concerned about the reputation of his regiment

than any ex-member of it.

Appropriate department?

Flu research, my ass.

Bloody hell.

I said go to the assault course, not through it.

There'll be a bill for this!

Sharratt reckons that none of them were mates with Trimble.

Although, that's not how Andy Merrill remembers it.

And Sharratt got quite heavy when we pushed him.

All right, I'll drop you off at Ronnie Glazebrook's.

See what he can remember.

Jack and I will dig up some info on the IRU.

- Yeah, after I've cleaned up. - All right.

Huh. No place like home.

Speak and make yourselves known.

Brian Lane and Gerry Standing.

We're from the Unsolved Crime and Open Case Squad.

To see Ronnie Glazebrook.

And what is the purpose of your visit?

Eric Trimble.

Sheesh.

Compulsive hoarder.

You don't say?

Ugh!

Are you infected? Are you carrying disease?

No, no. It's the dust.

Careful. That dust is me.

Uh, where are you, Ronnie?

X zero five Roger.

Over.

Ronnie?

Hello?

Oh!

Get back!

We have contact.

What's the news? From the front.

Front of what?

Do the Arabs have control? Do they?

Do they?

Do the camel jockeys still hold the desert?

Lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu!

Come in, Big Boy. Come in, Big Boy.

What is your position? Over.

We're here about Eric Trimble.

Do you remember him, Ronnie? He died.

Remember? Course I remember.

Eric... Eric Trimble. He was my mate.

Black as pitch.

Here comes Botham down the pitch.

On a charge!

Good Lord, he's put it straight into the members stand!

Eric was your friend, then?

And Andy Merrill's, right?

Andy? Andy. Handy Andy?

Liar, liar, your pants are on fire.

Incoming!

Look, this is a bloody nightmare.

- He's barking! - What do you want to know?

You were with Eric at the Influenza Research Unit, right?

Fl... Flu? Who told you that?

Why? What was it, then?

For bad boys.

Naughty-naughty.

Going down.

We can't do this. It's hopeless. Come on.

Ronnie? Ronnie, we'll be back, okay?

- Beer cans? - The man's an alcoholic.

Then when we asked him what the IRU was,

he said, "For bad boys."

So Sharratt can suddenly turn aggressive,

Glazebrook's a dipsomaniac,

and Merrill may have been economical with the truth.

Now, Mark reckons Merrill was always a liar at school.

And booze seems to send him loopy and all.

I don't think we should believe any of them.

Being drunk seems to be a recurring theme.

Unlike the flu unit,

which seems to have disappeared completely.

Yeah. Maybe.

All right, starting tomorrow

we'll track down the ex-landlord of the Rising Star,

see what he can remember.

Someone's got to have a decent memory of the bloody thing.

Night-night.

- Good night. - Good night.

Oh. Fancy a quick pint?

No, I, um...

I'm gonna ask Strickland a favor.

Now, this I've got to see.

Of course there is a possibility that Trimble's death

is entirely unconnected to some strange research establishment

which has now been knocked down.

But either way, I am loathe to try and gather more information

when such action could endanger the integrity of the department.

So...

You want me to do it.

Well, it is political, sir, and I'm not a political animal.

Is there a racial element?

We don't know, sir.

But, uh, if you do need an excuse...

Well, leave it with me.

Thank you, sir. Much appreciated.

Sir.

Whatever happened that stopped him being an officer

must really have pissed him off.

How you feeling this morning, Jack?

- Can't complain. - Well, you will anyway.

Oh, um, the IRU's former director

is a Dr. Helena Mathieson.

Virologist, apparently.

School of Tropical Medicine. She's expecting your call.

Cheers.

Result.

Dr. Mathieson.

- Thank you. - Ah, yes. UCOS.

You want to know about the IRU. Eric Trimble?

Yeah, that's right.

It would help to know how long

soldiers spent there, what they got up to.

- That kind of thing. - Of course.

Uh, well, soldiers could be there quite some time.

A month, even.

And the four soldiers from the King's Guards...

We understand they were the only ones there at the time.

Yes.

We were there the other day. The IRU site.

It was being demolished. By men in protective clothing.

Yes, well, any lab

where there's been viral material stored or developed

has to be thoroughly cleansed afterwards.

I didn't know the flu virus could live on in the soil.

Well, given recent history,

I don't think the government's taking any chances.

Certainly less than in 1991.

Eric Trimble died just five days before

his regiment moved to Kuwait.

They may give our men inadequate equipment and pay,

but I think they draw the line at a dose of flu.

Care to tell us what else might have been going on at the IRU,

apart from flu research?

I think I've told you everything.

Dr. Mathieson, two of the men who were at the IRU with Trimble

have drink problems.

All three have memory problems,

particularly about the night that Trimble died.

Now, I don't believe they're faking it

and I don't believe it's coincidence,

but I'm beginning to believe that it was not accidental.

I'm sorry, but even if I wanted to help you,

I'm bound by the Official Secrets Act.

The Official Secrets Act is no protection

against the charge of murder.

That is a ludicrous remark.

Not if what you gave those men caused one of them to kill.

- Of course it didn't. - Good.

Then you won't mind telling us what you were exposing them to.

Thank you very much, chaps. We'll take over from here.

Says who?

Says the chap who's asking you very nicely to be on your way.

Okay, old man?

I preferred you in the paper suit.

It's a cover-up!

That's why the original murder team didn't get anywhere.

MI5 made sure they didn't.

- Thanks. - I don't know.

There's something else. Something not right.

That's what I'm saying.

Yeah, but what can we do about it?

The spooks have put the block on us talking to Helena Mathieson.

We solve the case.

We prove that one of the three soldiers did it,

we charge him, and we see him in court.

Ha! MI5 are gonna love that.

Fine. They can have that argument with the lawyers.

I'm not packing it in.

Kilmartin was evasive about the IRU.

He lied to us about the soldiers getting on.

We'll go back to the barracks.

Where are you going now?

For a think.

Hello?

Oh, hello, yeah. Have you got some info for me?

Yeah?

Great. Thanks.

They've found a guy called Rod Erskine,

ex-landlord of the Rising Dump.

He now runs a pub in Portobello.

Good. Take Mr. Happy with you.

Oi! You had your think?

Uh, y-yeah.

Come on, then. Let's go.

How are you getting on?

Moving forward. We need to ask you a few more questions.

Fire away.

You said Eric Trimble went AWOL.

Yes, several times.

And that you punished him by sending him to the IRU.

- Yes. That was... - So it was a punishment?

Well, not a punishment exactly.

Colonel, I'm an experienced police officer,

and it's all too obvious to me

when someone is trying to hide a lie.

And in this particular case

I'm getting bloody bored with it, do you understand me?

Now, why did you send

Merrill, Glazebrook, and Sharratt to the IRU?

No, I'm sorry, I'm not allowing you to tarnish the reputation

of men who fought, with honor, for this country.

Merrill and Glazebrook? Have you seen them recently?

It isn't their reputations that are buggered up.

I'm sorry, I'm not prepared to answer any more questions.

In that case we have no other option than to arrest you.

Well, on what charge?

Obstructing the course of justice?

Trying to bribe a police officer?

Driving without due care and attention?!

I don't care!

But what I do care about is that 17 years ago

one of your men was murdered, and you don't give a shit!

So unless you want to face the indignity

of being handcuffed while in uniform

and marched off to the local nick

in full view of the entire regiment,

then I suggest you start telling us what it is we want to know.

That's absolutely outrageous!

No, Colonel, no!

That! That is outrageous!

Colonel?

I never got to the bottom of it.

Bottom of what?

The fight.

What fight?

Trimble and Sharratt.

They were caught fighting in the armory.

It was very serious.

- What happened? - Well, I don't know.

Merrill and Glazebrook were involved as well.

I questioned all four of them,

but none of them would tell me anything.

Sharratt and Glazebrook were bloody good soldiers.

I didn't want to have to discipline them.

So I sent them off to the IRU.

I told them that by the time they returned,

they'd better have sorted themselves out or else.

So that's what we did.

We sent them off to Major Mathieson.

Major Mathieson?

Yes, yes. Of the Territorial Army, yes.

God, look at that. Proper old pub for a change.

- Afternoon, gents. - Hiya.

What can I get you?

Whoa! Pole Star S.A.

I'll have a pint of that. Terrific.

Yeah, and he'll have some sparkling water.

I mean, look at those mirrors. They're fantastic, aren't they?

Why haven't I been in here before, eh?

Gerry...

So, uh, are you the landlord? Rod Erskine?

- That's right. - Gerry Standing.

Gerry...

What?

It's a gay pub.

Something wrong?

Uh, we're from the Met. Police.

We're here about a murder.

Eric Trimble.

Who?

You know who.

Eric Trimble.

17 years.

17 years I've been waiting for this.

Sorry.

Sorry for what?

For lying. For not...

Not what? What did you do?

Oh, no, it wasn't me.

I-I didn't kill Eric. I swear.

But?

But I did know him.

I... I knew Eric.

You don't mean biblically?

What, Eric was gay?

Was when I finished with him.

Sorry.

Yeah. I-I mean...

He was so sweet.

Gorgeous. You know what I mean?

Part of him didn't want to be. Gay, I mean. But...

Oh, yeah.

Eric was big, black, loud and proud.

And how long did you know him?

It was just a few months.

Although we did see each other several times.

I told him about my pub.

The Rising Star.

Told him to come out there.

If you'll pardon the pun.

And was the Rising Star the same as...

Well, the same as this place?

In Uxbridge?

Yeah, funny thing is it was, actually.

Well, not overtly. Not... Not back then.

Yeah, well, I didn't know he was gonna turn up

with three big, butch squaddies in tow.

Maniac.

- I was so pissed off. - Were you?

Oh, no. Not like that.

But they were.

After a few drinks, one of them went mental.

Screaming at Eric about dragging him to fairy land,

to a poof's palace.

In the end, I had to get them all out.

Hold on, hold on.

In your witness statement, you said they all left quietly.

Well, of course I did.

After we found out what had happened,

me and the regulars agreed to keep schtum about it.

You mean lied.

Some of them were married men.

My mum was still alive.

She didn't know about... about me.

Listen, which one of the squaddies went mental?

Can you remember?

Had sandy hair.

Plus, he was horrible.

Do you believe him?

It makes sense of where Eric was when he was AWOL.

Gadding around Soho with Hot Rod.

Certainly explain the fight in the armory.

And Sharratt doesn't strike me as the type of bloke

who'd be too happy to find out that he was in Gay Company.

Especially if Eric then took him to a gay pub.

Yeah. No wonder he went mental.

Hold on.

There's no forensics linking Sharratt...

Well, linking any of these squaddies with the crime.

And it still doesn't explain

why Eric was found in the opposite direction to the IRU.

They can't have been going back there.

They don't remember, remember?

Maybe they all split up.

What, Eric went off on his own with Mr. Maniac?

I'm afraid I'm gonna have to

call this investigation to a halt.

- Is that official? - No.

But it's been made clear to me that were you to continue,

we would be put under the kind of pressure

that could be very unpleasant.

Sir, we're really close.

Look, I'm sorry.

I appreciate how determined you've been to solve this case,

but higher forces are at work here

and it would be foolish to even attempt to countermand them.

What a bastard.

That's unfair, Gerry.

No, no. Not him. Bloody Spooks.

That's the first time I've ever felt sorry for him.

So, what are we gonna do?

Well, you heard him. We're stuffed.

No, we're not.

Not if we get a confession, we're not.

This case has already gone public once.

If we get a confession, we get a court case.

And then there's nothing MI5 can do about it.

But how do we get any of these blokes to confess?

They can't remember anything.

You ever heard of agent provocateur?

Yeah. Yeah, I bought my ex a pair of knickers there once.

Provocation.

Whiskey, please. Large one. With ice.

Heavy day.

I'll say.

Tell me, why did you get sent to the Flu Research Unit?

What?

You like a spot of gay-bashing, do you?

Who the hell are you?

Take a running jump.

So you found out that Eric was gay,

and then you made his life a misery.

Him? Make his life a misery?

You don't know what you're on about.

Don't I? Why you getting so excited, then?

Oh, dear.

Do you have to take those to stop yourself from losing it?

I take them when I have a drink.

When I drink, that's all.

I never knew Trimble was bent until he took us to that pub.

Don't believe you.

You know nothing about Trimble, do you?

I know that he was beaten to death

after he left the pub with you.

Not by me.

And we have a witness who said

that you lost it with him in there.

Yeah, I did.

- And you know why? - Tell me.

I caught him bullying Andy Merrill.

Like I say. You didn't know him.

But let me tell you. Eric Trimble was a bully.

A big, nasty, bullying shit.

And the worst part of it was,

the moment anyone stood up to him, he played the race card.

Oh, so that's what you were doing in the armory.

You were standing up to him.

Except he was beating the shit out of me till Ronnie piled in.

And then you beat the shit out of him

after you left the Rising Star.

No, no, no, no.

No, you don't.

I've only been on a charge once in my life,

and all 'cause of that shit.

And now here you are, 17 years later,

trying to fit me up for killing him?

Me? Me?

I've put my balls on the line for this country!

Iraq. Bosnia. Afghanistan.

I've got medals you have to be bleeding dead to get

in the Yank army.

And now you want me to go down for that lowlife?!

No, no. No. It's all right.

Oh, hello! What have you come as, Swampy's dad?

Take it easy!

All right! Take it easy! Calm down, all right?

What are doing with this load of poofs?

You want a man, darling. A real man.

Not these geriatrics!

People like you think we're scum, dirt.

But when shit happens, when it all goes tits-up,

we're the people you want out there

killing all those nasty bastards trying to kill us.

And I've done it.

I've killed men. Lots of them.

But I didn't kill him.

I didn't like him.

But I didn't kill him.

Not exactly an overwhelming confession, was it?

What about Merrill? Or Glazebrook?

No.

I think we have to face the fact

that they don't or can't remember.

Oh, my God.

"A Metropolitan Police investigation

into the unsolved murder

of black army private Eric Trimble in 1991

has been halted after the inquiry team

uncovered his involvement as a guinea pig

at a secretive research facility near Uxbridge.

Its former head, Helena Mathieson,

has served with the British army in both Afghanistan and Iraq."

Admiring your handiwork?

I suppose you think this is a clever way around the impasse?

Yes, well, I've just spent the best part of an hour

begging the commissioner not to take any action,

assuring him that the leak

didn't emanate from this department.

- But... - No.

This time, I talk, you listen.

If I ever find out who's responsible for this nightmare,

they're out.

End of story.

Wait here.

Don't look at me.

It's the first time I've ever bought the bleedin' paper.

Not me.

No. But I wish I had.

Come on. Don't be silly. Who was it?

Oh, of course!

Very good, very good!

Well, don't you get it? It was him!

What, you...

Mr. Hamilton would like another word.

It's been agreed, with great reluctance,

to allow Dr. Mathieson to answer any questions you may have

regarding the death of Private...

Murder.

Let him finish, please.

Regarding the death of Private Trimble.

The interview is to be conducted

in the presence of a Security Services official.

This should be interesting.

I told you.

Dr. Mathieson, can you tell me what the relationship was

between the IRU and the MoD that allowed soldiers...

No, she can't.

In fact, she won't be answering any questions

that pertain to national security.

I do hope you're not gonna be too boring.

Ditto.

All right, then can you tell me what the nature of the work was

that was carried out on Private Trimble

and the other three soldiers?

I presume it wasn't to stop them from sneezing.

We were trialing a new drug.

Medicine?

For the army. A prototype, Perfectly safe.

Formulated to remove feelings of vulnerability and inhibition

in order to heighten aggression.

The drug had previously been tried out upon several other...

- Guinea pigs? - Trialists.

It proved to be highly effective,

nontoxic, and harmless.

Really?

So why are Sharratt, Merrill, and Glazebrook bonkers?

The drug was not the problem.

So there was a problem?

Because despite very clear warnings,

the men broke the curfew, left the unit, and went to the pub.

And?

The combination of drug and alcohol was... unfortunate.

The damage to their memory may have resulted from this.

It's why the trial was discontinued.

Oh, I see. Not because a man died?

When Glazebrook, Sharratt, and Merrill returned to the IRU,

they were difficult to control.

We had to sedate them.

So you're saying, in that state,

it's likely that one of them did kill Trimble?

I don't know.

Short of repeating the combination

of test drug and alcohol... Hardly a good idea...

I don't see how you could prove it either.

I wouldn't put it past her.

Did any of them confess?

No.

So, what happened after they were sedated?

Dr. Mathieson contacted the MoD and a search was instigated.

So Trimble's body was found at 3:00 p.m.

the following afternoon?

- 4:00 a.m. - What?

The body was discovered at 4:00 a.m.

We had to wait for the three soldiers to come to.

When they did, it was clear they had no recollection

of what happened after they got drunk.

If this case had ever gone to court,

one or all of these soldiers would have been tied to a murder

through no fault of their own.

Please!

You mean the MoD would have ended up in the dock

for not protecting its own men.

Merrill, Glazebrook, and Sharratt are walking wounded.

They weren't part of a trial. They were part of an experiment.

Thank you for your expert opinion, Mr. Halford.

But as I understand it,

the men are able to lead perfectly normal lives

providing they take the appropriate medication.

Interview terminated at 10:07 a.m.

The drug Eric took removed all his inhibitions about being gay,

about being seen to be gay.

Which is probably why he had no qualms

about taking the other three to meet his boyfriend.

It removed all their inhibitions as well.

They were out their heads.

Sharratt almost certainly killed him,

but I doubt if he even realized it.

Yeah, well, they killed him.

Scientists, MoD, MI5. Not those poor bloody squaddies.

And we're supposed to sit here and pretend

that that's how it should be.

Yeah, well, you did what you could.

All of you.

You can't do more.

Sharratt they look after. He's still in the army.

It's a sheltered environment.

They can keep an eye on him, utilize him, find him a role.

Andy Merrill they just throw back into civvy street

without a second thought.

Unemployable. Cocktail of drugs.

Mind only half there.

And as for Glazebrook,

well, him they just wash their hands of completely.

Post-traumatic stress.

Gulf War syndrome. Whatever you want to call it.

No aftercare, welfare, home help.

No one to ensure he takes his medication.

Just dumped.

"Just drink."

Gulf War syndrome?

It's all right. I haven't got it.

- Kiss me. - What?

- I want you to kiss me. - What, now?

Does there have to be a set time

for you to show your undying devotion?

Oh, I see. No, I'm not drinking.

What's this?

Oh, developing religious mania.

Oh!

Well, I can't see you as a Jehovah's Witness.

Where did you get it from?

The dead boy's parents' house.

What?

Jehovah's Witnesses can't serve in the armed forces.

What are you talking about? It's not illegal.

They don't allow themselves to join up.

They object conscientiously.

You knew that.

This better be good.

"Good morning" would be nice.

Why did you drag me here?

I don't want to go in there alone.

Plus I get a lift back to the station afterwards.

Come on.

Oi. Where's your coat?

Dry cleaner's.

Speak and make yourselves known.

The guardians of the ring.

Frodo the hobbit and Gimli the dwarf.

You're the dwarf.

Take cover, Ronnie. We're coming in.

Go ahead, foxtrot three. Receiving you loud and clear.

State your position.

ETA five minutes, Ronnie.

On target. Looking to complete operations.

Go ahead.

Eric Trimble, black as pitch.

Keith Sharratt.

Andy Merrill. You.

Keith realized Eric was homosexual.

Andy didn't.

What about you, Ronnie?

Incoming!

Did you know he was gay, Ronnie?

Yes, of course. He told me.

- He told you? - Are you sure?

He was away with the fairies. Friend of Dorothy's.

That was why we went and got pissed.

He wanted to be out.

Why did he tell you, Ronnie?

Look out!

I don't care.

What? You didn't care?

You can't tell Andy. He wouldn't understand.

Can't tell Sharratt. He wouldn't like it.

Not happy.

He told you?

Uh-huh.

Anyone else?

With a single bound he was free.

He was free.

Himself.

And once he has spoken, he can tell the world.

Free at last.

Free at last.

Lord God almighty, free at last!

E.T. phone home.

Over and out.

Would you care to translate?

E.T. E.T. phone home.

- I'm not going in there. - No, nor me.

I mean, why would anybody want to come here?

Even drunk and drugged?

- Exactly. - That's why.

What?

Who'd need an old phone box now with mobile phones?

But back then in '91... E.T. phone home.

E.T. Eric Trimble.

Oh!

Oh, those are lovely. Who sent those?

Nobody sent them. I bought them for you.

Oh, thank you.

What are you doing?

I'm polishing me shoes.

Brian, what's happened?

That poor lad who died. Eric Trimble.

No, I mean what's happened to your trainers?

I thought they were looking a bit tatty.

What have you got there?

Supper.

Got some chops.

Esther, do you never think that life might be a bit too short

for just chops?

I mean don't you think that it's incumbent upon us

to make the most of whatever time we have left on this earth?

After all, what else is there?

All right. Okay.

Tonight we shall settle for chops.

But tomorrow night I'm taking you out to dinner.

To dine royally.

As befits a wonderful woman like you.

Esther.

You look lovely.

I bet you can look even lovelier.

- Sit down. - Thank you.

Alicia isn't back. She's gone to get my shopping.

Well, actually, we wanted to talk to you, Mrs. Trimble,

about the last time you spoke to Eric.

The night he died, he... he rang you,

and you spoke to him, didn't you?

Mrs. Trimble?

Oh. Hi.

What is it? What's going on?

We're just talking to your mother

about Eric's last phone call.

Last call?

Yes, Eric rang here the night he was murdered.

No. That's not right.

You must remember the call, Mrs. Trimble.

Mum?

We'd like you tell us exactly what Eric said to you.

What are you doing?

Alicia, that's enough.

He said how much he loved me, loved us all.

What else?

He said he had to speak to Dad.

Arthur. His father.

He told his father the same thing, that he loved him.

And because he loved him, he had to tell him the truth.

What truth was that, Cora?

You believe in the power of God's truth, Cora, am I right?

Yes.

You believe in the word of God.

You believe that Christ died and rose up again.

Yes.

And Arthur believed this too.

But you also believe that no man

should take up arms against his fellow man the way Eric did.

We forgave Eric.

As a family, we... we came to terms with what Eric did.

And as Jehovah's Witnesses,

you also believe that homosexuality is wrong.

You believe it's a sin, am I right?

What are you saying?

Arthur believed that, didn't he?

He felt that it wasn't just a sin but an abomination.

Stop it.

You're frightening her.

No, Alicia. I am not afraid.

Cora, did you know about Eric?

What he realized he was?

Of course.

I'm his mother.

What did Arthur do? After the phone call?

Did he go out that night after the phone call?

Arthur was a good man.

A fine man.

But strict. With a temper.

He... He loved his son.

He can forgive the sinner but not the sin.

He went to speak to Eric.

Talk to him.

Try to make him turn away from sin.

Eric told him it was the first time in his life he felt free.

When Arthur hear that, he said he lost control.

Rage.

Satan overcome him.

Then when he saw what he had done...

he knew he was cast down, cast out.

He could not entertain any hope of life, now or eternal.

And I could never, ever forgive him for what he had done.

Alicia.

I'm sorry.

Could you kill your son?

Don't know. I've never had one.

Definitely kill mine.

Thought I'd find you here. Thanks for the report.

Thank, Brian. Down to him.

Not sure if it'll exactly endear us to the Security Services,

but, uh, what the hell... Well done.

Sir.

Can I ask you a question?

How come you were never accepted for Sandhurst?

Wrong place at the wrong time.

I punched the wrong man.

Get away.

Respect.

Yeah, well, I'm off. See you next week.

Me too. Well done, Brian.

- Come on, Gerry. - All right.

I'm, uh... I'm off to the toilet.

- I'll see you. - See you later.

Pint of bitter and a vodka shot.

Ta.

Ahh.

Same again.

I was working just 'round the corner.

You look nice.

Where's Dad?

Now, who's for more Tia Maria?

Oh, come on.

You know you'd like to.

You know you want to.

And I know, deep down beneath that impressively upholstered

and passionately seething bosom, you know you need to!

Only a small one.

Oh! Don't be so personal.

How about you?

Is size everything in your compendium?

You're mad, you are.

As a fish!

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