All language subtitles for L101 Well Schooled in Murder.en

Tonight we are beginning
a new series mystery,

by de popular american
writer Elizabeth George.

You may remember her as the
author A Great Deliverance.

You may also remember her detective
the suave erudite Thomas Lynley,

8th Earl of Asherton.

He "is the one with the Bentley"
and the state in Cornwal.

His assistant Sargent Barbara
Harvers has a uncommon touch.

She drives a mini and lives with her mom.

The predictable spark due flight,

but after solving a gruesome
murder in Yorkshire,

Lynley and Havers have declare a truce.

Tonight they had for Bredgar Hall, an
elite boarding school in Bachshire.

A student is disappear

and Lynley is summon by the housemaster,

an old school friend,

to take the case.

Lynley doesn't really have a choice.

As graduate in Eaton and Oxford

he know the school ties are binding.

Even if sometimes chafe.

If nothing else.

These case show why Lynley and
Havers make such a good team.

Lynley understand the intricately
rituals of boarding school.

Havers know what is like
to be a fish out water.

The boy there sickie is a bit misfit.

He is the sun of a builder.

Get a rare opportunitty
to mix 'up a class.

If he study hard and minds Ps and Qs,

who know when he made up.

That's the question that would hound
Inspector Lynley for years to come.

And now... Well Schooled in Murder

- Mrs. Whateley.
- Yes.

John Corntel, Matthew's
housemaster at Bredgar Hall.

I really don't want to worry you,

but is your son here?

What do you mean, Matthew is missing?!

Perhaps must to me wants
admited sure you the

school are doing everything we
can to find your son, Mr. Whateley.

Never mind that! What
have the police said?

We've held off going to the police.

Until we could clarify that
Matthew hasn't come home.

(Good boy.)

(Stop here.)

(Nice and slow...)

Ignore it! Just ignore it! That�s ok!

It's all right. Good
lad. Just ignore it.

Stay there.

Stay there.

Lynley...

John!

Ah...how did you know I was here?

It's the only place you
ever turn off your mobile.

I sit by his bed,

trying to feel all of the things you're
supposed to feel when a parent's dying.

Feeling guilty cos I
can't seem to feel them.

Don't be too hard on yourself, eh?

We were never close.

Yeah, I know.

Nothing that I particularly
want to go into.

I thought this was your weekend off.

I just received a call
from an old friend.

You don't have to be
involved if you want to be.

He's a housemaster at
a boys' boarding school.

A boy has gone missing.

What...an old friend?

His name's John Corntel.
We were at school together.

Oh, I see.

What is that supposed to mean?!

When I say, "We were at
school together," it means

I've spotted a familiar face
at a supermarket check-out.

When YOU say it, it means a tug on the
old school tie and you come running.

If it wasn't for John Corntel, Sergeant,

it terrifies me to think
where I might be today.

His friendship is something I
value almost above anything else.

And, yes, we did wear
the same tie at school.

The sleeping pill's got her off.

Mr. Whateley this is Detective
Inspector Lynley from New Scotland Yard.

Mr. Whateley. My Colleague
Detective Sergeant Havers.

How is your wife?

Matthew was everything to
her... Is. Is everything to her.

I'm sure.

Has he ever run away from school before?

Never.

He gave no hint he was
thinking of running away,

- or was at all unhappy at school?
- None whatsoever.

Is it possible to see Matthew's room?

It helps to give a sense of
the person we're looking for.

Sure. It's that room on the left.

- I'll put the kettle on.
- Thank you. That's very kind.

Have another go at the dad

to see why Matthew may have run away.

I think working-class
boy at private boarding

school's a good place to start.

Proper diaries.

When you last spoke to
Matthew, Mr. Whateley,

did you detect any
difference in his mood, or

did he use any unusual turn of phrase?

Nothing.

Happy birthday, Matthew.
Stephen Cowfrey-Pitt.

Grown-up books for a little boy.

Just had a call from the school.

Dear God!

They're fresh. No doubt about that.

By its width, I'd say it's an HGV,

coach, something along those lines.

Check all coach firms,

hauliers, anyone whose route
takes them near Stoke Poges.

Right.

Make sure SOCOs get a cast of the tread

before the rain washes it away.

OK, Sarge. Oscar Charlie, 43...

What've you got for us, Mike?

I'll do a full autopsy in the morning,

but what I've seen so
far doesn't make sense.

In what way?

At first glance, I could rattle
off two possible causes of death.

- Two?
- Strangulation and mutilation.

- Is your boss OK?
- Yeah...he will be.

Still I don't understand
how did you get this case?

Matthew's death was
reported in Hammersmith,

within our jurisdiction.

With my knowledge of
schools like Bredgar Hall,

it would be perverse to
give it to anyone else.

My knowledge of schools like
Bredgar Hall is negligible.

Actually it is none!

But I believe the
comprehensive in West Acton

was briefly twinned
with a privately operated

remand centre in West Yorkshire!

I wanted you here because you'll come to the
school with fresh eyes, without prejudice.

Without prejudice?

Apart from my opinion that

a school system based on

dumps kids with relative strangers

is fundamentally rotten.

An opinion you will leave at the
school gates, if you don't mind.

Opinion dumped, sir.

The message couldn't be clearer.

- Chas?
- Yes.

With this demonstration,
the headmaster tells us

if he need a New Scotland Yard
what he'll see us when he's ready.

What?

Instead of coming to meet us in person,

he dispatches one of
his senior prefects.

No doubt the Head Boy.

You can't possivel read so much into that!

Chas Quilter. Head Boy.

- DI Lynley, New Scotland Yard.
- Very pleased to meet you.

The headmaster sends his apologies.

He's on the phone with the board
of governors about poor Matthew.

Ahem! Come along, Sergeant. Chop, chop!

- Chop, chop, sir?!
- Havers.

You do realise any authority
I might have here will be

pissed to the wind if you insist on
treating me like your nameless flunkey?!

These kids are used to the
hired help in the background.

They drop their guard
before them. Understand?

Yes, sir.

I need you to be my eyes
and ears here, Sergeant.

As a female, you have a special
status in a boys' school.

Use it... I may even
ask you to abuse it.

DI Inspector Lynley this is

our school bursar,
Stephen Cowfrey-Pitt.

He used to be on the teaching staff.

Cowfrey-Pitt?

No doubt the scumbag responsible for this
has already crawled back under his stone.

Maybe not quit yet.

The faster we move, the better
chance we have of finding him.

Paradise Lost!

I'm sorry?

You made an inscription in
the copy of Paradise Lost

that I found in Matthew's
home in Hammersmith.

I occasionally give books to the
less advantaged boys at Bredgar Hall.

Excuse me, I must make a call.

Um, Chas, wait outside, will you?

Sue. Yeah. Yeah

Though I'm loathe to, I must reschedule my
meeting with the redevelopment team this afternoon.

Say that something unavoidable
came up, without specifying what.

We ought to discuss tenders for
digging the foundations ASAP,

so let's coordinate diaries for, say,

a week today...?

Good. Thank you.

The death of a child
overshadows all else, Inspector.

At a school, I expect it would, yes.

- It's a setback for the school.
- Not to mention the boy!

So, how can we help you?

I would like to start with
Matthew's room, if I may.

What he took with him. What he
left behind. A diary. His notes.

Something... Anything.

His point of departure should
be our first port of call.

I put Chas is at your disposal.

Can we rely on his discretion?

Discretion is just one of
many admirable qualities.

Chas, would you show the inspector to
Matthew Whateley's dormitory, please?

Certainly, sir.

Thank you, Headmaster... Bursar.

Good of you to give us your time, Chas.

We're all deeply shocked
by this, Inspector.

I'm glad I can help.

- Daniels...shirt!
- Yeah Chas, sorry.

Tell me, your father wouldn't
be Francis Quilter QC?

You know him?

One of the few silks to
be highly respected by

both the criminal fraternity
and the police force.

Everyone loves my father.

Will you follow in his footsteps?

I have a conditional place
in Trinity to read law.

Lot of hard graft first, though.

Glad you're not taking
anything for granted.

I'm bright, but I'm not
clever, if you know what I mean.

If I want get grades I need,
I can work hard for them.

Must be lots of boys with
successful fathers here.

At £6,000 a term, one could
take that as a given, Sargent.

- But not Matthew's father, sir.
- Sorry?

His dad was a builder.

Would hardly make Matthew
one of the boys, would they?

We do not discriminate against anyone
here, because of it background, Sergeant.

If he's made it all the way up
here from all the way down there,

well... that's all the more
reason to respect him, isn't it?

Chas, it's a good read!

Brian, this is Detective
Inspector Lynley and Sergeant...

Sorry, I didn't catch your name.

- Havers. Detective Sergeant Havers.
- Detective Sergeant Havers.

They're here about Matthew.

He was well liked, even among us
sixth formers, which is unusual.

In what way?

At boarding school, each
year is quite self-contained.

Matthew was an unusual boy, Inspector.

We all sincerely hope
you find whoever did this.

I'll be in chapel if you
want a spot of practice later.

- I'll come and find you.
- Nice to meet you.

What I meant before.

I'm bright... he is seriously clever.

This is Matthew's house, Erebus.

It's named after the primal
darkness that emerged after chaos,

apt when you see the
state of the boys' rooms!

Which it's the senior house prefect's
job to keep under control, eh, Pritchard?

A losing battle, I'm fear!

Coburn, Green, double biology
started five minutes ago. Go on!

- Yes, Pritchard. Sorry!
- Move!

I'm putting up a notice to
invite boys to see Matron

they have any anxieties
about the last 24 hours,

to make them talk about the murder.

Before the counsellors descend.

I'm showing the
inspector Matthew's room.

No! I'll do that.

Matthew was in my house.

It sounds ridiculous, but
I feel I should have noticed

whatever it was that led
to poor Mattie running off.

Boys Whateley's age sleep in
dormitories. Three or four to a room.

This is Matthew's.

This one.

As you can see, Matthew
was a keen photographer.

He was very good.

The photographic society is run
by the housemaster John Corntel.

He teaches boys the
basics and then helps

them develop their
prints in the darkroom...

Rather them than me.

Sorry?

Matthew was one of
the stars of the club.

You discovered Matthew missing
at lights-out, is that right?

That's right.

Is usual the prefect to
the last-minute check?

In my day, is the housemaster job.

Some housemasters do, some don't.

Corntel gave that responsibility to you?

I think he feels more comfortable
letting prefects do it.

More comfortable?

Not walking around a house
full of half-dressed boys, miss.

Really? Why is that?

Probably for the same reason he doesn't
involve himself in school trips or PE.

John Corntel happens to be
a very good friend of mine.

If you have anything to say
about his conduct at school,

now would be a good time
to come out and say it.

I didn't mean to cause offence, Inspector.
I was merely making an observation.

Thank you for your assistance,
Clive. We can manage from here.

I'll be downstairs if you need me.

What was that all about?

Nothing like a bit of schoolboy slander

to while away a dull study period.

- But, sir...
- I'll deal with it.

Now,

we know Matthew disappeared on
Friday night without permission.

Was he running away,

or was he sneaking out to meet someone?

OK, son... Time to tell me all you know.

A row of diaries at home,

nothing here covering the last year.

Read back what we've got.

A half-finished letter
to someone called Jeanie.

A missing school uniform.
Missing school shoes.

And he seems to have
left his asthma inhaler.

Suggesting?

- He left in a hurry.
- Or?

Or he didn't think he
was going to be gone long.

He'd be easier to spot in his uniform.

And leaving his inhaler suggests he
didn't plan on staying out for a long time.

So, Matthew goes on a
little outing somewhere,

and is snatched either on
route or on his way back.

Or when he arrived.

Or when he arrived.

Any news back from the boys on
the tyre tracks in the lay-by?

They're asking locals if they saw

any heavy traffic in
Stoke Poges last night.

We're waiting on the wider search,

but... my feeling is the
lorry's our best bet.

Plenty of gruesome precedent.

Maybe...

Read that letter again.

"Dear Jeanie,

"Thank you for dinner last Tuesday

"and for dropping me back at school.

"Don't worry about had late I was,

"because the boy who saw
me can't say anything.

"I hope the Colonel doesn't
mind me beating him at chess.

"I've always been pretty
good at thinking ahead."

And that's as far as he gets.

Perhaps he was going to Jeanie's house

when he was picked up.

Or perhaps he arrived
and Jeanie wasn't there.

The father was...

an old man who likes playing
games with little boys.

Things get out of hand...

Speak to the boys in Matthew's dorm.

End this running-away theory.
I'll find out who Jeanie is.

Wouldn't it be better if
you spoke to them, sir.

This being a boys' school
run almost entirely by men?

Women can encourage
boys to reveal things.

Should I have brought
rubber gloves, sir?!

- Psychological things, Havers.
- Yes, sir.

Inspector, my observations earlier.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...

I thought I'd find you here, Tommy.

The boys in Matthew's
dorm, how can I locate them?

John can tell you.

- Of course...
- I have every boy's timetable, right here.

I'll have them in the
library in 15 minutes.

Thank you.

Sit there, Andrews.

You know who I am?

Speak up, boys.

Police.

I'd rather you regarded me as...

as someone who's here to help
find who hurt your friend, Matthew.

What's your name?

Morant, Miss.

Where I come from we use first names.

Harry, Miss.

Well, my name's Barbara.

Now, Harry...

...we're trying to understand

why Matthew was outside
school yesterday evening.

We wondered if

there was anything going on in school
that may have made him want to run away.

Can you think of anything, Harry?

Answer the police sergeant, Morant.

You don't have to answer
if you'd rather not.

He's a little upset, Sergeant.
Harry and Matthew were quite close.

Just take your time.

There's no hurry.

Yes...this is all a terrible
shock to them, Sergeant.

I think it would be kinder if we
brought the interview to a close.

Don't you agree, Mr. Corntel?

Yes.

Sir, I found out who
Jeanie is from John Corntel.

Apparently Matthew used to visit
a Jeanie and Colonel Bonnamy

as part of the school's
community service programme.

And it's run by the bursar,
Cowfrey-Pitt. ..Oh, sorry.

Good. Well done.

- I was just saying...
- Yes, I heard you.

- Yes, we'll check it out later.
- Why not now?

They've picked up a lorry driver

whose tyre treads match
the prints in the lay-by.

Any form?

Well, apparently not,

but as my favourite instructor
used to say at Hendon,

you've never got form until
you're caught for the first time.

Did you find out anything from the boys?

Not much.

One of them, Harry Morant,
started to cry. I had to stop.

Apparently, he and
Matthew were pretty close.

You can never tell how something like
this will affect boys in this age.

Sir, about Pritchard's
remarks on John Corntel...

You're thinking there's
no smoke without fire?

Well, I know he's a very
great friend of yours...

I said I'd deal with John and I will!

I can smell that from here!

No-one comes into chapel
any more unless they have to,

including the chaplain!

I could assume the authority
of my office and grass you up.

If I'm expelled,

who'll cram you through your A-levels,
and into your father's glorious footsteps?!

Three months, Brian, and we're out of here!

I prefer to take it one day at a time!

There's a little left if you want some.

Hardly my opiate of choice.

Brian.

Matthew Whateley...

I'll lead. You just do what you
can not to embarrass yourself!

Shall I have first crack at him, sir?

Me being a woman with the power
to make you lot reveal things.

All you've demonstrated
is the ability to make a

boy cry after one question.

We'll do it together.

What are we dealing with?

A child murder.

Torture.

We're dealing with the
worst that there is.

When I come face to face with these
men, I feel an overwhelming sense

of satisfaction, that
I can do something,

shut them down,

stop them from inflicting such
misery on anyone else ever again.

Is that why you joined the force, sir?

Is there a better reason?

A few of the lads back at the Yard

were convinced you had a
thing for women in uniform.

Remind me never to bare my
soul to you again, Sergeant.

Yes, sir.

Sorry, sir.

All right, Barry,

let's go through this
again from the top.

How many more times?!

I didn't kill any boy.

I didn't see any boy.

Then, why were you in
Stoke Poges last night?

It is not on your
usual route trough Bathshire.

I told you! I was tired

and desire to eat.

I thought I'd pull off and find a
nice little country pub somewhere.

Not because you know there's
a boys' boarding school

there and you thought
you might go fishing?!

If you stopped off at a
little country pub, as you say,

why was your lorry parked in a lay-by,

three-quarters of a mile
from the nearest one?

I already said. After I had
a bite to eat, I needed a kip.

I'd been on the road all day!

So, you thought you'd
pull over for teh night?

- Yeah.
- Climb into your jim-jams,

pull closed the curtain on the
inside of your windscreen.

- go to bed?
- Yeah.

And almost immediately, get up again?

- Yeah.
- Put on your jeans and t-shirt,

take a nice big bite
of chunky chocolate,

and then go on your merry way.

Look, I didn't do this!

You see, Barry...

my sergeant here is very
good at spotting liars.

She's won trophies for it.

The worse the liar, the quieter she is.

If you notice, she hasn't said a word.

So why don't you do us all
a favour and stop lying?!

I thought you might
like to see this, sir.

It's 11.27.

Myself, Sergeant Havers, and Inspector
Lynley are now leaving the interview room.

It's the preliminary path report.

Well, no signs consistent
with sexual abuse.

Bruising and pinch marks on arms
and legs made prior to death.

Cigarette burns on palms of hands
and soles of feet made after death.

Cause of death: possible strangulation?

There's something he's not telling us.

Well, if he's not guilty,
he'll open up soon enough.

- Just let him stew for a while.
- All right.

You know, he didn't stop fiddling
with his wedding ring throughout.

What's going on, sir?

Looks like a rubbish trawl.

I found a cigarette butt, sir.

You don't have to tell me every time you find
something, Arlens, just putting in the sack.

- Stop immediately!
- Someone's coming over, sir.

Thank you, Arlens. I have eyes.

Stop, John!

- He's saying, "Stop, John," sir.
- And I heard. thank you, Arlens... Stop!

I'm talk to John. Go and
check out the Bonnamys.

You think the chess-playing,
dirty-old-man theory has legs?

It's staggering along with
the aid of a zimmer frame.

Right, sir.

They could clear away evidence.

I'll get police supervision.
Nothing is to be destroyed.

John, is there somewhere
we could speak in private?

Yes.

Hello. Lynley here. I need SOCO
officers onto the playing fields.

This brings back memories.

Have you still got yours?

Knocking about somewhere.

To look at me now,

you wouldn't think I could run ten feet,

let alone ten miles before breakfast.

We won everything that
year, you remember?

It was wonderful.

You know, it wasn't
completely wonderful.

Your father's death.

It was truly awful.

I've never forgotten what you
did for me that year, Johno.

I want you to know that.

I was your friend.

Not many friends pull
you back from the brink...

from the top of a 30-foot
wall you scaled at 2am,

drunk as a skunk, determined
to throw yourself off.

Well...

Which only makes what I have to
ask now all the more difficult.

How serious you sound.

When I was asking questions, someone made
some unpleasant insinuations about you.

Oh, God!

I get so tired of this, you know.

But I have to ask.

Is there anything untoward
going on at the school, John,

that I'm going to find out about?

A boy's been murdered.

Quick, find the nearest poof.

Is that how policing in
the 21st century works?

I have to ask.

When I called yesterday, I thought you
were the only person who could help.

I have to ask.

If you make me answer this,

our friendship will never be the same.

You do understand that, Tommy?

I am duty bound.

I'm a gay man.

If I have a relationship, it is
with a gay man, not with a boy,

as you well know...Inspector.

This is Detective
Sergeant Havers, Father.

Good afternoon.

You didn't tell me she was a woman.

I understand that you and Matthew
struck up quite a friendship.

We did.

Was he very good at chess?

Better than me, that's for sure.

Despite the difference in our age, we
were, in many respects, fellow travellers.

Both low-born, both rising
in rank on merit alone.

Two street fighters, Matthew and I.

Did Matthew ever mention any reason for
having to be a fighter at Bredgar Hall?

One way or another,

they're all fighting against the mould
their parents try to press them into.

The cloning room, I call it.

Matthew was more resilient than most.

If I could just pick up
on something you said.

You said, "Mattie was
more resilient than most."

I get the sense

Matthew was struggling with something
quite considerable at the school.

I saw a lot of it in the Army, Sergeant.

I'm sure you must have
seen it in the police force.

Seen what, Colonel?

The new recruit coming in fresh.

Belly full of Queen and country.
Does everything by the book.

Respects the rules.

Assumes everyone else respects them
too, and then learns they don't.

Eventually sees something in the
barracks they'd be wiser not to mention.

Having to decide where they stand.
Defining themselves by their decision.

Their decision?

Be a good little soldier,
keep your head down.

Or lift it up and stare
blatant injustice in the face.

A difficult enough moral dilemma
when you're 19 or 20, Sergeant.

Matthew Whateley was 13.

OK, boys, stand up, please.

As you were before. Spread out.

Come in.

The police would like a word, Bursar.

Thank you.

Bursar, you deal with the
pupils' fees, is that right?

Yes.

There's something that's been troubling
me since I visited Matthew's home.

Which is?

How could he possibly
afford to come here?

This place must cost parent's
between £15,000 and £20,000 a year.

Matthew was awarded an exhibition.

Not a full scholarship?

A full scholarship would cover all
his fees. An exhibition covers a third.

That still leaves the
remaining two-thirds uncovered.

I'm sorry, but how is this remote
related to Matthew's murder?!

Perhaps you could tell me why it isn't?

Parents who want to send their
children here, can often mandatory

scrape the fees together.
You'd be surprised.

With Matthew's parents,
I'd be astonished.

What on earth are they doing? I
told them not to destroy anything.

- It's just leaves.
- Burning black?

Matthew Whateley.

Havers,

I want you to follow through
on your hunch about Barry.

I think you may be right.

A little boy's lying cold on a slab, and

all you can do is keep twisting
that ring round and round?!

- I didn't kill him.
- Really?

Then why were you parked
so far from the pub?

Why did you leave the
area in such a hurry?

OK.

If you won't tell me, perhaps you'll
feel happier telling your wife.

- She's here?!
- She's on her way.

Right, if...

If I tell you what I was doing
in that lay-by last night,

does she have to know?

If it's nothing illegal, Barry, it
doesn't have to go beyond these four walls.

So Barry picked up a
waitress at the Queens Arms

and took her half a mile
down the road for a quickie.

No wonder he didn't want
his wife finding out.

How Barry describes it, sounds
like it's a perk of the job.

But I sent a constable
to speak to the girl and

she confirmed everything he say.

- Good work, Havers.
- Thank you, sir.

So if Matthew wasn't killed by Barry,

are we now saying, with
the discovery close they,

he was killed by someone
inside the school?

He was last seen alive
inside the school,

and he was found dead
at Stoke Poges Cemetery.

Seems logical if his
clothes were found here,

he was killed here, or hereabouts.

That would tie in with what
Colonel Bonnamy was implying.

Which was?

Well according to him,

he said that Matthew was deeply
troubled by something at school.

And I showed Jeanie
the letter we found and

I asked her about the
bit that Matthew wrote...

"Don't worry, cos the boy who
saw me can't say anything."

Something struck me about that phrase.

The boy saw me "can't say anything"

I mean, not "won't" or
"wouldn't", but "can't".

Why can't he, more to the
point, and who's the boy?

Jeanie said it was Chas Quilter.

Matthew had something on the Head Boy.

- I wonder what.
- I don't know.

Perhaps if someone wanted to
frighten him into keeping quiet,

that'd explain the bruising on the body.

Yeah, but he wouldn't, so they killed him.

You all right, Mr. Cowfrey-Pitt?

I was just thinking what a result
it was for you, Mr. Corntel,

having a pal from Scotland Yard
come down to do the investigation.

A result?

It would hardly enhance your career

if it transpires that Matthew's death

is in any way related to your,

shall we say, relaxed running of Erebus?

Every housemaster has
their own style, Bursar.

Anarchy isn't a style, Emilia.

Anarchy is style's very antithesis.

Have you been drinking?

Go to hell!

I dare say we'll all get
through this in our own way.

I think we are all aware what
has happened in the last 24 hours.

With a police investigation under way,
now is not the time for speeches...

... or even for a few words of regret.

Now is simply the time for us to
mark the loss of one of our own.

I ask you to stand for a minute

of silent respect.

Cocky little sod!

Who is that?

Who is that?!

- It's Harry Morant, sir.
- Oh, my goodness!

This boy should go to the sanatorium.

- I'll take him, miss.
- No, I'll do it.

Don't you ever get tired
of shining so hard, Chas?

Toxicology report's just in, Mike.

Not strangulation. Asphyxiation.

Asphyxiation?

Enough carbon monoxide in the
boy's blood to kill a carthorse.

Carry on, boys.

Take him to Matron. Tell her to
give him a thorough examination.

Hello? It's the pathologist.
What have we got?

Right.

I should let you know, Headmaster,

I'm calling in a Home
Office team to check

every boilers at gas of this school.

You what?!

Matthew Whateley died of massive
carbon monoxide poisoning.

Any leak from school
equipment, whether deliberate

or accidental, won't
be difficult to trace.

I'll also need you to
get a SOCO team down here.

Where will be, sir?

Around.

Well, could you be
slightly more specific, sir?

I'd rather not.

Well, that's all right, then!

John...you stupid, stupid fool!

- Haven't you heard of knocking, Pritchard?
- Headmaster wants to see you in his study.

What for?

I expect he'll tell you
when you get there, Chas.

- Need to re-stock?
- I'm fine.

Oh. Just looking after my best customer.

Off you go, then.

It's leaking pretty badly, Sergeant.

If you sealed the room, the CO
build-up would have been quick.

A small boy would be dead in no time.

Pritchard?

Pritchard!

You click your fingers and I come
running, Pritchard. What do you want?

Pritchard?!

You.

What are you doing here?

You think Pritchard asked to
meet you all the way out here?

Why would you think that?

Any conversation between us
came to an end in my rooms.

- Something's come up.
- Something else?

Do you know, I don't care?

- Goodbye, Inspector Lynley.
- You lied to me, John.

Where did you get that?

You know where I got it.

The question is: what does it mean?

We need to know if
you've heard of anything,

to take in place, that
might be of, well...

shall we say, an unsavory nature?

Anything, in other words, we may need

to be in a position to deal
with before it becomes public.

Unsavoury nature, sir?

Before it becomes public, sir?

It's our duty to limit
the damage to the school.

- Yes, sir.
- Yes, sir.

We all know that John Corntel gives
you a free rein at Erebus, Clive.

Sir?

The extra bottles of beer at the
weekend he turns a blind eye to.

The smoking in the house common room.

The question is: what
might he receive in return?

I can't bilieved you broke into
my rooms and ransacked my things?!

Bluster and inflamed
grievance won't do this time.

This time my investigation needs a
full and satisfactory explanation.

A full and satisfactory explanation?

Satisfactory for whom, exactly?

You told me one thing.

These photographs tell me another.

Not a gay man having a
relationship with another gay man,

but a schoolmaster
obsessed with a schoolboy.

Obsessed?!

Have you been in the force so long,

you see everything through
the jaded eyes of a copper?

Not obsession, Tommy...love.

Love.

Go on.

His name was Hugh.

He joined the school in the lower sixth,

after his parents had
been posted abroad,

and I took him for English.

Without engineering anything, it was clear
something was developing... between us.

But I was equally
clear that nothing...

are you listening?

nothing would happen while
he was a student here.

Come on, John! There's pictures
of him lying naked in a hotel bed.

Taken in the summer following
his first year at Oxford.

He was 20 years old.

A straight man

could have fathered
half-a-dozen kids

by the same age and no-one
would have batted an eye!

I didn't ask you here
to debate the issue.

Maybe not.

But the real reason you
can ask me such questions

is because someone in
my position can still

be destroyed by a worm
like Clive Pritchard.

Again Clive Pritchard.

Why did you assume it was
Clive who told you to come here?

Because he's the only one
who knew about me and Hugh,

a position of privilege which he
ruthlessly exploits to his advantage.

You expect me to believe, John,

that someone like you is in
the pocket of someone like him?

Do you imagine for one minute I allow
Pritchard the run of Erebus out of choice?

You and Matthew were
pretty close, weren't you?

Did you used to help each other with
your homework, that sort of thing?

If I'd had someone to
help me with my homework,

maybe I wouldn't have ended
up in the police force.

Did, um, you and Matthew
ever share things?

Not like sweets and
books and stuff, but...

but I mean like... like secrets?

Or problems that either of you
might have been having at school?

I did. Matthew did a bit.

A bit?

He'd tell you stuff about schoolwork

or a teacher that was
getting on his nerves.

But he kept the really
private stuff for his diary.

- His what?
- His diary.

Well...

when we looked through Matthew's things
this morning, we didn't find a diary.

When he first came to Bredgar
Hall, Matthew wrote one.

Hopeless in a place like this,

cos someone will just
find it and read it,

no matter where you hide it.

Most boys give up within a few weeks.

Matthew wasn't like most boys.

If the boiler is leaking, it's
because it's been tampered with.

We trade on our heritage here, Inspector.
We don't heat the school with it.

What's more important headmaster?

Absolving the school
of any responsibility

or finding out who
killed Matthew Whateley?!

Thank you, Harry, I'll see you later.

Sad little thing, isn't he?

Harry found it very difficult
to adjust in the beginning.

He was picked on for
one reason or another.

I was happy when Matthew
took him under his wing.

Will he be here long?

He'll be back in the
dorm before lights out.

- Thanks for your help.
- Not at all...

Come along, boys. Come on.

- Well?
- Not here, sir.

Why all the cloak and dagger stuff?

I didn't think you'd want
it made common knowledge.

- What?
- What Harry told me.

What did Harry told you?

Matthew kept a diary.

We found nothing in his room.

Not a written diary,
an oral one, on tape.

I repeat, we found nothing...

Sir?

What is the safest place to keep a

private diary about
what goes on at school?

Try knocking again, Sergeant.

She might not have heard
it with all this rain.

You do have hands,
sir. You can also knock.

Indulge me. I'm in the mood to delegate.

I'm coming.

It happened again as soon
as we turned the corner.

A few dirty plates piling up, Patsy.

Plates?

Do you mind if I have a go?

Boys.

- Everyone brushed their teeth?
- Yes, Pritchard.

Yes, Pritchard.

- Morant?
- Yes, Pritchard.

I didn't see you, Morant.

Go and do it again.

Lights out now, boys.

You found them?

He sent them as compilation music tapes.

So Mum and Dad wouldn't get curious.

Intelligent and meticulous.

Are we ready to leave?

There's just the cutlery to do.

If you dry, we'll be out
of here in two minutes.

Everything OK?

The carer must have gone home,

and, depending on her mood,
Mum won't answer in the dark.

Why don't you pop back,
make sure everything's OK?

You can get a cab later.
No, I don't think so, sir.

It only needs one set of
ears to listen to the tapes.

I'll be fine.

I'm going to take you back.

Thank you, sir.

Mum!

Mum?!

Oh, my God!

Mum! Mum! Mum!

Mum!

It's all right. It's all right.

I was looking for...

What were you looking for?

- Something.
- Looking for Dad again?

Was I?

Dad's in the hospital, Mum, remember?

Hospital?

Tuesday March the third...

Matthew, we meet at last.

Had another letter from home.

Mum missing me as usual. Dad's usual PS.

Strange to think they're only 30
miles away. Half an hour by car.

What's that three minutes by jumbo
jet, less than a minute by Concorde...

Harry dropped his plate in
the dining hall this evening.

I think Harry's got that thing,
like dyslexia, only with objects...

...He gave me a Saturday
morning detention,

but you could tell it was
for the parents' benefit...

I did my bit, "Sorry, sir.
Won't happen again, sir".

Happened again as soon
as he turned the corner.

Won't have to do the detention
cos he didn't take my name.

Apart from Chas and the other prefects,

I don't think he knows many
of the rest of the boys.

Tim Brian calls him The Spiv,

cos he spends more time with
new parents and investors

than even spend with the boys.

March the tenth. Harry's other
problem is still continuing.

I thought of going to see Mr. Corntel about it,

but he tells us to see the
senior house prefect first.

Well, I can't do that,

so I went to Chas Quilter,

who said to leave it with him.

'I think Chas is the nicest prefect.

I can see why he's head boy.

Some people get power go
madly. Chas isn't like that.

He's going to Cambridge.

I'd like to go to Cambridge one day,

but I don�t know if I'm clever enough.

I've been to see Chas four times now.

Each time he tells me he'll sort
it out, but it's never sorted out.

I don't care if he is a prefect.

What he's doing is wrong.

After asking Colonel Bonnamy
about what I should do,

gave a hypothetical similar situation,

I've decided to tell Chas about the
recording I made in the bathroom.

- It's the only way to make him stop.
- What recording in the bathroom?

I'll go to the police if I have to.

What recording he make in the bathroom?

What recor...? There is
no recording in a bathroom!

Lynley.

When was the last time he was seen?

Havers!

Havers!

Havers?

Harry Morant's disappeared in the night.

What more can I do?

Tell me where I find the hours,

the extra hours I can work

to get the school past this?!
Show me, show me, show me!

How can I move this institution
beyond the murder of two pupils?!

One boy murdered. One boy missing.

If the circunstance
Morant's disappearance

is almost identical to Matthew's,

what makes you confident
the outcome won't be?

Why do you want the local
boys out in force, sir?

So changed tatics?

I was Thinking.

Whoever's doing this is like a...

kestrel plucking mice out a field.

What's the best way to catch a bird?

Well, your lot generally
blast them with a 12-bore, sir.

Alive, Havers. What do you do if
you want to catch a bird alive?

- A net, sir?
- A net, Havers.

Sergeant Havers to all units. Go!

Help!

On the board, Sergeant.

What your mind to turn
in mini-hold this?!

If Morant's alive on the school
ground, his hear our arrivel,

he'll know he hasn't been
abandoned to his faith.

And whoever abducted him and killed
Matthew will worry about their fate.

All units in position
and ready to move, sir.

Give the order, Sergeant.

This is Havers to all units. Move now.

With all respect Inspector,

whatever is happened past three day,

may I remind you this is
still a functioning school?

Functioning?

First and foremost, Headmaster,

this is a crime scene
from which no-one,

I mean no-one, may leave less I say so.

You and you, with me...

If there's no key, kick the door down.

Quad drive blocked, sir.

I want to speak to Chas
Quilter as soon as possible.

- I'll have him fetched.
- Thank you.

Arlens,

- bring me Chas Quilter. Go on.
- Yes, sir.

If you're serius suggesting my head boy

is in any way mixed up in this, you
are going to look very silly indeed.

I'll take that risk.

Nothing in the cricket pavilion, sir.

Were you aware Matthew
Whateley repeatedly

asked Chas Quilter for help
in the weeks before his death?

Help that Quilter said repeatedly
he'd give, but repeatedly didn't.

On what matter?

A matter so important
to Matthew to resolve

that he was prepared to used
the blackmail if is necessary.

Blackmail?

Search!

In his diary, Matthew

describe finding Chas
snorting cocaine in his room.

Cocaine?

- You weren't aware of the cocaine use?
- Of course not.

Or that a prefect was blackmailing

his housemaster to let him run
his house as his own fiefdom?

What?!

Swimming pool clear, sir.

No, No, just hang on...

How to spend your time wins at work?

What exactly were you aware of?

I don't have to take this...

Bursar, if they need me,
I'll be in my quarters.

Yes, headmaster.

Inspector.

Sergeant.

Arlens shouldn't be long fetching Chas.

What Whateley wait in the last night?

I checked the dates of your inscription
on Matthew's copy of Paradise Lost.

So?
- So, why the bursar at Bredgar Hall

give a disadvantaged pupil a book two
years prior to his becoming a pupil here.

Chas?

Chas?

Chas!

I knew Matthew before
he came to Bredgar Hall.

I taught his father.

Tony Whateley came to Bredgar Hall?

Tony isn't Mattie's father.

Mattie's father was a very gifted
young man by the name of Eddie Hsu.

Eddie Hsu...? I know that name...
It was up on a plaque in the library.

Scholar...

friend...

And father.

Eddie had a clandestine affair with a
local girl, resulting in a pregnancy.

Being impeccably decent

and hopeless unrealistic about
what was involved, he wanted...

to give everything up.

And stand by her.

Given his dazzling future,

simply out of the question.

With not inconsiderable
financial inducement,

I managed to persuade the
girl to...have a termination.

- The girl was Patsy Whateley?
- Yes.

The day she went to London,
she wrote to Eddie a letter,

explaining my... help,
and begged forgiveness.

Eddie was found dead later that night.

His wrists slashed.

The overwhelming sense of betrayal.

At his funeral, I decided I
was unfit to teach any more.

Patsy had the baby.

The last minute she couldn't
go through with the termination.

I eventually found
her... Gave her money...

- To help bring up Matthew.
- How could I not?

Admin blocks cleared, sir.

You paid for Matthew to come here?

It was you paid the other
two thirds of the fees.

He had his father's intelligence.
It was being stifled where he was.

Young Matthew was drowning.

- It was my duty to save him.
- It ended in his death.

Sir!

Quilter's door's locked! But I
could swear there was someone inside.

This way.

The door at the end.

"Matthew came to me as head boy.

"Instead of doing what he had
every right to expect of me,

"I thought only of what I
stood to lose, and did nothing.

"I tried to fulfil expectations of mim,

"but I've let the school down.

"I have let my father and family down.

"But most of all, I've let down
Matthew Whateley and Harry Morant.

"May God forgive me.

"Charles Quilter."

We need some men over here, Sergeant.

We've got a body in a
room needs sealing off.

I don't want anyone
connected with the school,

knowing what's happened until I say so.

- Is understood?
- Yes, sir.

Mr. Cowfrey-Pitt.

Mr. Cowfrey-Pitt?

- How many prefects are there in Bredgar Hall?
- 16.

- In total.
- I'd like to see the remaining 15

in the school library in 10 minutes.

Could you tell Inspector
Lynley the post has just come?

It's something he'll want to see.

Right listen, if you're not a
prefect, return to your form rooms.

George! That's Calchus House clear, sir.

Out, out... Bush, come on.

- (They know.)
- Don't cack yourself, Pritchard. They can't know.

- Where's Chas?
- I heard they took him to the sanatorium.

- (Do you think he's said anything?)
- They'd have to kill him first.

- What do you think
Patsy's package is, sir?

- Matthew's last tape.
- Another one?

One he must have posted
just before he died.

The one someone killed him for.

That's area 3 cleared, sir.

Still no news on Harry Morant.

We need a name. A name will
lead us to Harry Morant.

- Who are you?!
- Dirty Harry.

- Why are you dirty?
- It's Harry Morant, sir.

- Because I smell.
- What do tou smell of?

- Please...
- What do you smell of?!

- Please, Pritchard, let me out...
- Pritchard! Let's go.

Right, you're all free to go.

What did I tell you?

Except Clive Pritchard.

Caution him, please, Sergeant.

- John, I'd like you to stay.
- Yes.

Pritchard has the right to an
"appropriate adult" present.

I can't think of anyone
more appropriate. Can you?

- Where is Harry Morant?
- I told you, I don't know.

- Clive, where's Harry Morant?
- Look...

Morant is one of those boys who let

the rest down at every opportunity.

They have, er, no discipline.

No guts. No character.

He couldn't even look after himself.

It was up to me, as senior house
prefect, to do something about that.

Put some backbone into him.

And you equate bullying weaker boys
with character building, do you?

Adversity is going to be his life,
Sargent. I was teaching him to live with it.

Matthew made a tape of you teaching
Harry his lessons, didn't he?

Yes.

And then he told Chas about that tape

to make you stop.

Or he'd hand the tape
over to the police.

- Yes?
- Yes.

To whom he would expose
not only your bullying,

but also Quilter's
cocaine habit. Am I right?

Chas told you about the
tape to make you stop.

But Chas never really cut
any ice with you, did he?

And you weren't going to be
pushed around by Matthew Whateley,

so you went after Matthew to
get him to hand the tape over.

When he refused, you
went to town on him.

Punching him. Kicking him.
Yes? Torturing him. Yes?

Yes. Yes.

When he still wouldn't give
you the tape, you panicked.

No.

Suddenly, you had a boy on your
hands known for not shutting up,

now covered with bruises.

- You do the next logical thing, you kill him.
- No!

With Matthew gone,

the only person left to snitch on you

is the person Matthew
died trying to protect.

So, in early has this morning
you take Harry Morant from his bed

and avail to dispose to be already

or keep him somewhere

until you think it is safe to do so.

Now, I'm not going to
ask you again, Clive.

Where is Harry Morant?!

Look... Look...

You have to believe me. Yes...

I roughed up Whateley for the tape.

I took him to the fives
court after dark and I

tried to scare him.

But he wouldn't tell me where it was,

so I threatened him and left
him gagged and bound to think.

When I came back, he was dead.

He was asthmatic.

He'd had an asthma attack and
suffocate. But that's not murder.

Matthew didn't die of
an asthma attack, Clive.

He must have.

Matthew died from carbon
monoxide poisoning.

What...?

If Pritchard is to be believed,

we left to the fact,

that between Clive leaving him in
the fives courts and coming back,

Somehow, Matthew died of
carbon monoxide poisoning.

In the fives courts.

The fives courts!

Fives is played on a
court, similar to squash,

but without the back wall.

They are not enclosed, consequently
not susceptible to a build-up of gas.

But they keep their van there.

So, if it wasn't Pritchard...?

Someone else wanted Matthew's silence.

Yes, but we established that Matthew was a
onlly threat to Pritchard and Chas Quilter.

So, the other option
that just leaves Chas.

- Or someone who wanted to protect him.
- Sir?

Boarding-school friendships are unique,

like a companionship between people dependent
on of the other for the very survive.

You make sound like the army, sir?

Precisely, it was exactly what it is.

Boys in dormitories.
Living under strict rules.

Encourage conduct. Knowing
who rely on a crisis is vital.

Help! Help! Help!

Help! Help!

Who would it be for Chas?

Who would be prepared to commit
murder to safeguard Chas's future?

Sir... The van!

They can't leave, the drive's blocked.

He isn't slowing down.

Quick, Havers! The school gate.

What do you mean, "Quick,
Havers! The school gate"?

He's in a bloody van!

We're not going to make it.

The road block not stopped,
but might slow him down

while he summons
courage to go through it.

Get behind the van. We'll
try and stop him at the gate.

He's taken out two of our units.

Get the other two units
now. We need back-up now!

I can't breathe.

If we can close the gate before he
gets there, we may have a chance.

Oh, thank God..., Sir?

You look after the boy.

You all right?

It's over, Brian. You can stop now.

Chas is dead.

- Tell me that's not true.
- I wish I could.

I wish I could, but I can't.

We found him in his room, this
mornibg. Hanging from the water pipe.

Killing Matthew didn't free
Chas, as you'd intended.

It simply added another
pressure to his life.

How much did Chas know
about what you did for him?

Nothing. It was my idea for
Pritchard to get the tape back.

But when he came upstairs

in a blind panic
saying Matthew was dead,

I couldn't believe it.

So I went down to the fives
courts to see for myself.

He wasn't dead, but half-conscious.

He kept saying he was
going to bring us all down.

Especially Chas.

He just wouldn't shut up.

That's when I had the idea

to put Matthew in the van

and connect up the hose.

Once dead, you returned
him to the fives courts

and got Pritchard,

confirm his fear laying it on thick that it
was he who'd, in effect, murdered Matthew.

Whose idea was it to mutilate the
body and then cover it with paint?

Pritchard.

He thought

if we made it look like
a ritualistic killing,

it would divert
attention from the school.

I didn't set out to kill Matthew.

I just couldn't see any other way.

What about Harry Morant? Was
there no other way for him?

I didn't want to hurt him...

But there was no turning back!

No turning back...

Not winking now, Clive.

Barbara Havers.

It's too intense, John. Life in these
schools, closed off from the outside world.

The pressure to succeed. To conform. To play
by the rules. And if you can't - or won't -

the consequences can be lethal.

I agree.

What are you going to
do? Hmm? Another school?

I think I've been in school
long enough, don't you?

Hiding from the real world
among the desks in class.

It's a nice life.

It's a good life.

But it's increasingly
felt like a small life.

- Good luck, John.
- Good luck to you, Tommy.

Will you ever forgive me?

If... when I do, I'll
send you a postcard.

I can't tell you how pleased
I'll be to leave this place.

Could we just stop for a minute, sir?

Three days ago, I had to drag you
here, and now you don't want to go.

I just had a call from the hospital.

My dad died an hour ago.

I'm sorry to hear that, Barbara.

Oh, we were never close, but...

Yes.

Yes, you said.

Nothing I want to go into.

Subtitles by BBC Broadcast
- 2002