All language subtitles for pipaStre06 -80p

You forget your hopes, sir,
because this Whitechapel

is coming from you.

It will take the purest of them.

And it will shatter it
into shards of pure poison.

I did it for you, Tilda.

I still only want for you
and I to be able to walk

clean of this mess.

And now you're happy to let me
hang along side you when I bust

my ass in here to free you.

Yes.

On that matter, it
is my own strategy.

And that strategy
being what, Francis?

Francis Nadger
is going to exhume

the body of Robert Sumner.

All that kill must be punished.

My name is Caitlan Swift
and I wish to surrender

myself to the police.

I too wish to surrender
myself to the police.

For what crime?

Murder.

Whose?

Liam Matofski.

and Mr. Drake.

I do not know you, sir.

Who is this boy?

Gustas.

You know.

Take control of your
station house, Inspector.

Your voice makes
me want to shit!

That's right, Constable.

All Whitechapel
stands agog, much

like Scotland Yard sends a
battalion to free their chief.

Be calm, lad.

You be calm.

I seen Gustas kill him.

You witnessed Sargent
Thatcher's shot.

Mr. Drummond, I believe him.

And who is he that we should
give his word credence?

Who are you at all, Miss Harper?

In.

You're going leave
her be, Captain.

Then you shoot me now, Captain.

Cause this is how I done,
by the law or it is none.

11 days, John.

Captain, and he shall
let you do yours.

It is only you can
make this case.

That was my Uncle
Bennet's chair.

And before it was his,
it was my father's

Inspector Drummond.

Are you returned
to your authority?

Have you prevailed?

Leave us.

Now, you wish to make your
case, you.

The man in the cells beneath,
he who says he is your brother.

I'm going to interview him.

Drummond.

I'm going to make
written record of it.

You will release me, Inspector.

Now!

Do you know what you
are tearing down here.

The two of you, what
of your life together?

Your future.

A murdered child
on a mortuary slab,

the entropy of the
universe extended

to a maximum, Mr. Duff.

Every stroke of this
blade to this boy's body,

I'm imaging it done to you, sir.

I'm hearing your screams.

I do not know how,
how long we sailed,

but I do remember
the stage, Miss.

I remember the fear.

Go on, sir.

I do not know how my
brother found Rabbi Leon,

but he brung him from Paris
in the hope he might know how

best to quiet my temper, sir.

But that counsel, he
did not soothe me.

It only roused my hunger.

I had to feed it.

Because you see, Miss,
he had shown me myself,

my childhood self.

I saw the forest and
the ease and grace

with which the wolves
might move through it,

whilst we simply trudged.

So and slow.

And as the rabbi spoke of
the morning they found her,

I did not think on
the side of my mother,

of my mother's body and blood.

I thought only on that power and
the pure purpose of their need.

And how that need might be met.

There's no frothing the
water logged into the lungs.

There are, however,
tiny hemorrhages

to the lining thereof.

The burst capillaries beneath
the eyelids, the cause of death

was suffocation.

Contusions about the neck and
face, similarly to his fists.

We may therefore presume
his death a violent one.

Within the lining of
the respiratory tract

there are trace elements
inhaled at the point of death

and adhered within.

So we have a wool fiber.

Wool's an alpaca blend,
charcoal gray in color.

Most likely from the
person who throttled.

The suspect is frequently
seen sporting such an overcoat,

Inspector, correct?

Gray alpaca.

Am I the only man in
London with a woolen coat?

No, I am not.

You have no witness,
no physical evidence.

You have no
fingerprints, Mr. Reid.

You must surely
see a.

These men, these
criminal murdering men

wish to tar me with a black
pitch of their own heart.

Mr. Reid, Captain, please.

The boy must be found on the
man, or the man on the boy.

Augustus.

They found a man, a madman
known to the police as such.

There was an attack
on another rabbi, see?

And so, that was
Mr. Isaac Bloom.

Yes.

And I hear them say how
they would take my axe

and they would hand them to him.

Captain, whatever it is you
hunt for, please find it.

He will find nothing, because
there's nothing to find,

save the wreckage of
your life along with his.

My, sir, you are flush.

Maybe-- You feeling all right?

You feeling quite well, sir?

There's infection within.

Swollen tongue and a throat red
with infection, an infection he

might have set lost
on any soul with whom

he came into contact,
particularly one

which was trying to kill him.

Because he would have fought.

He would have spat and screamed.

He would have
clutched and clawed

for the breathing of air.

And he would spread
that infection

all over the man whose arms
were now choking the ten

little years of life from him.

There's a fever
rising in you sir.

Is there a chill through your
bones like a nameless haunting?

Well, I have the name for it.

You brave, clever
little boy, Robin Sumner

The gift you bring with you.

And sir, will you confirm
your spoken confession

that you murdered
Inspector Bennett Drake?

Yes, Miss.

And Assistant Commissioner
Dove and

Augustus knew it.

Augustus knew it all.

And it was Augustus
killed Abel?

Abel Croker wished
to take my life.

But Augustus Dove, he,
he took it instead.

Augustus saved me.

Gustus always saved me.

Did you catch scarlet
fever as a boy?

-I did.
-So did I. Caitlin too.

Now what that means
is that once caught,

we cannot catch it again.

Now Miss Morton, I believe
has not suffered it before,

because she suffers it now.

And where else might
she have contracted

it, but from a sickly child
who is taking refuge with her?

It's like a string of purple
pearls, streptococcus pyogenes.

Scarlet fever.

Sir, Commissioner Bradford.

Well, Fred what do you say?

It is like cat
meat soup, Teddy.

You should know,
your own presence

here, a retired civilian gone
rogue, it's unconscionable.

But under current circumstances,
there is one more intervention

you might perform for us.
-Reid.

There will be an
inquiry, internal.

But we here have decided what
Edmund Reid's fate should be.

The others?

Your man, Dove?

Imagine the world's joy
at our disgrace, Fred.

No.

Sudden illness,
lengthy convalescence,

disappearance from public life.

Get him out.

Dartmoor Prison will
receive a new inmate.

However, the victim
of a clerical blunder.

His paperwork lost,
a man likewise.

Think how far we came,
brother, how very far.

Gustus, where do you go?

Shh, we must be brave.

I knew chaos and horror
a good long time before I

came to Whitechapel, Mr. Reid.

I'm to bring you
out as well, sir.

It trouble you, lad, if I
take your prisoner for a walk?

Augustus Dove is to be
buried deep and forgot.

Our shame alongside.

Most of the reason
for our stroll.

How else is the pit to be lined?

The brother, that beast,
he is to be choked,

and in short order.

The woman, Hart, similarly.

What else, Edmund?
Clemency?

The captain?

Send him home where he belongs.

Besides, it is not the fate
of evil pair brings me to you

now, but your own.

And that too is
decided, I imagine.

A little further yet.

That is right, my friend.

Think of what you and I once
found in a tenement room

off that courtyard beyond,
the cut and strewn remains

of the Ripper's last victim.

10 years ago, Edmund, 10 years.

That barbarism then,
that which these Dove

brothers have only now enacted.

They were forged from the
same furnace, a furnace which

requires permanent vigilance,
Edmund, a watchman,

set for the night
when that fire finds

another crack in
the world and sets

its creatures free once more.

Bennet Drake was a fine man, but
he-- that pale-faced Drummond,

they do no see, not
in the way you see.

You're needed here, Mr. Reid.
-My crimes.

Wish to face them, do you?

They are true.

I would own them.

I am to tell you that such
an owning will not find favor.

And to extend Commissioner
Bradford's wish

and invitation for
Edmund Reid to resume

his command at Lehman Street.

That is some bold
denial to mount.

It is a public redemption
of a good man wronged.

If I refuse?

Then your American will
not find himself so easily

forgotten, in point of fact.

His many misdemeanors will
be pursued with full rigor

and he will dangle, Edmund.

Have the man
brought out in irons.

Susan.
Susan.

Wait, don't take me.
Wait, wait.

Please, please, please, wait.

No, don't!

Don't!
Don't!

Stop hitting him!

No, please, where
do you take him?

I'm with you, darling.

I'm coming too.

Come with me, Miss Hart.

Wait, Drummond, what about me?

What about me, got damn it?
What about me?

Take me.

You're a prisoner, Mr. Reid.

Reid?

What the hell?

Where is he taking her?

Reid.
Reid?

God damn it.

What?

Your personal effects,
Captain Jackson.

You're releasing me?

Let me go!
Let me go!

For him?

You did this for me?

I did it before.

I'll do it again.
I'll save you.

No.

No, you will not.

You are a father now.

What kind of example
would that be for our son?

What kind would I
be if I let you die?

You must.

You see.

because he must have one
of us to care for him.

And it seems that
one will be you.

The sacrifice was
meant to be mine.

Mine.

For him, you.
What are we doing?

Why do we care for people?

We ought just be
better off without.

No, no, no.

That is an unsavory sentiment
and it is beneath you.

You picked a fine
time to play nice.

It was me and you.

You and me.

And ever will be.

Because of our boy.

We are in him.

One.

So you go, and you
raise him good.

Raise him right.

I'll think of how we were
made, and I'll do the reverse.

I love you.

I won't ever stop.

Mr. Drummond, take me away.

But Samuel and I lived
together before and no one once

said a word to us.

That does not mean that
words were not said.

We left the house together,
walked arm in arm together.

No one spat at us in the street.

I am pleased with
and I

am glad too that someone
was watching over you

whilst I was gone.

Drummond is more than
just my bodyguard, Father.

That's what I'm
trying to say to you.

Do you believe he
has made me impure?

No, Mathilda.

You know me better than that.

Then why will you not allow it?

What are we to do?

Live here together,
the three of us?

No, that is not what I asked.

Then it must be done right.

I'm not-- I'm not as modern
as all that, Mathilda.

You are early.

Do I chase you from the house?

No, you do not, Mathilda.

I, I am to Newgate.

-It is today.
-It is today.

That's some deal
you have yourself.

Ain't no telling what we went
through in pursuit of these.

Thank you, son.

10% of the sale price.

Your back rent.

That's not necessary.

Don't even try it,.

Bye, you little yahoo.

Come on, Connor.

Just leave her be now.

What will you tell him?

That she loved him, that she
put others before herself.

And that was a sacrifice.

- Mimi, I--
- No, please.

Walk with you?

Is there a law
that says you can't?

Well, then.

Shake the man's hand, Connor.

I'll be seeing you, Reid.

Captain.

Are you going there now?
-I am.

-Tell her, tell her--
-What?

Never mind.

It don't matter.

-Nathaniel.
-Miss Susan.

Mr. Dixon, please.

Only for a moment.
What can we do?

Do not let them touch.

We are to go together then.

One after the other.

I found a priest who
speaks my mother's tongue.

He says if, if I'm repentent,
I shall be spared hell.

But why should I
be spared it just

for the saying of some words?

But you feel the regret.

Think of the moments
of peace that you knew.

I do.

Her name was Prudence.

They send you no priest?

I'm not allowed one.

In case he's sent to
break me free again.

Miss Susan, they must
be allowed to proceed.

Perhaps I shall
speak with this priest

after all, just for
you, Miss Susan.

Forgive her, I shall say.

I'll never see
once more.

I should be grateful.

I'm coming after you, Nathaniel.

I shall be following you
on, calling your name.

And whatever it is that waits,
we will go there together.

You see there?

High above all.

That's Christ
Church, Spitalfields.

When your mother and
I first came here,

we had a room above a
bakery in the building

just beside and the
morning light would pass

across the spire and it's shadow
would fall through a picture

window, all across us as we lay
in our bed, like a sun dial,

instructing that
we raise ourselves

and go out into the world.

Mr. Reid!

Mr. Reid, sir!

Mr. Reid, raise yourself!

Stop your hammering, Sargent.

I'm here.

Mr. Reid, you must come, sir.
There is another.

Her name was Mary Jane Kelly.

Edmund, I want to
unmake the world.

- Toasts.

My Matilda, the girl
born to me twice.

This is the last, I believe.

Thank you, sir.

There's no need to sir me.

Not any longer.

Though, you really couldn't
have waited another few weeks.

Samuel doesn't want the
child born here, Father.

Of course.

Well, travel carefully.

Father, please.

It is a great Wesson to
Cheltenham's Bar, not

a steam turbine to the Congo.

I know, Mathilda.

But--

Bad things happen
everywhere, I know.

You are my daughter
and I worry.

Don't.

Remember the conviction that
you held that I was alive.

Yes, of course.

Then surely it is not such a
struggle to hold the simpler

belief that I am well.

Mr. Reid.

Samuel.

Right.

You will visit of course.

No,.

He won't come.

He won't ever.
He cannot.

Sargent.

Sir.

He is within?

He is, Mr. Eberline.

Nothing?

Eyewitness of sorts.

Description?

Five foot, six inches.
Fair.

Curled mustache.

34 years of age, about.

I shall note it to the
catalog, alongside William

Smith, who saw
Elizabeth Lestrade

with a man of 28 years of age.

the deerstalker.

Or Israel Schwartz, who says the
man she was with was dark, 30.

Or Joseph Lowand, who
saw Katherine Ellers,

who says also 30,
but fair and dressed

in the manner of a seaman.

These are not clues, Fred.

It is not yarn leading us to
the dark heart of this place.

They are half-glimpsed
imaginings, tangle of shadows.

And you and I floundering at
them in the ever vainer hope

that we might corral then
into meaning when we will not.

We will not.

I said, I almost begged it
of you when you lost her.

Forgive me.

When your Mathilda went down on
that boat, but I say it again,

tend to your wife.

Take the leave.

You are due it.

I prefer to work.

Then work, Edmund!
Fight!

Do you not wish to find
him, catch him, know him?

Win?

Of course.

I merely say, that we cannot.

We lack the wherewithal.

Now, Mr. Reid, go home.

Mr. Reid.

Best let's get you home.

Sargent, Sargent, Sargent.

My girl is gone.

My wife will barely
look me in the eye

without wishing to
spit in it and curse

me for the loss of her, so, no.

-Come, sir.
-No!

Damn you!

Damn your cur.

Damn your endless fawning!

Are you a dog?

Are you?

I am not, Inspector.

Then stop following me!

It shan't bring you any good.

Afternoon, Inspector.

Six months, they're gone.

He is now a teacher.

She writes a novel, she says.

The child prospers.

Have you been to
see her, the child?

No, no, not yet, no.

Your granddaughter, Edmund.

Soon, however.

I shall take some holiday.

How's the sea?

Flat, gray, mirthless.

And so, your visit?

This is a death certificate
of a woman named Mary Spinks.

Her named husband,
see, is George Chapman,

only that is not his true name.

He was living with Miss
Spinks, bigamously.

They run the Prince of Wales
on Bartholomew Square together.

Sorry, Fred, but--

George Chapman only
became so in 1895.

Before that however, he was
called Seweryn Klosowski.

The Seweryn Klosowski
who was once a

suspect of ours in
the Ripper murders.

But he has gone to America.

Not since 1892, he has not.

He has returned to this country.

It is not solely the
tending of your roses

that fills your days,

It is not.

Confidential autopsy report.

I will roll over and die the
day I cannot bribe.

His wife, he beats her,
ceaselessly, you know.

He's a brute, I'm sure.

And more than that.

Seweryn Klosowski 1885, he
finishes his surgical studies

at the Prague
Hospital in Warsaw.

June, '87, he's in London
as a barber, a position

in a shop on the
corner of Whitechapel

High Street and George Yard.

Yes, the skills and
the knives, Fred.

I do not forget.

George Yard,
where Martha Tabram

was killed in August, '88.

I never credited
Miss Tabram was his.

Did you not?

And the world must kowtow to
Ed Reid's theories, must it?

Not mine, no.

Her killer was right-handed.

Ripper uses left.

You know that Fred.

You know that.

And you sit here now, in the
belief that I might recommence

those same investigations.

The file remains open.

And what?

A man we once identified
as a suspect has a wife who

dies of consumption and you
are roused from your retirement

to berate me that
I do not set myself

and my station house
to his capture.

Read the autopsy, Inspector.

Consumption would present
itself as a hardening

rash on the arms and legs.

What she had were
pustulous swellings

around the eyes and mouth.

Now, I am not your
American surgeon,

but I know the symptoms
of antimony poisoning.

Fred!
Fred.

Even if it were true and proved,
it is still only a poisoning.

The man that we hunted
eviscerated his victims.

He ripped the flesh and the
organs from their bodies.

Nevertheless, it
is murder, by a man

we know capable of
that evisceration, who

was proximate to the acts,
who even now, is abroad

in this town, acting
out his hatred of women

upon their bodies.

Means, opportunity, motive.

Will you bring him in?

No, I will not.

But why?

Because it is a fancy.

It's a dark daydream in the
mind of a retired police

officer, who would
do better to return

to his roses and his wife.

It is a case, Edmund.

No, it is a ghost.

And a dead one at that.

Do nothing, you've
earned the lot of this.

Get out of my way,
you men, move!

-Good evening, sir.
-Good evening.

What a dramatic
life you must lead.

It's wonderful.

Remarkable.

Although it is not quite
the place you knew as home.

My friends, my friends.

If I could only tell you--

Mr. Reid, sir.

Mr. Reid.

Mr. Reid, sir.

Come.

Let's get you out of here.

How did you find me.

I followed you, didn't I?

Come on, sir.

Hey, slob.

You gonna pay for that?

That's right, Gladys.

Come on, take another step.

Jesus, you ain't winning any
beauty pageants any time soon,

are you?

Americans.

All bull, no dog.

You have it.

I do.
At last.

Sir, I write as regards
my execution of the will

of the late Matthew
Judge, in which you

are mentioned as beneficiary.

His assets were limited.

But the enclosed was to be
forwarded to you at the police

station in Whitechapel, London.

It may be of some
comfort for you

to know that whatever the
circumstances of Mr. Judge's

past, his son, Connor
Judge, has now become

a ward of this office here.

We are also the executors
of a grant of probate, which

has recently seen
Master Judge named

sole heir to those assets held
by us of his grandfather, Mr.

Theodore Patrick Swift.

He and the boy
had been fishing,

and were on their way home when
the girl's mother came calling

for help, her two daughters
dragged into the current

and to downstream.

The captain swum out,
brought one child to shore

before returning to the other.

She too was saved.

But in so doing, the
cold, so they say,

the river, icy with
the new spring store,

his heart gave out.

Thank you.

Help you?

Do you know an
Elizabeth Taylor?

-Who asks?
-Police.

H Division.

How long before it begins?

The inquest?

Yes.

Two hours, sir.

Good day to you,
Mr..

The coroner's inquiry into
the death of Mary Jane Kelley

will now come to order.

I live at number
five Minnis Court.

It's the last house on the
left hand side of the court.

I'm a widow.

And I get my living
on the streets.

She said, good night,
I'm going to have a song.

I remained for a quarter of an
hour in my room and went out.

Mary was still singing
at 1:00 when I returned.

I remained for a
minute in the room

just to warm my hands because
it was cold and went out again.

She was singing still.

Scene of my
childhood, arise before my gaze.

Ringing recollections
of bygone happy days.

My life does remain in
memorium.

Mr. Reid.

What am I to say
to them, Bennet?

Say?

I'm expected to stand
there and explain a thing.

And yet I cannot
find the explanation.

Because this man's
acts are beyond such.

Sir, I do not say
they are not dreadful.

They are that and more besides,
but yourself, Mr. Aberline,

these newspapermen,
and counselors,

screaming their
horror to the skies,

it is as though they imagine
some fantastical creature

about his work.

My feeling, Mr. Reid,
if you will allow it--

You speak, Bennet.

This here, Miss Kelly, what was
done to her, it is down to you

to name it, so this
killers acts are not

dreamt of as a stuff
of fancy, but known

as the cruelty of men.

That is you, sir.

The whole of the surface of the
abdomen and thighs was removed

and the abdominal cavity
emptied of its viscera.

This was found in various parts.

The uterus and kidneys,
under the head,

the liver, between
the feet, intestines,

by the right side of the spleen,
by the left side of the body.

The pericardium was open below,
and the heart was absent.

It is concluded
that the mutilation

was inflicted by a person
favoring their left hand.

The bed clothing of the right
corner was saturated with blood

and on the floor beneath
was another pool of blood

covering about two feet square.

Police.
H Division.

My wife is unwell.

Has asked not to be disturbed.

Are you much troubled in
this house, Mr. Chapman?

We're none of us can be
too careful, Inspector Reid.

What did you say
you wish to ask her?

I haven't yet.

Well caught.

Right hand.

Lost property, umbrella.

She registered it with us.

And?

I'm sad to say, it
hasn't been found.

You'll pass the
message on, I'm sure.

I left word.

I was unsure whether we--
well, it is a special occasion,

but I understand were we not
to dine together.

Mr. Reid, stop.

I shan't be here tonight.

I have to go to a
ball in Richmond.

There is a man who
wishes to marry me.

It's his ball.

There will be peacocks and
stags wandering across parkland.

And the thought of it makes
me think of nothing more

than walking down Shadwell
Basin with rocks in my pockets

and simply stepping off.

But, he's quite old
and um, likely to die.

And I am minded to
encourage his attentions.

Because I'm frightened
that If I'm still

in Whitechapel at
midnight, I will

be here for another 100 years.

You know I'm very fond of
you, dear, dear Edmund.

I'll forever be
seeing the captain's

smile, and that shrug, smelling
his disgusting whiskey breath.

And I refuse, I refuse to
be haunted by him, you see.

There shall be no
one left but myself.

I know.

I think perhaps that
is your gift to us.

It's very noble of you.

Scenes of my
childhood arise before my gaze,

bringing where collections
of bygone happy days.

No, no, no!

Shh.

You cannot!

It was her song!

It was her song!

Stop this!

Stop!
Stop this!

It was her song!
-Mr. Reid.

You cannot.

It can't be allowed.

Stop this, damn it.

Quiet, sir.

Do you not know any respect?

Or is it that you do not know
at all that it's her song?

It is the song that
Mary Jane Kelly

was heard to sing the night
the Ripper killed her?

Mr. Reid.

Is that not the
reason why it is sung?

Please.

Sir.

Perhaps it is time
you went home.

Yes, of course.

I'm so sorry.

I'm so sorry.

Sorry Inspector Reid.

As you were.

As you were.