All language subtitles for Landscapers - 01x02 .GLHF-NOSiViD.English.

Just remember.

One step at a time, like we said.

They arrest us, they read us our rights.

We know what we're gonna
say. We've gone through it

a thousand times, and we're ready.

Just don't say a word
without a solicitor.

Right?

And remember,

you're in charge.

Then come the police interviews.

They'll try to confuse you,

but don't let them.

Just tell our story...

simply...

and calmly.

No need to make anything up.

Just tell them the truth.

Uh... Hello there? Mrs. Edwards.

Oh, hello, it's Susan Edwards.

I understand you're being
offered as my, um...

Yes, that's right.
My name is Douglas Hylton.

And I'll be coming in
to help you tonight,

- Mrs. Edwards.
- Oh, good,

because you've heard, I think,

that my husband and I have got ourselves

into a bit of a pickle.

I know it sounds all rather morbid.

Sus... Susan?
Susan? Sorry, can I just...

So, I feel, for his sake,
everyone should know the truth

- from the outset...
- Uh... Uh...

Susan? This isn't a private call

because I'm not actually
your representative yet.

Uh... That's what I'm coming to do now,

you see, to take your instruction,

and then I can... Does that make sense?

I see, yes, sorry,
silly old me.

Just tell our story, simply...

and calmly.

No need to make anything up.

Just tell them the truth.

Synced & corrected by QueenMaddie
www.addic7ed.com

Thank you.

- Morning, Susan!
- Oh, you came back, then!

- How was your night?
- Oh, you know.

Yeah, first night's the worst.

Uh... The waiting...

Yeah. And also, the...
Just not being with Chris,

even though he's just down the corridor.

Very peculiar.

- Yeah, that's...
- Still, not for long, though.

- Huh?
- Sorry.

Oh. Thank you.

Um... Douglas, I was wondering...

You know your advice

about not telling the police anything?

Is that because you don't believe us?

Um... No. It's just to keep it simple,

uh, so that we don't get tripped up.

Uh... To be honest, it's not my job

to have an opinion, really.

Uh... My job is... is to help you.

So when the police
start asking questions,

I just ignore them?

You simply let them know
you prefer not to answer.

Uh... You know, most people
like to go with "No comment."

It's "No comment" to everything.

At... At least until we know... more.

You've gotta remember,
they've only got until tonight

to convince the CPS that
they have enough evidence

to... to win a trial
or get an extension.

If you and Chris don't
give them anything,

you might go free.

I can't promise, but it does happen.

Okay. So, "No comment."

And how do we let Chris know
that that's the new plan?

I... um, we... we don't.

The police aren't...

mega-keen on suspects sharing tactics.

It's just Chris never said
anything about "No comment."

We agreed that we would
just tell our story.

We would never have handed ourselves in

if we thought we had something to hide.

Okay. Um...

Tell you what.

How about we...

write a brief statement?

Just the basics. Um...

Your story in your words, very short,

which I'll read out, and after that...

- "No comment."
- Ah, got it.

Um...

Okay. So, go for it,
as simply as you can.

Okay. Um...

The day before my parents' deaths,

I took a National Express coach

from Victoria Coach
Station to Mansfield.

It was route number...

450 as it was then.

Uh... Susan, sorry,
could you slow down a bit?

Oh, sorry, sorry!

And we don't need the routes and so on.

- Just the important stuff.
- Oh, okay.

Ey up. How you feeling?

- Fucking wired, mate.
- Yeah? You look nervous.

Nah, I'm not nervous. I'm wired.

There's a difference.

It's like there's a little
bit of shit in my pants,

but I'm also really excited.

Well, all power to you, mate.

It's just, 15 years, long time
to get their story straight.

Just tell our story, simply...

and calmly.

No need to make anything up.

Just tell them the truth.

"On the weekend of my parents' deaths,

in May 1998,

while my husband Christopher
was at our home in London,

I took the National
Express coach number 450

from London to Mansfield

"and visited my parents
at their home..."

Well, that was the route number then.

It might be different now,
the way these things go.

Um... "I... ""I took the National
Express coach number 450

from London to Mansfield
and visited my parents

at their home.

All I'm prepared to
say is that, firstly,

I am not responsible for
the death of my father,

William Wycherley.

I believe my mother,
Patricia Wycherley, shot him.

I will say that I did, in fact,

shoot and fatally injure my mother,

but only after severe provocation.

I was in a very fragile
state of mind at the time.

I would like to make it absolutely clear

that my husband, Christopher Edwards,

had nothing to do with
the deaths of my parents.

He was only made aware
of their deaths by me,

"one week after the incident."

Signed and dated. As I've
said, it's my handwriting,

but it's my client's words.

Thank you, Mr. Hylton.

Susan, are these your words?

Does that reading accurately reflect

the content of your statement?

No comment.

Okay, Susan. If I go to
the end of the statement,

- this your signature?
- No comment.

- It's okay, Susan, you can answer.
- Oh, sorry. Yes.

That's my signature, sorry.

That's all right, Susan.

Your statement's very helpful.

So, tell me. When you say you
went to visit your parents,

what was their address in Mansfield?

Five Braxton Close.

And at that time, you're 39?

- Just about to turn 40?
- Yes.

No comment.

Um... Again, I must
stress to you, Susan,

that although it's
completely your decision,

my advice remains that
you answer all questions,

- "No comment."
- Um... No comment.

I can see you're confused, Susan.

Your solicitor and I are
coming from different angles.

But I'm just trying to establish
some extremely basic facts.

So, if you want to, you can answer.

Right?

You say Christopher
Edwards is your husband.

- When did you marry?
- No comment.

Can I ask why you're smiling?

Well, no comment.

- Whoa.
- So, we've uncovered

some slightly dodgy financial activity,

which I've got Sandra looking into,

and apparently they were
friends with Gérard Depardieu.

Whatever the fuck that
has to do with anything.

Oh, hello again.

- You done?
- Yes.

Thank you, I... I'm sorry.

Breakfast, um, isn't really my thing.

But my... my compliments
to the chef, though,

or whoever it is that prepares
the microwave packages.

'Cause scrambled eggs,
they're not easy to do

in bulk, are they? They...
They often go hard, don't they?

You still going with that?

Oh, uh, no. All done.

Thank you.

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

Yeah, it was great!
It wasn't what I excepted.

- Oh really?
- No!

- Après vous.
- Merci.

_

_

_

_

_

How... How is it so late?
I've missed the last train!

Well, get a bus,
or I'll help you with a taxi?

It's already so late!

What's the panic?
It's not the end of the world.

Look, well, I know it's silly,
But we... we have this routine.

We usually have a hot...
A cup of hot chocolate together

at bedtime and talk about the day.

We've done it since I was
little, it's story time.

Only, I didn't tell him or
Mom that I was gonna be late,

so they'll be waiting
up wanting to go to bed.

Well, just phone them, then.

But if they're sleeping,
I'll wake them up.

Okay. How about this?

If you want, if it's easier
for your parents, I mean,

you can stay at mine
tonight. I mean, I'm not...

No, uh, no funny business.

But I've got my mom
staying, she's on the sofa.

It's a bit of a long story, but, uh...

Well, anyway,

I'll sleep on the floor.
You can have my room.

Oh, I couldn't make you do that.

No, honestly, I'd be happy to.

And then in the morning,
I can help you get home.

Oh, Chris.

Just to confirm one more time, Chris,

you are content for this
interview to continue

without a solicitor?

I am content.

I don't need someone
who knows nothing about me

telling me when and when not to speak.

Right, you understand
you can change your mind

- on that at any time?
- So I've been told, yes.

In fact, people won't stop telling me.

Right, thank you.

I can't say I didn't know.

All right. Mr. Edwards, uh,

before we begin with specific questions,

is there anything you
would like to tell us

from the outset, anything
about why you think you're here?

Hm. Yes, I would. Thank you.

Uh... The following is an account
of the events as I recall them.

On a bank holiday weekend in May 1998,

my wife, Susan Edwards,
took a coach from London

to visit her parents,

William and Patricia
Wycherley, in Mansfield.

I myself remained at home in London.

Now, I went with my wife to Mansfield

the following weekend
and only then learned

of the tragic events that had transpired

the previous weekend, i.e.
the death of her parents.

I wanted to ring the police, of course,

but my wife can be very
fragile, and she convinced me

that nobody would
understand the complexity

of what had happened and
why she was not at fault.

That's when we, uh...

when we did what families
traditionally used to do,

still do in many parts
of the world, in fact,

which is to inter them,

uh, respectfully in their
own home, dwelling...

or domicile, if you will.

I mean, the thing that's really
tortured me all these years,

is had I been with her

on that previous, fateful weekend,

none of this would have happened,

you can be sure of that.

And we wouldn't be
sitting here right now,

you gentlemen and I, no.

All right, one last question.

Shut up!

Do you happen to
recall the coach company

you and Susan took up to Mansfield?

National Express. Route 450,

as it was then, it
might have changed now,

the way these things go.

All right. Well, I think
we've covered the crux of it,

so, um, we'll take a break there
and, uh, pick things up later,

- if you don't mind, Mr. Edwards.
- Happy to oblige.

Happy to oblige

with the same bollocks Wifey's peddling.

Only difference is
she's got a solicitor.

Yeah, but they've given us
a confession, haven't they?

Of sorts.

Uh... Dear Christopher,

it was a big mistake to tell
your stepmother about the...

Shut it, Gérard!

What do you reckon they'd
get if we take it, sir?

Not enough.

Financial stuff aside, whatever
fraud they've committed...

Oh, yeah, worth doing again.

It went so well the first fucking time.

That's Susan up on loss of control
manslaughter for shooting her mom,

assuming that severe
provocation business holds up.

So, what, five years?

Eight at most. And Chris is
only getting a year or two,

- if that.
- For what?

Interfering with the duties of a coroner

or some vanilla crap like that.

Which is not bad if they've
actually committed double murder.

Maybe not such idiots after all.

That story won't hold up
in court though, will it?

Bullet wounds like that.
It's one shooter, surely,

it's just a question of who.
I reckon we press him on that...

- Sir?
- ... and then we can...

I wonder if we could try something.

- Mess with their heads a bit.
- Go on.

Could I handle both interviews, sir?

You've got big bollocks
today, don't you, Lancing?

Great.

This is your statement, Susan,

now labelled as item EL-06.

We're glad to have it, but
it doesn't begin to explain

how your parents wound up dead

and buried in the garden, does it?

Do you have
a question for my client?

Dozens. How did you first learn

your mother shot your father, Susan?

- Where were you?
- No comment.

Was it daytime or nighttime?

No comment.

What about the gun? Whose was it?

- Had you seen it before?
- No comment.

- What'd you do with it afterwards?
- No comment.

- What'd you do with the bodies?
- No comment.

Did you wrap them in duvets?

Put them under the bed?

No comment.

Did you make a phone call
around 2:00 a.m.?

Perhaps to your husband, Christopher?

Is... Is Chris talking?
What about his solicitor?

- "No... ""No comment."
- You said he wouldn't talk!

Your husband's opted not to
take legal advice, Mrs. Edwards.

- Have you told him it's free?
- He knows it's free.

It's just he's chosen to be cooperative.

He's told my colleagues
everything he can, Susan,

which makes me look a
bit silly, to be honest.

I'm meant to be smart one,

but it's Bill and Ben in the other room

getting all the juicy stuff
from your very charming husband.

Only, he wasn't there,
was he, Susan, that night?

So, we're inclined to think
he might be making it all up.

You do want us to know
the truth, don't you?

- My advice remains...
- You said he wouldn't talk!

And how he's doing one
thing and I'm doing another,

and we're not together.

- I'm sorry.
- Um... I'm sorry, Susan,

it's... it's quite, um,
strange, honestly,

but does Chris know anything?

No, Chris is a very clever man.
You don't have to worry about that.

- Perhaps you'd like to take a...
- No, I would not!

Okay, Susan. Can we
go back to the beginning?

Yes, of course.

Thank you. Let's break it down

- one step at a time, shall we?
- Big balls.

Uh... Uh... Do you want me
to leave you alone for a bit?

Or... Or I can show you where
to get some fresh air maybe.

Oh, I'm fine, thank you.

Okay.

You're doing really well.

- Am I?
- Yeah. Uh... Definitely.

Just... stay strong.

Try not to take the bait.

Okay.

It's October 31st, 2013.

The time is 13:31.

Interview with Christopher Edwards.

Hello, Mr. Edwards. How are you today?

Never better.

May I ask what happened
to the other two officers?

Something more important
than this, apparently.

Very rude if you ask me, but anyway...

And thank you for providing

such a thorough account
of the awful events

of May 1998.

It's a very sad story, Mr. Edwards.

It is, yes. I'm very happy to help.

Would you mind if
we just review a few things?

Not at all, Detective Constable.

Susan was up with her
parents in Mansfield,

you're at home in London, in Dagenham.

She rings you up
in the middle of the night.

You answer. What does she say?

Nothing, really. She
couldn't tell me anything.

She was too upset.

Upset about what?

I need you, Chris.

It's all wrong without you.

Well, she'd had a terrible night.

Her mother was drunk,
her father, abusive.

The usual story, I'm sad to say.

I can't wait to get back...

to London.

And the next time
you see her, you say,

is the following Tuesday.

After the bank holiday Monday.

- Indeed.
- At Victoria Coach Station.

That's right.

You say she'd not told you anything

about what had happened,
but was there anything

that struck you as unusual
about her? Her mood?

Yes. She was odd. Quiet.

She said, uh...

What was it? Something like...

It was the most awful weekend, Chris.

Really dreadful. I need a drink.

... which was very unusual.

She almost never drinks.

I remember she asked
for a port and brandy.

Port and brandy?

Uh... Yes.

Port and brandy.

For the nerves. Shot of
brandy, shot and a half of port.

Right.

Okay. Port and brandy. And
what did you have to drink?

Um... Well, I didn't want a drink.

I had a cup of tea. Earl Grey.

So, you go up to
the house the next weekend,

week after Susan first went up.

She having said nothing that whole week

about having killed her parents.

About her mother killing her father.

About her killing her mother, then.

- She was provoked
- "Provoked." So you say.

- So she says.
- So you both say. Very neat.

Look...

I'm not gonna sit here

and pretend I don't know it's a defense.

Provocation. "Loss of control,"
you call it now, I believe.

Reducing murder to manslaughter.

I see you've done your homework.

It's a good thing I have.
You've just arrested my wife for murder,

whereas in truth, all
she's ever done is suffer.

And I don't think anyone

should go to prison for that, do you?

And as for that night, no, no,
she couldn't have shot them both

because she couldn't have done
anything to hurt her father!

I know her. I know her better than you.

He had too much power over her.

Trouble is,

it looks to us like your
in-laws were both shot

from a similar angle,

perhaps by the same person.

Well, I don't know anything about that,

but Susan didn't lie to me.

Okay, so let's get back
to you then, Mr. Edwards.

That following Friday,

you both take the coach up to Mansfield.

That is correct.

The Friday, right after I finished work.

And she still hasn't told you?

I'm getting to that.

It wasn't until we arrived at the house.

First, we picked up fish and chips.

We always have fish chips on Fridays.

It's just when I'm tucking in

that Susan starts to
act a bit different,

and suddenly, she says something like...

I can't stand it anymore.

They haven't gone
away, they're upstairs.

And I'm, of course, you know,
"What are they doing upstairs?

Why don't they come down and say hello?"

Something like that. And then,
I don't remember the exact words

but then she said something like...

Because they're dead.

And I'm, you know, "What do you mean?"

It's a surreal... disbelief thing.

I lose all interest in
my haddock and chips.

And I love haddock and
chips, it's my favorite.

A big deal, then.

Well, I've not had a single
bite of haddock since that day.

- Strictly cod.
- Isn't there a smell?

What? Oh, you mean the fish smell?

It was warm that week,
we checked.

Yeah, but it was night when we
was eating our fish and chips.

The point is that the bodies
would've been lying there for days.

Forgive the unpleasant image,
they're your in-laws after all,

but there would've been quite a stench.

Ah.

I, uh... Yes, well, I know.
That's one of the, uh...

But no, I didn't
smell it, but Susan...

Susan said...

or well, later, I think she
said that there had been...

an awful smell, but no, I didn't...

notice it at the time...

myself.

Hard to explain, really,

except, of course, that
the house always smelt

overwhelmingly of cigarettes
because of her parents.

Oh!

Sandra!

Sandra! There you are.

- You're looking for me?
- Oh, yes, sir.

- Sorry.
- Why you apologizing?

I hear you've found something
good. Just make it quick if you can.

We're in the middle of these
interviews at the minute.

I spent the morning
at the branch in town.

- In the archive room.
- Oh, bank archives.

The glamour never stops, does it?

Yeah, it won't stop.

- Um... But yeah. So...
- Excuse me.

Uh... This is a bank
statement for a joint account.

Susan Edwards and Patricia Wycherley.

Right. And if you look over here,

that's the date the account was opened.

This is good, Sandra.
This is very good! Come with me!

Come here! Fuck's sake!
I'm not gonna eat you!

First of all, Susan,
I'd like to introduce you

to officer Sandra Winters.

- Hello.
- Officer Winters is a member

of our Forensic Financial Department.

Oh, my husband's an accountant.

Can you look at this
bank document, please?

Police item CKA-04. Sandra.

Do you recognize that?

That's a bank account statement
showing the joint account

you opened in your name and your mom's.

Can you read the date there,
please? Left-hand side.

- Fifth of May.
- Fifth of May 1998.

So, talk me through it.

You kill your mother,
your father's dead as well.

You dispose of the gun.
And then first thing

Tuesday morning, after the bank holiday,

9:17 a.m., to be specific,
you transfer a bank account

into you and your mother's names

and withdraw almost half of the funds.

- In cash.
- In cash.

Yes, I... I...

ca... can't remember.

You don't need to remember.
It's all there in the document.

Well, yes, uh,
as I say, she's been, uh...

Sometimes, she's simply
economical with the truth.

We all are sometimes.

But this. This is difficult.

It's straight after the
killings. It's obscene.

It's mercenary. And
to be honest with you,

it's a little bit daft.

Well, I think she was obviously very...

It's not confusion, Chris, is it?

Bang, bang, open a bank account?

Well, yes, I...

You said the word, I suppose.

"Mercenary," but...

Is there something you're
not telling us, Chris?

Something that could help Susan perhaps?

Because at the moment,

this doesn't paint a very
pretty picture, does it?

It's...

It's a very personal matter.

Personal?

I'll tell you what's personal:
being shot in your own house,

kept under the bed for a week,

and buried in your own
back yard for 15 years.

I'd like it on record...

that I don't think it's very fair

what I've just said about Susan...

or rather what you said.

It does her a grave disservice

- to call her a mercenary.
- Why?

Because Susan...

has always had...

much bigger things to
worry about than money.

Right.

Clean sheets on yesterday,
in case you're wondering.

Here's a towel, toothbrush.

Thank you. Are you
sure this is all right?

Yeah, of course, yeah,
yeah. It's my pleasure.

Is your mom okay?

Yeah, she's fine.

She's, uh...

She's not very well at the moment.

Well, I had a very good
time with you tonight, Susan.

Me too.

Have a good sleep, and
I'll see you in the morning.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight, Chris.

You okay for coffee?

Everything's good,
Mom. Thanks. Very nice!

Eggs aren't her strong suit.

It was so nice of her to cook for us.

Oh!

I'm sorry, I really should go.

- All right.
- Thank you.

All right, then? Both done?

Ooh! Oh, silly me.

- Are you going already, Susan?
- I... I'm sorry.

I've had a lovely time. Thank
you for your hospitality.

And you're walking her back.

Lovely. Chivalry lives!

Separate rooms and
everything. Christopher!

I know I embarrass you,

but I was right about the dating agency,

wasn't I, hmm?

It was my idea.

Might even give it a go myself.

It's very nice to meet you.

You too, Susan. And hopefully...

we'll be seeing each other again.

Okay.

Look, maybe we should
just say goodbye here.

Oh.

All right then. Goodbye.

- Bye.
- Bye.

You've met my mother!

You're embarrassed of me, ain't you?

They're just old-fashioned!
Maybe next time!

Can you let me in?

Mom?

Dad, please can...
Can you let me in?

I can explain.

Sorry to keep
you waiting, Susan.

I know it's been a long day already.

What we need now are your words

on exactly what happened that night.

Chris can't really tell us, because...

uh, according to you
both, he wasn't there.

Only you were there.

Now, you say that your
mother shot your father.

That's not something that
happens every day, is it?

So the obvious question is, "Why?"

No comment.

Oh.

I thought you were feeling a bit
more comfortable talking to us.

What happened, Susan?
Was there an argument

- or disagreement between them?
- No comment.

What did you feel
when you saw your father there,

dead on the floor?

Your mother having shot him.

- I felt terrible.
- Terrible.

That's a normal
reaction, I think, Susan.

What do you then do with that emotion?

- No comment.
- Do you confront your mother?

- No comment.
- What's she say to you?

These questions have
to be answered, Susan.

They don't actually have
to be answered, Susan.

- That's not strictly true.
- But this is a horrible event,

isn't it? Two people shot dead.

- Your own parents.
- This is what I mean by bait.

But it's not a full explanation
to say you're simply provoked.

People are gonna provide
their own answers if you don't.

You don't have
to say anything, Susan.

No comment.

The bank account you opened
the day after the killings, Susan,

the pensions you collected,
the sale of the house,

all those debts you had to cover,

that feels like a slightly
better explanation, doesn't it,

to someone who wasn't there?

That this really was all about money.

After all, you'd not seen
your parents for over a year

you say, and then suddenly
you pay them a visit?

- And then they die.
- But it wasn't. As I said in my...

We've just been
with your husband, Susan.

And do you know what
word he used to describe

your behavior? With that bank account?

"Mercenary."

And I'm sorry, but I'm inclined
to think a jury would agree.

He wouldn't say that.

Um... I think it might be
useful for my client to...

It's on tape, Susan.

Chris told us something
else as well, Susan,

that I'd like to ask you about
if you're comfortable with it.

He said that your mother
told you something that night

that you didn't know.

What did your mother
tell you that night?

She said, um...

She said, um...

Sorry. Must've been very
hard for him to tell you that.

Can I just... I'm sorry...

- It's okay, sir. I'll explain.
- I'd really like to remind...

I know how hard it is.

- But it'll be better for...
- I just said,

I'll explain it.

Even while I was sleeping,
I was aware of shouting,

some sort of row.

But that was nothing unusual
in that household, not at all.

As I told you, I had
been drinking a little.

A little more than normal. I don't...

I don't normally drink.

I don't know what
time it is, maybe 2:00 a.m.,

and I've been woken by these bangs.

- How many bangs?
- Uh...

I don't know, I was asleep.
Two maybe or... or just one.

- Definitely not three.
- One or two?

Yes.

And I know immediately
that my father's dead.

I don't know how I know, I just know.

And my mom is standing there with a gun,

and there are brass
casings on the floor...

Brass casings?

Yeah, uh, spent bullets, I suppose.

And I can tell she's even more drunk

than she was when I want to bed.

And then I say something like, "What
have you done? You've killed him!"

Something like that,
it was a long time ago.

And she says... I can't
give you the exact words,

- but she says something like...
- I had to!

I can't take it anymore, Susan!

- I couldn't look at him.
- Something along those lines.

And then she turns on me, and...

and she's actually waving
the gun at me at this point...

God knows why you care.

After everything you've been through,

grubby, little man.

Horrible, horrible man!

What a disgusting piece of work he was!

And then she throws the gun on the bed

somewhere about here, so I pick it up.

He treated me

as though he was disgusted with me!

- But really...
- Uh... Sorry, Susan.

- Yes?
- Why'd you pick up the gun?

Uh... It's just... Well,
she'd been waving it at me,

and she was drunk, and
I suppose I was afraid

that she was gonna pick it up again.

Um... So, anyway, and then,
she starts saying that thing.

I hated him.

For years, I hated him.

And I hate you too.

Because when I look at
you, I know I failed.

I failed you, Susan,
and I know that.

I know what he did to you.

I knew it, and I just let it happen.

How do you think I feel about that?

- You knew, Mom? You knew?
- Look, of course I fucking knew!

I'm your mother, aren't I?

And he didn't even want me after that!

He couldn't do it.
He couldn't even get it up!

And I've spent the last fifteen years

trying to forget what she said,
so I... I can't tell you exactly,

but it was something like that.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I am so sorry, Susan.

I'm not a monster. I did my best.

We had some good times
together, though, didn't we?

Even though you were
a difficult child...

And all I could think of was
"I want to call my husband."

I even said,
"We should call Christopher,

he'd know what to do."

Give up, Susan!

You think he's different, but he's not.

He's not gonna help you!

He's the same as all the others.
He's just using you for the sex!

- No, Mom!
- And then I keep crying

- and she keeps saying these...
- He doesn't love you!

Just accept it before you
get hurt! Nobody loves you!

- Stop, please stop!
- God knows I tried!

But it's impossible.
You're impossible to love!

Stop it, Mom! Stop it!

With your miserable little
life. It would've been better

for all of us if you'd
never ever been fucking born!

I just want to confirm
the implications

of what you're saying.

Are you telling us that your father

abused you as a child?

- Yes.
- Sexually?

Yes.

And that was the night
you first discovered

- that your mother had known all along?
- Yes.

And you'd never told her?

I was always too afraid
of what my father might do.

I spent my whole life

just trying to wish it away.

Thinking of all those years after school

when she was at work and he...

And Chris, your husband.

Are you sure he wasn't
involved in the killings?

I only ask because the bullet holes

on your parents' chests
were strikingly similar.

And that bank account,
that looks like a plan.

With all this new information today,

some of which is quite important
as my colleague is pointing out,

we will be applying
for extra custody time,

so we can continue.

So we're just trying
to get everything

as clear as possible before we progress.

Uh... I think she's been
pretty clear already, don't you?

Are you sure Chris wasn't involved?

He helped you, didn't he?

He decided to protect you.

Susan?

Of course he did. He always protects me.

Did he bury the bodies for you?

Yes, he buried the bodies.

He's very practical like that.

He has to be 'cause I'm not,
you see, so he has to be.

Uh... Susan, if you wanted a break...

We couldn't tell the police.

He understood that, so he took control.

And so...

this was his idea, then?
To bury the bodies?

Yes, it was his idea.

He did that for me.

He's the only person in the world...

that's ever made me feel safe.

We'll get it sorted.

He's not allowed to keep
you out of your own house.

Has he always been like that?

It's okay. You don't have to tell me.

No, I...

I do want to tell you.

What is it?

It's just, I've...

I've never told anyone else.

Well...

whatever it is...

it'll be between us.

Just you...

and me.

Synced & corrected by QueenMaddie
www.addic7ed.com

Susan Edwards had
been at her parents' house

when she was woken by a loud bang.

She'd gone into her parents' bedroom.

Her mother had shot her father.

Susan Edwards claimed
an argument then took place,

during which her mother
told her she knew her father

had abused her as a child.

Now, Susan Edwards
admits manslaughter.

- ... manslaughter.
- ... manslaughter.

She says killing her mother...

... she was provoked...

- ... provoked...
- ... provoked...

... into shooting her.

The Edwards claimed they
returned to the house a week later

and had sat down to
eat fish and chips...

... and watched
the Eurovision song contest

on television...

... when Susan Edwards
suddenly blurted out,

"They're upstairs."

Christopher Edwards
said he went upstairs

to find the Wycherleys
dead underneath the bed...

... before then dragging
the two dead bodies

down the stairs and burying
them here in the garden.

But prosecutors say it was all a lie.

They claim the Edwards jointly planned

to kill the Wycherleys.

Over the years,
the Edwards emptied

the elderly couple's bank accounts.

Both she and Christopher Edwards

admit burying the bodies and theft,

but both of them deny murder.