Original subtitles

It's your dad's funeral tomorrow.

Were you and him close?

Tell me about him.

Your dad.

Football.

That was his first love.

1986, the day that Hearts bottled it.

In Dens Park.

Me and Les were...

You and Les?

Aye.

It was the day before the match.

Give us a gam, then. Don't be a fucking tease.

No. - Why no?

You said you would. Come on.

I said no. give us a gam.

You fucking lesbo.

Les. - Fuck are you doing, man?

Sorry, what's a gam?

Fellatio.

What do you think made him so aggressive?

Filled with shame, I suppose.

It's always the shame.

It will happen.

That time in the tunnel.

What tunnel?

You believe that violence is fueled by shame?

Where else can it come from?

He changed.

Les.

Before, he was just a kid.

Playful,

happy.

Turned him into a bully.

These notepads seem popular.

I suppose so.

Where do you get them?

Probably some stationary trade catalogue.

Almost everything I say or do ends up in these pages.

- This tunnel. Is it something- - No.

No, I can't talk about that right now.

Another time, maybe, yeah?

It turned Les into a bully. What about you?

What did you become?

A cop who has to get back to work.

Is that all?

Les.

What are you fucking doing?

We all get glimpses.

Little fragments of memory,

indicating how a life went up in flames.

Die, you bastard.

What's this we're getting now?

Does them compulsively.

50 pushups, 50 sit ups. Rarely stops.

Fitness junkie.

Is he ex-forces?

No. Just the TA.

Classic finishing school for inadequate perverts.

I used to be in the Terries.

Anyway, I've been going through some old photies.

Turns out he's an ex-fat boy. Obviously bullied.

Well, you can't say that for sure.

No, no, no.

Fat boys are dead either bully or bullied.

- Sole purpose. - Thank you for that.

And then he's found some exercise and diet plan,

raw meat, seeds, all that pish.

Just about the time the bairns started to vanish.

What are you saying?

Well, I'm not suggesting that the diet

turned him into a nonce kidnapper,

but it's just a signifier that he was getting ready

to wreak his revenge on the world.

Revenge for what?

For being a fat prick.

Fat boys are aye fat inside.

It doesn't matter how much coral reef they shit.

And I ken how to hurt fat boys.

Well, we've been going through his laptop,

but so far, there's nothing.

Not even porn sites.

Well, that's concerning.

Sex offenders are generally unimaginative.

I mean, if he's constructing his scenarios

from an imaginative space,

then that's both novel and it's worrying.

It's not possible that anyone could do

all that meticulous planning inside their head, is it?

Of course. The yellow notebooks.

It's in the yellow notebooks. All the planning.

If we find them,

we find out what happened to all those missing girls.

Lovely morning.

Are you feeling better?

I was a little under the weather yesterday.

That's putting it mildly.

Raymond Lennox, master of the understatement.

The planning, the dossiers you mentioned.

You've written it all down, haven't you?

Where are they?

You'll find out soon enough.

But I assure you, I am very meticulous.

Can you tell us where-

Sorry, DS Drummond,

but I'm not happy talking to a lass,

unless I've got my hands around her throat.

And then I become more

expansive.

DS Drummond leaving the interview room.

Of course.

Are these the kind of games you played with your ex-wife?

These are obviously the kind of games

you play with your girlfriend.

How are you fixed for some squash? Tomorrow lunchtime?

I've got a funeral tomorrow.

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Anyone close?

Look, I know you and Estelle are,

or rather were good friends.

You knew we were having, I suppose you'd call it an affair.

Yeah, well, at least Estelle

had the decency to resign,

which is exactly what you should do.

You are a menace to every single woman in this office.

Yeah, that's right. You're a fucking pig.

- Arsehole. You make our lives

a fucking misery.

Arsehole, Mark. Dick, Mark.

You see this?

This is what happens when you turn a blind eye.

Well done.

Can't tell you how many times

he's made me uncomfortable.

The ex Mrs. Horsburgh. Is she still around?

Yes, I'm suddenly.

She was interviewed as soon as we got word

you'd arrested her.

All mundane stuff though.

Yeah, no kidding. Too many unanswered questions.

Ken, can you fix it for me to meet her?

Tricky.

Yeah, I'll check her out, Ray.

Thanks.

Amanda.

Amanda. Hey.

I was just wondering,

could you ask Ray if I could come down to Leeds with you?

I just think it'd be a really good experience.

I'm sorry, Stuart. Peter Inglis is off sick,

so you're going to have to work with the IT expert

on Confectioner's laptop.

Oh, okay.

Here she is now. Sophie.

Sophie, Stuart will look after you.

Won't you?

Yeah.

- Hiya, Stuart. - Hey.

Yeah, come with me, and we'll get you settled in.

- Hi, Ray. - Good, how are you doing?

I'm all right. And who's this?

DS Drummond. Amanda.

Ken Custer.

Feel free to get all the last stand jokes out of the way.

Like I said, she is prepared to meet,

but she ain't too chuffed about it.

You may have to-

All right, Ken?

Hey, how'd your Tinder date go last night?

Yeah, it went all right, as it happens.

Seeing her again on Thursday.

So, we have the prospect of a Custer-fuck? Yeah.

Battle of Little Bighorn.

I'll do the introductions,

and let you get on with it, all right?

I divorced Gareth Horsburgh three years ago.

We're strangers to each other now. Probably always were.

How was it when you were together?

What do you expect me to say?

He was a boring, OCD civil servant.

There must have been something about him in your eyes.

He wasn't my previous boyfriend,

who was an impulsive, unstable drug addict.

So it was just a kind of classic rebound scenario.

Did you instigate the split?

Yes.

How was he about it?

He was...

Yeah, he barely batted an eyelid.

Actually, it was very humiliating.

He even helped me pack.

What was your sex life like together?

I have spoken about this.

We're sorry for the repetition,

but your husband kidnapped and murdered

several, possibly many girls and young women-

My ex husband of nearly 20 years ago.

Just when the girls started to go missing.

What kind of sex did he like to have with you?

Describe it.

He liked it when I was on top.

Really?

A man whose prey profile is younger, vulnerable women,

whose mentality is stalk and take captive,

voluntarily cedes power to a woman in that way?

You must be hard as nails.

No.

But he was always like he was somewhere else.

Yeah, very distant.

You've met him.

Yes.

Why?

So you've seen how he looks at women,

especially the pretty ones.

Did he have any problems getting it up?

Any malformation?

[Flora Why is this relevant?

How a sex offender approaches intercourse

can tell us a lot about his crimes and his motivations.

This information could become invaluable in court,

but before we even get there,

I need to charge him with the deaths

of what I estimate to be at least 15 young lassies.

15?

You were admitted to hospital on November the 3rd, 2006,

February the 23rd, 2007,

with injuries consistent with strangulation.

Marks to your neck, eyelids haemorrhaged.

You said to police then that he liked

to practise auto-asphyxiation on you.

It was the only way that, you know, would make him hard.

I didn't realise that he would.

Oh, there was a young guy hanging around the stair.

I'm off duty, and that's not my department.

But he was looking through your letterbox.

I didn't see much else. He had a hat and a hoodie.

Stu, Sophie.

What's happening? Did you find anything on the laptop?

There's nothing on it, Ray.

No notes, no pictures,

no indication that anything has been erased.

Must be a second laptop, or a den with a PC.

Stu.

Thanks guys.

You're barra.

See you tomorrow.

Sure.

Ray.

Can I ask you something?

Aye. About that new lassie, eh? Sophie.

No.

Right, well, aye.

How did you know?

Well, I mean, she's fit as a butcher's dog,

and you're a young guy with a pulse,

and we're detectives.

It's just, I am...

You've had a lot of experience with women, right?

Well, I've had enough serious relationships,

and a few flings.

You know,

I just get so shy when I'm around someone I really like.

Right.

You must think I'm weird.

As you know, there's many paths up a mountain,

and maybe you're over-thinking things.

Listen, I know this isn't what you want to hear,

but having a girlfriend isn't the be-all and end-all,

let me tell you.

Just be yourself.

Right.

It's his funeral this afternoon.

He was ill for so long,

it was like he was already in the spirit world.

You mentioned Dundee last time.

Football match.

Aye.

May, 1986.

I was with my mates.

Hearts had gone 27 games undefeated,

and now, on the very last day of the season,

we were playing for the championship in Dundee.

I mean, all we needed was to not lose.

In fact, we could even afford an hour loss

and still lift a flag.

I suddenly felt guilty I wasn't there with my dad.

All those games he'd taken me to as a kid.

It was meant to be the coronation of champions,

but it all fell apart.

Dundee scored twice in the last seven minutes.

Albert Kidd.

Albert Kidd.

My dad couldn't take it.

I didn't even see him fall. Laid out on the bench.

I thought he was dead.

It really was one of those things

that'll never be the same again.

My dad went from being the big, strong man

who worked on the railways to frail, scared,

and old.

In a few minutes, the world changed.

What did you mean?

It was a moment, like the crushing

and the striking miners,

but the British state.

Rangers and Celtic had been challenged,

but Aberdeen and Dundee United, and now Hearts.

They'd spend to ensure that never happened again.

The flag was now purely to be purchased,

with no clubs outside of Glasgow having the cash to do this.

So, it was emblematic of the primacy

of money over everything.

Aye.

The neoliberal order.

Football, music, politics, and people.

All just commodities to be bought and sold.

And I've been very busy since.

You seem to strongly identify

with the victims of sexual abuse.

What's my job?

Is it not your job to append the perpetrators

of sex abuse?

Aye.

They aren't the same thing.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging you negatively

for caring.

Why do you do your job?

I have boundaries in my role,

like you do in yours.

That's our hour done.

Yeah.

I should say goodbye to Dad.

Hello.

What are you doing here?

I've got a new job. Here in Old Ricky.

That I'd pop by.

Great.

How do you know where I live?

I just asked around.

Asked around. Who'd you ask around, Keith?

I thought we might...

Yeah, I'm not that person anymore.

I think you owe me a conversation, at least.

You can't just forget it, Amanda.

Don't push me, Keith.

Leave Edinburgh. Leave your new job.

Come near me again, and I will fuck you up.

I will fucking kill you. Do you hear me?

I will fucking kill you.

Hello, Ray. My wee brother.

You know, I've always loved you. Oh.

Oh.

Come in.

No, no, I'm just going to...

I'm just going to go for a wander.

Why?

At least come and say hello to Mom.

I just need a bit of time alone, eh?

Ray. My poor, wee darling, Raymondo.

It's okay, pal. It's okay.

I'll see you later, eh?

Here, if you're going to exit the freak show,

at least give us a fucking head's up

so I can join you, eh?

I'll have what he's got.

Thought you were AA.

NA. It's AA minus God, with more creative types.

My branch was full of old jakeballs

who literally had nothing in their life bar peeve.

I mean, why wouldn't you get wrecked?

So, how goes?

Do you ever get the feeling everything in life

is totally and irredeemably fucked?

Every time a casting director tells me,

"Sorry, you're not quite right for us, pal."

So yeah, about three times a week.

Cheers.

Aye.

- Fancy a wee line of ching? - Fancy a wee line of ching?

Clearing out Dad's house was embarrassing.

Found Dad's porn stash.

Thing is, poor old fucker was probably using the porn

to try to get a hoot,

only he told me he wasn't able to get it up for years.

That's beyond shit. Poor bastard.

I mean, my cock just wouldn't feel right

without an orifice of some description wrapped around it.

We'd better mash.

Relax.

My mate's a driver.

He'll take us straight there. I'll give him a call.

But we should go with the official cars though, eh?

Oh, fuck that boring, ceremonial shite, all right?

I reserve the right to mourn my way,

rather than through conventions

deemed acceptable by society.

Aye.

Nice.

Where are they?

Where are my boys?

They're on their way. Stuart just texted.

Here's Les. You mind a raise, old pal?

All right, Jackie? Mrs. Lennox.

Where's Raymie?

I wish I knew, Les. I wish I knew.

Why don't we take you inside?

All right?

Huh?

We're cool. This shit's good.

Got it from the big man.

Fuck me, you're an annoying little cunt.

But I love you.

Fuck me.

Oh.

Are you two doing cocaine?

The Trudemeister. Fancy a wee bump?

No.

Welcome.

We are gathered here to mourn the passing

of John McNeil Lennox,

loving husband of Avril,

father of Jacqueline, Raymond and Stuart.

Granddad of Fraser and Murdo.

John was a family man,

who knew that family and close relationships

were harbours of trust and loyalty,

essential sanctuaries in a cruel, turbulent sea

of lies and treachery.

Uncle Jock's just using the toilet.

All right, Ma.

Fuck.

Fuck's sake, Ray.

Thanks for leaving me to talk to every wanker,

rattled out of my nut on coke.

What's going on with you?

Are you not going to talk to Mom?

Keep her the fuck away from me.

Huh? What?

Raymond. Listen, I-

- Ray. - Trudi.

Fuck's going on with you and your Mom?

It's your dad's funeral.

Exactly.

She kens. What youse even doing here, you sick bastard?

What the fuck is going on?

That's our Ma and Da's best mate.

I ken who the fucking creeps are.

Eh, you still using the toilet, Uncle Jock, eh?

Eh?

Ray.

I'll go. You see your Ma, eh?

It's all down to me.

Mind when I got huckled down Haymarket nick

for rowing at Tyney?

That was excruciating.

My mate pulled for a football pagger.

Aye, you ended up a cop. Me, a football thug.

Definitely got the worst of that deal.

You have to let this go.

The tunnel.

I mean, you had it worse than me,

but can't get past it.

It fucked me up for years, Ray.

They left it all the time at football.

The reason I became a cop was to find those bastards.

I wanted access to the sex offenders databases.

I've been scouring the mugshots for years.

- Did you find them? - No.

It's like he varnished into thin air.

I haven't found them.

I'm stuck.

How do you get past it?

By investing in something that means more to me

than my own life, huh?

You got a nice girl back there.

Let it go.

Come on, mate.

Come back, huh?

Come back.

Just give me a few minutes, eh?

Aye.

Ray, Ray.

Raymie, for fuck's sake, man.

Need to get help with your horse.

Oh, baby, what have you done?

Right,

okay?

Hey.

You need to take one of these for the pain,

one of these for the anxiety.

- I need to go to work. - No.

There you go.

There you go. All you need to do now is go to sleep.

Confectioner, he...

He never asked me.

He never-

Asked you what?

Why. Asked me why.

You just need to sleep, Ray.

We can talk about it all later.

They got me.

I mean, not like they got Les, but they got me.

I got away.

They got me.

Where's Lennox?

On leave.

First he was away, now it's leave.

I didn't think I'd break him so soon.

It's bereavement leave.

Oh, oh dear.

It must be somebody close if he's forgoing our little bouts.

So, you have no knowledge

of where you were on April the 5th, 2011,

when Claire Gorman vanished.

First, they send in a green young man

who needs a good feed and a bit of a rumpy pumpy,

and now they expect me to tell all

to an irrelevant bulldyke.

You have no recollection of where you were

on the 5th of April, 2011?

Does this ring any bells? Claire Gorman.

She was strangled with her own tights.

Does it give you ideas

for your lesbo group activities?

Look at it.

Claire Gorman.

She was a living, breathing human being.

You look at it and tell me, and be honest.

Would you fuck her? Eh?

Masturbation injury?

Oh, sorry, you're probably not in the mood for jokes

right now, are you?

A funeral, I'm hearing.

I'm sure you wish me as little distress as possible.

Where are the yellow notepads?

I have to confess.

To being a little hurt.

Really? Why?

Because you missed my first starring appearance

on CCTV camera,

in Edinburgh.

Did I?

Do you hear that, DS Drummond?

That's the sound of your partner squirming inside.

Is that what you hear, aye?

Sticks out a mile.

Your sinuses are jammed, probably with cocaine.

The hangover fear is crushing your bones,

and your piano wire nerves are stretched to breaking point.

You need days of sleep.

How did I miss your first starring appearance on CCTV?

The night before I took her,

when she went with her mam and her sister

to that grotty fast food place.

Yeah, so what?

Well, it were easy to distract them.

Tess were out of action the next day.

All right, darling. Okay, sweetheart?

So guess who got to walk to school

on her own the following morning?

Shabby police work, Lennox.

Not thinking to check the CCTV footage

from night before her disappearance?

What kind of avenging angel are you?

Why Britney? Why did it have to be her?

She was of no consequence.

If it weren't her, it would have been somebody else.

I think that we've both experienced a darkness,

that's consumed us.

I think it defines our lives, you and me.

No.

Once the beast gets his claws into you, that's it.

Game over.

You burn with shame.

We are the same.

We just have different coping mechanisms.

I can smell it off you.

Your wretched, rotten, vile stench.

Got it all worked out, haven't you? Huh?

Eh?

You've even got your wee philosophy

to justify your crimes, eh?

You replay it in your mind over and over.

Do you fantasise about your abuser? Hmm?

Don't tell me you don't get that twinge in your balls,

and feel the blood surging to your cock.

And so, you have to obliterate the memory don't you?

With drink and drugs and crime.

Is that what you think?

It's what I know.

And so do you.

I know what you want.

- What do I want? - You want freedom.

You want the beast to let go.

You're living a half life, Lennox.

Searching for salvation.

There's no joy for you, is there,

when you're pumping your girlfriend. Trudi, is it?

You're not really there.

Are you? Are you?

You're back with him, feeling his touch on you.

And that's what gets you off, isn't it?

I'm not you.

Men like us, Ray,

we live in shame.

We're not the same.

The only way-

Ray.

To deal with it, is to seize back control.

Face it, face the beast.

Come on. Come on.

Let it go. Just let it go.

That's it, that's it. Just feel the shame, Ray.

Wallow in it. Wallow in it. Go on.

Let it take over you. That's it, that's it.

That's it.

Once the beast's got his claw in you, you're dead.

You look alive, but you might as well be six feet under, eh?

Floating there forever.

Buried alive.

Little Francesca Allen.

Did you know it was her birthday when I took her?

Of course you did.

She still had

frosting on her lips.

She's out at Moseley Bog.

Allison Sturbridge.

She's at the bottom of Egerton Quarry.

You killed them?

Course I did. I killed them all.

Noula Andrews, Stacy Earnshaw, Britney Hamil,

Claire Gorman, Hazel Lloyd.

There were 15 in total.

But at least I set them free.

I might have kidnapped their bodies, but

I set their souls free.

I didn't keep them alive

so they could suffer the shame and the indignity

that you go through every fucking day.

You know, you're wrong.

All the shit in your head.

In my head and the heads

of everyone out there,

doesn't matter a fuck.

Only weak fools succumb to negative impulses.

The only thing that matters is how you behave,

and the choices that you make,

and you have made

weakling's choices, Gareth.

And now you're about to face the consequences of those.

You're on, Dougie.

We're deep in stoppage time.

You two get to fuck.

You can't. We're meant to be the good guys.

You're watching real police work.

I want my lawyer.

Fuck off.

I'll give you a fucking lawyer.

Britney Hamil, though?

This is your fucking lawyer.

We have to put a stop to this.

Die, bastard.

Nice work, Ray.

Now you go home.

I tried, Bob.

I tried to save those lassies.

Not another word.

Bastard.

You're on leave until further notice.

Now go.

Is everything okay?

No. But better than it could be, eh?

Once you've stared evil in the face, there's no coming back.

You're standing in darkness and the walls close in.

Those walls of terror.