All language subtitles for Unforgotten.S01E02.720p.AMZN.WEBRip.x264-GalaxyTV

# All we do is hide away

# All we do is,
All we do is hide away

# All we do is lie in wait

# All we do is,
All we do is lie in wait

# I have been upside down

# I don't wanna be
the right way round

♪ Can't find paradise
on the ground ♪

She said she found it.
A bottle of vodka?

I said, "Like you found the
20 quid in my wallet last week?"

What did she say to that? She said she
wished it was me that left instead of Mum.

Nice If I tried to ground her
she'd make my life hell.

Oh, mate, I'd like to say it gets
better but you've got two girls.

It just gets much, much worse.
Oh, fabulous

Morning, everyone. Morning.

Morning, everyone. Morning.

OK. Listen up, everyone.

So, yesterday evening we ran
the name 'James Sullivan'

through missing persons records

and very quickly we found
a 17-year-old man of that name,

who was reported missing
in November 1976.

Jimmy, as he called himself,
was reported missing by his mum,

who I spoke to briefly
on the phone last night.

I told her I wanted to come up
to Liverpool, where she lives.

To take a DNA swab,

so that we could make
a formal identification

of remains that we believe
to be of her son.

39 years after she last saw him.

She cried like a child at this news.

As did I, as she told me
how she'd missed her boy -

it's her only child -

for every hour of every day of
every week since she last saw him.

So I'm gonna find who caused a pain
that's very much alive today,

who took his life, who took hers...

and I want to punish them.

39 years later.

Your associates here, did you do
your full due diligence on them?

They have the money, Dad.
It's all kosher.

Oh, I'm sure they have the money.
It's just...

..I can't do business with them.

Why, because they're Turkish?

No.

Because they're criminals.
They're not criminals.

They or their associates are
mixed in up illegal activity.

There is no way I can do
business with them. Ever.

I'm sorry.

It's... It's just your name, Dad.

That's all they want
on the letterhead.

Just give me a break here, please.

We all feel the same.

But there's nothing more to say.

Right. So, we're concentrating
on five main lines of enquiry.

Firstly, family. As just said,

the boss is driving up to Liverpool
to speak to his mum.

Try and get a sense of
who Jimmy was,

how he lived his life
in the years before his death.

Jake? We wanna know anything and
everything about 27 Arlingham Place.

From its incarnation as a hostel
in 1972

up to the point it shut
in the late '90s.

Kaz? Trace uniform and CID
who covered that patch in the '70s.

There should be plenty of 'em
still with us.

Was Jimmy Sullivan known to them?
Which residents were known to them?

Murray, there are several
missing person report files on him,

the first one from 1976.
Follow up on those.

Finally, we need to chase up the
names and numbers from this diary.

First up, Jo-Jo.

Is it a man? Is it a woman?
Friend, girlfriend? We need to know.

I want everyone to take
a copy of these names

and run them past whoever
whoever you speak to.

These are our tangible connections
to the past and to Jimmy Sullivan.

Let's start making connections.

OK, good stuff. Thanks, guys.

You OK, boss?

He'd only be a few years older
than me.

All the life we've lived.

Yo, Curtis. All right?

Head down, innit?

Have a choke, man.

Help them old brain cells.

Maybe next time.

What... She your bitch now?

Don't never trust them mudsharks,
fam.

Morning. Morning.

OK. 'Fe'.

Iron.

I have custard creams,
rich tea and digestives.

Thank you so much. You didn't
have to go to all that trouble.

Well, I thought I'd better
get a choice

because the cornershop has gone now,

and it is a ten-minute walk
to Tesco's.

Oh, you had me at custard creams.

Have you kids yourself?
Er, yeah, two.

Oh, they're grown-up now.
Both at college.

I only erm,
see them when they want,

you know, money or their erm,
their clothes washed.

There's no word for it, you know?

Single mother who's lost
her only child.

It's like...

no word would be enough.

Cos I mean, what are you, you know?
What's the point of you?

It is him, isn't it?

We'll know for sure when
we've done the DNA match but...

..I think it's pretty likely it is.

Yes.

I'm so sorry.

No, no, no. I want it to be him.

I want it so much to be him.

I got us a plot at St Matthews.

I just want us to be able
to be together again.

How much was in there?

'All the money from the disco
last night.'

Drinks, ticket money, about £1,200.

Ooh, Sheila.

'I normally take it home but my
car's still in the bloody garage!'

And I never use the bus
if I've got takings.

And anyway, I thought, you know...

But this is their money,
the estate's.

Why would anyone want to steal
their own money?

Have you phoned the police?
'Been and gone.'

'But really,
what are they going to do?'

I don't think there's CCTV footage
and it's not exactly Brink's-MAT,

so... 'Oh, Lord, Sheila!
I'm really very sorry.'

so... 'Oh, Lord, Sheila!
'Yes, well, I'll call you later.'

I met his father in 1959.

He'd come over from Barbados
after the war.

I was just 15.

When I fell pregnant,
my parents disowned me.

But Thomas....

..he agreed to marry me.

Turns out it was the last
nice thing he ever did.

Pretty soon,
the only thing that gave him

any more pleasure
than drinking was...

beating me.

When Jimmy got older, beating him.

And so I drank - too much.

To blot it all out.

And one day I came home from work...

..Jimmy was gone.

He left a note.

He'd gone to London to find work

and he would send money
to help me escape.

Which, bless his beautiful heart,
he did.

And then one day
the letters just stopped.

And I waited.

I waited, even though I knew...

I had this instinct,
I had this dread

that something very, very bad
had happened.

And after about four months,
I think it was,

I went down to London,

and I told the police.

They asked me had we had a row,
and I said no.

They asked me about his father,
and I told them about that,

and they said maybe that's
what it was, and I said...

no.

No matter what his father
was like...

Jimmy always loved me.

So they told me not to worry,
that he'd turn up,

"like a bad penny,"
one of them said.

And I said...

he wasn't bad.

Ever.

So I kept waiting and waiting.

But because he'd sort of
run away once,

they decided that's
what he'd done again.

Even though I told them...

..Jimmy wouldn't have
done that to me.

Because he loved me.

And I was right.

Wasn't I?

Yes. You were.

Well, we moved in here in '72.

Right? 'There's no-one
in our family by that name.'

Right, and no post ever arrive
for a similar name,

Elizabeth, Betty, Liz?

Nah, but I mean, I could ask my mum.

She did take in a few lodgers
when I went to poly.

Yeah, when was that?
'That would've been '75 to '78.'

Well, that would sort of fit.
I mean, I can't promise anything.

She's in a home now,
not in the best of health,

but I could try. I would really
appreciate that, Mr Leeming.

'All right, I'll get back to you.'
Thanks. Yeah, speak to you soon.

Cheers. Bye.

Ah. Good afternoon. DCI Kendrick?

I haven't been called that
in a while. Who's askin'?

DC Karen Willets.
Bishop Street nick.

I wondered if you could
spare five minutes?

Need to pick your brains
about a case we're working on.

Well, I was gonna slit my wrists
in front of Cook Me The Money but...

seeing as you're so pretty...

..come in and pick away, love.

Some of these lads, you know,

not much older than Jimmy was
before he died.

And I've seen them over the years
on the telly.

And I think of the things
they've done and...

..and the life.

It's not just the obvious things,
you know, the...

birthdays, the christenings,
the weddings.

It's the little things your friends
tell you about their kids.

The cheap holiday
Malky got online and...

the funny video Jason's little girl
made for the YouTube.

So much life one person can create,
Mrs Stuart.

And I'm gonna do everything I can

to find whoever stole that
from you, Maureen.

Everything I can.

What?

Frankie C.

Rings a bell?
Well, it might if it's the same one.

Who?
I think the 'C' stands for 'Cross'.

When he started making
a bit of money,

started using his middle name
'Phillip'.

The 'Sir' was still a few years off.

That's Sir Phillip Cross?

He certainly called himself
'Frank' or 'Frankie C'.

And how did you know him?
He was just a face on the street.

Ran a stall down Chapel Market.

Cocky little runt.

I think he might've briefly
been a driver for the Fenwicks.

Who are the Fenwicks?
North London firm.

Protection, prostitution,
loan-sharking.

So he might have form? Not sure
having form is a requirement

for being a government
business tsar, is it?

So I doubt very much if he ever
got pulled for anything. Right.

But listen,
the Fenwicks were nasty bastards.

Not many people worked for them
for any length of time...

..without having to do some pretty
horrible stuff themselves so...

..he might not have got pulled...

..but doesn't mean
he didn't do stuff, does it?

'What d'you reckon?'
I'm watching him on the box now.

Yeah, worth a chat, definitely.

And I emailed you some stuff
on the Fenwick family, as well.

Yeah, great. Thanks.

'So how was Liverpool?'

Good. You know...

Sad but I think I've got
some really useful stuff.

I just need to go through it
properly.

But listen, long day.

Thanks for all this, Sunny.
Really, really good work.

'Night, guv.'
I'll see you tomorrow.

Hi, Dad. Hi, I made some risotto.
Do you want some?

Love some. Starving.

Hard day?

Can you imagine anything worse

than going to your grave
never knowing where your baby was?

You wonder how people go on.

The mother said to me today,
"What's the point of me?"

I guess you look for meaning
in other things.

Like?

After our kids, the rest is just...
It's filling, isn't it?

'..strangled. From behind...'

You evil fucking pig!

W-What? I know what you are.
I know what you did!

Wh... Claire?
Sweetheart, where you going?

I'm going to my sister's.

Do you think I'd stay here
another second with you?

Wh... L-Les?

Yeah, it's Dad. Look, I'm sorry.

It's happened again.

I'm so sorry about this, Tim.

I did invite her in but
she wanted to wait outside.

I don't know where Carol is, Les.

I don't know why this man
is in her house.

Carol doesn't live here any more,
Mum. Shall we get you home?

Yes, I... I want to see Eric.

I want Eric.
Yeah, let's go and see Dad.

Thanks again.

Yeah, well, that all chimes with
the original MISPER reports,

a grand total of 17 sheets of A4
over eight years.

Did you manage to trace
any of the officers she spoke to?

Yeah, I got three main ones,

one of whom's dead,
the other two retired,

and only one of them remembered
anything about the case. Yeah?

Which was?

Well, he... felt
it was open and shut.

Jimmy was a runaway and ditched
his violent, alcoholic parents.

She said she told them he loved
his mum and they were very close.

Yeah, he said that she said that.

So?

Well, the copper I spoke to...

he kept refering to her er,
"coloured husband",

"interracial marriage" and erm...

"coffee-coloured kid".

Er, I'm not sure how much credence
he gave Mrs Sullivan's opinions.

'70s, eh? Good times

Ta.

You said on the phone
you remembered her, Mum.

'Beth Laws' you said her name was.

I'd have never have rented her
the room

if I'd seen her head properly.

She wore a hat.

Why did you need
to see her head, Mum?

She were a skinhead.

And her boyfriend.

Well, you wouldn't have known it
from when she knocked on the door.

Butter wouldn't have melted.

I had to get my brother
and his mates round in the end

to chuck 'em out.

Only there a few weeks but...

the way they was...

The things I could hear them saying

about the Pakistanis
and the West Indians.

I got the carpets cleaned
after they went.

Whole house felt filthy.

Mum? Out in a sec, babes.

'All going well, Mam.

I'm staying in Kentish Town
with some lads I met from Kirby.

One of them knows Uncle Robbo's
got me work hauling bricks...'

'Went to see a punk band last night.

The latest thing, apparently.
They were shite...'

'Mam, have you ever eaten
a Bendy Burger?

It was brilliant...'

'You'll be pleased to hear
I went to church last week.

Got chatting to the priest,
Father Greaves.

Got chatting to the priest,
Turned out to be an all right bloke,

even if he is a QPR supporter...'

'I watched an NF rally last week
from my bedroom window.

It was horrible.
The stuff they were screaming.

And the police weren't
even that bothered...'

'I hope you got the cash OK.

Would've sent more but I've just
bought myself a car...'

'Your little Jimmy
has a girlfriend now,

and she's beautiful
and I really like her...'

'Lots of love, your Jimmy.'

Lab just texted.
Confirmed it's Jimmy.

BT have identified the number
next to Frankie C.

From 1973 to 1987,
that number was registered to...

..Mr Gordon Fenwick.

I've counted three murder cases
against the Fenwicks.

No convictions.

OK. That's interesting.

Let's have a catch-up with everyone
first thing tomorrow morning. Sure.

Hello?

Hi, love.

And these I didn't pinch
from a grave.

Thank you.

I might moan at you more often.
Huh.

OK, er...

Tuesday's bolognese
or Wednesday's fish?

Er, Tuesday's bolognese
will be fine.

Late tonight?
Mm. I was at the food bank meeting.

Of course you were.
So are we all ready to go?

Starting next Thursday.

And we got Morrisons on board today,
as well, which is great.

That's fantastic.
Aw, well done, you.

I spoke to Caroline today.

She said that you went with her
to her scan yesterday?

Mm. Just a bit of hand-holding.

You know? Ten minutes or so.

She was really touched.

Well, just trying to be
around a bit more.

Good. We like having you
around a bit more.

Beth or Elizabeth Laws
approximately matches the age

of the tenant described
by Mrs Leeming,

has eight convictions
between 1975 and 1978.

Drugs, shop-lifting,
D-and-D and an ABH.

She serve time?
Six months suspended for the ABH.

Which was? An assault on
a West Indian shopkeeper.

Alongside this man, Vincent Erskine,

who nine years later was convicted

of the murder of
a Pakistani postal worker.

of the murder of Get him up.

And we think this could've been
the same man

that she rented this room with?
Yeah.

His name appears as the boyfriend
on several of her arrest sheets.

Anyway, the ABH gave me

a probation officer
and a social worker.

Which in turn chucks up a file

detailing a name change
in 1988 to Wilton.

detailing a name change
She got married.

And even better, an address that
matches current council tax records.

And Erskine? Died 14 years ago
in prison of hepatitis C.

Excellent work, Murray.
We have our first living link

to someone who we can assume
knew Jimmy. Well done.

Jake... no pressure, mate

Two key names so far.

Arlingham Place records
confirm that Jimmy Sullivan

stayed sporadic nights over
a six-month period in early '76.

That's confirmed stays
of June that year.

And the name Mr Slater in the diary
probably refers to an Eric Slater,

who was a bookkeeper for the hostel
for most of its incarnation,

but he was certainly working there
when Jimmy was a resident. OK.

Also now we have
Elizabeth Laws' name.

Can you also check if either
she or Erskine ever stayed there?

And there's erm, a mention of er...
a Father Robert Greaves

in some of Jimmy's postcards home.

He seems to be associated
with the hostel in some way.

The records I have obviously
only detail paid employees.

See if you can finding
anything relating to him.

And Karen, see if you can track
him down through the church as well.

And lastly, Murray,

can you see what the Fenwick family
is up to these days?

OK? I think that's it.
Well done, everyone.

That is really good work.

Maybe I'm just old fashioned. To me,
it's a common courtesy to call ahead.

Yeah, do accept our apologies,
Mr Cross.

Please, call me 'Sir Phillip'.

So... what was his name again?

James Sullivan.

Er, but you would have almost
certainly known him as 'Jimmy'.

And why might I have known him?

If we could come on to that.

Sorry. No, I don't remember
anybody by that name.

Can you tell me anything more
about him?

Oh, I... I can do better than that.

Here we go. That was taken
about six months before he died.

17 years old in that.

Sorry. I wish I could help you.

OK, er... no problem.

Er, could I just ask, then,

if you recognise this phone number,
Sir Phillip?

01 946 09 27.

Well, 01 is obviously
an old London number.

Aside from that, no, I don't.
Should I?

It was written next to your name
in the addresses section

of a 1976 diary
belonging to Mr Sullivan.

Er, sorry, when I say "your name",
I mean...

Well, it's when you used
your first name.

Erm...'Frank'.

'F-Frankie'.

Do I need a lawyer?

Oh, well, that's entirely up to you.

As I think my colleague
explained to you,

this really is just
a fact-finding mission but...

if you think you need a lawyer,
we're very happy to come back.

All that says is 'Frankie C'.
It could be anyone.

OK, and do you recognise
any of the other names?

No, I don't recognise
any of the other names.

OK. No problem.

We done?
Er, there's one more thing. Erm...

The Fenwick brothers -
You know what? I think we are done.

I don't know his lad or anything
about what happened to him

but I do know how much you lot love a
celebrity fish wriggling on your hooks.

Doesn't matter
if they've done nothing,

just makes you look like you're doing your
job a bit better than you frequently are.

You wanna talk more, fine,

but I want my lawyers present if we're
dragging up ancient history like the Fenwicks.

but I want my lawyers present if we're
dragging up ancient history Cara.

Can you show DI Khan, DCI Stuart
to the lifts, please?

Thank you so much for your time,
Sir Phillip.

No problem. Nice to meet you.

We'll be in touch.

Thanks.

Shorter than he looks on the telly.
And fatter.

Good afternoon. Elizabeth Wilton?

Yes. Come on. Come on, lads.

..and DCI Stuart,
Bishop Street police station...

Curtis? You're in charge.

Two minutes.

You OK, love?

They're police officers, Ray.

They just wanna ask some
questions about er...?

They just wanna ask some
An historical case.

What historical case?
She'll be fine, Mr...?

Wilton. I'm her husband.

Shouldn't be long. Just going to the
changing block to find somewhere private.

Want me to come with, love?
She'll be fine, Mr Wilton.

How did he die?
His skull was smashed in.

A hammer, baseball bat,
we're not sure,

but er, blunt instrument trauma.
They call it.

Sorry, no, I don't know him.

No? No, or if I ever did, I don't
remember him now, I'm afraid.

Any ideas why your name
might've been in his diary?

No.

OK, no worries.

So where were you living in 1976,
Mrs Wilton?

Various squats and flats
around London.

I was a... little bit lost back then.

How d'you mean? "Lost".

It took me a little while
to find my feet

when I moved up from Crawley
and er...

I ended up having some problems
with alcohol, other stuff.

Do you remember ever staying
at a hostel in Willesden

called Arlingham House?

No, I don't think so. How about
a rented room in Lisson Grove,

in the house of a Mrs Leeming?

No, sorry.
Well, let me help you out.

Because she remembers a girl
called Beth staying with her.

Beth Laws -
that is your maiden name, isn't it?

Yes. She remembers a Beth Laws
staying for a couple of weeks,

and then throwing her out
because she wouldn't pay her rent.

Neither her nor erm...

her boyfriend.

Was this your boyfriend, Mrs Wilton?
Vincent Erskine.

I went out with him
for a few months 38 years ago.

We have a number of co-convictions
spanning nearly two years.

I didn't know this boy Jimmy.
I would never have hurt anyone.

OK. Maybe just say you just...
you just can't remember.

I'd remember that.

Well, tell me if you remember this.

August of 1977... Please.

..you were convicted of a violent
assault on a West Indian shopkeeper.

That was Erskine, not me.
I tried to stop him.

Both sentenced
to six months imprisonment,

suspended for two years.

Erskine, a man who,
only a few years later,

robbed an Asian post office worker
before stabbing him to death.

Did Erskine ever mention
staying at a hostel?

I don't remember.
Do you have any recollection

of him ever mentioning
a Jimmy Sullivan?

I don't remember.

Well, have a think about erm,

what we've discussed today.
Mrs Wilton.

Erm, if you think you can help us,
in any way erm, just...

..call me.

How could I be a racist?
You've seen my husband.

Maybe not now. But then?

No. Not now, not then, not ever.

Yeah, OK. Give us a shout.

Yeah, do that. Bye.

That was Jake.

According to the records,
she stayed at the house eight times

between January and November 1976...

five of them nights
when Jimmy was there.

And Erskine? Still checking.

She's a good little liar.

I think we'd all have
to give her that.

'Erm, yes, Father Greaves
is very much still practising.'

One of our more dynamic priests,
in fact.

Great. Can you give me
his contact details?

So erm, how'd they get your name?

It was in this boy's diary,
apparently.

Oh.

But you er... definitely
didn't know him, right?

But you er... definitely
I said I didn't remember him, Ray.

If someone mentioned the names of people
you'd met once or twice 40 years ago,

would you remember them all?

Nah. Probably not.

No. Exactly.

Erm... Hmm...

Hi, love. Hey.

There's a shoebox on the kitchen
table with some letters in it.

They were written to your mum.

20 years ago.

I found them.

Hidden away after she died.

I'd like you to read them.

S-Sorry, what did you say?
I'm off out for the evening.

W-What letters?

Just read them, love, please.
Don't wait up!

'Hello?'
Hi. It's erm, it's Robert Greaves.

Oh, Rob. Hi.
'Erm, listen, Geoff.'

I-I just wanted to put your mind
at rest about the bookkeeping thing.

Er, it turns out that Grace er...

'..accidentally put a cheque
into a personal account,

couple of years ago. Erm...

She was a bit overworked
at the time, I think.

Anyway, I've transferred
the right amount

Anyway, I've transferred
into the diocesan account so...

well, it's all sorted.

Oh. Oh, OK, well,
that sounds simple enough.

'And er... I'd appreciate it if you
didn't mention this to Grace.'

She's at a bit of a low ebb
at the moment, so...

'Oh, sorry to hear that, Rob.'
No, no, it's all right. Just er...

She just probably needs
a good holiday, really.

We both do.

No problem. Mum's the word.

Good. Thanks.
All right, thanks, Geoff.

Sorry, one quick thing, Robert.
Did the police get hold of you?

The police? 'Yeah, I got a call
from a police officer earlier today

asking for your contact details.'

Oh, no, no. Oh. Right, well...

they're investigating
some historic case, apparently...

'..and they thought you might
have some information.'

Historic?

Er, what did they mean, historic?

No idea. They wouldn't tell me.

Very old case, I guess, but er...

hey, I put in a good word for you
so you should be all right.

Yeah, thanks.

'Anyway, they wanted it pronto...'

..so I'm sure they'll be
in touch soon.

Yeah. OK. Thanks, Geoff.

Er, yeah.
'Well, night then, Robert.'

Yes, night.

But we asked you, both myself
and the Press Office, Sir Phillip,

we asked you repeatedly if there
was anything you needed to tell us.

And there wasn't.
There's absolutely nothing in it.

How many times? It doesn't matter
if there's nothing in it.

What matters is that by the time

the police work out
there's nothing in it,

we will have lost five points
in the polls.

That's why we vet.

That's why we ask
for full disclosure.

Because perception
is as important as reality.

So when we ask you if there's
anything you need to tell us,

it's not up to you to decide what
is and isn't fucking important.

It's for -

I've had a very bad day, Liam.

Don't make me make it worse.

There. Sleep well, love.

I love you, Eric.
I'm sorry I keep getting confused.

Don't be silly. W-We're all allowed
to be a bit confused now and again.

Are we going to be all right?
Of course we are.

We've got the party
to look forward to.

There. Night-night.

'Hi. This is Joanna.
I can't take your call right now.

Please leave a message.'

Hi, Jo-Jo, it's me.

Er... I need to talk to you
as soon as possible.

Erm...

I'll call you first thing.