All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - S08E07 - What Lies Buried - [BD][1080p][x265 10-bit][AAC 5.1]_Track05

Night, sir.

BRACKENREID:
Bloody hell!

How much longer do we have to
put up with this racket?

Not too long, sir.

They just need to break up
the concrete

so they can lay the drain pipe.

Newfangled flush toilets.

The pit was good enough for me.

Do you hear that?

What?

My thoughts.

I can actually hear them.

CRABTREE:
Sirs!

Oh, good God.
What now?

Sirs!

Sirs, you should come see this.

Who is he, sir?

I have no idea.

Victim was adult, male.

Young, by the looks of it.

Oh, look what we have here.

Bullet?

Most likely.

Is that What killed him?

I don't believe so.

It has been
partially healed over.

Ah, here we are.

Cause of death was
a blow to the temple.

Sharp or a blunt object?

Both it would seem.

Most of the force
is concentrated

in this small area here,

but the impact extended
several inches across the skull.

I'll need this brought back
to the morgue,

as well as all the dirt
beneath it.

Sir.
A bit of a break, sir.

Constable Forbes remembers
the floor being poured

in the summertime.

Rawlings is sure it was 1881.

So I checked all
the construction records

for that time.

And?

And we have a date.

June 22, 1881.

I was here then.

You were?

He had your job.

Station House Detective.

The first order of business
will be to identify the victim.

Someone who worked here
must know something.

We need a list
of every constable and officer

that worked here at that time.

You think one of our own
did this?

Let's not be blind
to the obvious, Inspector.

How else does a man end up
buried under a station house?

Right. Will you be taking over
the investigation?

GILES:
Of course not.

I was a detective at
the station house at that time,

which makes me a suspect,
as are you, Inspector.

Stockton as well.

The former chief constable?

He was inspector here
at the time.

I will, of course, hold myself
available for questioning,

and obviously I want to be kept
apprised of any developments.

CRABTREE:
There's Hodge.

That's not Hodge.

It is Hodge.
Look at the sideburns, man.

There's the inspector.

CRABTREE: [Laughs]
He's just a young pup!

Inspector,
come have a look at this.

Gentlemen.

I hope you're doing more than
taking a trip down memory lane.

Sir, there's no actual list
of officers and constables

at the station house
in June of 1881.

But this photograph was taken
in May of that year.

So if we can just put names
to all these faces...

BRACKENREID:
What is it?

Sir, do you recognize
this handsome young lad?

BRACKENREID:
Oh, my God.

I remember when this was taken.

I'd only been on the force
two weeks.

You remember that?

I'd just arrested Margaret.

Your wife?

She'd got into a tiff over
the lunch special at Maisie's.

Such a tart tongue.

Full of sass even then.

[Clears throat]

Sir, do you recognize all of
the men in this photograph?

BRACKENREID:
Well, let's see.

Stockton.

Giles.

Franklin.
He's dead now.

Gibbons. He wishes he was dead
with that wife of his.

[Laughs]

So, whose dog is this?

BRACKENREID:
Oh, Giles'.

Bloody dog followed him
everywhere.

Applebee, Perkins.

Of course Hodge.

I don't remember him.

That's odd.
I remember everyone else.

Hodge!

Come here.

Sir?

BRACKENREID:
Who's this bloke?

Constable Finch.

When did he leave the force?

I don't remember.

It was sometime in the '80s.

Sir, I found this
in the archives.

It's about Constable Finch.

Apparently, he was shot
while foiling a bank robbery.

DR. GRACE:
It's an exit wound.

Which means he was shot
in the chest.

Can you tell how long afterward
he was killed?

Given the rate of bone repair,
four to six months.

He was shot in February.

So he died sometime that summer.

Sir, Constable Finch
last checked in for work

June 21,1881.

MURDOCH: The day before
the concrete floor was poured.

Well, George, I believe we have
our victim's identity.

So, how did he end up buried
under his own station house?

That's a very good question.

Do you remember Constable Finch?

Of course I do.

Did you not think something
was awry when he disappeared?

I don't even remember it.

It wasn't unusual.
The pay was bad in those days.

Constables would often quit
without notice

to take better work.

Without picking up his last pay?

We were remiss, Detective, if
that's what you're getting at.

Or are you suggesting complicity
on my part?

You are a suspect, sir.

BRACKENREID:
This is complete bollocks.

Anybody could have done it.

Somebody could have walked in
off the street.

It doesn't necessarily mean
it was one of our own.

All possibilities must be
investigated, of course.

However,
we must remain cognizant

of the probability
that this was fratricidal.

So, what next, Detective?

We're conducting interviews

with all of the surviving
constables from that time.

I'll be wanting to speak with
former Chief Constable Stockton

as well.

I wouldn't hold out much hope
there, Murdoch.

He's away with the fairies,
from what I can gather.

I'll speak with him nonetheless.

[ Footsteps approaching ]

DR. GRACE:
There are 13 pieces in all.

I found them while sifting
the dirt beneath the skeleton.

It appears to be
a negative of some sort.

Could it pre-date the burial?

Two of the fragments were found
in remnants of silk.

It was in his pocket.

That was my supposition.

Judging by the number of pieces,

it was struck
with a considerable force.

Perhaps a struggle?

Or a plain,
old-fashioned beating.

Do you know anyone who might
have been on unfriendly terms

with Constable Finch?

I mean, not enemies per se

but may have been rubbed
the wrong way?

What I want to know is,

what was Inspector Brackenreid
like as a constable?

George, Henry.

How are the interviews
coming along?

Not much to tell, sir.
Everybody remembers Finch.

Some people remember
that he left suddenly.

No one suspected foul play?

No.

Cavell said that Finch
didn't have any family here

in the city,

which would explain
why nobody reported him missing.

Does anyone remember anything
from the day in question?

Not as yet, sir.

And you've made contact
with everyone?

Everybody who's still alive
and in town.

It's hard work
tracking them down, sir.

CRABTREE:
Oh, is it ever.

We found Grimsby living
in a shack by the river.

We're still waiting for Applebee
and Perkins to show up.

They shared a beat with Finch.

I see.

George, complete
the remaining interviews.

Henry,
I have a different job for you.

These are the remnants
of a glass negative.

I need you to re-create
that negative.

You want me to put
all these pieces together, sir?

Yes, but handle them carefully.
This could be very important.

Stockton's here.

- Oh, right, I'll just --
- He's in your office.

STOCKTON:
Hodge!

Hodge!

Hello, sir.

Ah.

Tommy Two Cakes.

Two Cakes?

Never call me that.

Where's my tea?

Tea, sir?

Just get him some tea, Hodge.
Plenty of sugar.

Why are you out of uniform?

Sir, it's 1902.

Tommy Two Cakes
is the inspector here now.

Oh, dear God.

I'm sorry.

[Clears throat]

This must be your desk,
Detective.

Should we use my office, sir?

Yes, yes.

Make that the last time.

Yes. Yes, yes.

After you, sir.

Ah!

I'm so glad to see
Nellie still standing guard.

Nellie, sir?

It's the station mascot.

Where's your sense of history,
man?

We all pass through
Station House Number Four.

Only Nellie stays.
She's seen it all.

Maybe she could shed some light
on what happened.

What happened?

MURDOCH:
Sir, why don't you have a seat?

Thank you.

Chief Constable,

do you remember
a Constable Finch?

Finch?

I love the boy.
What's he up to?

Well, sir, he's dead.

Did I know that?

No, no.
This is recent news.

He was found buried
in the basement.

STOCKTON:
Dear God.

Sir, we believe he was killed
on June 21,1881.

June 21st.

Now, I don't expect you
to remember the date.

He wanted to talk to me.

BRACKENREID:
You remember?

That was my wedding anniversary.

I didn't have time.

I told him to come back
tomorrow.

Sir, what did Finch
want to talk to you about?

Who?

HODGE:
Sir.

Oh, ah, nothing like
a hot cup of tea.

Ah, you're a good man, Dodger.

Dodger?

Yes, he worked with
what's his name.

You know...

the detective...

BRACKENREID:
Giles?

Giles, that's him.

Imperious bugger.

Ah, he was purer than Jesus.

Did you know, he once came into
my office before I retired,

and he was talking about

how Murdoch let a confessed
murderer just out of jail.

Can you believe that?

Hmm? Murdoch!

Sir, do you know if
Constable Finch had any enemies?

What?

Enemies.

Fellows that would sooner pop
him one than buy him a beer.

Yes, yes, there were a couple...

What were their names?

Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

- Applebee and Perkins.
- STOCKTON: That's them!

Applebee, he popped him once.

Right in front of me.

Hah!

- Si r.
- Yes, George?

I've been going through
all the constables' notes

for the week
prior to Finch's murder.

Anything interesting?

Only how uninteresting it is,
sir.

Drunkards. Pickpockets.
The usual rowdies roundup.

Have Applebee or Perkins
come in yet?

Not yet, sir.

All right.
Call me when they do.

I'd like to conduct
that interview myself.

How goes it, Henry?

Well, sir...

May I?

Sir.

Don't touch this.

[ Footsteps approaching ]

- Dr. Grace.
- Detective.

I'll need you to do
a finer sift.

I'm missing an important piece
of that negative.

What size mesh?

1/4 inch should do it.

You're going to end up
with a lot of material.

So be it.

Hodge, you old bugger,
you're still here.

Apmebee.

Perkins.

This is Constable Crabtree.

Thank you for coming in,
gentlemen.

Is it true?
Was Finch buried in here?

It appears to be the case, yes.

That explains
why he suddenly buggered off.

CRABTREE:
Detective Murdoch,

these are former constables

Albert Perkins
and Ernest Applebee.

MURDOCH:
Gentlemen, it's a pleasure.

Let's speak in my office.

APPLEBEE:
I didn't punch Finch.

I shoved him.

He hit me.

I remember it
the other way around.

APPLEBEE:
Nobody cares what you remember.

- I was the one that got hit.
- What was the fight about?

PERKINS:
Oh, who knows?

They were always at it.

I think he was asking me
the question, Perkins.

I don't remember.

Probably had something to do
with the telegraph boys.

He was always beating up
on them.

Telegraph boys?

Yeah. You know, the street boys
that sell themselves.

Finch hated the telegraph boys.

I think
he was shaking them down.

Could one of them
have killed Finch?

Well, it would have taken more
than one to do it.

I mean, they're just lads.

As I recall, it was one of them
that ended up dead.

APPLEBEE:
Oh, right you are, Bert.

I believe a street boy
was murdered.

I always wondered
if that's why Finch up and left.

You think Finch
was somehow involved?

Well, I know he was involved
in the investigation.

Who was the detective
on that case?

That would have been
Detective Giles.

GILES:
Of course I remember the case.

The victim was a street boy.

His throat had been slit.

Carlton was his surname.

I don't remember his first.

- BRACKENREID: Who killed him?
- The case was never solved.

- Why is that?
- Why is it ever such?

Insufficient evidence.
No witnesses.

Street boys don't talk
to the police.

You know that.

Besides, there was...

How can I put this?

A culture of indifference.

Were you indifferent?

I was never indifferent
to any crime.

However, resources were finite,

and I had no control
over their allocation.

That was Stockton's job,

and he was indifferent,

to this crime at any rate.

MURDOCH:
What have you, Dr. Grace?

Chunks of minerals, mostly.

Some are quite lovely.

I believe this one is garnet.

Oh, and I found this.

Cast iron.

I have no idea
if it's related to the murder.

Were you able to find any --

Yes, I found several more
slivers of glass.

Is that what
you were looking for?

Exactly.

Henry.

Excuse me.

Sir.

- Where did that piece go?
- What?

That piece right there.
The other half of the face.

HIGGINS:
Are you sure it was there, sir?

Of course I'm sure!
Who's been in here?

CRABTREE:
Sir, just Higgins and I.

And Applebee and Perkins.

And Jackson, Hodge, Worseley,
Jones, the inspector.

Pretty much everybody, sir.

Were there any other pieces
taken?

No.
Just the one we need.

What's all the fuss?

Sir, someone's taken
a piece of this glass negative.

You think it could be
the killer?

Well, if it was, he's just been
in our station house.

From now on, the bullpen
is off-limits to everyone

except Constables Crabtree,
Higgins, and myself.

What about me?

Someone from this station house

has deliberately foiled
this investigation.

Very likely someone
who was here in 1881.

Well, it wasn't bloody me.

There can be no exceptions, sir.

Fine,
I'll keep out of the bullpen,

but I will not stay
out of this case.

So, where are we?

At the moment, I'm looking into
the murder of Joe Carlton.

The telegraph boy?
What's the connection?

Well, sir, Finch hated
the telegraph boys.

Very likely
they hated him as well.

And why was a negative of
two men in an illicit embrace

in his pocket when he died?

So, who do you think took
the piece of the negative?

I don't know, sir. It could
have been any one of them.

They all had access
to the bullpen.

Henry and George
were hardly paying attention.

Sirs, excuse me,
in the Carlton case,

Perkins' notes make mention
of a bloody knife,

but there's no sign of it
in the evidence log.

Could have been removed.

Well, if it was,
it would have been removed

prior to the evidence log
being compiled.

By Finch?

Applebee seems to think
Finch is involved.

Could Finch be
Carlton's murderer?

Possibly.
What else do you have, George?

Just this list of names.

BRACKENREID:
Suspects?

MURDOCH:
Witnesses?

Third name on the list.
Frank Porter.

He was a street boy himself
back in the day.

Mr. Porter.

Am I under arrest?

Why would you say that?

You have me sitting here.

I just need to ask you
a few questions.

About what?

About an old friend of yours,
goes by the name of Joe Carlton.

It's been awhile
since I heard that name.

I assume you know
what happened to him.

Of course I know.
I'm the one who found him.

Lying there.
Eyes wide open.

Flies buzzing about.

I didn't do it,
if that's what you're thinking.

I'm more interested
in a policeman from that time.

A Constable Finch.
Did you know him?

There ain't a boy from that time

that don't remember
that bastard.

He harassed you.

Harassed us?

He owned us.

Every week he collected.

Two bits a day
whether or not we earned it.

What happened if you didn't pay?

You'd get a beating.

Or he'd put you in jail

and then double your tax
when you got out.

And then one day,
he stopped collecting.

What did you think happened?

I figured someone done him in.

Who?

I don't know.

One of the older boys, maybe.

Either that or he killed Joe
then took off.

Right.

Now, why would Constable Finch
kill Joe Carlton?

I don't know.

All I was told
is that a copper done it.

Who told you that?

What does it matter?

I want the name.

Peter Reed.

Good luck talking to him.

He died 1O years ago.

Thank you.

BRACKENREID: You're right.
It's the same man.

What does it mean?

MURDOCH:
I'm not sure, sir.

Peter Reed
was a former street boy.

He's in this photograph that
was found with Finch's body.

Reed also told Mr. Porter

that it was a policeman
that killed Joe Carlton.

A copper.
Do you think it was Finch?

Well, it would explain
the anomalies in the case.

Finch removed the knife

before it could be entered
into evidence.

But then why did he wish
to speak with Stockton?

I wouldn't pay much attention
to what Stockton has to say.

Well, sir,
he's muddled in the present,

but his memories of the past
seem to be clear enough.

I think I should speak with him
again.

So, what's next?

I need to find out who the other
man in this photograph is.

- Henry!
- Sir.

MURDOCH:
I have a job for you.

I've built a device

that allows for the
superimposition of two images.

Excellent.

What I need you to do

is to superimpose the image
of each of these slides

overtop of the image
from the glass negative.

All right.

Do you understand
what I'm asking you to do?

Superimpose the images.

Why?

You asked me to.

Henry, you're familiar with

the Bertillon system
of identification.

Yes.

Every person has unique features
that can be measured.

- Exactly. And compared.
- Yes.

What we are attempting to do

is to identify the person
in this photograph

by applying
the Bertillon principle.

What we need to do

is to compare the relationship
between those features

to those of the constables
from this photograph.

Right.

Now, I've created a slide
for each of the constables,

and I've drilled holes
at precise feature locations.

All you have to do
is place the slide in the tray,

and as you move it forward,
if the identity matches,

then the features
should line up.

HIGGINS:
Seems simple enough, sir.

[Sighs]

Sir, do you remember this case?

Carlton.

Yes.

He was one of those
nancy street boys.

Sir, is this
what Constable Finch

wanted to speak to you about?

Yes.

L-I think I...

It was your wedding anniversary.

Hm. Huh?

BRACKENREID:
Your wedding anniversary.

June 21st.

Longest day of the year,
didn't you know?

Constable Finch
wanted to speak to you,

but you didn't have the time.

Yes, that's right.

But I asked him, "Will this take
longer than two minutes?"

He said yes, and I said, "Well,
tell me about it tomorrow."

I was late, you see.

It was my anniversary.

What did Constable Finch
want to speak with you about?

Giles.

Detective Giles?

Yes, yes.
He had some sort of complaint.

I said to him,
"Tell me about it tomorrow."

Did it have something to do
with the investigation?

What investigation?

This.
The Carlton case, sir.

The what?

I'll see the inspector out,
Murdoch.

Come on, sir, let's get you
a nice cup of hot tea.

I love tea.

BRACKENREID:
Higgins, get the kettle on.

Inspector.
Sir, I think I have something.

What have you, George?

Sir, this is the evidence log
from the Carlton case.

Now, every evidence sheet has
a number that goes in the file.

This is 113.
Note the date.

MURDOCH:
June 16th.

The day after
Carlton was killed.

Now, this is the sheet
from a subsequent case.

Note the date here.

June 23rd.

CRABTREE:
But the recorded number is...

MURDOCH: 112.

So it came before
the Carlton log.

CRABTREE:
But it's dated afterward.

Sir, this one has to be a fake.

- Who signed it?
- Constable Finch.

Interesting that he was able
to sign this document

at least two days
after his murder.

Somebody cooked the evidence
here, sir, and it wasn't Finch.

- Very good.
- Thank you, sir.

Did you see anything?

Eh?

- Today, not tomorrow, not --
-[ Banging ]

What's that?

Later, Rafferty.

Bloody hell!

Sir, turn off the light.

I believe I've found
the scene of the crime.

Henry!

Henry, put in
Chief Constable Stockton.

- He has a mustache, sir.
- He could have shaved it off.

CRABTREE:
The holes don't line up.

-It's not him.
- BRACKENREID: Murdoch,

anybody could have
gotten into that office.

Sir, when Chief Constable
Stockton first came in,

he sat at my desk.

You're right.

In 1881,
Stockton had your office,

and the detective had mine.

Henry, put in
Chief Constable Giles.

George, bring in
Chief Constable Giles.

On what grounds, sir?

Suspicion of murder.

I take it there have been
developments in the case.

Is this man you?

It's hard to say.
Half the face is missing.

Am I to assume
you believe it to be me?

Yes, very clever.

MURDOCH:
So it is you in the photograph?

You seem to have proven that.

You are a homosexual?

Yes.

Did you take the shard of glass
from the negative?

I've just confessed
that I'm a homosexual.

My career is over.

I'll be dismissed
at the next council session.

That much I don't contest.

But I'm damned
if I will confess to a crime

when you have not a shred
of evidence to back it.

If you think I've interfered
with this case, prove it.

Interference in an ongoing
police investigation is not

the crime for which you are
currently being investigated.

Yes, of course I've been brought
here on suspicion of murder.

And which murder would that be,
Finch or Carlton?

- At the moment, both.
-[ Scoffs ]

Well, you're ambitious.
I'll grant you that.

And where's your evidence
against me?

[ Scoffs ] This!

Yes, I'll admit
it does look damning.

If Constable Finch had shown
that to Inspector Stockton,

my career would have ended then.

If it's motive you're
looking for, you've found it.

But motive is not evidence.

It is merely supposition.

And -- And tell me this.

If I did know about this,

would I really have left it in
Finch's pocket for you to find?

How did you know it was found
in his pocket?

Well, where else would he
have kept it, under his hat?

The truth is
that I did not know about this

and therefore
I did not have a motive

for killing Constable Finch.

And even if I did, I would not
have killed him to save my job.

Would you have killed him
to save your life?

My life?

Oh, yes, of course. You think
that I killed the Carlton boy.

And do you have any evidence
for that?

Or are you again reliant on your
own scurrilous suppositions?

MURDOCH:
There was evidence.

A bloody knife.

Quite possibly,
the murder weapon was found

at the scene of the crime.

Unfortunately,
it never made it into evidence.

Have a look at the evidence log,

compare the numbers
to the dates.

This proves that someone
tampered with evidence.

It doesn't prove that it was me.

Were you not in charge
of the investigation?

What of it?

Any policeman could have
had access to these files.

But not every policeman
had cause.

And what cause did I have?

You lay with street boys.

Never.

Never.

You're making
a fundamental error, Detective.

You're conflating
two perversions

which are very different.

Do you seek the company
of little girls?

Of course not.

Well, then, just because
I'm a homosexual,

do not assume
that I prey on boys.

He was a man.

He was a prostitute
just like Joe Carlton.

- They knew each another.
- Well, what of it?

Why would I kill a street boy
that I didn't even know?

You might
if you thought he was the one

who took this photograph.

Oh, so that's your theory.

MURDOCH:
Taking this photograph

would have required
a flash of limelight.

You could not
have been unaware of it.

I can assure you
that I was not unaware of it.

I can also assure you

that my response was anything
but murderous.

What was your response?

I was heartbroken.

You see, Detective,

Peter Reed was not a prostitute
whose services I was using.

He was the man
with whom I was infatuated.

- MURDOCH: But how --
- Because I was a fool.

He seduced me with his charm
and wit...

...and beauty.

That's what made it so pathetic.

I was blind.

And when that flash went off,
my eyes were finally opened

to the fact of my own
craven stupidity.

- MURDOCH: It was a trap.
- Of course it was a trap.

And while you may think
that I pursued the photographer

with vengeance in mind,
the truth is that...

...l wept...
while the man I loved...

...while my lover
got dressed and left.

He was the last man
I ever took to bed.

I don't know why
I'm telling you all this.

It's hardly relevant.

So you never found out
who took the photograph?

In hindsight, it seems obvious.

Constable Finch
took the photograph.

Yes, but you didn't know that
at the time.

- I did not.
- MURDOCH: Then tell me this --

Why would you take that shard
of the negative?

If you knew nothing
of its contents,

how did you know
to enter the bullpen

and take the critical piece?

I never said that I did.

Is it, then,
also your supposition

-that Finch killed Joe Carlton?
-lt seems likely.

Which would have
given him reason

to take
the putative murder weapon

and to doctor the evidence log.

- Adequate reason.
- MURDOCH: Then tell me this --

How did he do it
after his death!

You're familiar with the science
of graphology, yes?

Of course.

This is a sample
of Finch's handwriting.

Compare it to the evidence log.

It's a given
that they won't match.

We've established that Constable
Finch was already dead.

But they match much better
than one might think,

almost as if someone
was deliberately trying

to copy Finch's style.

Who would think
to be so precise?

But copying someone's
handwriting style

isn't that simple, is it?

Reflexes are faster
than the mind.

Habit overrules intent,
and we get careless.

Have a look at the writing
at the bottom of the page.

It's decidedly different.

Much more like the writing
in this document.

This is your writing
from the same period.

Is this is the totality
of your evidence?

MURDOCH:
So far.

Then I suggest you lay your case
before a judge and jury.

All I would have to do
is show them this photograph.

That's possibly true.

In which case, arrest me,
try me, and hang me.

But just bloody well
get it over with!

I repeat, if you knew nothing
of the photograph's contents,

how did you know to remove
the critical piece?

I've already given you
an answer to that.

You've given me nothing
but prevarication.

Oh, you haven't lied.

You've just simply
danced around the truth,

confessing all
when it serves you

and shrinking into evasion
when it doesn't.

So it's the truth you want.

Forgive me.
I thought it was my conviction.

We're neither of us stalwarts
when it comes to the truth,

-are we, Detective?
- Meaning what?

Meaning that there is a truth
that lies between us

that you have yet to admit to.

You're referring
to Constance Gardiner?

A confessed murderer who somehow
escaped from a locked cell.

I know you set her free.

And I know that you know.

I'll make you a deal, Detective.

My truth for yours.

I'm afraid I can add nothing
further to the official account.

That she escaped custody.
Yes, I understand.

You share this particular lie
with Inspector Brackenreid.

If you go down, he goes down.

Loyafiy
is the only moral instinct

that can exist on the same plane
as truth itself.

They may clash,

but one can never overcome
the other without cost.

But in this case,
there's no cost to bear.

The only official statement
made by Inspector Brackenreid

was that he found the jail door
unlocked.

All true.

So the door to the truth
lies open before you.

-[ Knock on door]
- BRACKENREID: Murdoch.

Come here.

[ Door opens]

[ Door closes ]

You're bloody mad.

Sir, he's mixed up
in all of this,

and he's willing to tell us
the truth about what happened.

And what if the truth
is that he's innocent?

He's still chief constable.
He'll fire you.

- Sir.
- It's a trap, Murdoch.

I need to do this.

[ Door opens]

[ Door closes ]

So, have you made a decision?

- Truth for truth.
- Your truth first.

Very well.

Constance Gardiner was failed

by the system that should have
protected her.

She killed a man
that viciously assaulted her

along with
countless other women.

I don't see how this is germane.

I acted on the dictates
of my conscience.

I let her go free.

[ Chuckles ]

And there we have it.

[ Chuckles ]

I'm impressed.

You must want the truth
very badly.

Well, a deal is a deal.

Did you take the shard of glass?

Yes.

How did you know to take it?

I knew that Finch
had taken the photograph.

When I saw you begin to examine
the fractured negative,

I knew what it would depict.

Why did he take the photograph?

Because it was Finch
who killed the Carlton boy.

I knew it.
He knew that I knew it.

That's why he dropped my knife
at the scene.

- Your knife.
- GILES: Yes.

It was a clumsy setup,
laughably so.

I was intent on disproving it.

But then came the photograph.

Yes, and that
changed everything.

If I pressed ahead
with the case,

then it would have been the word
of a homosexual deviant

against that of a hero.

- So you killed him?
- GILES: Yes.

It wasn't intentional.

He showed me the photograph.
I tried to wrest it from him.

We fought.

I grabbed the first thing I set
my hand on and hit him with it.

Not even very hard.

And you knew the cement floor
was about to be poured.

A lucky coincidence.

I dug beneath the gravel
and buried him

and then set about disposing
of the knife that he'd dropped.

And changing the evidence log.

Yes.

Percival Giles,
you are under arrest for murder.

[ Indistinct conversations]

Oh, for God's sake, sit down.
He confessed everything.

MURDOCH:
Exactly, sir.

Why?

He could have simply
stopped talking at any point

and taken his chance
with a jury.

- You had him dead to rights.
- I had nothing.

Nothing but
scurrilous supposition.

Your complaint
is that it was too easy?

It's not just that, sir.

How could he have taken
the shard of glass?

I was with him
the entire time he was here.

You were called out
by Dr. Grace.

MURDOCH: Right.

George, Henry.

Was Chief Constable Giles in the
bullpen at any point yesterday?

No, sir.

Not even when he left
this office?

No, sir. He went straight down
this hall out the front door.

Bloody hell.

Right.
I'll be wanting to speak

with the chief constable again,
gentlemen.

Sir.

MURDOCH:
You lied.

I made a full confession.

MURDOCH:
You made a false confession.

I know you couldn't possibly
have stolen that shard of glass.

I want to know who did and why.

- Was it a lover?
- No.

MURDOCH:
No, no.

Lovers deceive.

This is about something
more fundamental, isn't it?

Loyalty-

The only moral force

that can exist on the same plane
as the truth itself.

But who could command
such loyalty?

Dodger.

- MURDOCH: Dodger?
- My dog.

You have a dog named Dodger?

This inquiry is in danger
of becoming repetitive.

No, no, no, wait, wait.

There was someone else
called Dodger.

Constable Hodge.

You worked with Constable Hodge,
didn't you?

At one time.

MURDOCH: That's why
they called him Dodger,

because he was
your loyal servant.

It was him.
He stole the piece of glass.

I don't know.
And that is the truth of it.

But how could he have known that
it was you in the photograph?

How could he have known
unless he had seen it?

Oh, that's the truth of it,
isn't it?

It was Hodge.

It was Hodge
who saw the photograph.

It was Hodge who tried
to wrest it from Finch.

And it was Hodge who killed him.

For you.

Loyalty cuts both ways,
doesn't it?

I have said all I intend to say.

Constable!

Bring in Constable Hodge for me,
please.

You know he'll crumble
if I interrogate him.

He'll trip over his words
like he always does.

And he will incriminate himself.

It was an accident.

He told me after the fact.

We agreed to bury the body
and the evidence

and never speak of it again.

It must have destroyed
your friendship.

It destroyed our souls.

[ Door opens]

You asked to see me?

It's over, John.

It's finally over.

The detective knows everything.

I am so sorry, sir.

I found Finch
in the detective's office.

He was putting a photograph
in his desk.

Did you know Detective Giles
was a homosexual?

I thought he might be.

I didn't know for sure
until I saw it.

Finch was going to blackmail
Detective Giles.

I could not let him do that.

MURDOCH: So you struck him
with the iron mascot.

I didn't mean to kill him,
William.

I swear.
I just...

I just wanted to stop him.

Thank you very much sir.
I appreciate that.

Good night.

That was the crown.

Hodge will be tried
for manslaughter.

Hopefully
the new chief constable

will argue for leniency.

And Giles?

The best we can get for him
is obstruction of justice.

Will he do jail time?

He's an admitted homosexual
who buried a body,

not to mention he's a copper.

He'll probably do more time
than Hodge.

That hardly seems fair.

The law isn't about fairness,
Murdoch.

You should know that
better than anybody.

I wouldn't feel bad.
You likely spared him the noose.

I doubt
it would have come to that.

Perhaps.

You have to give the bugger
credit for his guts, though.

Not many men would have fallen
on his sword for a friend.

Actually, sir,
he seemed relieved

to get it off of his chest.

Is that how you felt, confessing
about Constance Gardiner?

I suppose so, yes.

I did break the law.

You chose justice over the law.

You did right, Murdoch,
by her and by me.

Good night.

Night, sir.